They hung up, and the unsettled feeling in John’s gut threatened to eat through his stomach lining.
He dialed Melissa again and got sent to voice mail immediately. Was she screening his calls? “Dammit.”
Paula looked across the desk. “What’s up?”
“I need a minute of your time. Can you put on your best I’m-sorry face?”
FORTY-ONE
Three more attempts to reach Melissa on her phone, and all went directly to voice mail. John was about to try again when he pulled into the J. C. Marshall High School parking lot. Buses started to line up for the afternoon exodus from school. Adult-looking thick-necked boys—men, really—jostled one another in displays of peacock-like horseplay. Was one of these chin-stubbled animals Cameron, the one responsible for Kari’s change of attitude?
John pulled the sedan to the curb near the office and went in while Paula sat on the trunk watching the adolescent display of dominance.
The principal’s office was easy to find, a corner room festooned with those motivational posters with their pabulum of teamwork, communication, and respect. Kari sat on a chair in the outer office, looking bored out of her mind. She rolled her eyes when she saw him enter.
“Kari, let’s go,” he said.
A woman with long gray hair, blue jeans, and a macrame vest over a paisley blouse came from an inner office. “Mr. Penley.”
He recognized the voice from the phone. “Mrs. Taskins, I’m here for my daughter—Kari.”
“Thompkins,” she corrected. “And we need to talk about your daughter.”
“What’s to talk about? It sounded like you already made up your mind.”
“I’m concerned about her willful disobedience by violating the terms of her suspension and her need to express violence.”
“Violence? Telling someone to get out of her face isn’t an expression of violence.”
“We cannot tolerate such harmful behavior.”
“Oh, for shit sake. If the ‘children’ aren’t learning boundary issues and respecting another kid’s space, then I have to question what’s happening in this institution.”
Kari’s eyes widened.
Mrs. Thompkins placed a hand over her heart. “We have no tolerance for threats. We draw the line at the safety of all the children. If you are having trouble supervising your child’s activities—”
“Seriously? Who’s watching the drug deals going on in the parking lot right now while you’re all twisted up about Kari warning another girl that she’ll kick her butt if she doesn’t leave her alone?”
“We can’t have her—”
“It sounds like you’re condoning the bullying behavior by this other girl.”
“No, we don’t tolerate—”
“I think the school board will be interested to see the environment fostered here, where a girl like Kari isn’t safe.”
“Now, Mr. Penley, there’s no need to bring the board—”
“Come on, Kari, I’ll take you home, where it’s safe.”
“Mr. Penley?”
“Let me know when my daughter will be safe back here.”
John and Kari left the office and headed out of the administration building.
“Dad, that was awesome.”
“Don’t get too excited, young lady. I’m still not sure if I need to be pissed at you. What the hell were you thinking going back to school today?”
“Paula, you should have seen Dad with Mrs. Thompkins. It was so cool.”
“Ramona Thompkins? Is that crazy old bat still working here?”
“You know her?”
“I went here more than a few years ago, and nutty old Mrs. Thompkins was the guidance counselor.”
“What did you do?” John asked his daughter.
“It was Lanette again. She was getting all up in my face about Cameron and how I wasn’t good enough for him—”
“Which one’s Lanette?” Paula jutted her chin at a knot of girls that seemed overly interested in what was going on with Kari.
“She’s the tall one with the dark hair,” Kari said.
“You called her a skank and said you’d kick her ass?” Paula said.
“Yeah.”
Paula hopped off the back of the car and approached the girls. Two of their number left as soon as she started in their direction.
Lanette had her hands on her hips when Paula started, and within seconds, the girl was hugging herself and looked to be on the verge of tears. Paula pointed a finger at her, and Lanette jumped like she’d been stabbed.
Paula turned and came back to John and Kari. Lanette and her posse had vanished.
“What did you do? Am I gonna get another call from the school? You could get expelled too, you know,” John said.
“I reminded Lanette that Cameron gets to make up his own mind, and he’d rather spend his time with someone like Kari than a skanky skinny bitch like her.”
“You didn’t.”
“Not in so many words. But I don’t think she’s gonna be a problem anymore.”
Kari hugged Paula. “You’re the best.”
John pointed at a gathering of awkward teenaged boys huddling around a bank of lockers. “Which one of these misfits is Cameron?”
Paula followed Kari’s gaze to where one of the guys making furtive doe-eyed glances at Kari. He was gangly—not man and not child, but something in between.
“I think I know which one,” Paula said. “Maybe I’ll go have a chat with him too.”
Kari’s face turned white. “Paula, please no.” She grabbed Paula’s elbow.
John gave his best stay-away-from-my-daughter look, but the kid was too focused on Kari.
“Get in, both of you,” he said.
On the drive home, John asked, “You try to get ahold of Mom?”
“Yeah, I got voice mail.”
“Me too. Was she going anywhere that I forgot about?”
Kari shrugged.
John glanced at his partner. “Did Dr. Kelly get to you about our latest vic?”
“Nuh-uh.”
John saw Kari in the rear view. She seemed lost in thought. Probably about Cameron.
“George McDaniel died.”
“Really?” Paula said. “He didn’t look that bad when we saw him at the hospital. What did Dr. Kelly say about COD?”
“That means cause of death, right?” Kari chimed in.
“Do we need to get you earmuffs?” John asked.
“Whatever.” She slouched back in the seat.
“Dr. Kelly didn’t have that yet. She called me because the ballistics were off from what I saw happen. The drive-by shooter sprayed automatic rifle fire from the car,” John said.
“Yeah, I remember seeing the bullet holes in the meth house and Wallace pointing them out with Junior.”
“Well, the slugs in McDaniel were from a .380.”
“A little handgun?” Paula said.
“Probably. But the driveway shooter had a rifle, I’m certain of it.”
“Then you have a second shooter,” Kari called from the back seat.
John looked at his partner and then in the rearview mirror. Kari was looking out the window, trying her best to look bored.
“The rifle fire was a distraction. Everyone, including me, was concerned with the rifle fire coming from the street. I wasn’t even looking for another shooter,” he said.
“If it wasn’t Sherman in the drive-by, who’d want to take McDaniel off the board?”
“I saw someone with a shotgun. The handgun had to be Junior or someone from his crew.”
“We need to check out .380 gun registrations. It’s a long shot, but we have to cover it. One of those rejects might’ve a registered weapon.”
“I don’t think there were any tears shed over McDaniel getting shot. Junior and his crew didn’t even come and try to see if he was okay. They took off on the trail of the shooter—or that’s what it looked like at the time.”
“McDaniel knew about Sherman’s stash
, and he wasn’t gonna give it up without immunity,” Paula continued.
“So McDaniel was just one more, like Burger and Wing, who knew too much about the business. Who’s next?”
FORTY-TWO
John gave Paula the keys and had her drop him and Kari at home. Melissa’s car wasn’t in the driveway, and the house was locked up. Tommy should’ve been home from school by now. The old fear for Tommy’s health returned with a white-hot vision of kidney rejection, immune system compromise, and renal shutdown. The boy had lived through all these hells before, and the transplant was supposed to make sure he never went down that declining path again.
Kari went to her room and closed the door as soon as they got inside. Some things remained constant. He checked the answering machine and the big red zero blinked back at him. Melissa hadn’t called, and there was no handwritten note pinned under a magnet on the refrigerator saying she needed to dash off somewhere.
Paranoia swelled against the banks of reason. Under the best of circumstances, a cop swallowed a healthy dose of paranoia to explain human behavior and prepare for what’s behind the next door. This felt different. Lately, Melissa’s emotions had whipsawed from distant and cold to a guarded truce.
He dialed Melissa’s cell again and it went to voice mail as he heard the front door open. His blood pressure started to throttle back when he heard Tommy’s voice.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, you doing okay?”
Tommy looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”
“Yeah, sure, fine. Everything’s fine. Where’s your mom?”
“She’s in the car. Said she needed to do something first.”
John went outside and Melissa was still in the driver’s seat and puffing away on a cigarette, eyes closed and head tilted back. She’d been the one who pressured him to quit smoking, especially when Tommy was waiting for a transplant.
He rapped a knuckle on the window. Melissa turned and took another drag and looked at him with red puffy eyes. When she didn’t roll the window down, John tugged on the door handle and found it locked.
“Open up, Mel. What’s going on?”
She put the window down a few inches, and stale cigarette smoke wafted from the crack. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Do what?”
She gestured to the house and him with the lit end of her cigarette. “This—all of it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m tired of Kari’s abuse. I don’t know what to do about it.”
John caught a whiff of booze when she spoke.
“Where have you been, Mel? I’ve been calling you.”
“You’ve been calling, the school’s been calling, Lanette’s parents have been calling, everybody’s been calling. I don’t know what to say.”
“Come on, Mel. Come inside.”
Her eyes flicked over at him, and something darker lurked behind the usually soft blue.
“I’m a shitty mother. I can’t control my daughter, I nearly killed my own son last year.”
There it was, that same guilt. Her black-market deal had nearly killed their boy, but it wasn’t her fault. But it seemed the guilt she kept repressed had eaten away at the woman she was, leaving behind an insecure shell of the person he loved.
“You’re a good mom; come on out.”
She chuckled. “They teach you that in hostage negotiation training?”
“The kids need you. I need you. Come in and I’ll put on some coffee, and we’ll talk.”
“I’m such a mess. I didn’t want Tommy to see me like this.” She rolled the window closed. A barrier, physical every bit as it was emotional.
“Mel, come on. You shouldn’t be driving.” He tapped on the window with a knuckle.
She popped the car in gear and backed out of the driveway.
John trotted after the car until she shoved it into drive and sped away from the house—from him and the kids. He watched Mel’s car turn a corner and disappear.
“Dad? Is Mom coming back?” Tommy stood in the doorway. The boy looked small and frightened.
“Yeah, Tommy. Mom needed to go and take of something.” John hoped the boy didn’t ask what that was, because he sure as hell didn’t have an answer.
John went inside and told Tommy to get started on his homework. Kari’s door was closed. She’d already walled herself off.
Alone in the kitchen, John leaned against the counter and tipped his head back. He let out a ragged breath. “When did life get so complicated?”
A slight rap sounded on the front door. John went, expecting another solar panel sales call—frickin’ predators hawking sunshine. Instead, Connie Newhouse, in her Sacramento County Sheriff’s uniform, stood in the doorway.
“Hey, Connie, come in,” John said. “What brings you over? Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thanks. I need to get home and get Lynne to soccer practice. But I wanted to make sure you got this, personally. I didn’t want it going through channels and getting lost in the PD’s human resources black hole.” She handed him a thick file marked “Confidential.”
“What’s this?”
“Sergeant Wallace’s personnel file.”
John took the file and thumbed through the volume.
“With the unsubstantiated court appearances you discovered, the department suspended him pending further investigation. He’s officially on the beach until this gets sorted out.” Wallace was effectively stranded, so to speak, on administrative leave, but with pay.
“Glad you did that. Why bring the file to me? Isn’t your internal affairs gonna need this?”
“I asked them to let you work your case first, and they’ll take our administrative action based on your findings.”
“In other words, if I can’t nail him down on more than the phonied court orders, they won’t have much to work with?”
“Something like that. But there’re some things in there you need to see. A half dozen complaints of excessive force, reprimands . . . and that’s just since we got him from Solano County. When you’re done looking it over tomorrow, give me a call and I’ll pick it up, or you can drop it by my office.”
“Thanks, Connie, I appreciate the heads-up.”
They said their good-byes, and John promised to return the file tomorrow. Connie left, and John closed the door behind her, turning back to his broken family.
FORTY-THREE
John’s bedside phone jarred him awake. It took a couple of rings before his mind figured out where the shrill, earsplitting sound was coming from. He grabbed it, looked over, and saw that Melissa hadn’t come home.
“Penley,” he whispered as he walked down the hallway and into the kitchen.
“Detective, this is Lieutenant Mendez, watch commander. You have been requested on scene.”
“Hi, Felipe. Congrats on the promotion. Long overdue. So what’d ya have?”
“Thank you.” The lieutenant’s voice softened a bit and carried a less formal tone. “The victim called in—”
“The victim? This isn’t a homicide callout?”
“No. I guess I should have led with that. But the victim called in and asked for you and Newberry, specifically.”
“Who is it?”
“Responding unit reported Gerald Balderson.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Goes by the name of Bullet.”
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. We get any story as to what happened yet?”
“Sketchy. Something regarding what you guys were asking him about. That’s all he’d tell our guys.”
“Tell you what. Have a unit sit on him until I can get there. Call Newberry and tell her I’m on the way. Wait—do you know what contact number she left? She had to move out of her place.”
“I have her cell number.”
“Okay. Where do we have Bullet?”
“He met the responding unit behind a convenience store in Natomas.”
&nbs
p; “I know the place. Call Newberry and let the officers know my ETA is about twenty minutes.”
He hung up and dialed Melissa’s cell. It went to voice mail. He called her sister Andrea and a groggy voice responded. “Hello,” she said.
“Andi, it’s John. Is—”
“Mel’s here, John.”
“She okay?”
“She will be.”
“I need a favor. Can you come and watch over the kids? I got a call out. I don’t know if Mel—”
“Yeah, no problem. Give me fifteen minutes, ’kay?”
“Thanks, Andi.”
While John was dressing in the dark, Paula called. She’d been at the detective bureau running gun registrations for .380-caliber handguns in the county. He popped by and picked her up. She was bleary-eyed and jittery from an energy drink. The one in her hand wasn’t the first one of the night.
“Those things aren’t good for you.”
Paula made a show of taking a big gulp of the caffeine-and-stimulant-laced drink. “Says who, the coffee growers lobby? Everything’s gonna kill us.”
“I’m just saying, that stuff right there will raise your blood pressure, and I’m guessing yours is high enough as it is.”
Changing the course of the conversation, Paula asked, “Why did Bullet want to talk to us in the middle of the night?”
“Something got him spooked.”
“That little tweaker was probably hallucinating that he saw crocodiles in the Sacramento River.”
“Any luck on running gun registrations?”
She shook her head. “Hundreds. Nothing that ties to Junior and his white boys so far.”
“You should have come back to our place and gotten some rest, Paula. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“Gee, thanks, that’s exactly what a girl wants to hear. And I can’t sleep. Between Sherman finding a way out of prison to murder guys tied to his task force and the DA’s hunt for a scapegoat because she’s gonna lose some political clout, I’m way past counting sheep.”
John pulled into the same convenience store parking lot where Bullet was found scavenging in a dumpster. This time, they found him hiding behind it. The uniformed officers said he wouldn’t come out until the detectives arrived.
Bury the Past Page 18
