Chapter 7 - THE MAN WHO SAID I SHOT HIM
Brian Bell looked directly into a patrol officer's body camera and named me.
That was the first thing Detective Shaw told me.
The second was worse.
"He says you confronted him behind a closed grocery store around ten-thirty."
I stared at her.
At ten-thirty, I had been in St. Vincent Children's Hospital.
With police officers.
With Evelyn Cross.
With security cameras in every hallway.
"That's impossible."
"I know."
"Then why are we discussing it?"
"Because the weapon recovered from his car may be yours."
"May be?"
"Serial number matches."
Mason swore quietly behind me.
Shaw glanced at him.
"And you are?"
"An old friend."
"Name."
"Mason Ward."
Something flickered in her face.
She knew the name.
Mason noticed.
"We met?"
"No."
"Then you read files you weren't supposed to read."
"That sounds like a conversation for another night."
"Agreed."
Shaw turned back to me.
"Brian's wound is superficial."
"Entry and exit?"
"Yes."
"Close range?"
"Unknown."
"Where was he found?"
"He walked into the county ER by himself."
"No ambulance?"
"No."
"No scene?"
"Not yet."
Mason folded his arms.
"Meaning he can claim he was shot anywhere."
Shaw looked at him.
"Meaning we investigate before deciding."
"Good answer."
She ignored him.
"Michael, I need your clothing."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Gunshot residue."
"Of course."
"And your hands."
"Fine."
"And I need you to understand that until we confirm the timeline, you may technically be a suspect."
Evelyn arrived behind her just in time to hear that sentence.
"He will cooperate through counsel."
Shaw closed her eyes briefly.
"Ms. Cross."
"Detective."
"This is not a custody issue."
"My client is still entitled to counsel."
"I know."
"Wonderful."
Evelyn looked at me.
"Do not say anything clever."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Men always say that immediately before saying something clever."
For the first time that night, Mason smiled.
It lasted half a second.
The technician swabbed my hands.
They collected my jacket.
Hospital staff found me a gray sweatshirt from a donation cabinet.
I changed in a restroom while an officer waited outside.
The humiliation barely registered.
All I could think about was Jake waking up and seeing another stranger in uniform standing near his father.
When I returned, he was awake.
His eyes went straight to the officer.
"Dad?"
I sat beside him.
"Everything's okay."
"Are you in trouble?"
There was fear in his voice.
Not for himself.
For me.
I hated them for giving him that fear.
"No."
"Then why is he here?"
"Because grown-ups are sorting out a bunch of things."
Jake looked skeptical.
Eight-year-olds can smell adult nonsense.
"Did Grandpa say you did something?"
I paused.
"Your uncle said something that isn't true."
Jake's mouth tightened.
"Uncle Brian lies."
I looked at him carefully.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because he told Grandpa I broke the red phone."
The phrase meant nothing to me.
"What red phone?"
Jake's eyes widened slightly.
He realized he had said something he thought he should not.
"It's okay."
I kept my voice gentle.
"You aren't in trouble."
He stared at the blanket.
"In the basement."
"Was it in the office?"
He nodded.
"Old phone?"
"No."
"Like a cell phone?"
"It was red and flat."
A tablet.
"Did you touch it?"
Jake nodded reluctantly.
"I didn't mean to."
"You're not in trouble."
"It had pictures."
"Of what?"
He looked at me.
"You."
My skin prickled.
"The same picture you told me about?"
"Lots of pictures."
I forced myself not to react.
"What kind?"
"You at our house."
My stomach dropped.
"Our house now?"
Jake nodded.
"You mowing the grass."
"Me at soccer?"
"Yeah."
"Mom?"
He nodded again.
"Me?"
"A bunch."
I felt sick.
Raymond had not stopped watching me fourteen years ago.
He had watched my family.
My son.
Our home.
Our ordinary life.
"What happened when you touched it?"
"It made a noise."
"An alarm?"
"Like beep-beep-beep."
"Then what?"
"Mom came in."
"Was she crying before or after?"
"Before."
"What did she do when she saw the tablet?"
Jake swallowed.
"She said, 'Oh God.'"
"Then Grandpa came?"
"Yeah."
"What did he say?"
Jake's eyes filled with tears.
I immediately stopped.
"You don't have to tell me."
"He said Mom ruined everything."
"Jake-"
"Then Uncle Brian came down."
His breathing sped up.
I touched his hand.
"Buddy, stop."
"He said I broke it."
"Stop."
"I didn't break it."
"I know."
"I swear."
"I know."
I leaned close until he looked at me.
"You do not have to prove anything to me."
His eyes searched mine.
Then his shoulders loosened.
"Okay."
A nurse came in to check his blood pressure.
I stepped outside and immediately found Detective Shaw.
I told her about the red tablet.
Every word.
She listened without interrupting.
"If that device exists, we need it."
"Raymond has probably destroyed it."
Mason shook his head.
"Not if it contains his archive."
Shaw looked at him.
"Archive of what?"
"Everything."
"That's vague."
"Raymond Bell spent at least fifteen years collecting leverage on people."
"How do you know that?"
Mason looked at me.
I nodded once.
He told her enough.
Not everything.
Enough.
The old financial network.
Delaney.
The informant leak.
Bellwether.
Shaw listened with the expression of someone realizing her child-assault case had just opened into something much larger.
"Why hasn't federal law enforcement arrested Raymond before now?"
Mason answered quietly.
"Because for fourteen years, we didn't know Raymond Bell was Bellwether."
"And now you do?"
"Now I'm nearly certain."
"Nearly isn't probable cause."
"No."
He looked through the glass at Jake.
"But that kid may have seen the first direct evidence we've had in over a decade."
Shaw's jaw tightened.
"Which explains the assault."
"Maybe."
"And the cleanup."
"Maybe."
"And the stolen gun."
"Definitely connected."
Shaw pulled out her phone.
"I'm calling the prosecutor."
Before she could dial, Perez approached quickly.
"Detective."
Something in her voice stopped us.
"Lab called with a preliminary on Brian's shirt."
Shaw frowned.
"Already?"
"ER collected it and rushed GSR swabs because of the alleged shooting."
"And?"
"Residue on Brian's right hand."
I looked at Mason.
Perez continued.
"A lot of it."
Shaw's eyes narrowed.
"He fired a weapon."
"Looks that way."
"Could be transfer."
"Could."
Then Perez held up her phone.
"But the county ER has exterior cameras."
"They caught him arriving?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"No."
She turned the screen toward us.
A still image showed Brian climbing out of a dark sedan.
His left arm hung awkwardly.
His right hand pressed a towel against his shoulder.
The driver's face was partially visible through the windshield.
I recognized the gray baseball cap first.
Dennis Vargo.
Shaw zoomed in.
"So Vargo dropped him off."
"Yes."
"Which means Brian lied about where he was shot."
"Probably."
Mason leaned closer.
"Look at the back seat."
Perez zoomed again.
A third person sat behind Vargo.
Only part of the face was visible.
Gray hair.
Sharp profile.
Raymond Bell.
My phone buzzed at that exact moment.
Unknown number.
A photo message.
I opened it.
It showed Jake asleep in his hospital bed.
Taken from the hallway.
Taken within the last five minutes.
Underneath were four words.
May you like
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED GONE.
