Free Beholden by Pat Warren Page B

to a minimum,
     the better off we’ll be.”
    “What about the family? Didn’t they want to see the body?”
    Jones sighed heavily. “I told them that we had to move the body to do a police autopsy, that they’d get to view her later.
     They didn’t buy it, especially John Ryan, Terry’s father. He’s a retired cop and he’s sure something’s rotten in Denmark.
     Trouble is, he can’t prove it, though he’s driving everyone crazy with calls and visits demanding answers.” Jones shook his
     head sympathetically. “I can’t blame the man.”
    “You located Russo?”
    Bob allowed himself a small smile as he walked toward his car with Luke. “Sam’s on probation. He’s violated the terms so it’s
     automatic jail, no matter what his expensive attorney pleads. And the new charge is accessory to murder.”
    “Which is also what McCarthy faces.” Luke watched Bob climb behind the wheel, then braced a hand on the closed door. “Let’s
     hope you draw someone like Carmichael.” Judge Henry Carmichael was known to be tougher on cops gone bad than anyone sitting
     on the bench.
    “That would be nice.” Bob held out his hand. “I appreciate your cutting things short here.” His statement left volumes unspoken.
    Luke shook hands. “Only for you would I do this.”
    “I know that.” He handed Luke a second manila envelope. “All the particulars are in there—pictures, addresses,bio on Terry Ryan and her family. When can I tell George you’ll be relieving him?”
    “Give me three days, maybe four. Will she be out of the hospital by then?”
    “Most likely. George has a secured place set up in San Diego. Info is in there. I’ll activate your checking account.”
    Luke was thoughtful. George had found a secure place. He wasn’t sure he trusted the man. Maybe he’d step up his timetable.
    Jones started the engine, slipped into gear. “Oh, and Luke, get a shave and haircut.”
    Luke waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah.”
    It was easy to read the shock followed by cold fury in Sergeant McCarthy’s gray eyes as he looked up from reading the warrant
     for his arrest that had been handed him. “Phil, what the hell is this?”
    Seated at Captain Marino’s desk, Phil couldn’t quite meet Mac’s eyes. “Accessory to murder, like it says.”
    “Whose murder?” Mac demanded.
    Remington didn’t want to do this, not to an officer in Central where they’d served together for over twenty years. They were
     more than coworkers; they were friends. He wished Marino hadn’t chosen this week to have his damn prostate out, putting Phil
     in charge as second-in-command. “There was a witness to the shooting of reporter Don Simon. We have a sworn statement that
     you were present. The county attorney feels he’s got a case.”
    “A witness!” Mac’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s this witness?”
    Phil knew by the silence outside the open door of the glassed-in office that all the cops were listening, most looking stunned.
     “You know I can’t discuss the case further. I advise you to call your attorney, Mac. Your first appearance before the judge
     is tomorrow morning at eight-thirty.”
    Mac turned to see two officers step in, moving to his side,waiting to escort him out. One held a pair of handcuffs. He swung back to the lieutenant. “Do something, Phil. We’re friends,
     for God’s sake.” He stroked his mustache nervously, hating the tremor in his voice.
    Remington dropped his gaze. “I can’t, Mac.” He picked up the Miranda and read the sergeant his rights.
    Humiliation had Mac curling his fists. “More heads are going to roll before this is over. Mark my words. I’m not going down
     alone.”
    That was exactly what Phil was afraid of. Why couldn’t Mac see that his hands were tied on this? Silently, he nodded to one
     of the blues who quickly threw on the cuffs and led Mac away. Rules were rules, and if he didn’t follow them, if he made exceptions
     for a friend, word would get back to