She stared at him.“So you let him go.”
“It wasn’t my choice.Palmer was in charge.In any case, it really looked like Gadd was a fantasist.He started confessing to every religious-accented murder under the sun—priests, rabbis, cultists, didn’t matter.Half the time, he wasn’t even on the same coast.So the department wrote him off as a fame-seeking schizophrenic.I let it go.They made me let it go.The scrambled eggs.”
She smiled involuntarily.She’d been around enough cops to know their euphemism for the upper ranks, their uniforms festooned with gold braid.
“But now you’ve changed your mind.”
Topju gave a small, bitter smile.“Being called ‘the flip-flop cop’ didn’t do my career any favours.You see, Palmer was a solid detective, but at heart, he was a player, political-type, popular with the high-ups, friends at City Hall. Your father’s case went cold in all but name, we had no leads, no angles, no nothing.And, sorry to say, it happened round about when the opioid crisis kicked in, and all those kinda quality-of-life crimes spiked.Muggings, thefts, street-dealing.The stuff we have to beseento be tackling, or we get roasted from all quarters.There wasn’t the traction to go looking for a lone, probably religious nut, particularly as he didn’t seem to want to strike again.So there was just me, trying to keep the plates spinning in my spare time.And when I asked for permission to review the case officially, I was told in no uncertain terms that whatever I found, it better not make Palmer look bad.”
“So what was the point in letting you review it?”
“Exactly.But I’ve always been too stubborn for my own good, so I took it up, and I found what I found, and believe me, it didn’t do me any favors.I was sidelined, given every shitty job… basically forced me out early.And now…” He tapped his chest lightly.“Stage-three lymphoma.It’s not going to be a long goodbye.But some things you can’t bury, Agent Valentine.Your father’s case was one of them.”
Kate said nothing.The neon light from the window drew hard lines down her face.
“So what did you find?”
“The forensics lab that handled the evidence shut down a few years back,” Topju said.“Audit found a catalogue of screw-ups—sample mix-ups, cross-contamination, mislabeled evidence bags.It’s entirely possible they tested the wrong residue.If so, the powder on Gadd’s clothescouldmatch a pistol after all.”
She said, quietly, “That’s not proof.It’s an absence of certainty.”
“True.But then there’s what he told another inmate.”
“Back up.You said he’s in jail.What for?”
“Initially, short sentences for wasting police time, tampering with crime scenes, contempt of court.Some judges got so tired of Gadd they were giving him 14 days as soon as he stood up from his chair.And he was fond of sermonizing in the courtroom, too.Judges don’t like that.”
He took a bottle of pills from his pocket and popped a couple into his palm.“Obviously, jailhouse snitches have to be taken with a pinch of salt, but this one knew something specific.Said Gadd claimed he’d accidentally fired a bullet into the roof of the vestibule.That detail was never in any report, not even internal memos.”
He necked the pills as Kate’s pulse quickened.“You checked?”
“Years later.The church is derelict now, boarded up.Nearly burned down a while back.”
“I heard that,” said Kate, who’d been in it at the time, along with Elijah Cox.
“I went back.Found the mark, dug the bullet out myself.Took photos.Same calibre as the weapon used.I carry it with me.”
He reached into his coat pocket and placed something small and wrapped in cloth on the table between them.“My reminder.My curse.Depends on the day.Have it.”
Kate looked down at it, then back at Topju.“You brought me here to give me that?Why?”
“Because he’s locked up again.And I’m dying.”
“What’s he in prison for now?”
“Psych ward,” Topju corrected.“Been there a year and a half now, but locked up since 21.He kidnapped a female pastor and her daughter.What he did to them—” He stopped, shook his head.“Let’s just say they’ll never recover.He got 40 years in federal prison, but since then he’s been transferred to a psych facility.I don’t know whether you can take some comfort in that.I just thought you should know.”
Kate sat back, stunned.The diner hummed around them, oblivious.A child laughed somewhere near the counter.It felt obscene.
“So what do you expect me to do with this?”she said finally.
“I don’t have any expectation of what you’re going to do.It’s up to you.I just couldn’t take it with me.”
“I don’twantit,” she said, the anger surfacing at last.“You turn up out of nowhere, dump all this on me—my father’s death, your guilt, your tumour—and expect me to what, pick up your mess?Prove that he did it?”
Topju lowered his eyes.“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.You’re absolving yourself.You couldn’t solve it then, so I think you’re hoping I’m going to pick it up.You are, aren’t you?So you can go away and die without anything weighing on your conscience.”
