Page 55 of Dead Air
Claire leaned forward. "This person you saw. Details? Anything?"
"Dark clothing. Baseball cap." Lawson strained against memory's limitations. "License plate visible in headlights.Partial view before the floodlight blinded me. G84 … something. First three digits only."
"Male? Female?"
"Couldn't tell. Distance was too great. Light too poor." Lawson drained her glass. "Just the walk. Something distinctive about it."
"Like what?"
"Slight hesitation of the right foot. Almost imperceptible limp." She gestured vaguely. "Military bearing otherwise. Deliberate movement. Kind of like the person on the footage."
Claire absorbed this information with an attorney's calculation. "Footage? What footage?"
Bourbon blurred certainty into vague association. "Security footage from Hutchinson's building. Hooded figure had similar movement pattern."
"You never included this in your statement."
"How could I?" Lawson's laugh held no humor. "Detective arrives drunk to meeting where partner dies. Fails to identify potential suspect due to impairment. It makes a compelling headline."
"It's compelling evidence." Claire's expression hardened. "Evidence deliberately withheld from investigators."
"Evidence compromised by bourbon and guilt."
"Evidence Blackwell would use to destroy your credibility if she knew." Claire stood and took the empty glass from Lawson's hand. "You're done drinking for tonight."
Lawson didn't resist. The alcohol had already accomplished its purpose—dismantling the walls around memories she'd carefully contained for five years. "Monica deserved better than me as backup that night."
"Maybe." Claire's voice softened. "Or maybe it wouldn't have changed anything."
"We'll never know."
"No, but we can focus on what we do know." Claire disappeared inside, returning moments later with water and a sandwich. "Eat something. Sober up enough to think clearly."
Lawson accepted the offering without enthusiasm. Food would dull the alcohol's edge, returning her to a reality she'd tried to escape. The sandwich tasted like sawdust, but she forced herself to eat while Claire watched with unmasked concern.
"The partial plate." Claire pulled out her phone. "G84. Could be thousands of vehicles."
"Likely a government plate." Lawson's police instincts functioned despite intoxication. "Formatting matched state vehicle standard."
"Narrows it considerably." Claire made notes in her phone. "Especially if we cross-reference with department vehicles assigned five years ago."
"Records are restricted without warrant."
"There are alternative methods to access vehicle registration databases." Claire's vague reference suggested less-than-legal approaches. "Fiona has contacts in the transportation department."
"Fiona." Lawson closed her eyes as the deck tilted beneath her. The bourbon's full effect arriving. "Can she be trusted?"
"Her motivations align with ours for now." Claire helped Lawson to her feet. "You need to lie down before you fall down."
The journey from deck to bedroom passed in disjointed fragments. Lawson's coordination deteriorated with each step. Claire's steady hand guided her through the house to the guest bedroom. The mattress received her collapsing form with silent judgment.
"Waste of five months of sobriety," Lawson muttered into the pillow.
"One setback doesn't erase progress." Claire placed water on the nightstand. "Sleep it off. We'll talk when you're coherent."
Darkness claimed portions of awareness as Lawson fought for consciousness. Time stretched and compressed. Claire's voice drifted from another room. Phone conversation with indistinct responses.
The front door opened. A new voice entered the house. Fiona's distinctive tone, carrying through walls.
