relationship with Katie, even his engagement, wasn’t where his focus should be right now. He’d had his hands full today doing damage control, establishing an alibi for when Jack asked, knowing that it would eventually come down to that. Damn Nina! Why did she have to die? It was all so inconvenient. But at least he had someone on the inside. He hoped Deputy Chief Dick would come through for him.
Trent would support the police investigation. How could he not? It was in his best interest to see this case closed quickly. The public would not accept an unsolved attack on a district attorney. They would see it as a weakness of the future governor. That wasn’t good for Trent’s campaign, or his own future, for that matter.
He was pulled from his thoughts by the ringing telephone.
“Eric,” Trent said, “I want you in my office first thing in the morning.”
“We shouldn’t talk on an open line.”
“Oh. Of course,” Trent said. “Can you come to my house?”
Eric’s thoughts returned to his meeting with Trent. “We decided to meet at the office in the morning,” he repeated. “Nothing we can do tonight.”
“I just wanted to fill you in,” Trent said, and Eric could tell the man was in a panic. Close to tears. But Trent would have to suck it up. A mistake now would ruin everything. Trent was right to be afraid of Jack Murphy.
“I’ll see you in the morning. I’m tired,” Eric said.
“Bring Nina’s files with you. All of them.”
Eric found he was gripping the phone for dear life as he placed it back in the cradle. He was used to Trent barking orders. He had worked for the man for almost six years now. But soon, if all went as planned, Trent would become Indiana’s governor, and Eric would be the next prosecutor of Vanderburgh County. Eric would be the one calling some other jerk in the middle of the night, barking orders like some alpha dog.
He lay back on the bed without undressing, turned the lights out, and punched up his pillow. Murphy was grabbing at straws. That was his style. He was like a Tasmanian devil. Whirling around like a destructive dervish to see what flew out. But he didn’t have any evidence.
He laid his head down and a more pleasant thought came to mind: Katie. Screw Jack, I’ll call her tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“We made the news, pod’na,” Liddell said, and flipped the Evansville newspaper onto Jack’s desk.
The front page headlines read, “Deputy Prosecutor Murdered: Cannibalism Suspected.” The story claimed unnamed sources “close to the investigation” had reported three human heads were found on Sunday, one in Evansville and two in Harrisburg, Illinois. It went on to report that three other heads had been found in Harrisburg several years ago, and that the bodies had never been recovered. The article then speculated that cannibalism might be the explanation.
The article didn’t give the names of the victims. Either they didn’t have them, or they were going to use the knowledge to blackmail the police department into giving them an exclusive on the progress of the case.
If they had the victims’ names, that meant they had verified the identification with at least two sources. Jack knew the coroner’s office would never give that information out without checking with him, so that limited the culprits to other policemen or the prosecutor’s office as the leak.
“Has the chief seen this?” Jack asked.
“Who do you think gave the paper to me?” Liddell responded without a trace of his usual humor. “This time the backstabbing weasel has gone too far.”
Jack knew the weasel that Liddell was referring to could only be Larry Jansen.
“Jansen was supposed to meet us here this morning. He was in Records until about midnight,” Jack said. When Liddell had come to work, Jack immediately caught him up on the meeting in the prosecutor’s office last night. Liddell agreed it was odd behavior. “Have you heard from him?”
“No, but I’m not surprised. He’s probably at the newspaper collecting his thirty pieces of silver.”
Jack wanted to get to the bottom of this leak as bad as anyone, but Jansen was Teflon-coated. No matter what he was caught doing, nothing ever stuck. He had once been suspended for illegally wiretapping the mayor’s office. That was a federal offense, but Jansen had never been charged. And later, while he was on sick leave, he shot and killed a newspaper reporter who he claimed attacked him with a hatchet. The kicker was, he was inside