Save Her Child by CJ Lyons (best historical biographies txt) 📗

good reverend is her father and he’s been anything but cooperative. Obstructive is more like it—it feels like this case is personal to him somehow. Maybe because he probably helped write Standish’s confession. Not to mention, he’s the last person we know who spoke with Spencer before he died.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest, if he’s also Tassi’s attorney?” Leah asked.

“Yes. And I plan to use that to convince him to find her another attorney and talk with me. Although I’m certain he’ll hide behind attorney or minister privilege.” He blew out his breath and leaned more heavily on his crutches. “Anyway, I’m hoping if Tassi talks to you, you can pull out a few threads of truth, enough for me to run with. Otherwise, I have nowhere to start.”

Leah nodded. When she’d first taken the job as medical director of the Crisis Intervention Center, she’d been leery of working with the police. But not only did she and Luka work well together, she’d discovered that being able to console witnesses and victims, empowering them to tell their stories, was fulfilling, even if not as hands-on life-and-death thrilling as her old job in the ER.

She’d never admit it to anyone, especially not Luka, but even more exciting were times like this when her work with a witness might make or break a case, lead to justice being served. It was a feeling almost as good as saving a life.

“And if Tassi asks for an attorney?” She needed to tread carefully, given the legal minefield Luka had described. When Leah performed a forensic interview for the police, she was technically acting as an agent of the police, rather than a physician.

“Then we’ll stop and find her one. But let’s take it one step at a time.”

Taking a deep breath, Leah stepped forward into the fray. “Mrs. Standish? I’m Dr. Leah Wright—”

Before Leah could explain who she was and why she was there, Tassi lunged past the two men to grab Leah’s arms. “Please, you can’t let them cut my husband up! Please, I need to see him. Please help me!”

Twenty-Nine

Luka watched in amusement as Leah handled Tassi’s theatrics. She sat the widow back down, took a seat beside her and, after giving Tassi a few moments to vent her emotions, calmly explained why she couldn’t see her husband—and why an autopsy was required. She was smart enough not to tell the wife that the postmortem examination had already been completed.

“But I don’t want one,” Tassi replied, pulling her lip in like a pouting adolescent.

“I’m sorry, that’s the law,” Leah said in a firm yet gentle tone. “And necessary before the coroner’s office can issue a death certificate.”

Tassi hid the sharp-edged gleam in her eye, but not before Luka caught it. So this was the real motive behind her visit to the morgue. Without the death certificate she couldn’t cash in on Spencer’s insurance. But why the theatrics?

Foster Dean gave him his answer. The former DEA agent stampeded past Hansen to loom over where Tassi and Leah sat. “We need to talk,” he told Tassi, as if afraid she might be spilling her guts to Leah. Of course. If Tassi and Spencer were mixed up with the Zapata family’s money-laundering, then Tassi might possess information she could use against the cartel. Plus, she was Dean’s only surviving lead to the Zapatas’ missing money. Which told him exactly where Dean’s sympathies lay.

“Go away,” Tassi cried. She turned to Leah, clinging to her arm with both hands. “Can you make him stop harassing me? Everywhere I go, he’s there, badgering me. All I want is to mourn my husband in peace.”

Luka intervened. “Is that true?”

“I have every right to protect my clients’ interests,” Dean protested.

“That doesn’t mean you can hound me, follow me everywhere,” Tassi said. “Leave me alone, I don’t know anything!”

“Ma’am, are you accusing him of harassment?”

“Stalking is more like it.”

Hansen stepped forward, hovering protectively beside Tassi. “Can’t you arrest him, make him stop?”

Luka would love nothing more, but he needed more probable cause to make an arrest. He could however leverage Tassi’s accusations to force Dean into a serious discussion.

“I wasn’t following her,” Dean said. “I need a copy of the death certificate as well. And a definitive identification of the body. After all, Spencer faked his death once before. This time my clients need proof—”

“It was your clients who drove him to that. Otherwise they would have killed him,” Tassi flared. Then she collapsed against Leah, her eyelids fluttering shut as if she was overwhelmed.

After losing her husband she had every right to be—except that Luka felt in his bones she was merely acting. It made him angry: Tassi faking her grief while sitting beside Leah, who had suffered such agony after her own husband’s murder.

But Leah was a better person than he was. Instead of responding with contempt, she gave Tassi a quick hug of sympathy. “I also lost my husband recently.”

Tassi blinked her eyes back open. “You did?” Tears reappeared and she swiped them away. “How did you—” She sniffed. “I can’t, it’s all too much…”

“I understand.” Leah glanced at Luka.

He pivoted on his crutches to the two men. “I think we should give Tassi some privacy. And I’d like to speak with both of you.”

“I’m not leaving Tassi,” Hansen declared.

Dean planted his feet, signaling his own unwillingness to let the widow out of his sight.

Luka had no legal recourse to force them, but he did have bait to dangle. Thankfully, Leah picked up on his intentions. She stood and guided Tassi up. “Wouldn’t you prefer a more private space to talk?”

Beneath half-lowered lids, Tassi eyed the men, then nodded to Leah.

Leah laid a hand on Tassi’s arm, guiding her toward the door. “I’d like to make this as painless for you as possible. Sergeant Jericho has some details he needs, but I thought it’d be easier to talk to me? Get it all over with as quickly as we can. Then I can ask the medical