Page 63 of 25 Alive

She wasn’t at the truth, yet, but she felt close.

Cindy was outlining her story to date when the front door opened.

“Hon?”

“In here, Richie.”

Rich Conklin stuck his head into the small room Cindy used as her home office.

“You’re busy. Call me when you take a break.”

“Rich. I need you to listen to something.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

“It’s a recording of Brett Palmer, talking to his stepbrother, Nate Miller. Brace yourself.”

Rich dragged a chair over to the table Cindy used as a desk and sat down. “Hit me,” he said.

“The first voice. That’s Brett, talking to Nate.”

Cindy pressed Play.

Brett’s voice came from the recorder’s small speaker accompanied by the clanking of cutlery. He said, “It still makes me furious. Angela kept calling. Texting. She sent me a pair of her panties. I told her no in every way imaginable. I told her, ‘All I’ve got left is the sweat on my balls.’ She still wouldn’t quit. So. You know. I said, ‘You dead.’”

“Good job, bro. I never liked that bitch.”

Cindy hit Stop. She was shaking at the coldness and brutality.

She looked up at Richie, who said, “Oh, my God, Cindy. Palmer is cooked. Well done.”

Cindy handed her phone to her husband. She didn’t have to explain.

“It’s the right thing to do,” said Conklin. He tapped in a number.

“Lieutenant. It’s Conklin. Cindy turned up great evidence on the ‘I said. You dead’ psycho. Yep. That’s the one. Here’s Cindy.”

He handed Cindy the phone.

CHAPTER95

I LOOKED AT the clock as I neared my desk in the Hall of Justice. Good news: I was going to be on time for the “I said. You dead” task-force meeting. Just then, of course, my cell phone rang.

Cindy calling.

“Cin, I’m going into a meeting. Can we talk later? I’ll call you.”

“It’s up to you,” she said. “But I have something regarding Brett Palmer. And trust me, I think it’s something you really want to know.”

I shouted into my phone, “Cindy! I don’t want to be late.”

Cindy fought back with increasing intensity. “Youwon’tbe late. Listen. Listen to me. Justlisten,will ya? Look up. I’m sitting next to Richie, two feet from your desk.”

I gave in to the indomitable Cindy Thomas, who was grinning at me from the next desk over. She showed me a small digital recorder, saying, “This is Brett Palmer’s. He used it as a daily journal, mostly for reminders, and notes about hiswork. And he recorded phone calls. He lost this gizmo in the home of his ex-in-laws,” she said. “Listen.”

She pushed Play. I listened to the sound of someone telling Brett Palmer that his ex-wife, Angela Palmer, had been found dead. It was painful to hear. But I felt sure that the exchange was real, not acted out. The recording ended before Brett reacted.

I suggested to Cindy that she make an appointment to meet with Brady and that if I could, I’d join them. Then I thanked my friend the pit bull, who was looking more and more like she had a Pulitzer Prize in her future. Richie kissed her and they both beamed. Then Rich Conklin and I walked to the war room.

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