The President's Daughter - Mariah Stewart [32]
Simon could hear the pages rustling in the background.
“But . . .” he urged her to go on.
“But there are only two in the file. Now that I look a little closer”—she paused as she shuffled through the file—“it looks like . . . well, like some things that should be in the file aren’t.”
More paper crinkled. Then Madeline said softly, as if to herself, “Odd that this file was closed so soon after the accident. . . .”
“Any reason why?”
“You’d have to speak with the investigating officer.”
“I’d love to. Got a name?”
“Looks like . . . something . . . Hughes.”
“Any idea of who that is?”
“Well, I knew several Hugheses over the years. If you hold on, I’ll run the badge number through the computer.”
Simon had started to wonder if the detective had forgotten that she’d placed him on hold by the time she came back on the line.
“Your Hughes was Kevin,” she told Simon. Before he could ask, she added, “He retired about six or seven years ago. He was a good man. We worked together for a while.”
“Any idea of where I could find him?”
“You want a lot for that lunch, buddy,” Madeline said good-naturedly. “I may have to call you back with that.”
“I’d really appreciate it, Madeline. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. I hope you find what you’re looking for. Must be something hot. Maybe someday you’ll even tell me what this was all about.”
“Maybe,” he said as the first page began to come through the fax. “Maybe someday . . .”
Simon found Kevin Hughes alive and well and living in Trenton, New Jersey, where he offered his services as an expert witness in the area of police procedures to insurance companies obligated to defend officers who had been sued for civil rights violations of one sort or another.
At the time Simon called, Hughes was on his way to a trial in Connecticut but offered to look at the report that bore his name. All Simon had to do was fax it to him. Simon did, blessing the marvels of modern technology.
Hughes called him back right away.
“I remember this accident. I can’t believe you have this report. I remember this accident,” Hughes repeated somewhat excitedly. “It was actually one of the first accidents I investigated after joining the force. Damn. I can’t believe you’re calling about this accident. Madeline didn’t tell me it was this accident. . . .”
“Was there something special about this accident?” There was something in the former police officer’s voice that set Simon’s nerves humming. “Other than the fact that it was one of the first you investigated?”
“How ’bout the fact that she was hit twice?”
“Hit twice?” Simon sat up straight in his chair. “You mean she was hit by two different cars?”
“Nah, I mean she was run over twice by the same car.”
“But that would mean that the car . . .” Simon said slowly.
“Yeah. Backed up and ran over her a second time.”
Simon sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m looking at the police report. It doesn’t say anything like that.”
“No shit.”
“Did you write it up that way? To reflect that she’d been run over twice?”
“Yes. It was all in my report. Two sets of tire marks on the woman. And it was on the coroner’s report as well.”
“Your report now consists of two pages. And the coroner’s report is missing from the file.”
“Surprise, surprise,” Hughes murmured.
“Any idea of who would have removed those reports?”
“Honestly, no. I haven’t a clue. I was a rookie. I knew better than to ask.”
“And you never told anyone?”
“Some of the other guys knew about it. And right after the accident there was a private detective asking some questions, but I wasn’t allowed to speak with him. Seems the victim’s father was some big shot in D.C. But I don’t think even he ever got the full report. So if you mean did I speak with anyone outside the force, no. The only reason I’m talking to you now is because Detective Shaw asked me to give you whatever you wanted. She and I go back. If she trusts you, that’s enough for me.”
“Didn’t it bother you? That your report was changed?”
“Hell, yes, it bothered me. But the order to purge that file would have