Rows and rows of stacks stood before me, but I knew the active cases were in the middle stack. I headed down there and checked for the number that related to our case.
Fueled by Camille’s weakened demeanor, I knew I had to do this. Even if she’d never committed a crime before, I didn’t want her at risk. It was a compulsion to protect her like I’d never known before.
What the fuck had Maurelle done to me?
I located the stack of evidence bags with the number on it, and quickly moved through the bags to find the fingerprints. I heard voices coming from the front door of the room and instantly panic set in. I hightailed it down the end of the row and hid at the back of the room, waiting for them to leave. I knew the voices, and if they heard me in here, they would ask questions. I removed the finger prints from the bag as quietly as I could and folded up the bag and put it in my back pocket. I slid the fingerprints into my jacket pocket and moved down the stacks.
I came up to see O’Brien, who looked surprised to see me. “Garrick?”
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do any of the manual labor before.”
He and his buddy, Harry, laughed. I chuckled. “I was looking for Tommy, someone told me he came this way.”
“Just like you, he doesn’t step foot in here. He sends one of his lackeys to come and get the shit for him.”
They both laughed, but I knew it would be true. It was a weak lie at best.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
I headed to the door, thanking my lucky stars that they bought it and headed to my car. I needed to get rid of the evidence as soon as possible. I knew the evidence room’s surveillance wasn’t working right, but the garage was. I kept everything hidden until I got to my car and removed the bag from my back pocket, stuffing it into my glove compartment and starting the car. I had no idea where I was going to lose the evidence but I’d already committed a dozen felonies if I thought about it so I may as well keep going. Maurelle was a criminal, and she needed to be stopped, I knew that, but Camille was innocent.
She’d done the world a favor in my books. I drove out of the garage and headed down the highway, calling Tommy from the car.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“I’ve advised the daughter but I don’t have the address of the ex-wife, wanna text it to me?”
“Yeah I can do that,” he said. “How’d it go with the daughter? Any information?”
“No, she was torn up as you can imagine, but she couldn’t tell me who did it or who would have it out for him.”
“I might have an answer to that,” Tommy said. “He’s on the register, and looks like he may have fooled with his oldest daughter.”
“You’re kidding,” I acted surprised. “So the ex-wife probably wouldn’t give two tosses.”
“She’s probably going to be your number one,” Tommy explained. “The oldest daughter, Cambria, killed herself when he was released four years ago.”
Fuck.
Camille didn’t tell me that.
“Text me the address,” I told him. “I’ll see how I go.”
“I’ll meet you out there,” he said. “Wait for me.”
I didn’t see a problem with that as I hung up, tossing my phone on the passenger seat. It’s not like Maurelle would be a topic of conversation.
I hoped.
My phone pinged with the address. I picked it up and sighed.
She was behind a gated community. Another high society family. Just fucking perfect. O’Leary was going to lose his shit if this didn’t go well.
I headed for the address, the evidence burning a hole in my pocket.
Once I was close to the address, I texted Tommy to find out how far he was behind me. He was stuck in traffic so I stopped for a coffee, removing the fingerprint case from my pocket and throwing it into a bin. It had no markings on it to explain what it was. That was what the bag was for and that was safely hidden away in my car until I could burn it.
