What I've Done (Page 18)

On the screen, Sheriff Colgate identified himself, Deputy York, and Haley. He noted her address for the official record. Then Colgate read Haley her Miranda rights, slid a paper and a pen across the desk, and asked her to sign to acknowledge that she understood her rights. She ignored his request. Colgate didn’t press the issue. Instead, he spoke to the camera in the corner of the ceiling. “Let the record show that Ms. Powell has been verbally apprised of her rights.”

Haley blinked, her gaze resting on the sheriff for a few seconds, then drifting away.

Colgate’s shoulders were planted against the back of the chair. He was giving her space, feeling her out at this early stage of the interview. “Ms. Powell, how did you come to be at the residence of Noah Carter this morning?”

Haley’s breath hitched, and one shoulder lifted and dropped, the movement almost imperceptible.

“You were at the nightclub Beats last night.” The sheriff shifted forward slightly, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “What time did you leave the club?”

“I don’t know,” Haley mumbled and stared down at her fists, which were clenching the blanket edges together in front of her belly.

“You were covered in blood this morning.” The sheriff’s tone was firm but gentle, as if he were talking to a teenager who’d wrecked her dad’s car. “How did that happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you go home with Noah last night?”

“I don’t know.” Haley’s voice rose both in volume and pitch, then dropped to a whisper. “I want to call my mother.”

The sheriff stood, walked around the table, and perched on the corner next to her. He was getting in her personal space now, applying pressure through body language. “Did you kill Noah Carter?”

“I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.” Haley’s words ran into one sentence. She stifled a sob. A tear rolled down her cheek. She folded her arms on the table, laid her head down, and wept. The sound of her sobbing ripped at Lance’s heart.

On the video, compassion flickered briefly over the sheriff’s face.

For the next fifteen minutes, the sheriff asked her multiple times and in multiple ways if she had killed Noah Carter. But Haley had shut down. She wouldn’t even lift her head. A knock sounded on the door. A deputy stuck his head in and waved frantically for the sheriff.

“The first interview ended at 2:12 p.m. Saturday,” Morgan said.

“That’s right about the time Shannon Yates’s car was found.”

Morgan sat back in her chair, twirling her pen in her fingertips. “Haley sat in the holding cell until Monday morning, when the sheriff realized he was running out of time and needed to either charge her or let her go.”

“But they weren’t entirely ignoring the case. In the meantime, they matched her fingerprints with those found on the weapon and expedited a DNA test of the blood that was all over Haley, confirming that it was Noah’s.” Lance thought the sheriff had handled the situation well, except for not taking Haley to the ER. “Haley never specifically told the sheriff that she didn’t remember the night before.”

“She wasn’t thinking straight.” Morgan tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “She was clearly confused, or ‘out of it,’ as the responding officer noted.”

“The prosecutor will spin it that she was merely avoiding questions and took that time to come up with a story.”

“Or that I suggested it when I met with her on Monday morning.” Morgan sighed. “That’s exactly how I would have spun it when I was an ADA.” She leaned forward and wrote on her legal pad. “I’ll prepare a motion to get her initial statements to the sheriff’s department disqualified due to her confused mental state brought about by her untreated Addison’s disease. I’ll need to get Haley’s doctor to testify that her medical condition made her disoriented and confused.”

The doorbell chimed.

“That’ll be the pizza.” Lance went to the front door, handed the delivery kid some cash, and brought the pizza back to Morgan’s office. He opened it on her desk. She ripped her attention from her notes long enough to inhale two slices. Lance ate four, then stowed the rest of the pizza in the refrigerator in the kitchen.

He returned to Morgan’s office. They watched the second video. Colgate read Haley’s Miranda rights a second time. Then he confronted her with the results of the DNA test and the fingerprint analysis.

Haley’s eyes were sunken, her posture exhausted, and her skin paler. She replied to every question with a small voice. “I want to call my mother.”

“I’ll arrange it.” Colgate gave up, and the video ended.

Morgan stood, crossed the room, and brewed a cup of coffee. When she turned around, a deep-in-thought line divided her eyebrows. “We need to start interviewing people.”

“It’s three o’clock.” Lance returned to his place in front of the whiteboard. He studied the list of names.

Morgan went back to her desk, sipped her coffee, and tapped on her keyboard. “Let’s start with Haley’s girlfriend Piper. She’ll be the least hostile. We can go to Beats tonight and interview employees, but the club doesn’t open until later. We also have to talk to Noah’s three friends: Isaac McGee, Chase Baker, and Justin O’Brien.”

The police reports included driver’s license photos of all the witnesses. Morgan printed them out, including pictures of Noah and Haley. She made multiple copies of each, one for the whiteboard and another for her own file. She also liked to have pictures on hand when doing interviews. A photo could jog the memory of a waitress or bartender.

“We’ll walk the crime scene tomorrow,” Lance added.

“I’ll email the prosecutor’s office now and request entry to Noah’s house. Then I’ll call Piper and see when she’ll be available.” Morgan typed a quick email. She pressed the “Enter” key and froze.

“What is it?” Lance asked.

“An email.” She turned the computer, so he could read the screen.

Counselor Dane,

Haley Powell brutally murdered Noah Carter. If you continue to represent her, you will be complicit in her crime, and you will be punished for your wickedness. Consider this your only warning.

“You’ve been carrying your handgun, right?” Lance asked.

Both sides of a criminal case often received nasty emails. Most of the time nothing came of them, but the tone of this one set off his creep meter. Morgan could handle herself, but Lance still wanted to play bodyguard.

“Yes,” Morgan said. “Except at court appearances, like today.”

“Until this is over, don’t leave home without it.”

Chapter Thirteen

Morgan reached for the doorbell of Piper Allen’s second-floor apartment door. Gray siding and neat white trim gave the newer complex a crisp, clean appearance.

The young woman who opened the door wore slim jeans and a body-hugging top with the shoulders cut out. Thick gray socks covered her feet. Royal-blue highlights in her jet-black hair made her pale skin and blue eyes pop. Whether she intended it or not, the effect was elfin.

“Piper Allen?” When the young woman nodded, Morgan handed over a business card and introduced herself. “This is my investigator, Lance Kruger. \Thank you for seeing us.”

“Come in.” Piper stepped back and opened the door wider. “I’ll do whatever I can to help Haley.”

They went into a tiny tiled foyer. Piper closed the door and led them back to a living room, which was open to a bright kitchen and eating area. Her modern furnishings looked like the type that came in a flat box to be assembled with a hex key.

“How is Haley?” Piper walked into the kitchen.

Morgan followed her. “She should be home soon.”

Lance crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

“I can’t believe that she killed Noah, no matter what the police say.” Piper stopped in front of a cutting board loaded with onions, carrots, and celery. The rest of the apartment might have been furnished on a budget, but the kitchen appliances were all high-end. “You don’t mind if I continue chopping? I need to keep busy.”

“Chop away.” Morgan waved toward the cutting board. “You and Haley went out together Friday night? Whose idea was it to go to the club?”

Regret troubled Piper’s face, and her fingers trembled. She squeezed them into tight fists and then opened her hands. A little steadier, she picked up a large, fat-bladed knife and began to chop carrots. “It was mine. Haley doesn’t really like clubs. She’d rather stay home and game.”

“She plays video games?” Morgan asked.

“Online games. Haley’s a geek. She likes League of Legends, Call of Duty, and World of Warcraft.” Piper lifted the cutting board and used the back of the knife to scrape the chopped carrots into a large bowl. “She didn’t want to go out Friday night, but it was my birthday. She did it to make me happy.”

“Have you and Haley been friends long?” Lance’s gaze was fixed on Piper’s knife.

With practiced hands, she worked the blade through a row of celery stalks. “Since I took the job with the bank three years ago.”