Sins of Mine - Mary E. Twomey Page 0,62
found at the cabin.”
Sloan reaches back and holds onto her hand. “No, Jennifer.”
Sander chuckles, which is about the last thing I expect from the man. He taps his ear. “I’m a little deaf, so you’ll have to speak up the next time you all run your mouths at the wrong time.” Since the four of us aren’t catching on, he locks eyes with Sloan. “My report is going to read that Conan and the king had a deadly shootout, which started a fire in the Valentine family cabin. Five bodies were recovered, and all have been identified. The villains have been dealt their due justice.” Then he holds up his hand when we make to protest. “I’m not interested in anything else. Just came to deliver the bad news. When the reporters swarm, make sure you all look devastated.”
My brows knit. “I don’t understand. What I did… I should be punished. I’ve finally earned jailtime, and now… nothing?”
The chief folds his arms across his chest. “You already served time for his crimes, now he’s paying the price for yours. Seems about right.”
I balk at the sliding scale of questionable justice. “Nothing about that is right!”
The chief takes a drink of his coffee. “In all the time you’ve been back on the outside, did you ever think about how you all escaped? Did you wonder why it took the police so long to arrive at Prigham’s during the breach? Did you ever wonder how odd it was that we couldn’t keep you all contained?”
I jerk back, stunned. “What are you saying?”
Sander reaches into his pocket and pulls out a peppermint. He sets it on the table between us like a peace offering.
I laugh through a sob as I curl my fingers around the candy that connected me to this great and measured man throughout the years.
Now it’s Sander’s turn for volume to desert him. “I’m saying that I’m very much against the Sins of the Father bill. When some lowlife commits a crime, who do you think has to go to their child’s house and explain to them that, even though they’ve led a clean life, I have to take them in?” Sander’s thumb jabs to his chest. “I’m tired of arresting innocent people.” Then he points at me in accusation. “I’m more than tired of arresting your father, only to have him get off on some invisible technicality nearly every time. Whoever killed the both of them did the entire world a favor. My conscience can’t take another arrest of an innocent person.”
Sloan runs his hands over his unshaven face. “I… This is… Thank you, Sander.”
The righteous indignation deflates, and the chief leans back in his chair again, sipping his coffee as if nothing earthshattering at all just happened. “Just doing my job.”
I can see Sloan wrestling with something. When he fidgets to the point of not being able to take it anymore, he speaks up. “I might just so happen to know an anonymous witness who can come forward and report on a bunch of crimes that have gone unreported. Might help boost your closed case rate.”
Sander’s eyebrows lift, the corner of his mouth rising just a touch. “I’d appreciate that anonymous witness very much. Though, I made up my mind about what happened in the cabin before that, and even if you didn’t find your mysterious witness, that would still be how it all landed.”
“My anonymous witness appreciates that.”
When I lean my elbows on the table and cover my face with my hands, Sander rests his elbows on the table, too. “Every time you do a demonstration, let me know, and I’ll make sure I send some squad cars over to keep the peace so your message can be heard. It’s important, what you’re saying, young lady, and you’re the only one who can get away with saying it as loudly as you’ve done.”
I swallow hard, willing myself not to break down. “Thank you, sir. And I promise nothing like what happened at the cabin will ever happen again. If it helps, both times were self-defense.” And I hope he can read the honesty in my eyes when my fingers curl down to rest on my lips. “Truly.”
Sander nods. “That helps me sleep better, sure. One more thing that would help me sleep better is knowing what I’m dealing with, moving forward.”
I shrug, unsure what he’s getting at. “I don’t own any guns anymore. If I did, you could take them.”
Sander shakes his head. “Not that. Your father’s