High in Trial - By Donna Ball Page 0,24
with the family. Besides, that was twenty years ago. She was just a kid. What would she know? Maude might remember something though,” he added. “Maybe I’ll give her a call tomorrow.”
Wyn reached across the table and snagged his pinky finger with her own. “You know,” she reminded him gently, “it was twenty years ago. The person who put in the notification request is dead. I wonder if…”
She let the sentence trail off and started to look away, but Buck held her gaze. “If I’m making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be. And if maybe the reason I’m doing it is because of Raine?”
Wyn pulled her hand away. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Maybe.”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes clear and thoughtful. “I’ve thought about that. If it had been anybody besides Judge Stockton, I might’ve let it go. Maybe I should let it go.”
Wyn said, “But?”
He took another sip of coffee, glanced at his cup, and set it on the table. “But,” he said simply, “my gut tells me that would be a big mistake.”
She looked at him for a time, saying nothing. Then she nodded once, slowly, and opened the file again. “Okay,” she said. “So let’s start at the beginning. 9:15 p.m., some guy bearing a striking resemblance to Berman robs the Cash-n-Carry on Highway 11 of two thousand sixty-four dollars, in the process shooting one Gerald Sailor, night clerk, who later died of his injuries. Witnesses claimed that in the act of making his escape, the perpetrator scraped his vehicle—a reddish-brown Chevy pickup truck—against the pylon next to the pumps. No security tape, huh?”
Buck shook his head. “It was just a mom-and-pop place. Still is, I guess, but now they have cameras at the pumps and behind the register. Too many people driving off without paying, with the price of gas so high. I get a call two or three times a week.”
“Do you ever catch them?”
He shrugged. “If they’re local. If not, I turn it over to the state patrol. But I guess the cameras are worth it for the small business owner now. Back then, not so much.”
Wyn looked back down at the file. “Two hours later, Berman is stopped for DUI with two thousand fourteen dollars in cash in his glove box and a pistol matching the description of the one used in the robbery, along with a receipt from the Cash-n-Carry. Too bad the machine didn’t time stamp it. His vehicle, a primer-painted 1989 Chevy pickup, showed damage on the right front fender with streaks of green or blue paint.” She glanced up at him. “So the only thing I’m wondering is why a guy would pay for twenty dollars worth of gas, save the receipt, and then rob the cash register at gunpoint.”
Buck frowned a little. “He was stoned. Who knows why they do the crazy things they do?” But the way he said it made her think he’d asked the same question.
“Who was his lawyer?”
“Court appointed. Don Kramer.”
“Senior?”
“Junior. He would’ve been just starting out then. Naturally his old man would give him all the grunt work.”
“Still, he must have done an interview.”
Buck’s lips tightened with a dry smile. “I need you back on the force.”
“You just let me know when you make up your mind.”
He reached for the folder with a small shake of his head. “Who am I kidding? I don’t have time to go chasing down clues on a twenty-year-old crime. If there was anything there to see, Roe would’ve seen it. And I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”
“What you’re looking for,” Wyn reminded him simply, “is answers. Why Judge Stockton thought it was important to keep tabs on this guy for twenty years. Why he hasn’t checked in with his parole officer in two weeks. What one thing has to do with the other.”
“Which is probably nothing.” Buck picked up the check. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Long drive home.”
“So,” Wyn said as they stood at the register and waited for the clerk to swipe Buck’s credit card, “what’s the verdict?”
“About what?”
“You know about what. The one thing you haven’t brought up all night.”
He draped an arm around her shoulders as they walked out into the night. There were only a handful of cars in the parking lot, scattered like islands in a misty sea of mercury vapor lights. He said, “I talked to a guy in Asheville. He said they were going to have some openings