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Chapter 24
Hez didn’t like it. In the ten days since Cardin’s murder, Detective Richards had gone radio silent. He’d called three times, and she hadn’t picked up. So he left a voice mail volunteering to help and asking if there was anything he should tell campus security about the threat posed by a killer on the loose. No response—but he did learn from TGU’s security chief that the PHPD had reached out to him directly to say they believed this was a targeted killing and there was no increased risk to campus residents. Augusta Richards was clearly avoiding him—the question was why.
When Hez was in the DA’s office, he routinely told cops not to talk to lawyers who were close to potential targets, especially if the cop had a preexisting relationship with the lawyer. Was that what was going on here? Did the police suspect Savannah?
Hez squirmed on the worn cushion of his office chair. Savannah had discovered the body. Again. She had an unfortunate habit of finding the corpses of men she disliked.
That didn’t mean she was the killer, of course, but it did make her a natural suspect—especially since, by her own admission, Cardin’s body was still warm when she’d found him. It would be reasonable for the police to think Savannah might have spotted him stalking her and decided to take matters into her own hands. Was that what Detective Richards was thinking?
The air in Hez’s shoebox “office” suddenly felt stuffy. He needed to go for a walk—and Cody probably did too. He shoved his to-be-graded stack of papers into his briefcase and headed out.
Twenty minutes later, he was walking down the stairs outside his condo. Cody scrambled after him, his nails making a sound like someone was pouring gravel down the steps. The smell of beignets from Petit Charms greeted him, but Hez was too tense to be hungry. Maybe a walk along the water would help him relax.
They turned away from Pelican Harbor’s quaint French Quarter and headed toward Bon Secour Bay. A brisk breeze blew in his face and he inhaled deeply, savoring the cool salt smell. They reached the waterside park, and Cody immediately did his business and set about putting squirrels in their place, which drew an annoyed squawk from Pete the Pelican, the semi-tame bird that was Pelican Harbor’s unofficial mascot. Alfie Smith sat on a bench, eating his lunch. He looked up at Cody’s yapping and gave Hez a friendly wave. Hez waved back.
When they were in town, he and Savannah used to get beignets at Petit Charms and eat them here. Early in their relationship, a summer rain squall caught them by surprise while they were at the park. The rain was warm and they were drenched in seconds, so there was no point in running for shelter. Hez did a terrible impression of Gene Kelly from Singin’ in the Rain, which got Savannah laughing so hard she couldn’t speak. He could still see her in his mind’s eye, utterly soaked and full of carefree joy.
He caught himself wishing he could stay. There were good memories here, and he’d settled into the rhythms of university and small-town life faster than he’d expected. It would be hard to go back to Birmingham. Hard, but necessary. She’d returned the signed divorce papers, eliminating any doubt about her intentions. Her insistence on an even split of the assets had been touching, unnecessary, and very Savannah. And then there were the rings, of course. Even at the end, she had insisted on being more generous than he deserved.
It took everything in him to file the divorce papers for the judge’s signature, but he did it. For her. And he would move back to Birmingham for the same reason. A clean break would be best for both of them.
But would a clean break be possible if she was accused of murder? She would probably ask him to represent her, and he would say yes. He already knew the evidence, and he would be the obvious best choice to represent her. But that would mean regular contact with her for the duration of the case, which could be a year or more.
His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. Savannah. His pulse quickened as he accepted the call. “Hey, what’s up?”
“The police just showed up with a search warrant!” Her voice shook. “Can you come over here? Please?”
So the other shoe had finally dropped. “Where are you?”
“Jess’s house.”
He blinked. “Jess’s house?”
“Yes. We were having coffee when someone knocked on the door. She answered, and the next thing I knew, police were swarming everywhere. Please come.”
“Yeah, of course. On my way.”
Hez ended the call and headed for his car. The legal wheels whirred in his head during the ten-minute drive as he tried to figure out what the police were up to. Jess didn’t have any apparent motive to kill Cardin—or Abernathy, for that matter—but it would be natural for her to help Savannah. Jess was highly competent, fiercely protective of her sister, and cold and hard as Arctic ice. If Savannah killed someone, Jess wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of the body and destroy evidence. Was that why the police were searching her home?
A familiar scene came into view as Hez reached Jess’s place. Two police vans were parked in front of the ornate Greek Revival portico, and a team of officers in acronym-emblazoned blue windbreakers moved in and out of the house. Hez also glimpsed what looked like evidence techs in the grove of trees in the backyard.
Savannah and Jess stood close together between the marble columns. Savannah hugged herself and shifted her weight from foot to foot, while Jess was a steel statue. Detective Richards stood a few feet away, keeping an eye on both them and the officers.
Hez pulled up behind the rear van and got out. A wave of relief swept over Savannah’s face as she saw him approaching, but Jess’s face remained an expressionless mask.
“Thank you!” Savannah put her hand on his arm as he walked up. Her touch sent a thrill through him, despite the circumstances.
He patted her hand. “Of course. Happy to help.” He turned to Detective Richards. “Can I see the search warrant?”
The detective glanced over her shoulder. “You’ll have to ask her.”
Hez’s gaze traveled past the detective to a severe-looking young woman in a suit standing behind the vans. She caught his eye and walked over. “Deputy District Attorney Virginia Samson. Can I help you?”
So they had a prosecutor overseeing the search. Interesting. They must think they were likely to find critical evidence, so they wanted to ensure everything was done exactly right. “Yes. My name is Hezekiah Webster and I represent Savannah Webster. I’d like to see a copy of the search warrant.”
“That won’t be possible at this time.”
Hez arched an eyebrow. That was an unusual response. “It’ll be possible pretty soon. If you use any evidence from this search against my client, I’ll be entitled to the warrant, the supporting affidavit, and the application. Even if you don’t charge her, the property owner can sue if you guys go beyond the scope of the warrant, and you’ll have to produce the warrant during that lawsuit. So why not give it to me now?”
