In Hope's Shadow

by Janice Kay Johnson

  He, too, started on the front porch, noting that drapes were drawn tightly, and that the front door had a peephole. Would he have opened the door to Joel? That seemed unlikely, which had Ben making a mental note. Who would Rowe have opened the door for? Had the guy paid any attention to Pruitt’s suggestion he be especially cautious?

  Ben completely circled the house, studying the ground and deck carefully. Unfortunately, a fairly heavy rainfall Monday had probably washed away any blood out here. Finally, he snapped on latex gloves and let himself in through the sliding door, sidestepping to avoid the splotches of blood on the vinyl floor. He didn’t go close to the body, only stood to one side of the island so that he could see the mess that had been Rowe’s head.

  Overkill, he thought, maintaining his detachment. Chances were, the first blow had done the job. Either there’d been a lot of rage, the killer had been high and just swinging away or he’d been having fun.

  He saw no weapon, unless it was beneath the body, which seemed unlikely.

  The two bathrooms and the kitchen sink appeared pristine. The killer might have cleaned himself up, then washed the sink, bathtub or shower, but Ben didn’t believe that. No scent of cleanser lingered in the air, and the behavior seemed too controlled compared to the murder act itself. Even so, he’d ask the crime scene investigators to look for blood, which wasn’t as easy to wash away as most people believed. Especially teenagers—he had to believe they held on to some naivete.

  Even in the middle of the night, would Joel have walked a mile or more across town as bloody as he would have been?

  The only bed in the house was carefully made. Rowe had been dressed, down to what looked like orthotic shoes. No slouching around the house in slippers for him, apparently.

  Ben returned to the kitchen to see a couple of people on the deck, peering in the glass. He let them in.

  Unfortunately, the county was small enough not to have a dedicated coroner. Bob Deeter was a prosecuting attorney, as well.

  Ben didn’t need to be told that Rowe had been dead for two to three days. He hoped the pathologist would be able to be more precise, but felt sure they’d find the crime had happened sometime Sunday night.

  Letting the techs do their thing, he started canvassing and found only one woman home, hardly a surprise in the middle of a weekday. She lived across the street, though, and proved to have been observant. Mr. Rowe was an early riser who went out for his paper at about 7:00 a.m. every day, she said, then fetched his mail within minutes of the postal truck passing.

  “He must watch for it, although...” She hesitated, appearing embarrassed. “I feel bad saying this.”

  “He’ll never know,” Ben pointed out.

  “No, but— Oh, I just had the thought that I couldn’t imagine who would be writing him. He was so unfriendly. I guess he mostly got bills. I doubt he’d changed with the times enough to do his bill paying online.”

  “So I’ve gathered.”

  “You’ve heard about all the trouble he’s had recently.”

  “I do. Do you know the neighbor boy he accused?”

  Now her middle-aged face crumpled in distress. “Joel is such a nice boy, I just don’t believe it. He’s mowed my yard the past couple of years, and does extras without asking for a penny more. He just doesn’t seem the type...” She gave an almost laugh. “You must hear that all the time, don’t you? I read it all the time in the newspaper. The neighbors are always the last to notice anything wrong.”

  Ben gave her a sympathetic smile. “That is sometimes the case. With Mr. Rowe, though, I’m sure you were all aware of his idiosyncrasies.”

  She made a face. “Unfortunately.”

  “And a postal worker cared enough to call the police to check up on him, which doesn’t always happen.”

  “I’m just sorry I didn’t notice he wasn’t following his usual routine,” she said unhappily.

  He worked her back to Sunday night, but she’d neither heard nor seen anything out of the ordinary. Eve on his mind, he asked if she knew Gavin. Not as well, she said, but told him what a handsome boy he was and what a nice smile he had.

  He thanked her, left a card and walked back to the Rowe house.

  He wanted to call Eve and let her know what had happened, but knew he couldn’t. Her passionate defense of a kid she cared about was one of the many things about her he liked. But he couldn’t have her jumping to intervene before there was any reason.

  God, he hoped Joel wasn’t the killer.

  * * *

  “JOEL HAS BEEN ARRESTED,” Eve repeated numbly.

  An officer of the court had called to inform her that Joel was in custody at the juvenile detention facility, and had been asking for her.

  “Tell him I’m on my way,” she said, still battling a feeling of unreality.

  She told her supervisor what little she knew, then flew out to her car. She started it, then decided to call Ben before she went anywhere. He could find out what had really happened for her, so she didn’t go in ignorant.

  Thank God Joel is a juvenile, she thought, listening to the rings. A few months older, and he’d be housed in the county jail.

  “Eve.”

  “Ben?” she said. “I’m hoping you can help me. I hear Mr. Rowe has been murdered, and Joel is under arrest.”

  “That’s true.” His tone had an odd note. Resignation? “I’m the arresting officer, Eve.”

  Her “what?” was almost soundless.

  He must have heard it anyway, because he said, “You know I had to investigate without bias. I’d have liked to call you, but I couldn’t.”

  She grappled with the news. Ben had arrested Joel. Probably handcuffed him, read him his rights.

  The Ben who had made such tender love to her last night.

  “Did you arrest him at school?” she demanded.

  “I did.”

  “Why couldn’t you wait?” she asked.

  “We found a bloody baseball bat in his locker at the high school. If you were the parent of any other student at that school, would you have wanted us to let him finish his classes for the day?”

  No, but— “He didn’t do this.”

  “Eve, I don’t have time to argue this with you right now. The court will appoint an attorney for him—”

  “If I have to pay the bill myself, I’ll find him someone better than that.”

  He couldn’t have missed how grim she sounded. Angry? She examined her dark storm cloud of emotions, and wasn’t sure. No, not true—she just didn’t know yet if that anger was aimed at Ben specifically.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” she said, and ended the call with a stab of her thumb.

  A redbrick wing extending behind the courthouse housed the juvenile detention facility. She parked and hurried in.

  Apparently she’d already been cleared to see Joel, because the clerk only murmured, “Ooh, that’s a bad one,” and thrust the clipboard over the counter for her to sign.

  A minute later, she was left in a room that held only a small table with a chair on each side. An expansive window, webbed with wire, would allow the guard to watch conferences without hearing anything that was said.

  The door swung open and a uniformed male guard pushed Joel in.

  Eve half rose to her feet, forcing herself to sit back down. Physical contact between them wouldn’t be permitted.

  He stumbled and came close to falling. Eve was furious to realize that his hands were cuffed behind him.

  “Please remove the cuffs,” she said icily.

  The guard gave her a dark look, but said, “Yes, ma’am,” and complied, backing out to take up a stance where he could see them.

  “Oh, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

  “They think I murdered Mr. Rowe.” His eyes held horror. “And...whoeve
r did it used my baseball bat.”

  She drew a breath and willed herself to be calm. “Tell me what you know.”

  “They got a warrant. I don’t know if they’ve searched at the Santoses’ yet. I was called out of class to be interviewed, but first the vice-principal opened my locker for the detective.” His gaze became accusatory. “He’s that friend of yours.”

  “I know.”

  “Anyway, the bat was there. It was wrapped in a garbage bag. Detective Kemper said it was covered with blood. And now they say it has my fingerprints on it.” His voice shook. “They pulled it out enough to show me the hand—you know, the part that didn’t really have blood—and I said it was mine. I mean, it had my initials burned on it.”

  “It’s wood?”

  “Uh-huh. But, Eve, I didn’t have it with me. I mean, you know I didn’t, ’cuz you picked me up and took me to the Santoses’.”

  “I know you didn’t,” she agreed, but was aware that her saying so to Ben wouldn’t exactly be a compelling indictment of the case. After all, it had been a week since she’d driven Joel to the receiving home. He could have had a friend give him a ride over there since, or even walked the mile and a half or so.

  “Where was the bat the last time you saw it?” she asked.

  “All my sports stuff was out in the garage at the house. You said we could get everything later.”

  “What else did you have there?”

  He frowned, thinking about it. Basketball, football, baseball, mitt, skateboard was what he came up with. “And my bike,” he added. “I was going to call you and see if I could go get it, because I could ride it to school.”

  “Joel, do you still have a key to Rod’s house?”

  He looked puzzled. “I guess. I mean, sure.” His voice slowed as his understanding of what this admission meant dawned on his face. “I didn’t even think about it.”

  “I didn’t, either.” She’d give a lot to have taken the blasted key from him last Monday and handed it over to Rod.

  Right, as if that would have made a difference. Any self-respecting prosecuting attorney would argue that, in the three years he’d lived in the home, Joel could easily have had copies of the key made.

  “I don’t even know for sure the bat was still there,” he said in a low, panicked voice. “I haven’t done any sports since football season ended. I’ve been busy with school and college applications and, you know, thinking about other things.”

  “Okay, Joel. One more question.”

  He waited.

  “Who would have had the combination to your locker?”

  “Nobody! I mean, I don’t know. I didn’t give it to anyone.”

  “But kids with lockers near yours might have seen you dialing it.”

  His shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Not to mention friends of his who hung around while he grabbed something out of his locker—or any enemy who had loitered nearby in the hall for no other reason than to memorize his combination. Why would he have bothered to be especially surreptitious?

  From somewhere, she summoned a real smile. “I’ll find out what, if any, other evidence they think they have against you, and I’ll hire an attorney.”

  “They said the court would pay for one.”

  “I’d rather get someone I have more faith in.”

  “You believe me?” He was about to cry. “You know I didn’t do it?”

  “I know you wouldn’t do anything like that, Joel. I didn’t believe it for a second.” She hardened her voice. “I’m on your side. Whatever it takes. Do you understand?”

  He gulped, sniffed and wiped his face with his sleeve.

  Eve made eye contact with the guard and then rose to her feet. “I need to go now, Joel. You just hang in there. They had to arrest you after finding the bat in your locker. That doesn’t mean the investigation is complete. You know that, right?”

  He nodded. The guard stepped up behind him, cuffs in his hand.

  “Are those really necessary?”

  “Yes, ma’am, given the severity of the crime,” he drawled, his tone just a shade short of offensive.

  She clenched her teeth together and watched Joel be cuffed, gave him one last reassuring smile and waited until he was gone before retracing her own steps out of the building.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BEN SAW EVE’S car when he was still a block away from the Santoses’ house and cursed.

  Seth, who was in the passenger seat, said, “You didn’t expect her?”

  “How’d she know we were going to serve the warrant now?”

  Intelligent guesswork, that’s how. She’d undoubtedly spoken to the couple who ran the receiving home, and learned no search had yet taken place.

  It wasn’t that he was avoiding her. He had intended to call her or even go hammer on her apartment door later. But this wasn’t ideal for a first chat about Joel.

  He’d damn well better not find her just putting a load of Joel’s clothes in the dryer, he thought.

  Nah, she wouldn’t do that.

  You so sure?

  He said another obscenity, just because, and pulled up to the curb.

  When he rang, the door was opened by a short, stocky Hispanic man, younger than Ben had expected. The guy’s gaze dropped to Ben’s waist where his badge showed.

  “I’m Detective Kemper, and this is Detective Chandler. We have a warrant to search your home.”

  “May I see it?”

  Ben handed it over.

  The guy perused it, finally handing it back. “You know I’ll be watching to be sure you don’t search any of the other boys’ possessions.”

  “We are interested only in specific areas of your home.” Ben stepped into a shabby living room, where a plump, brown-haired woman and Eve stood with crossed arms and matching glares.

  “I assume you’re the Santoses?” Ben said.

  “Yes. I’m Tony, and this is my wife, Laura.”

  Ben nodded. “Eve.” Seth’s echoing greeting came from behind him.

  “Detectives.”

  Her voice singed his skin. Ben didn’t look to see how Seth had taken it.

  He asked to be taken to Joel’s bedroom. Seth went for the laundry room, which turned out to be a glassed-in back porch.

  Glancing into other bedrooms upstairs, he saw that each held a pair of twin beds. No kid would have his own room in this kind of setup. Tony stood in the doorway, never taking his eyes off Ben as he crouched to look under the bed, then went through the closet and the dresser drawers on Joel’s side. He closely examined the pair of high-tops and some slightly dressier leather shoes that sat side by side on the closet floor. Size thirteen. Neither pair looked as if they’d even been worn recently, much less cleaned.

  Finding nothing but the expected clothes and school books, Ben looked at Santos. “Where are the dirty clothes that haven’t made it to the utility room?”

  “Hamper in the bathroom.” He led Ben there.

  Red plastic, the kind parents bought for their kid to have in a college dorm room, it was getting pretty full. Ben dumped it out. Santos narrowed his eyes at a sweatshirt that reeked of beer, but said nothing. Ben wouldn’t have expected a kid to put clothes saturated with blood in the hamper, but had had to look. He replaced all the clothes.

  “Do you look through the boys’ drawers or closets on a regular basis?”

  Santos’s eyes flickered. “Yes. I warn them I will be. Not because I distrust them all, but because one who is into drugs could stash his supply in another boy’s sock drawer.”

  “Would you do that right now, with me observing?”

  “But you’re not looking for anything small.”

  “No, his bloody clothes would almost have to be in a plastic bag.” He
’d expect the shoes, too, to have gotten spattered, at the very least, but he didn’t say that.

  “That, I will look for.”

  Ben followed as the guy opened every closet and drawer and looked under beds. Nothing.

  Back downstairs, he thanked Santos. “That was above and beyond.” Already pricklingly aware of Eve’s presence, he saw her surprised glance at Santos.

  “Murder isn’t a petty crime,” the man said.

  “No, it isn’t.” Led by Mrs. Santos, Seth appeared from the kitchen, shaking his head.

  “Nothing in the laundry room or garbage can.”

  “Our garbage pickup day is Friday. And, with rare exceptions, we do laundry only on weekends,” Mrs. Santos explained.

  “Would you have noticed if one of the boys had run the washer sometime during the week?”

  “Yes,” she said flatly. “If nothing else, I’d have issued a warning that he had to plan better the next week. Because we have kids coming and going, we maintain a routine they all understand from the beginning, and have fairly strict rules. We keep a close eye on them. We are rarely both gone at the same time, even during the day, and never in the evening. Our bedroom is at the head of the stairs. We sleep lightly. Hard to imagine one of the boys sneaking out successfully.”

  Which didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.

  Ben and Seth had no choice but to leave empty-handed.

  Eve made no attempt to speak to them or to follow them out.

  Neither said anything until they were in the car.

  “He could have thrown the bloody clothes in a Dumpster or anyone else’s garbage can,” Seth said after a minute.

  “And walked home naked? There’s no way he wasn’t covered with blood.”

  “What if he came prepared? Clean clothes in his backpack. He could even have worn a raincoat, something like that.”

  Ben only shook his head. Their inability to find the bloody clothes and shoes had introduced a note of doubt for him that would bug him until he had an answer.

  Seth refrained from commenting on how pissed Eve had looked, which Ben appreciated.

  They talked a little more on the way back to headquarters, but achieved no insight. Ben was primary on this investigation, Seth backing him up only when necessary. They never served a warrant alone.