Max heard only one thing. “Did Meredith find out about the affair?”
“I have no idea.”
“Did you know Meredith?” It was a question he’d wanted to ask, but hadn’t yet.
“I met her a couple of times, but no, I wouldn’t say I knew her. I don’t think anyone on the force really did. Steve liked to keep his private life private.”
Not a bad practice. Unless you were hiding something.
“She left him while the affair was going on. After Meredith was gone, Steve wanted the woman to quit her job. She was in one of the classy shows in one of the elegant hotels on the strip, but apparently he didn’t like her on stage at all. His partner at the time was a guy I used to date and he told me about a phone call he overheard between Smith and the girl. He was saying that even the greatest couples have their low moments.
“The girl wouldn’t quit. Six months later she ends up dead.”
Max kept walking and listening. Chantel’s grasp on his wrist kept him focused.
“What was the C.O.D.?” Chantel asked.
Cause of death. Max recognized the term.
“Car accident.”
He started to breathe a little easier.
“She’d been drinking and hit a tree.”
“But you think Steve had something to do with it?” Chantel asked.
“He was with her that night. And when the autopsy came back, the coroner said that she’d been beaten—before the accident. I figured there’d at least be an internal investigation, but next thing I knew the report was sealed. The beating didn’t cause the death and that was that. But talk was that there’d been a witness, a neighbor, who’d heard Steve and the woman fighting. She’d fled the apartment and a couple of minutes later and three blocks away, she wrapped her car around a tree.”
“She’d been running from him,” Max said.
“I’m sure of it.”
“Why didn’t anyone pursue this? They had the neighbor’s testimony.”
“The guy was high at the time. And drinking. He couldn’t remember some pertinent details and his testimony would never stand up in court. There’s no way the LVMPD would bring up one of their own on such flimsy evidence. Most particularly when you were talking about a decorated officer with a clean record who was in with the commissioner.”
Chantel’s fingers squeezed harder around his wrist.
And Max asked, “Do you know if Meredith ever filed charges against him?”
“Not in Las Vegas she didn’t. I’m not saying she didn’t talk to someone about Steve, but if she did, no one came to her rescue. You have to understand, Doctor, the job we do, it requires a certain bit of steel around the edges. Sometimes that steel can be misinterpreted, or come up against something soft and....”
“Surely you aren’t condoning a man getting rough with his wife.”
“Of course not! And neither would the LVMPD or any other police force I know of. But at the same time, the force might be more apt to suggest anger counseling, or some other assistance, before they’d ruin a man’s exemplary record with formal charges.”
“Cops are generally controlling by nature, Max,” Chantel reminded him, in a tone that probably told Diane Kolhase that Chantel and Max had had the conversation before. “That doesn’t make them abusive.”
Jill had been a control freak. He’d teased her about it. And she’d not only admitted to it, but been extra careful to control her need to control.
“Is there any way for you to find out if Steve Smith ever had anger management counseling, or any other assistance? To find witnesses from the night his girlfriend was killed? Or to see if anyone knows where he is now?” he asked, staying focused because if he didn’t he wouldn’t be able to remain calm.
“I can do some checking. It might take a few days.”
Max nodded. They walked. The night air chilled his ears. And kept him from burning up inside. He wasn’t a violent man.
He was a man who’d dedicated himself to saving lives.