by Tripp Ellis
“Did the judge ever mention receiving any threats?“
“He never said anything to me.“
“How often were you seeing each other?”
She shrugged. “Maybe once a week.”
“Seems like that could get pricey.”
Destiny smiled. “My services don’t come cheap, but I do offer law enforcement discounts.” A mischievous grin curled on her delectable lips. “It never hurts to have friends in high places.“
“You mentioned other deputies...”
“I don’t kiss and tell. That’s part of the allure.” Her seductive, velvety voice returned for an instant, “What happens between us, stays between us.”
That voice could light a fire in a thunderstorm.
“Do you have a.... manager?”
Destiny laughed. “A pimp?”
“I was trying to be delicate.”
“You don’t look like the delicate type.”
“How do I look?”
“Confident, capable, strong.” She put a hand on my forearm and stroked it. “The kind of guy that could toss me around and destroy me in the most delightful way.”
The temperature rose.
I knew exactly what she was doing. It was totally unconscious on her part. A reflex action. She was in seduction mode, looking to acquire a new client. She’d done this routine a thousand times. I could have been an ugly troll, and she’d still flatter me, playing to my ego. She was a good saleswoman, and she knew how to wrap men around her little finger.
“So, no manager?” I asked.
“No. That’s old school.”
36
“There's no reason to get into a situation where you're giving the majority of your income away,” Destiny said. “I run my own business, and I’m beholden to no one."
"What do you do for security?" I asked.
"Hire my own. They work for me, not the other way around. Besides, I run background checks and try to vet my clients as thoroughly as possible. I'm in a position where I can be selective, and most of my clients come from referrals."
I pulled out my phone and showed her a picture of Mindy Monroe. “Have you ever seen this girl before? She's in your line of work."
Destiny examined the photo and shook her head. "Can't say that I have. She looks young."
"She is. She was."
Destiny gasped. "She's dead?"
I nodded.
"She was new to the area, working Dowling Street from what I understand. A runaway."
"That's really out of my area. A different type of thing from what I do."
"Do you know any players in that field?"
"I don't." Destiny frowned. "But if the girl was a runaway, she'd be all on her own, and it's a tough world out there."
"I would think it would be difficult for girls to encroach on someone's existing territory."
Destiny nodded. "They wouldn't have been able to work that area alone as an independent. Somebody would force them into their stable. Unless the girls had muscle or were willing to use force to establish their territory."
I thanked her for her time and asked her to contact us if she could think of anything else.
Destiny smiled. "You both know how to get ahold of me if you need me… Or want me."
She pushed away from the table, spun around, and sauntered out of the bar.
JD and I both watched the yoga pants sway.
"Interesting girl," JD said.
"Apparently, Ed thought so too,” I muttered.
A couple of days went by with no movement on any of the cases. I was beginning to fear they were slipping away. On the plus side, there hadn’t been any bombings, and I was hoping that the call Paris had received was just a hoax.
The ATF kept tabs on Dustin, but he knew he was being followed around. If he had been involved in the bombings, he was certainly lying low now. But the looming sensation of dread hung over me like a storm cloud. That nervous sensation twisted in my stomach. Even with Lamar in custody, I just knew we hadn't seen the last of the bomber.
We took the time to interview Helen's angry customer that threatened her with a gun. The woman was out of state at the time. She was easy to scratch off the list. We also spoke with Helen’s boyfriend, Glenn. Phone records put Glenn in Coconut Key on the day of Helen’s murder, but not anywhere near her houseboat.
Glenn lived in a modest home a few blocks from the beach. The pastel-blue one-story, two-bedroom home had a white picket fence, a nice lawn, and a new car in the driveway. There were a couple of tall, skinny palms in the yard.
Glenn was a tall, thin guy in his mid-40s. He had an angular nose, a narrow face, and a voice that was deeper than you'd expect. We banged on his door, and he invited us in after we showed him our credentials.
I had to admit, by this point in time, I hadn't really focused on him as a suspect. All of my attention was on Rex Rayford.
We took a seat on the sofa, and Glenn offered us something to drink, but we declined.
Glenn had a little Chihuahua that barked incessantly for the first few minutes, then finally calmed down. The little dog sniffed us out, and it wasn't long before the little guy was in my lap, demanding attention. I scratched behind his ear and petted the little guy, instantly acquiring a new friend.
"Where were you the night Helen was murdered?" I asked.
"I was here. I don't have an alibi. I was all by myself."
"Phone records indicate you made a call to her earlier that day."
"That is correct."
"What did you talk about?"
"Oh, I don't know. The usual chitchat. I asked her if she wanted to come over that evening, and she said she was tired and wasn’t really feeling like doing much. She said we would catch up over the weekend."
His eyes filled. "You know, she'd still be alive right now if she’d have come over here."
"Did she sound worried or upset?" I asked.
"No. She sounded like herself. Helen liked her space. And I tried to give it to her."
"Did you talk about her ex-husband, Rex Rayford?"
"On occasion. It wasn't a topic that either one of us liked to discuss."
"Were you aware of his constant harassment?"
"Oh, yeah. The guy is a jackass. I told Helen I’d go straighten him out, but she begged me not to do that."
"Am I correct in my understanding that you asked Helen to marry you?"
A frown tugged his face. He nodded. "Yes, I did. I promised her I would take care of her and she wouldn't have to worry about anything money-wise. I'm not rich, but I’ve got enough.” He shook his head. “She didn't want to let that source of income go. And to be honest, I think she liked the fact that it irritated Rex." Glenn sighed. "Look, Helen wasn’t a saint. She may not have always reacted to Rex in the most mature of ways. I wish she would have just cut ties with him and moved on. She might be alive right now."
"So, you think Rex is responsible?"
"If I were a gambling man, that's where I’d put my money."
"Do you smoke?"
Glenn shook his head. "I’d been after Helen to quit for as long as I'd known her. But, she wasn't about to give up her cigarettes."
I showed him a picture of the lighter with the Ace of Spades and skull engraved on the side. “Does this look familiar to you?"
He shook his head.
“Do you own a navy blue long-sleeve T-shirt?”
“Yeah, why?”
37
Glenn led us down the hallway to his bedroom and opened the closet. "Knock yourself out.”
I flipped on the light in the closet, and JD and I perused his selection of garments. Suits, dress shirts, slacks, ties, and T-shirts hung from the rack. He had a collection of shoes that ranged from sneakers to formalwear. There were a few black t-shirts, a couple of maroon shirts, but most of them were white or sky-blue with some type of logo on them. Glenn owned a few Hawaiian shirts, a couple of long sleeve shirts, dress shirts, and a navy blue Barracudas T-shirt.
It was the onl
y long sleeve shirt of that color.
It was just like the shirt Rex had worn.
I cringed. What were the odds that two suspects owned the same shirt? Actually, in this town, pretty good. The Barracudas were State champions and were a big deal around town. The stadium was filled to capacity on Friday nights during the season. The towering lights illuminated the field, and the press box announcer’s voice would echo across the island, “...Rich Mills on the keeper. The Barracudas pick up 5 and the first down.” The crowd would roar, and the marching band would play.
"Do you mind if we take this down to the lab and have it analyzed?” I asked.
"Be my guest," Glenn said. "But I want it back. I like that shirt."
"I promise, we will return it unharmed."
Glenn owned a navy blue fleece pullover and a navy blue polo-style jacket that we took as well.
He gave up the evidence without resistance. He was either incredibly stupid or innocent.
We thanked him for his time, returned to the station, and logged the clothing into evidence. I asked the lab techs to get on it right away. It shouldn’t take long to make a determination whether the fibers were similar. If so, the dye could be analyzed to determine the exact chemical makeup.
It wasn't more than half an hour after we logged in the evidence when I got a call from Jayleen. "Remember the thing we talked about a few days ago. I got what you wanted."
"That's fantastic. Can you bring the evidence down to the station?"
"I can. How soon can you arrest him?"
"That depends. We’ll need to analyze the shirt fibers and make a determination."
"I'll come by the station, make a statement, then I'm leaving town. I'll be staying with a friend in Key Largo for the time being. I don't want to be anywhere near that man."
"Did something happen?"
"You'll see." Jayleen hung up the phone.
She arrived at the Sheriff's Office 15 minutes later. Jayleen had long blonde hair with short bangs that hung in her eyes. She had tan skin and was in her mid-40s. She was a buxom woman, but her belly was catching up with her topside. She stepped into the lobby, holding a navy blue long sleeve Barracudas shirt.
It wasn't the ideal scenario.
The chain of custody had gone out the window. She could make a sworn affidavit about where she got the shirt from, but the entire case would hinge on her testimony. I had no doubt a skilled prosecutor would cast doubt on the ownership of the shirt. Still, I hoped it would be enough to get an arrest warrant for Rex.
Big sunglasses covered Jayleen’s eyes, and when she removed them, I cringed. The left side of her face was bruised. Deep purple and blue circles surrounded her eye, and the sclera was full of blood.
"You must be Jayleen," I said as I approached.
She nodded.
I introduced myself and JD, then asked, “Have you seen a doctor about your eye?"
"No. I'm fine."
"I take it Rex did that?"
"We got into an argument. He was drunk and hit me last night. You're right. If I stay with him, someday I’ll end up like Helen.” She handed the shirt to me.
I put on a pair of nitrile gloves before taking it.
JD grabbed an evidence collection bag, and we put the shirt inside, filled out the property tags, and gave it to the lab for expedited analysis.
We escorted Jayleen to the conference room, and she filled out an affidavit about the shirt and the abuse, then signed it.
When she finished, she exhaled and set the pen down. "I can't believe I'm finally doing this. You know he's going to try to kill me when he finds out I ratted him out."
"I'm glad you're taking precautions and staying with your friend. We can arrest him on domestic abuse charges."
Jayleen teared up, and she brushed the tears away with the back of her hand. "I don't know if these are tears of joy or tears of sadness. Maybe a little of both. But I know one thing. I'm never going back to that man."
"You deserve better," JD said.
Jayleen smiled. "I certainly do."
38
The lab results were not what I expected. The fibers and the dye of the two shirts were different. The school had changed vendors sometime during the year. Neither of the shirts was a match for the fibers found on Helen Carter's skin.
I deflated upon hearing the news. We were at a dead end with the case.
It was a letdown, but it didn't mean Rex couldn't have been wearing another navy blue shirt when he killed Helen—granted, that might be a stretch. And neither of Glenn’s other garments had fibers consistent with those found on Helen’s body.
We still needed to pick Rex up on the domestic abuse charges. We obtained a warrant and headed over to Sunset Park with Erickson and Faulkner.
When we pulled into the lot, the same two kids were tossing around the football. Their eyes widened, and they took off running when they saw the unmistakable Miami Blue Porsche. They hauled-ass around a trailer and disappeared in the maze of mobile homes.
“You better run, you little shits!” JD yelled.
We advanced to Rex’s trailer and banged on the door, rattling the windows. JD shouted, "Coconut County! Open up. We have a warrant!”
We heard rumbling inside. A few moments later, Rex stomped to the front door and pulled it open. "What the hell did I do now?"
"I think you know, Rex,” I said. “I think you know."
He just frowned and shook his head but didn't put up a fight. He knew damn good and well what he’d done. “Jayleen say something?”
I slapped the cuffs around his wrists and read him his rights.
Rex grumbled a few unflattering things about Jayleen as Erickson and Faulkner took him away and stuffed him into the back of their patrol car.
We took the opportunity to take a casual glance around the trailer. Unfortunately, we didn't find any other navy blue long sleeve T-shirts with a cotton polyester blend.
We were finishing up when JD's car alarm sounded.
He rushed outside and darted down the steps toward the parking lot. A football teetered on the ground beside the car. The two kids playing ball were nowhere in sight.
JD clicked the alarm, silencing the grating sound. It was a good thing he hadn't gotten the dent pulled out of the hood yet because there was another one to match.
It wasn't funny, but I had to laugh.
"I think those little delinquents did it on purpose this time,” JD grumbled.
"Maybe they did it on purpose last time."
He frowned at me.
We climbed into the car and headed back to the station to fill out after-action reports. We were sitting in the conference room under the fluorescent lights, tapping on iPads, when Daniels poked his head in and gave us the unsettling news.
“A teacher at the high school found a suspicious package in her desk drawer. The EOD unit is en route. You might want to get over there."
I groaned. “I usually try to avoid IEDs.”
The sheriff scowled at me.
“We’re on our way,” I said.
JD and I darted out of the conference room and raced across town. We pulled into the student lot at the high school, parked the car, and hopped out.
A crowd of students filtered out of the building, gossiping. Teachers and administrators attempted to keep things calm and orderly. Terror creased the faces of several students while others seemed unfazed, considering it another hoax. EMTs, paramedics, and firefighters stood by. Flickering lights from emergency vehicles dotted the parking lot. The patter of rotor blades thumped overhead as the helicopter unit, Tango One, hovered in the sky.
I found Sergeant Hartman. He was waiting for the school to be completely evacuated before sending in the robot.
"What do we know?" I asked.
"We know the device, if there is one, hasn't gone off yet," Hartman said flatly.
My eyes narrowed at him. “That's helpful."
He pointed to Miss Bell, an English teacher who was standing nearby. "Sh
e found the device.”
Sergeant Hartman motioned Miss Bell over and introduced us.
Miss Bell could certainly give me detention anytime. She had wavy dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a naturally pretty face. I’m sure all the boys in her class were crushing hard. This was her second year teaching out of college.
“I pulled open my bottom desk drawer, and there was a package that I didn’t put in there,” Miss Bell said. “I called the Sheriff's Department immediately. This could be much to do about nothing, but with everything that's been happening, I didn't want to take any chances."
"You made the right decision," I said.
"Do you think the students are safe out here?" she asked.
“If this is a similar device to what we've seen before, this area should be well out of harm's way," Hartman said.
"Did you touch the package?" I asked.
Miss Bell shook her head. "I pulled open the drawer. I reached for it, then hesitated. Thank God I didn't touch it. The news mentioned the previous bombs exploded when they were moved a certain way."
"The previous devices used mercury switches—tubes filled with mercury. When the previous bombs were tilted, the mercury completed the circuit."
Her face twisted in horror. "Who would do such a thing?"
"I don’t know," I said with a frown. “Who has access to the classroom?”
“The staff, students, custodians...” She thought for a moment. “Someone could have entered through an outside window or through the crawlspace in the ceiling. You would just need to push aside the ceiling tile and climb over the wall. It’s not Fort Knox.”
Greta Alexander, the school’s Assistant Principal, approached. "The building is clear now."
Sergeant Hartman motioned to his team. They brought the robot to the entrance, pulled open the door and sent it on its way. Hartman remotely piloted the device down the hallways, past rows of lockers and classrooms.
Miss Bell watched on the screen and helped him navigate to the classroom.
The classroom door was shut, but the robot’s articulated arm was able to pull open the door. But the hydraulic door-closer made it difficult to navigate through the doorway.
