21st Birthday by Patterson, James (mystery books to read txt) 📗

still trying to get my arms around it. Gardner bought him a jacket and tie for court. According to Sergeant Waters, he was fine after you left, and they took their eyes off him for a half second. He’d hid the tie under his jumpsuit. Made a slipknot — this is us putting it together after the fact. He gets into the top tier of his bed. Closes his eyes, right? When no one is around, he knots the free end of the tie to the bed frame and drops the fuck over.”

I said, “I can’t — he broke his neck?”

Brady nodded. “Body’s with Claire by now. She’ll let us know for sure if it was suicide.”

I was shaking my head, going over my conversation with Burke.

Brady said, “What made you go up to see him?”

“Boss, I was looking for resolution.”

“What did he say?” Rich asked.

“He said he didn’t do it. He wasn’t trying to convince me. He was dead inside.”

Brady said, “Boxer. The guy was depressed and for very good reason, none of it having anything to do with you.”

“He asked why I’d only shot Evan in the arm.”

“Rich,” Brady said, reaching into his jacket. “Why I’m here. This just came for Cindy with a rush on it.”

Syd came back with a bowl of chicken noodle soup for Brady, and he handed Conklin the envelope marked “Rush. Urgent.”

Conklin looked at the envelope, picked up his phone, tapped a contact.

“Cin? It’s me. This will take two seconds. Can you meet us at MacBain’s? Me, Brady, Lindsay. Yeah. Love you, too.”

He disconnected the line.

“She’s ten minutes out. On the way.”

I said, “I’ll bet she makes it in eight.”

Conklin said, “I don’t like this. What does Evan Burke want with Cindy?”

CHAPTER 116

WHEN CINDY ARRIVED at MacBain’s, Syd set us up at a larger table away from the jukebox.

Cindy accepted the envelope from Brady, but barely looked at it.

“What’s going on?”

Brady said, “Cindy, that’s from Evan Burke. Apparently, he’s a fan. And I have some news, off the record.”

She said, “Can we please drop the cross-my-heart crap and just tell me. There are enough law enforcement out front of the Hall that someone will leak.”

Brady said, “Lucas Burke took his life. End of sentence.”

“He’s dead? You’re saying that Luke is dead?”

Brady said, “I do believe this is the first time I scooped you. Am I right?”

Cindy, open-mouthed, nodded.

“His body is at the ME’s office. Maybe you can get something out of Claire. Okay. I have to go back, see Clapper. Try to put out some fires.”

Brady paid for his soup.

“Cindy. According to Burke’s lawyer, Evan wants to meet with you. He’s at Sunrise Med in Vegas, maybe still in the ICU. Boxer and Conklin can go with you. As your friend, I do not want you to see this dude alone.”

And then Brady was gone.

Cindy said, “I can’t believe Lucas is dead. I mean I’ve been watching him for months. I hoped to interview him. I turn my back and he kills himself?”

I said, “I saw him this morning, Cindy. He was depressed, but he’s been depressed since the day I met him.”

“I gotta write the end of his story.” Cindy stuffed the unopened letter into her bag. “I’ll be at the ME’s office.”

“Hang on, Cindy,” Rich said. “Read the letter.”

“I’m gonna have a panic attack.”

“Hon. Read the letter with your buddy and your lover right here. Then go see Claire.”

“Fine.”

Cindy picked up a bread knife and opened the envelope. She read, “Att: Cindy Thomas.” She looked up and said, “This was written on copy paper with a felt-tip pen, dated today.

She skimmed the letter, sipped some water. Said, “What the hell is this? I’ve never met Evan Burke.”

I said, “Is that a key taped beneath his signature?”

“Yes. So here’s what he says, and I quote: ‘I’m a master killer and in over twenty years, this is the first time I’ve been caught. That was half due to frustration, and half due to, I’m tired of doing all this work and getting zero credit. That, Cindy, is where you come in.’ Then, he says, ‘Keep this key. If you want a story with headlines from here to eternity, pay me a visit at Sunrise Medical Center, Las Vegas. ICU. You look good in baby blue.’”

Rich said, “Cindy. He’s a subhuman liar.”

“I’ll call him up,” she said. “Take it from there.”

She kissed me on the cheek, Conklin on the mouth, grabbed her bags, and split.

“The boss is right that we should go with her,” I said.

I signaled to Sydney.

“You know, Rich, Evan claimed to me that he’d been sleeping with Tara for years. That Lorrie was his child.”

“What? That’s crazy. Is that true? Did you believe him?”

“I didn’t believe a damned thing he said, but he got to me. What if some of that is true? Now, I’m having a sick feeling that he is going to confess to killing Lorrie, Tara, and Misty. And that would mean … Oh, my God.”

“If true, that means Luke was wrongly convicted. That he killed himself because his father trapped him and there was no way out.”

CHAPTER 117

THE ICU DOCTOR’S name tag read “R. Warren, M.D.”

He was grizzled, harried, and gruff, telling Cindy that his patient was adamant about seeing her and he was going to permit this because he didn’t want Evan Burke to stroke out.

Dr. Warren went on.

“You’re not a relative. You’re not even a friend. But this patient is restricted in unusual ways, and if spending five minutes with you makes him feel better, I just have to allow it.”

Cindy said, “Five minutes? I just flew here from San Francisco.”

“I might be talked into six, but that’s it.”

“Okay. Okay, doctor. Thank you.”

She could see Evan Burke in the hospital bed, cuffed to the rails, IV dripping fluids into his arm, a nurse changing his bandages.

The nurse tapped his