Saving Justice

by Peter O'Mahoney

  “We can talk about it now, or we can subpoena you to appear in court in Chicago to discuss your association with Dr. Lighten. We’re happy to do it either way.”

  “I can’t.” She stared at Hunter with a blank expression. “I’m not allowed to say anything.”

  “We understand you signed a non-disclosure statement, however if criminal activity is involved, we can force you to talk about it under subpoena.” Hunter said. “At this point, we only want to talk. Nothing more.”

  She stared at him, mouth open and face blank. She looked to her colleague next to her behind the front desk.

  “I can cover for you.” Her colleague whispered, pretending to look at her computer and avoiding eye contact with Hunter. “You should take your lunch break now. Take an hour. We’re not busy. I can cover for you.”

  “Not here.” Heather said. “Be in the bar across the road, Major Goolsby’s, in five minutes. I’ll talk to you there.”

  Hunter and Jones agreed and then walked out the front sliding doors. They crossed the road to the bar. On the front window were large stickers promoting the Milwaukee Bucks, the Green Bay Packers, the Brewers and the Admirals, Milwaukee’s second tier ice-hockey team. Major Goolsby himself appeared above the door as a cartoon with a cowboy hat drinking a pint of ale. Inside the sports bar was dark, featuring brown wooden furniture and black floors. The row of red lights along the ceiling did little to brighten the place. There were too many television screens to count, each with a replay of a recent sporting match, and many posters and flags representing pride in the sporting success of the area. This was clearly the bar that warmed up fans before games for the nearby stadiums, and then handled the aftermath of wins or losses.

  The jovial barman greeted them with a large smile. “What’ll it be fellas?”

  “Two pints of pale ale.” Jones held his fingers up to confirm the number. “And a plate of your spiciest wings.”

  Hunter and Jones sat away from the service area in the furthest corner of the room, sitting at a small round table in the almost empty bar. It was before lunch, and the quietest time of the day for the staff. Still, the smell of beer and body odor filled the air. They sat near the window, looking across the road at the Hyatt Regency. They watched as Heather Monroe exited the hotel and jogged across the four lanes of traffic to the bar. She took off her coat as she walked inside.

  “I don’t know what I can say, or even if I’m allowed to talk about it.” She kept her voice low as she sat down. “Can you really make me go to court?”

  “We don’t want to, Miss Monroe, but we can.” Hunter said. “Or we can avoid all that if you’re just honest with us. We don’t want to expose you; all we want is information.”

  “There you go fellas.” The barman carried the plate of buffalo wings in a plastic basket, along with a small bowl of celery sticks, and two beers to the table. “Anything for this beautiful lady?”

  She smiled politely but waved him away. She waited until the barman reached the serving area before she continued. “I signed a non-disclosure agreement about my appointment with Dr. Lighten, and I thought that was it. I thought I’d never have to deal with it again.”

  Jones picked up one of the wings, bit into it, and his eyes almost popped out of his head. “Wow. That’s got some kick.”

  “It gets cold up here, you know?” Heather smiled. “Gotta keep the food hot to warm up the insides.”

  Jones wiped his mouth with a napkin and shook his head. “Whew. These wings are on fire.”

  Hunter took a sip of his beer, and then turned back to Heather. “We want to talk about your time with Dr. Lighten. We’ll ask you a few questions and you can tell us if we’re infringing on the details of the non-disclosure agreement or not. We’ll start with general questions that you’ll be allowed to discuss, and then we’ll see if there’s anything else we need to talk about.”

  “I was a patient there.” She brushed a strand of brunette hair over her ear. “I know I can say that.”

  “And what happened when you were a patient there?”

  She hesitated.

  “We don’t want to get you into trouble.” Jones wiped his brow with a napkin as the sweat started to build. “We just want to talk about it.”

  “Off the record?” She asked.

  Hunter nodded. “If you want.”

  “I need you to say it. I need you to say that this is off the record and nothing’s going to come back to me. I’ve spoken to my cousin in Chicago. She’s a cop—Detective Regina Heart—and she told me, if anyone asks, I have to make sure it’s off the record. I asked her advice about the non-disclosure agreement, and she told me to sign it. Going through the courts to charge Dr. Lighten would’ve been a long, hard process. And she would know. She works in the sexual assault unit.”

  “I know Detective Heart. She’s a good person.” Hunter said. “For now, this is off the record.”

  “Ok. Off the record.” She drew in a deep breath, and looked around the room. It was still empty. “I was sexually assaulted by Dr. Lighten, but before the case made it to court, he sold the business and retired from his medical clinic, so I dropped the charges against him. The prosecution team decided not to pursue the case once I withdrew my testimony.”

  “And what did you receive for signing the non-disclosure agreement?” Hunter pressed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m sure you didn’t just sign an agreement without any benefit to you.”

  She looked around the bar again, then out the window to her workplace. She was edgy, nervous. Her breathing had increased, and her face was starting to turn red.

  “I don’t know what I can say.” She whispered. “I don’t want any trouble, ok? I just want to do my job and go home to my family at night.”

  “We know Dr. Lighten denied the charges you presented.” Hunter said. “What we want to know was who convinced you to make a complaint to the police in the first place. Did you know the woman who claimed to witness the event?”

  “Becky Bennett. She was a patient in the waiting room. I’d never met her before.”

  Hunter nodded. The name meant something to him, yet he couldn’t place it. “How much were you paid to make the claims?”

  She shook her head slowly. There was no shock on her face, only fear.

  “This is still off the record.” Hunter reassured her. “Nothing is coming back to you yet.”

  “I was paid enough money to put a deposit on a house.” She whispered. “My family is in that house. My kids, my husband, my mom. We’re hard workers, and this was a chance to get ahead. This was like winning the lottery for us.”

  “Okay.” Hunter said. “Who paid you the money to make the sexual harassment claim? Did it come straight from Christoph King, the man who purchased the medical clinic?”

  She bit her lip again and shook her head.

  “Then where did it come from?”

  “A guy paid it to me.”

  “Which guy?”

  She looked over her shoulder and leaned forward. “If I tell you, will you please leave me alone?”

  “For now, yes.”

  She stood up and grabbed her coat. She put it on, and looked at the door, before turning and leaning down to the men.

  “I’ll tell you this now, but I won’t testify about anything. If you put me in court, I’ll deny everything.”

  Hunter and Jones provided her a small nod.

  “The doctor was a sleaze and was getting divorced for the fifth time. He assaulted me in an appointment and I made the report to the police. I wasn’t going to go through with the charges but then someone approached me. His name was Joe.” She whispered. “He was from the doctor’s wife’s law firm. He encouraged me to pursue the complaint, and he even said that I should make up extra charges against the doctor. I refused to do that, but I saw no harm in chasing a conviction on what actually happened. The law firm wanted to force him to sell the clinic so they could take the cash. I wasn’t sure how it worked b
ut they said the divorce settlement couldn’t benefit from the medical clinic otherwise. The charges were real, but I wasn’t going to follow through with it until they paid me.”

  It fell into place for Hunter. “And the name of the law firm?”

  “Vandenberg and Wolfe Family Law Office.”

  Chapter 17

  As Hunter came back from Milwaukee, Patrick called to say he’d booked a flight to Puerto Vallarta. The next available flight was Friday morning. It was four-hours direct. Hunter agreed. Before he knew it, he was flying out of Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport, traveling to question his estranged sister.

  The Mexican town of Puerto Vallarta sat on the coast line of the Pacific Ocean, along the same latitude as Hawaii, in the Bay of Banderas. The tourist town was nestled beneath the stunning backdrop of the Sierra Madre mountains, with large hotel chains rising off the beaches and more water activities than a person could dream of. The sun was blaring, the sky was drenched in clear blue, and a fresh sea breeze blew through the streets. “It’s like being back in the womb.” Patrick said as they walked off the plane. “It’s 98 degrees and there’s enough humidity to make it feel like we’re wrapped up in a cozy blanket.”

  They checked into a seaside hotel, unloaded their luggage, and walked to the restaurant strip, a block away from the beach. They chose to sit across the road from where Natalie worked, resting on two metal chairs outside a restaurant. They ordered coffees and waited, and it wasn’t long before Hunter’s breath caught in his throat. He saw her. There was no mistake. Natalie Hunter was working the tables across the street, a smile on her face as she joked with tourists.

  Natalie had aged gracefully. Her once straight blonde hair was wiry and free, her skin was tanned, and she held herself well. She looked fit for her early fifties, and she moved with a vibrant hustle. She was taller than Hunter remembered, and her ripped forearms made it look like she could crush a coconut with her bare hands. Hunter could spot a number of tattoos under her shirt sleeve, mostly covered to avoid attention.

  “That’s her, alright. No doubt about it.” Patrick said after they’d watched her for five minutes. He ran his hand along the rim of his small, white sombrero hat, which he’d bought at the airport. “That’s our sister, Natalie Hunter. It seems strange to say, but she looks so different, yet so familiar. Even after not seeing her for thirty-five years, it’s still so easy to recognize her.”

  “Are you sure you want to wear that hat while you meet her? It looks ridiculous.” Hunter said. “You scream tourist from a mile away.”

  Patrick took the hat off, looked at it and shrugged. “Can’t be too careful down here. The sun can be harmful in the south. Skin cancer is a big killer in these parts.”

  Hunter threw a number of bills on the table, leaving the waitress a sizable tip, and began to walk to the café across the street. Patrick followed. Hunter’s heart pounded in his chest as he waited for a car to pass. He didn’t know what he was walking into. Natalie had a violent past. She had a nasty streak. But was she a killer?

  Hunter and Patrick walked onto the patio of the café and sat at the table in the corner, under the overhanging mesh cover that blew in the gentle breeze. It was quiet and they were five tables away from the other tourists. In the middle of summer break, Hunter could imagine the café overflowing with people, lined up for a seat, eager to enjoy the local cuisine, but at this time of year, the place was tranquil and quiet.

  Hunter sat on the metal chair and Patrick followed, sitting across from him. Natalie was distracted as she walked out of the café and into the bright sun. Pen and notepad in hand, she expected to see a couple of tourists sitting at the table, asking for the most American meal they had.

  When she laid eyes on the men, she gasped. Dropped her pen. Time seemed to slow as she stared at her brothers, and it took her a moment to compose herself. Although time had changed their bodies, although time had aged them, they were still the people she remembered. She knew them the second she laid eyes on them.

  “Hello Natalie.” Patrick took off his hat. “It’s been a while.”

  Natalie looked over her left shoulder and then her right one. She turned to check the stairs. Her gaze ran up and down the street.

  “Patrick.” She whispered. There were no smiles, no heartfelt hugs. She turned to her youngest brother. “And Tex? Is that really you?”

  Hunter stood. “Hello, Natalie.”

  “No. No. Not here.” She stepped back from his towering figure. “Please, not here.” She turned and looked back at the doors of the café. Her breathing was short. She gripped her chest. “I knew this day would come, but not now.”

  “We need to talk.” Hunter said. “It’s been a long time and we have some questions.”

  She backed away further. “I can’t talk to you. That’s… no-one is supposed to know I’m here. I left for a reason.”

  “That’s what we want to talk to you about, Natalie.” Patrick remained seated and composed, one leg crossed over the other. “And we’re not going anywhere until we talk.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t talk to you.”

  “As nice as the beach looks, we didn’t come here for the holiday.” Patrick said. “We’re not leaving until we talk.”

  She looked at Patrick, then to Tex, then back to Patrick. The concern was painted on her face. “I can’t talk to you here.” She whispered. “Over there. In the laneway between those two buildings, behind the dumpsters. Be there in ten minutes.”

  Natalie pointed across the road, towards a small access lane between the main road and the walkway. It was between two hotels, secluded from view. She didn’t wait for a response. She turned and rushed back into the café.

  Patrick looked at Hunter and raised his eyebrows. “It looks like she wasn’t expecting us today,” Patrick joked. “She seemed a little surprised by our family reunion.”

  Hunter didn’t respond.

  “Tex, wait.” Patrick jumped up and grabbed his brother’s arm before he walked away. “What if it’s a trap? What if she’s sending us over there to be beaten up? I’m sure she knows some dangerous people, and she didn’t seem welcoming.” He looked around. “This is a foreign country. People go missing here. If we go into that alley, we might not walk out.”

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Hunter pulled his arm away from his brother, stepped off the patio, and crossed the street. Patrick followed, jogging to keep up with his long striding brother. They squeezed between two dumpsters, and the smell in the alley was overwhelming. One of the nearby restaurants cooked seafood, and the dumpster was full of it’s off-cuts. The rest of the alley didn’t smell much better. Although a sea breeze blew through, it didn’t drown out the smell from the dumpsters.

  “If it’s a trap, we’re screwed.” Patrick said. There was a metal gate at the beach end of the alley, locked by a large chain and a dead bolt. He picked up a metal bar lying near the dumpster and leaned it against the wall. “Just in case.”

  After five minutes, Natalie held good on her promise. She walked towards them, alone. She squeezed between the dumpsters, checked over her shoulder again, and came closer.

  “Is he dead?” She asked. Her arms were folded, and she remained a distance away from her brothers. “Is that why you’re here?”

  “Our father’s not dead yet, but he doesn’t have long left. He has cancer.” Hunter responded. “We want to know the truth about what happened thirty-five years ago. We know he didn’t murder those eight teenage girls. And we know that you know what happened. We know that you were sending information to Rick Cowan for years.”

  She gasped again, held her hand against her chest, and then looked over her shoulder. “I can’t help you with that. I don’t know anything.”

  “Yes, you do, Natalie.” Patrick replied. “We know you were sending information back to Chicago. You know what happened, and we want to know what you know.”

  “You never should’ve come here. It’s too dangerous. I can’t
help you. People will die if someone sees you here.”

  “Why?” Hunter stepped closer. “What happens if someone sees us here?”

  “It’s… it’s complicated. I can’t talk to you about it.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  She hesitated. “I won’t talk to you about it. I’ll never talk about it. Ever. I didn’t want our father to go to prison, but I can’t risk what I’ve built here in Mexico. I have a family. I have sons to protect. I’m sorry, but you’ve wasted your time coming here. You’ll find no help here.” She turned and began to walk away. Before she passed by the dumpsters, she stopped, turned and looked back at them. “My brothers. It’s good to see you. You both look amazing.”

  And then she walked out of the alley.

  Chapter 18

  Esther Wright waited at the entrance to the Garfield Park Conservatory, five miles west of Downtown Chicago and home to one of the countries largest greenhouse conservatories. Behind the gates she could hear the happy voices of children on the bright Sunday afternoon. There was freedom in their yells, joy in their screams of delight. The 10-acre site, both indoor and outdoor, was a delight to anyone who needed to escape the turmoil of the city close by. When Hunter called to say he’d arrived back from Puerto Vallarta that morning, Esther insisted that he needed to stretch his legs before they started another trial.

  When Hunter stepped out of his car, he was rubbing his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Esther greeted him with a gentle hello, and they wandered next to each other through the large conservatory. Hunter talked little about his two-day trip to Mexico, but she could tell he was hurting. She could see it in his face. He talked more about the soft sands on the beach than the encounter with his sister. When she tried to ask about Natalie directly, he shut down. Talking about his family was the only time she ever saw cracks in his armor, and all she wanted to do was grab him and hold him tight. Tell him it was going to be ok. But she couldn’t. Not yet.