Page 81 of Justice Delayed

“What would you have done had you been fully free to do your job?”

Livingston blew out a breath. “I would have questioned the family members more thoroughly, followed up on the nanny’s testimony, looked into Jared’s background. In other words, I would have done some old-fashioned investigative work until I figured out what happened to Jesse Thompson.” The detective’s phone buzzed. Frowning, he picked it up and checked caller ID. “I better take this. It’s the forensics lab. Must be important for them to buzz me while I’m off the clock.”

Brogan rose and grabbed the empty coffee cups. “I’ll get us a refill.” He left the room to give Livingston privacy. After making two fresh cups, he returned to find Livingston tapping his phone on the table, his gaze fixed on the opposite wall.

“Bad news?” Brogan set down the cups and retook his seat.

“No, not at all. Just very surprising.” Livingston made no move to pick up his coffee mug. “I’ve been a detective for twenty-three years, and believe me when I say, I’ve seen humanity at its worst. You kind of stop believing in miracles.” He met Brogan’s gaze. “Then you get a phone call like this, and you start to wonder if there is a God after all.”

Brogan’s investigative antenna went on high alert. “What did the lab say?”

“It was the darndest thing. We’d sent the blue bunny to the lab after the Thompsons positively identified it as belonging to Jesse. Not that we were expecting anything, given someone obviously sent it to Harman to scare her, which surely meant there was nothing of forensic value to be found.”

Brogan wanted to shake the other man to get to the point, but he restrained himself. “But that’s not what happened.”

“No. The technician scanned the bunny and discovered a small recording device where the bunny’s heart would be. If stuffed rabbits had hearts, that is.”

Brogan’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“That was my reaction too.” Livingston shook his head. “I mean, what are the odds of recovering what might turn out to be the equivalent of a smoking gun after nearly two decades?”

“What was on the recording?” Brogan could hardly wrap his mind around what the detective was saying. The blue bunny had a secret recorder installed within its stuffed body. The possibility of Jesse’s last moments being captured on audio stirred a mixture of excitement and fear.

“The technician said she hasn’t listened to it yet. It’s so old, she has to jerry-rig a way to play it.” Livingston scrubbed a hand over his face. “I told her this was a top priority, so she’s going to get started right away.”

“How long do you think it will take?”

The detective shrugged. “Daisy’s one of the best, so I imagine she’ll have something figured out in a couple of hours. Might take longer because she’ll have to move slowly to avoid damaging the device. There’s no guarantee there’s anything on the recorder.”

“But if there is, surely it will be around the time of Jesse’s disappearance.”

Livingston took a sip of coffee. “While we’re waiting, let’s make good use of our time. Do you want the housekeeper’s folder or the head gardener’s?”

Brogan hadn’t read either one yet. “I’ll take the gardener’s.”

Livingston handed him the folder, then bent his head over the housekeeper’s.

As Brogan read the initial police interview with Dwayne Poteet, who had worked as a gardener for the Thompsons for five years prior to the disappearance, he couldn’t tamp down the excitement that the case was about to break wide open.

* * *

“He’s not my attorney.”Jared crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He glared at Dan Stabe, who sat beside him. The two detectives on the opposite side of the metal table exchanged glances but said nothing.

“Jared, your father sent me to look after you,” Stabe said.

“You no longer practice criminal law.” Jared didn’t want to air his family’s dirty laundry in front of the cops, but he also didn’t want this bozo representing him. Stabe had defended Melender, then joined the law firm that represented his father’s energy company. Even though Jared had been pleased with the outcome of his cousin’s trial, he didn’t trust Stabe to have his best interests. Not with Quentin paying the bill.

“Granted, I haven’t practiced criminal law in several years, but I am capable of representing you in this matter.” Stabe smiled, but it didn’t reassure Jared.

“I. Want. A. New. Lawyer.” Jared enunciated each word as if speaking to a child.

Stabe looked at the detectives. “Would you excuse us for a moment while I confer with my client?”

Collier and a different detective whose name Jared had forgotten stood as one. “Sure. Knock on the door when you have this resolved,” Collier said.

Jared waited until the interview room door closed behind the cops before turning to Stabe. “Listen, I don’t care what my father told you to do, I don’t want you representing me.”

“You were fine with my help yesterday.” Stabe dropped his solicitous manner, his expression morphing from confident to concerned. “What’s going on?”

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