Dale smiled. “Okay, let’s say we’re heroes to each other. You also have a true loving relationship with Rachel and I admire it all the more because I sure don’t have that with my wife.”
“I appreciate that. But how can I possibly help you?”
Dale leaned forward, staring straight into Calvin’s eyes, his face, expressions, emotions and heart wide open and said, “Tell me what I should do.”
Calvin perceived where the man was in his heart and mind and what advice he needed to start moving forward again. “What do I know? I got very lucky. Not everyone would think an ex-hooker and a leg breaker were the elements of an ideal relationship.”
When Dale didn’t say anything, Calvin shrugged.
“You’ve already taken the biggest and most difficult step of all, accepting full responsibility and blame for all that went wrong and all that you didn’t do that you should have done. I went through that same step.”
Dale still didn’t respond.
“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Tell her what you told me. Admit your faults and don’t bullshit her about your repentance. Tell her that she is in charge—you’ll do what she asks. You need her now more than ever and you’re totally committed to changing, to becoming the father and husband you should have been and are determined to be now. It won’t be easy for you, but ask her for only a little more patience. Can you do that?”
Dale dropped his head. “Yes.”
Calvin smiled. “Don’t try to be the whole police department. Share the load and make the right amount of time for loving your family and being with them. All the other cops admire you. The problem isn’t that you’ll let others down.”
Dale started to speak but Calvin put his hand up. “I’m speaking the truth. You don’t need to be modest or say anything because that’ll just get in the way of the point I want to make.” He paused for a moment and then continued. “You feel like a failure because you and your team were only able to get hard evidence on Sanders for two murders, leaving three unsolved. If Jimmy, or any members of your team, had said to you that they felt like failures for the same reasons you do, what would you have said to them?”
The detective sighed. “The only things I could say—the truth. I knew they’d done the very best they could, that homicide investigations are too complicated and difficult to solve and get enough hard evidence on for every case to be broken and every killer arrested and convicted. And that in reality, though rare, there are smart murderers. Therefore, they should feel proud about all they did do and move on with all the value of more experience.”
“Then why can’t you say it to yourself?”
Chapter 44
It had been five days since the arrest.
On the steps of city hall on Stewart Avenue, Dale stared out into the gathered crowd. As Paul Casey, mayor of Las Vegas, acknowledged the large crowd and blaze of flash cameras, Dale enjoyed peace.
He’d been able to put what he, as the team leader, had and hadn’t achieved in the right perspective. Take pride in what he and his team accomplished and understand his helplessness in the rest—the perfect murders had been by nature beyond his control and law enforcement mission.
And the big one—Betty promised to talk to him again. There was hope.
Now he, Jimmy and Calvin stood before the people of this great city and awaited their medals. Dale and Jimmy were being given the LVMPD Medal of Honor, the most distinguished award the police department could grant. Calvin, as a civilian, was receiving the Las Vegas Freedom Medal, a seldom-bestowed honor for extraordinary public service.
“Detective Dale Dayton.” The voiced boomed from the speakers.
A thunderous applause exploded from the crowd. As Mayor Casey draped the Medal of Honor over Dale’s head and the medal came to rest on his chest, near his heart, he sensed that they were feeling the weight, honor and beauty of the medal as he was.
He turned to watch and applaud as the mayor bestowed on Jimmy and Calvin their respective awards, beaming with an almost fatherly pride, then he turned back to face the crowd and media again.
There’d never be any such ceremony honoring what Calvin had done for him. Only the two of them would ever know. That was enough.
His thoughts returned to his family, the wife and son he loved so much. He was now ready to act on that love.
“Maureen, hold all my calls and turn away any reports.”
He brushed through the reception area and closed his office door. Ignoring his office desktop, Shawn Grant opened his computer case, pulled out his laptop and logged on.
He opened his secure phone and dialed the memorized number.
“Hello.”
Shawn smiled. “Good afternoon, Mr. Baxter.”
“It’s morning where I am.” Baxter’s voice was silky.
“How are you?”
“How do you think I am?”
“You’ll feel better soon. You kept your end of the bargain, so as we speak I’m transferring three million into your Cayman account.” Shawn tapped a few keys and clicked the mouse button.
“Looks like everything worked out for you.”
Shawn smiled. “Yes indeed, from beginning to end.”
“You’re not worried about Watters?”
Shawn shook his head. “Not in the least. Watters and I were working together to find the real killer.” He chuckled. “It would be inconceivable to him that I had anything to do with it.” He cleared his throat. “Can I trust you, Mr. Baxter?”
Baxter grunted. “I’m not helping the authorities, if that’s what you’re referring to.”
Shawn smiled. He knew as much.
Baxter said, “It shouldn’t be long before I’m released. I’m too valuable to them. They can’t afford to court-martial me, or leave me to civilian arrest.” Baxter said. “I’ll be on my own again soon. And if they don’t release me, I’ll find a way to escape just like last time.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Baxter. I’ll be in touch when I require your valuable skills again.”
“Oh, you’ll be seeing me before that. I’m not done with Watters yet.”
Shawn hung up. He leaned back in his father’s Herman Miller Aeron, graphite-framed chair, rested his feet on his father’s Mayline Corsica six-foot office desk and smoked one of his father’s Cuban Double Corona cigars.
Linda had been the key. He’d made sure to send her to that Casino Owner conference in Atlantic City last year to lure in Sanders with their “chance meeting.”
Shawn had to admit that Linda was a piece of work and a great piece of ass. He might even miss her…a little. Sanders and his father had no idea that it was actually he and Linda playing them. Sanders, the idiot, thought he was a mastermind. They’d manipulated him in various ways for the fun of it.
In a little more than a week, Shawn had taken out every threat and only Sanders was going to prison.
His dad should have tried to work things out, instead of leaving them for the glitz and glamour and that slut Linda.
It was the changes his father had made in his will that had seriously bothered Shawn, because they meant that if Linda was still married to Doug at the time of his death, her share of his estate would include part ownership of the Greek and the freedom to sell that share to anyone she wanted. Either way, if his father died first, Shawn would be stuck with a partner outside the family and he knew how much disruption such a partner could cause if they chose to, even without having voting stock.
All existing problems had been eliminated and Shawn, with a clear mind, could now focus on the next steps. He would buy the shares from Melanie and his mother, even though he controlled theirs by proxy, giving him one-hundred percent voting control and almost eighty-eight percent ownership. All that was left was the part ownership share that Sanders had bought from Linda.