Outburst

Chapter 27 - And Into the Fire

Police station, one hour before

Detective Edward Banks closed the case file while exhaling. He was leaning back in his desk chair, staring at the case file—Luke Mercer case. He called it like that because all the connections led to the businessman.

But, even if it was so, Luke Mercer would most likely be acquitted. He had the best lawyer in town. Wanda Pratt once lawyered a suspect with a bigger case than this, and she won it.

He sighed. He was sure that Mr. Mercer had something to do with these murders—and his faith was confirmed by the anonymous email he got several days ago. He called Grant Olivier to re-confirm it, and was even willing to meet Mr. Mercer’s psychiatrist. But other than the fact that Mr. Mercer had some kind of illness, he got nothing else.

He opened the file once again and flipped the papers. He had been reading and studying this for like a million times, but the result was still the same. There were no absolute proofs. These murders were very neat—by that, he meant the suspect was really smart to cover his track.

Not getting anything from the case file, he proceeded to Mr. Mercer’s personal file. The victims all had personal relationships with him. It wouldn’t hurt if he checked his file again, even though it was perfect. All these years, Mr. Mercer seemed to have a great life. His successful business wasn’t stained with any criminal records. He also did very well in college, which made Banks think that it was all too good to be true.

Until he found something.

“You’re still here?” His longtime partner, Detective Rico Sanchez, approached his desk. The action startled him.

“It’s only 5 pm, don’t look so surprised,” answered Banks.

Sanchez chuckled, showing his dimple on left cheek. “Gosh, Banks. You’re thinking about the case too much. You have a family to look for,” he said, and then tapped his partner’s shoulders. “Give yourself a break, will you?”

Banks sighed in disappointment, but he agreed. He closed Mr. Mercer’s file and stacked them with other files. When he stood up from his desk chair, he saw two people approaching them. One was Officer Flint, and the other was...

“Agent Roman.” Banks always felt like he wanted to pinch someone every time he had to say that name.

“I need to speak with you,” said Roman hurriedly.

“Ah, perfect timing—so do I,” he said, and then grabbed the top file on his desk and gave it to Roman. “Why didn’t you tell me that Luke Mercer once put you in a hospital?”

Roman noticed his old friend’s name on the file. He read the first paper in a flash and sighed. “It’s not important.”

“It is. He was an A-list student, but all of a sudden he was suspended for a week for hurting his friend?” Banks folded his hands on his chest. “Now tell me one good reason why he didn’t kill those two.”

“Because throwing a vase and shooting people aren’t exactly the same, Detective,” said Roman after being quiet for a second. “I said something that angered him—that’s why he threw it at me. Even if Miss Dean and Mr. Easton did the same, he wouldn’t bother to take a gun and shot them, let alone leaving them in the forest next to his house. You knew this, but the fact that you wanted him to be your suspect blinded you.”

Banks was silent. There was a part of him who agreed with what Roman just said, but he was too stubborn to admit it.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” Banks decided to change the topic.