Chapter 8: The Detective's Hidden Evidence
At 8:00 the following morning, Robert Haines opened the door of his modest house outside Worcester and looked at me as though he expected me to be followed.
“You came alone?””
I held up my hands.
“As requested.””
He glanced past me toward the street.
“Your husband isn't here?””
“No.””
“Your attorney?””
“No.””
He studied my face for several seconds before stepping aside.
“Come in.””
The house smelled of coffee and furniture polish. Family photographs lined the hallway, most of them showing Haines with a woman and two grown children. On a small table near the staircase sat a framed photograph of a younger Haines standing beside a police cruiser.
He followed my gaze.
“That was the year Thomas Carter died,” he said.
I turned toward him.
“You were a different man then.””
“Twenty years can do that to a person.””
He led me into a small study and closed the door.
A thick folder lay on the desk.
“You said you had evidence,” I said.
“I do.””
“Then why did you wait twenty years?””
Haines lowered himself into a chair.
“Because I was afraid.””
The honesty of his answer unsettled me more than a denial would have.
“Afraid of Patricia?””
“Afraid of the people who protected her.””
He opened the folder.
Inside were photocopies of accident-scene photographs, a preliminary police report, and several pages of handwritten notes.
I leaned forward.
The first photograph showed a dark sedan resting against a barrier on a rain-soaked road. The front of the car was crushed. Broken glass glittered beneath the headlights.
Another photograph showed deep scratches along the rear bumper.
“That's the collision damage?”” I asked.
“Yes. The preliminary report identified an impact from behind.””
“Then the final report removed it.””
“Correct.””
“Who ordered that?””
Haines tapped a line in his notes.
“The instruction came through an assistant district attorney named Paul Mercer. He claimed the collision evidence had been contaminated.””
“Was it?””
“No.””
He opened another page.
“The paint samples matched the dark vehicle seen outside Carter Holdings. The vehicle belonged to Northbridge Capital.””
My fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.
“Did you identify the driver?””
“Yes.””
“Who was it?””
Haines looked toward the closed door.
“Daniel Price.””
I frowned.
“Who is Daniel Price?””
“An executive at Northbridge Capital. He handled transportation and private security for several wealthy clients.””
“Was he working for Patricia?””
“He was employed by Northbridge. Whether Patricia personally directed him is something I could never prove.””
“Did you interview him?””
“I tried. He disappeared before the second interview.””
“Disappeared?””
“He left his apartment, abandoned his car, and never returned to his job. His employer reported that he had resigned.””
I stared at the photographs.
“So you had evidence of a collision, a company-owned vehicle, and a missing driver. Why was the case closed?””
Haines folded his hands.
“Because the official story was more convenient.””
“For whom?””
“For everyone who stood to lose something if Thomas's death was investigated properly.””
He removed a separate sheet from the folder.
It was a copy of a typed statement.
At the bottom, a signature read: Robert Haines.
“I wrote this before the final report was issued,” he said.
“It recorded the evidence I believed supported a criminal investigation.””
I read the statement.
It described the collision marks, the vehicle identification, and a witness who had seen two people arguing outside Thomas's office.
“Who was the witness?””
“Evelyn Shaw.””
“Her statement was excluded.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Haines looked away.
“Because I was told she was unreliable.””
“By Patricia?””
“No. By Mercer.””
I sat back.
“Did you believe him?””
“At the time, I wanted to. He was a senior prosecutor. He told me the case was being handled at a higher level and that my involvement would only damage my career.””
“And you backed down.””
“Yes.””
His voice was flat.
“I told myself I was following procedure. I told myself that if there was a crime, someone more qualified would uncover it.””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Then I saw Evelyn's original statement disappear from the file. I knew something was wrong, but I had already allowed the investigation to move beyond my control.””
“Why didn't you speak up?””
“Because I had a wife, two children, and a mortgage. Because someone left a message on my desk warning me not to ruin an innocent family's reputation. Because I was afraid that if I pushed too hard, I would lose everything.””
I looked at the framed family photographs outside the study.
“And now?””
“Now my children are grown, my wife is gone, and I have spent twenty years wondering what would have happened if I had done my job.””
He pushed the folder toward me.
“I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm giving you what I should have given the investigators years ago.””
I examined the documents carefully.
One page contained a handwritten note beside the vehicle registration.
*Driver identified by witness. Name withheld pending confirmation.*
Below it was another note.
*Second order received from P.C. — do not include collision evidence in final report.*
My stomach tightened.
“Did Patricia send that order?””
“I cannot prove it came directly from her. P.C. could have been someone else.””
“But you believed it was her.””
“Yes.””
I took out my phone and showed him the photograph Marcus had sent.
The handwritten note from the blue folder read:
The boy must never know who signed the original order.
The initials beneath it were P.C. and R.H.
Haines stared at the screen.
Then he slowly sat down.
“Where did you get that?””
“From my husband.””
“Marcus found this?””
“Yes.””
Haines covered his mouth with one hand.
“Then someone has been keeping the original records all these years.””
“Do you know what the original order was?””
He shook his head.
“No. But I know there was a second report.””
“A second report?””
“The first report was prepared at the scene. The second was submitted after the evidence had been reviewed. Between those two versions, the collision disappeared.””
“Who signed the second report?””
Haines looked at me.
“Paul Mercer.””
I wrote down the name.
“Can we contact him?””
“He died five years ago.””
I closed my eyes.
Of course he had.
Every person who might explain the case seemed to have vanished, died, or decided that silence was safer.
“Then what do we do now?””
Haines opened the folder again and removed a small envelope.
“I kept a copy of the original evidence inventory. It identifies the items collected from Thomas's car.””
He handed it to me.
I scanned the list.
Wallet. Keys. Watch.
Damaged briefcase. One torn piece of blue paper.
And beneath those entries:
*Unidentified document, sealed separately at the request of the district attorney's office.*
“Where is the document now?””
“I don't know. It wasn't included in the property released to the family.””
“What did it contain?””
“Nothing in the inventory explains that.””
I stared at the line.
The blue folder had disappeared.
The original report had been altered.
And one document had been removed from Thomas's car before the property was returned.
“Mr. Haines, could the document have been the insurance amendment?””
“Possibly. Or it could have been a letter, a financial record, or something else entirely.””
I placed the inventory in my handbag.
“Thank you for giving me this.””
He nodded.
“There's something I should tell you before you leave.””
I waited.
“After Thomas's death, Patricia visited the police station twice. Both visits were recorded as consultations with the district attorney's office.””
“Did she meet with you?””
“No. But on the second visit, she asked whether the boy had been informed about the insurance.””
My heart stopped.
“Marcus?””
“Yes.””
“What did you tell her?””
“That he was a minor and had no reason to be involved in the investigation.””
Haines's face tightened.
“She looked at me and said, 'Good. Then he can grow up without knowing what his father did.''”
I stared at him.
“Did she say what his father had done?””
“No.””
“Did you ask?””
“I should have.””
He lowered his head.
“I didn't.””
I left the house with the folder pressed against my chest.
Outside, the sky had darkened, and a cold wind moved through the bare trees. I called David and told him everything.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he said, “We need to authenticate those records immediately.””
“I know.””
“And we need to locate Daniel Price.””
“Do you think he's still alive?””
“I don't know. But if he was the driver, he may be able to tell us who ordered the collision.””
I looked at the road.
“Can you find him?””
“I'll try.””
I was about to end the call when David added, “Camille, there's another development. The insurer has located the original policy amendment.””
My heart began to pound.
“Is it signed by Thomas?””
“The signature appears to be his. But the insurer has agreed to provide the original for examination.””
“Can they identify who submitted it?””
“Yes. Their archived log records the submission under Patricia's account.””
I stopped walking.
“And the date?””
“Four days before the accident.””
I looked down at the inventory in my hands.
“David, we need to find out whether the amendment was signed before or after Thomas was injured.””
“That may be impossible to establish from the document alone.””
“Then find the original order.””
“I'll make the necessary requests.””
I ended the call and turned toward the street.
A black SUV was parked across the road.
Its engine was running.
As I watched, the driver's window lowered.
A man in a dark coat looked directly at me.
I recognized him from the photograph taken outside my grandfather's office.
He lifted a phone to his ear.
My own phone rang almost immediately.
I answered without looking away from him.
A distorted voice spoke.
“Ms. Reed, you've been warned.””
I gripped the folder.
“Who are you?””
“You're asking questions that have already cost one family a great deal.””
“Did you drive the car that killed Thomas Carter?””
The man behind the wheel went completely still.
Then he smiled.
Not kindly.
“You should be more careful with accusations.””
He ended the call, raised the window, and pulled away.
I stood motionless until the SUV disappeared around the corner.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Marcus.
*I found the original order.*
May you like
Another message followed.
*And Camille, it has your grandfather's signature on it.*
