Chapter Twenty-Four

Banks

“Did you know?” Scribe whispered as we watched Antonio Valentinetti walk off with Laurel and her mother into another room.

“No.”

“King’s going to lose his shit. He hates that fucker.”

“If Antonio can get Laurel out of this mess, I don’t care. My woman didn’t do this shit, and you know it. Hell, even Mike knows it, but his hands are tied. Someone set my woman up and wrapped everything up in a nice tight bow, and I want to know who.”

“So do I,” Scribe growled, looking around the station while he walked over to the young deputy leaning back in his chair as he read a DC comic book. “Noah, when did Mike get the call?”

“Aw, come on, man,” the deputy groaned. “I like this job. It’s easy and nothing happens around here. Well, mostly nothing, but it’s a sweet job. I don’t want to work at the Piggly Wiggly anymore.”

“You’re not gonna get in trouble,” Scribe said. “Just tell me.”

“It was around seven thirty this morning. Why?”

Frowning, I looked at Scribe. “Laurel didn’t leave the clubhouse until twenty after. The boys were dragging their asses this morning. She threatened to make them walk if they didn’t move it. There is no way she could have driven down the mountain, dropped the boys off at the elementary school, then traveled across town to the high school, shoot Williams and get back in town in time to open her store at eight.”

“You’re right,” Scribe confirmed. “Both schools are gridlocked in the mornings and afternoon. Worse than I-95 during rush hour.”

“Which means the actual killer was already at the school.”

“But how did the killer know what Ms. Laurel was wearing?” Noah asked, looking up at both of us.

“Kid’s got a point?” I said, frowning. “Laurel changed her clothes twice before she decided on what she had on. Add in the fact she was running late.”

“And had no reason whatsoever to be at the high school,” Scribe interrupted. “Because Nash is now taking online classes.”

“That means someone saw her before she left the clubhouse.”

“Come on, Banks,” Scribe groaned. “No one at the clubhouse would do this. We all love Laurel.”

“Not saying that, brother, but someone described in great detail what my woman was wearing. Put her at the scene of the crime, even planted evidence to support that. Other than us, who knew what my woman was wearing?”

“I don’t know,” Scribe replied. “And I hate to admit this, but you have a point. Until we can talk with Laurel, we’re just guessing here.”

“Fuck this shit,” I grumbled. I wanted answers and I wanted them right now. Marching my ass into the conference room my woman was in, I threw open the door and everyone looked up at me.

“Laurel. Did you stop anywhere after you dropped the boys off at school?”

My woman looked up at me and frowned. “No. I was running late. I barely made it to the store to open the doors. Why?”

“So, the only place anyone could have seen what you were wearing was at the school?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I never got out of my car. I just dropped the boys off and beat feet to the store.”

“Shit,” Scribe cursed, walking away.

“Why are you asking?”

“Just a hunch, baby. You visit with your cousin. I’ll be right back. I promise.” Quickly closing the door before she could ask me any other questions, I found King and Scribe in deep conversation. From the cut of King’s shoulders, he was not fucking happy with what Scribe was telling him.

“It wasn’t one of my brothers,” King cautioned. “And I’m not fucking happy you think so.”

“I’m not accusing anyone, King, but only those at the clubhouse this morning knew what Laurel was wearing. She never got out of her car.”

“No.” King vehemently shook his head. “I know, my brothers. None of them would betray another brother’s woman like that. Impossible.”

“What the hell is going on?” Antonio seethed, storming over to us. “If you guys know something, you better tell me because my cousin is looking at twenty-five to life in a federal penitentiary.”

“It’s nothing,” King dismissed, glaring at us to say nothing.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Just tell me.”

Refusing to allow my woman to go down for something she didn’t do, I said, “The timeline doesn’t add up. Plus, there is the fact the witness described exactly what Laurel was wearing.”

“Banks?” King snarled.

“I’m sorry, Prez, but my woman is innocent, and you fucking know it. Got love for everyone at the clubhouse, but who else would know what she was wearing?”

“It wasn’t a brother!” King roared.

“Fine,” I challenged. “Then it was a Betty!”

King took a step toward me and snarled, “Are you insinuating that one of the girls set your woman up?”

“No. I know they didn’t,” I replied, standing my ground. “But someone at the clubhouse did.”

Scribe stepped between us and sighed. “He’s right, King. Laurel just said she didn’t stop anywhere. Never got out of her car. Mike got the call at seven-thirty. Laurel wasn’t even down the mountain yet. You know damn well it takes at least twenty minutes to get down the mountain. Laurel left the club at twenty after. That means she made it to town by seven forty. I called the elementary school. The boys barely made it to class. Which means Laurel was on the opposite side of town when the murder occurred and the only one who could have known what she was wearing was someone who saw her leave the clubhouse.”

“It wasn’t my brothers,” King groaned, raking his hands down his face. “I hear what you are saying, Scribe, but I’m telling you. I personally vetted every brother. They wouldn’t do this shit. I know them. But I know who has the answers.”

Reaching for his phone, King quickly dialed a number. Placing the phone at his ear, I heard him say, “Times up. I need you to come in. I’m at the sheriff’s station.”

I was sitting in the conference room with Laurel in my lap. We listened to Judge Tomlinson and DA Dalton talk with Mike while he presented the evidence he had. When Scribe explained the time difference and showed him the security feed of Laurel pulling up at the elementary school at seven fifty in the morning, even Mike couldn’t refute the fact that it wasn’t Laurel. But that still didn’t explain how the caller knew exactly what she was wearing and how the damn murder weapon got in her store.

“The evidence doesn’t support my client’s guilt, gentleman,” Antonio clearly stated. “And the weapon was gained without a search warrant. Regardless of this eyewitness, the murder took place around seven this morning. I’ve got several credible witnesses that will swear under oath that my client didn’t even leave the clubhouse until seven-twenty.”

“The fancy suit is right, Mike,” Judge Tomlinson said. “If this were to come before my court, I would have to dismiss the weapon.”

“She gave me permission, Judge.”

“To check her security cameras, Mike,” DA Dalton groaned. “Look, right now, all the evidence is circumstantial. The witness didn’t give their name and Laurel wasn’t even in town when the murder happened. There is not enough here to bring formal charges. It’s the caller’s word against Laurel’s.”

A knock at the door had us all turning as I watched Sypher walk into the conference room, holding a file in his hand. “The lady at the front desk said I could come in. Got what you asked for, King.”

King nodded and pointed. “Give it to Mike.”

Watching Sypher hand over the file, I held my woman tighter as Mike, Antonio, DA Dalton, and Judge Tomlinson looked at the file.

When the judge cursed and Mike left the room, I looked around the room and asked, “What?”

King leaned forward and said, “After I saw Nash’s back, and he told us what happened, I called Sypher. My gut told me there was something bigger going on and I was right, wasn’t I, kid?”

“Yeah.” Sypher nodded solemnly. “Alan Williams is guilty of beating Nash with a belt. I also found evidence that he beat the other two boys as well. Only he’s guilty of so much more. Mr. Williams didn’t whip them because the boys saw him looking at the girls in the shower. Mr. Williams was in the girls’ shower room because his son Martin molested a student. Instead of turning his son in, he covered for him. Apparently, Mr. Williams has been covering for Martin for years. I spoke to the daughter, Muriel Williams. She confirmed her brother had been molesting her for years.”

“Jesus Christ,” King whispered, shaking his head.

“Yeah. Both parents knew what their son was doing and did nothing to stop it. Until this morning, when Gladys Williams killed her husband,” Sypher stated, turning to the judge. “There is more in the folder, pictures and everything I could find. I’m sorry I couldn’t help sooner.”

“You did enough, young man,” Judge Tomlinson said. “Thank you. Dalton, I’m going to need you to open an internal investigation into Martin’s time at the station. Every case he worked on, I’m going to need you to go over with a fine-toothed comb.”

“I’ll get my staff on it immediately, Jake,” DA Dalton said, leaving the room with his phone to his ear.

“This is a good town. Was born and raised here my whole life. Never thought about living anywhere else, but shit like this makes me second-guess everything. How did we miss this, King?”

“I don’t know, Jake,” King whispered, slowly shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

“Laurel, I am expunging Nash’s record. His slate is clean with me.”

“Thank you, Judge,” my woman muttered as she watched the old man slowly get to his feet.

Judge Tomlinson looked around the table and said, “King, come see me later. I want to run something by you.”

“Sure thing, Jake.”

With that, the judge left, looking years older than I remembered.