Page 40 of A Deeper Darkness

“That’s right. He was coming over to check on his new plane. Offered me a lift. I wanted to be at Eddie’s funeral. Owed it to him. To Susan. You’re the detective working his case?”

“Yes, sir. Darren Fletcher.” He nearly saluted. God, Hart would laugh him out of the bar tonight for that one. He couldn’t help himself, though. Culpepper’s very air commanded respect.

“You know who killed him yet?”

“No, sir. I’m working on that right now. We’ve had an additional murder we believe may be tied to him. The victim’s name is Harold Croswell. Used to work here.”

“Hal’s been murdered, too?”

Culpepper looked startled, then his face dropped. “Oh, that’s terrible. Just terrible. Rod, why didn’t you let me know?”

“I wasn’t aware of it until just this minute, sir.”

“Have we done anything for his family?”

“Not yet, sir, but I’m on it.”

“Good man. I’ll head over there tonight and talk to them personally. Hal Croswell was one of my men, just like Donovan. We take care of our own. That’s just horrid news. Detective, if you’re done with Mr. Deter, walk with me.”

He turned and stalked from the room. Fletcher nodded at Deter. “Thanks for your time. If you think of anything…” He left his card on Deter’s desk and followed the old soldier out into the hall.

Fletcher caught up with Culpepper at the kitchen. The man had already poured a cup of coffee. Fletcher imagined working with him was something like constantly guzzling 5-hour ENERGY shots—he seemed a man always on the go. Despite that, Fletcher couldn’t help himself, he liked him. He always respected people who knew how to get things done, didn’t just talk about it. Separated the amateurs from the professionals, that did.

Tossing back the remains of the cup, Culpepper dropped his voice and asked, “You really don’t have any leads?”

“A few. But it’s early. With Mr. Croswell’s death…”

“And they’re definitely linked?”

“They seem to be, sir.”

Culpepper rubbed his forehead, blue eyes cloudy with sorrow. “Donovan was one of the finest soldiers I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. His FitRep said it all—he was a natural leader, fearless, smart, able to think on his feet. I recruited him hard for this job, because I knew he’d bring that same commitment to Raptor. And I was right. He was the one who fired Croswell. He didn’t think he was pulling his weight. That’s what I mean about his leadership. Sometimes, it’s about making the hard decisions, the right decisions. But he made sure Croswell was taken care of, gave him a severance package that allowed him some real freedom.”

Culpepper got quiet, as if deciding something.

“That’s neither here nor there. There’s two things—one, I’d like to put up a reward for information leading to the arrest of whoever killed Eddie and Hal. Will twenty-five thousand dollars do?”

“Yes, sir, that’s fine. Very generous of you.”

“Good, good. Also, I’m starting a scholarship in Eddie’s name. Worked it all out on the plane. When they told me he’d been killed…” The man’s voice became gruff with unshed tears. He cleared his throat, a great wet rip. “Boy was like a son to me. Find who did this, Detective. I don’t care if you have to tear down the walls here to do it. Anything you need. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Good. I appreciate it. And now, if there’s nothing else you need from me, I must go see Susan Donovan.”

Culpepper walked Fletcher to the front doors. “I’m heading back over tomorrow night after the funeral. Until then, here’s my private number. Call me if you need anything. Or if you find anything out. Okay?”

“Sure.” Fletcher took the card and shook the man’s hand. As he left the building, he wondered if there was anyone in the world who thought as highly of him as Culpepper did of Donovan.

He had a sneaking suspicion the answer to that was no.

Chapter Twenty-One

Georgetown

Dr. Samantha Owens

Eleanor needed her car for an errand, so Sam took a cab from the precinct to Eleanor’s house in Georgetown. Afternoon traffic in D.C. was normally murderous, but the cab sailed smoothly from Fletcher’s office on M Street straight up into Georgetown proper, hitting all the lights as they turned green, practically a miracle.