The White Angel Murder Read Free

don’t give a shit about giving closure to those families. This unit is for you to erase some black marks in your career for when you throw your hat in the ring for commissioner. You’re using him.”
    “ Nobody put a gun to his head,” he said louder than he would’ve liked. “And what do you care? You left him when he was dying in the hospital.”
    “ That’s not true and you know it.”
    “ So it didn’t get finalized until two years later. So what? You as good as left him in that hospital bed. You think he doesn’t talk to me?”
    There was a knock at the door and Tommy poked his head in.
    “ Chief, got somebody here from Channel 4 wants to talk to you about the Cold Case Unit.”
    “ I’ll be right there.”
    Melissa rose and began to walk toward the door. “If you hurt him again, I’ll make sure you’re held for it this time. I swear it.”
    As she walked out Harlow stood and straightened his tie. He checked his underarms for pit stains and made sure his hair looked good in the mirror he kept in a drawer in his desk. He then walked out to the front of the station to meet the television crew.
     
     

4
     
    It was 6:30 pm on a Saturday when Jonathan Stanton walked in to the San Diego PD Headquarters on Broadway. The building had recently been through a renovation and the exterior looked clean and white, the darkened windows freshly washed. The surrounding area was grass and trees and clean sidewalks. Jonathan didn’t remember it this clean a few years ago.
    Night security checked him in and gave him a temporary employee pass to use on the elevators. He went to the fifth floor and turned down the hall.
    The Cold Case Unit had been set up in five empty offices and a large conference room. The space recently housed two other units that had been moved a floor below. A uniform nodded to him and looked down to the small box he was holding. He noticed the PhD in psychology in the brown frame.
    “ You’re Detective Stanton?”
    “ Yeah.”
    “ Got your own office next to the chief. But he wasn’t expectin’ you till Monday.”
    “ Just came to set up early. Didn’t want to bother anyone.”
    The man mumbled something and then said, “Follow me.”
    He was led down the hall and past an enormous number of cubicles. They stopped at a large door with a keypad on the side wall.
    “ Combo’s 521. Got it?”
    “ Yeah.”
    The door clicked open and they went in. The offices were furnished with glass desks and leather furniture. Each one had a well manicured plant in the corner and a piece of abstract art hung behind every desk. They walked through the conference room. Jonathan counted at least twenty high-backed black leather chairs with a large flat screen at the front of the room, hooked up to a laptop. On the other side of the room was a floor-to-ceiling size map of San Diego.
    “ Your office is that one there.”
    “ Thanks.”
    The man left without saying anything and Stanton walked into his new office. He placed the box on the desk and sat down. One wall was a thick window looking down onto Broadway. He could see the cars passing on the street below and he watched them a long time.
    There was a computer on the side of his desk against the wall and he turned it on. The screen flashed and prompted him to enter his password. He entered it and an error message came up: Password Expired. Please See the Administrator For a New Password.
    He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. It was strange being here. Like he had come into someone’s home uninvited. Stanton tried unpacking his box and hanging up his degrees. There were two photos he put on his desk: one of his nine year old son Matthew and his four year old son Jon, and one of his father, Dr. George Stanton.
    His father had been a psychiatrist and was displeased when Stanton chose the police academy after his doctoral degree rather than going to medical school. A PhD and M.D., he had told him, would make him invaluable as a researcher to any