seat.
“And quit laughing. This isn’t funny. Come on.” Lisa checked her watch. “Let’s go home. You need to be resting and I need to get to work. And until you know what happened, don’t volunteer to help the police, okay?”
Grace agreed.
SIX
H ACKETT WATCHED THE WOMEN DRIVE out of the lot. “Why didn’t you mention the casino?” he asked. They already knew the photo with the blonde had been taken at the Four Winds Casino, and the woman’s profile listed it as her place of employment.
“We’re walking a fine line here. Grace could be traumatized from that accident, she could be traumatized by something she saw at Cahill’s house, or maybe she’s our perp. I’m not ready to share all our cards yet.”
“Shouldn’t we get over there and find out more?”
“No need. We got what we needed this morning,” Bishop said, walking back to his desk.
“What do you mean?”
“Kewanee, with the tribal police, checked it out. The Potawatomis own the casino, so their tribal police are deputized and help us out when it comes to tribal property. He already learned that the woman’s a waitress, she arranged for another waiter to cover her shifts last week, and she’s off this week. No one has seen her at home or work, and everyone assumes she’s left town. She’s not due back at work until this coming Friday.”
“So this woman is connected to the victim the day before his death and now she’s skipped town?”
“Well, yeah, but we don’t know enough to assume anything too nefarious yet. She may just be on vacation.” He sat behind his desk and reviewed some notes. “Anyway, how are you coming with Grace’s cell records?”
Hackett went to his own desk that faced Bishop’s and leafed through the paperwork. “I got the warrant processed last Thursday, but the phone company said it could be at least a week for the texts and phone records.” He hoped it would take longer. It would all be over if Bishop saw the call logs before they figured out who killed Michael.
His boss sipped his coffee and continued working on the half-eaten muffin he’d abandoned when the women arrived. “We also got some new information just now.”
Hackett took a seat. “What’s that?”
“When you took Grace to get the prints, Lisa mentioned that Cahill had a temper. She said Grace was afraid of him.” Bishop cracked a half smile, like he’d just gotten a great nugget. Like maybe Grace blew him away, a battered woman who’d had enough.
Hackett was surer than ever that he’d been right to keep quiet. Someone had to keep Bishop from going after the easiest target. “We don’t have any record of abuse,” he pointed out.
“True. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Call the crime-lab fingerprint unit, ask for Miles. Tell him we got Grace’s prints and we need them checked against the prints found on the photos.”
“Okay. Didn’t he say there were more than one set of prints on them?”
“Yeah. But we know that Cahill’s wasn’t one of them. If Grace’s prints are on those photos, that’s motive.”
Hackett made the call and said a silent prayer for Grace. And for himself. As he hung up, Bishop was grabbing his coat. “Come on. We’re heading up to Berrien Springs.”
The wind off the lake had picked up, swirling some of last week’s snowfall into the road. The entire landscape was still covered in a thick blanket, and the temperature wasn’t expected to let up anytime soon. Hackett rubbed his hands together, trying to get warm and focus on the facts—to play the part of investigator—but his thoughts kept falling into a ditch, where they went round and round, back to Grace’s face and back to the phone call that might ruin him.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Bishop asked.
“Nothing,” he answered, keeping his eyes on the white-covered fields.
“You watch Stripes yet?”
Hackett chuckled. “You just told me to watch it yesterday!”
“Well, what the hell else you gotta do?
“And quit laughing. This isn’t funny. Come on.” Lisa checked her watch. “Let’s go home. You need to be resting and I need to get to work. And until you know what happened, don’t volunteer to help the police, okay?”
Grace agreed.
SIX
H ACKETT WATCHED THE WOMEN DRIVE out of the lot. “Why didn’t you mention the casino?” he asked. They already knew the photo with the blonde had been taken at the Four Winds Casino, and the woman’s profile listed it as her place of employment.
“We’re walking a fine line here. Grace could be traumatized from that accident, she could be traumatized by something she saw at Cahill’s house, or maybe she’s our perp. I’m not ready to share all our cards yet.”
“Shouldn’t we get over there and find out more?”
“No need. We got what we needed this morning,” Bishop said, walking back to his desk.
“What do you mean?”
“Kewanee, with the tribal police, checked it out. The Potawatomis own the casino, so their tribal police are deputized and help us out when it comes to tribal property. He already learned that the woman’s a waitress, she arranged for another waiter to cover her shifts last week, and she’s off this week. No one has seen her at home or work, and everyone assumes she’s left town. She’s not due back at work until this coming Friday.”
“So this woman is connected to the victim the day before his death and now she’s skipped town?”
“Well, yeah, but we don’t know enough to assume anything too nefarious yet. She may just be on vacation.” He sat behind his desk and reviewed some notes. “Anyway, how are you coming with Grace’s cell records?”
Hackett went to his own desk that faced Bishop’s and leafed through the paperwork. “I got the warrant processed last Thursday, but the phone company said it could be at least a week for the texts and phone records.” He hoped it would take longer. It would all be over if Bishop saw the call logs before they figured out who killed Michael.
His boss sipped his coffee and continued working on the half-eaten muffin he’d abandoned when the women arrived. “We also got some new information just now.”
Hackett took a seat. “What’s that?”
“When you took Grace to get the prints, Lisa mentioned that Cahill had a temper. She said Grace was afraid of him.” Bishop cracked a half smile, like he’d just gotten a great nugget. Like maybe Grace blew him away, a battered woman who’d had enough.
Hackett was surer than ever that he’d been right to keep quiet. Someone had to keep Bishop from going after the easiest target. “We don’t have any record of abuse,” he pointed out.
“True. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Call the crime-lab fingerprint unit, ask for Miles. Tell him we got Grace’s prints and we need them checked against the prints found on the photos.”
“Okay. Didn’t he say there were more than one set of prints on them?”
“Yeah. But we know that Cahill’s wasn’t one of them. If Grace’s prints are on those photos, that’s motive.”
Hackett made the call and said a silent prayer for Grace. And for himself. As he hung up, Bishop was grabbing his coat. “Come on. We’re heading up to Berrien Springs.”
The wind off the lake had picked up, swirling some of last week’s snowfall into the road. The entire landscape was still covered in a thick blanket, and the temperature wasn’t expected to let up anytime soon. Hackett rubbed his hands together, trying to get warm and focus on the facts—to play the part of investigator—but his thoughts kept falling into a ditch, where they went round and round, back to Grace’s face and back to the phone call that might ruin him.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Bishop asked.
“Nothing,” he answered, keeping his eyes on the white-covered fields.
“You watch Stripes yet?”
Hackett chuckled. “You just told me to watch it yesterday!”
“Well, what the hell else you gotta do?
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