“And none of us will mention this to anyone.” His gaze focuses on me. “Even Camille. Do you understand? We cherish the women in our family. Make sure they never have to worry about the things we do to protect one another.”
“Yes, sir,” we both mumble.
Mr. Everett turns to walk away but he stops when Silas asks, “Do you know if anyone else was hurt in the accident?”
The look Mr. Everett gives him sends chills down my spine. “What accident?” And then he’s walking away.
Just before I turn to go back inside to get my things so we can get on the road, Silas says softly, “You have no idea what you’ve just agreed to.”
Chapter 22
Hank
AFTER THE ALIBI
Tuesday, October 13
Pete Sanders’s visit has left me with a simmering rage that is threatening to boil over. It’s been three days since Ben’s body was discovered and it feels like everything I’ve worked so hard for is crumbling around me.
One of our paralegals, Scott, is by far the best researcher I’ve ever come across. He can find a needle in a haystack in record time. So I’ve pulled him from his cubicle and set him up at the table in my office.
I’m done with playing catch-up.
We’ve been working for a couple of hours and he’s already pulled all the information on Paul Granger’s case, including the transcript from his trial, as well as information on Aubrey Price and the two guys who own the business that restored the Mustang, Shane Phillips and Eddie Reynolds.
Shane and Eddie have worked as mechanics in various repair shops throughout town over the last decade. They started a restoration businessfor old muscle cars not long after moving to the house they share with Aubrey Price. A recent social media post showed them celebrating an anniversary, so they are a couple as well as business partners. Shane was popped for auto theft when he was twenty and served a six-month sentence. Eddie has either never broken the law or never gotten caught.
At this point I’m not even surprised at the way they are all connected.
Now we’re getting into the weeds of Paul’s case. When I looked at it the first time, I read through the summary the pro bono group made and that was all I needed to see to believe I had a good chance of winning an appeal on his case. There was a lack of forensic evidence and no eyewitnesses who saw Paul drive his truck that night. The prosecutor argued the kids who had been partying at Paul’s had left an hour before the accident, which also meant none of them were there to see Paul leave his house behind the wheel. It seems like the moment the police identified the owner of the truck as Paul Granger, there was no reason to assume he wasn’t the driver. It’s half-assed and lazy work but also sort of expected from a department that has little to no experience with processing scenes like this.
But now we’re digging in.
“Scott, pull up the arrest records and give me a rundown.”
Scott taps away. “Paul Joseph Granger. White male, age thirty. Arrested at his home at 742 Oak Street, Corbeau, Louisiana, on July eighth, 2016, at seven twelve a.m. Arrest made by Kevin Foster.” A few more clicks. “Foster was also first at the scene of the accident on Maple. Report says he arrived at one thirty a.m. He’s also the one who collected all the witness statements.”
I flip through the pages in the files Ben had in his home office. “There were over two dozen people at his house that night. One cop took all those statements?”
Tap, tap, tap. “Huh.”
Scott’s confusion has me turning to him. “What?”
“Kevin Foster was the chief of police for Corbeau for the last thirty years.”
I get out of my chair and come stand behind him so I can see what he’s seeing. “You’re telling me the chief of police was the first on the scene in the middle of the night.”
Scott shrugs. “That’s what the report says.”
There’s a niggling feeling in my brain that I can’t quite pinpoint. “Did someone call 911 about the accident? How was the accident discovered?”
“No mention of a 911 call coming in. Doesn’t mean there wasn’t one. All it says is what time Foster arrived there.”
Looking at this as if I were Paul Granger’s defense attorney, Kevin Foster would be the first person I tried to discredit. I would pull apart every witness statement he collected, looking to see if he potentially influenced the memories of the witnesses or collected the information incorrectly. Since he was also one of the first responders, I would try to determine if he mishandled any evidence or didn’t follow the correct procedure in collecting it.
“You said he was the chief of police? Is he not anymore?”
“No. Retired a few months ago.”
