So Battaglia had believed her. Whoever sent Chance Halley that tape had done Ryan a huge favor, however inadvertently. She smiled as she folded the letter and put it back in the envelope, sealing it back with scotch tape. Her father would have to be stupid not to realize somebody had opened the letter. She figured when he saw the contents, he wouldn’t care. The smile left her face as her cell phone rang, and she saw her mother’s home number on the caller ID.
On the way to her parents’ house, Shep told Ryan that he had spoken to Devon’s aunt, and she agreed to stay with Devon at a motel near the station, on the state’s dime, until Sean could put together more lineups.
“How angry is your dad?” Shep asked as they made the turn into the captain’s neighborhood.
Crepe myrtle and wisteria battled the black iron gate that surrounded the Magnolia Place Subdivision. The tiny Chinese man that had worked the gate since Ryan’s childhood raised the wooden arm with a smile when he recognized her inside Shep’s Corvette, and politely bowed as they drove past.
Ryan nodded and waved, and then turned back to Shep with a sigh. “Mama called, so I didn’t actually talk to daddy. But I’m guessing that he’s pretty mad, especially if somebody told him about us.”
“I’m sure somebody did. Well, he was going to find out eventually. It’s probably better that the whole thing is out in the open.”
Ryan looked out the window. “For some reason I don’t find it necessary to tell my father we’re sleeping together.”
Shep frowned. “Ryan, we’re not just sleeping together. I’m not going anywhere. He’s just going to have to accept that.”
Ryan took a deep breath before walking into the house. She felt like she was sixteen again, caught after curfew on a school night, driving her father’s police car to a party she didn’t have permission to be at in the first place. Except now she was more than old enough to know better.
The second she walked in, the captain grabbed her in a fierce hug, squeezing her so tight she wasn’t sure if he really missed her or if this was some sort of punishment.
“Do you know how worried I was about you?” her father asked in a low, growly voice, as if everything that happened was Ryan’s fault. “When they told me somebody snatched you, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. You were four years old all over again.” He stepped back, and Ryan could sense his anger building. “And after everything else, this is what I come home to.” His voice grew louder and his face started to turn a scary shade of red.
He picked up the newspaper and threw it back down on the coffee table for effect. The front page showed Ryan and Shep in the St. Thomas, Shep’s arms around her.
The captain tapped the picture. “What’s this, Chapetti? The last thing I told you before I left was to not try anything with my daughter. Did you forget that? Or did you get confused, and think I said jam your tongue down her throat? Or was that just a little lagniappe for your trouble?”
Ryan would have laughed at the joke if her father hadn’t been so angry. Lagniappe– pronounced lan-yap–was New Orleans for a little something extra.
“And you,” he pointed at her. “Why were you at the Upperline Convalescent Home? Did you think I wouldn’t find out you went there?”
“I was going to do mama’s volunteer work,” she answered. “How was I supposed to know Patti lived there? Nobody even bothered to tell me my biological mother was still alive. Did you know?”
“What I knew is irrelevant. Patti was nothing to you. Nothing, got it? There was no reason to tell you anything about her. And I can’t believe you’re standing here telling me you didn’t know about Patti before you went to Upperline. Am I supposed to think that you, of all people, were actually going there out of the goodness of your heart?”
“I don’t give a damn what you believe,” Ryan’s voice grew louder. “If anyone had told me Patti was alive to begin with, this wouldn’t have been such a big surprise. I see no reason you would have intentionally withheld this information. It seems I’m not the one with all the secrets in this family. My life’s an open book.”
The captain gave her a look. “So I’ve heard. I got the pleasure of hearing all about your social activities from my subordinates.” He paused again. “Monte Carlson, Ryan? I thought we had that talk.”
“The talk was a little after the fact,” Ryan said, looking challengingly at her father. “And it’s not as if I actually went out with him.” Ten seconds later she looked away, angry at herself for not being able to stare her father down. “And my sex life is none of your damn business. I am a grown woman. I can do what I want. And I wasn’t talking about me, anyway. You’re the one with all the secrets.”
“Secrets?” He seemed baffled. “I don’t have any goddamn secrets.”
“I think Lt. Battaglia might disagree with that statement.”
The captain jabbed his finger in the air. “And you’d be just as wrong as him. Battaglia’s half-a-prick who couldn’t find his own asshole with two hands and a flashlight. And I didn’t mention the PID investigation to anyone because Battaglia’s got nothing on me because I don’t break policy. But we’re not talking about me now, are we? We’re talking about you, almost getting yourself killed, because you still think it’s cute to play cop.”
“I thought Devon called me,” Ryan continued to argue, even though she knew it was useless. Her father was not going to concede even one point.
“I don’t care if Jesus Christ came off the cross and called you. This was a police investigation. You should have let a police officer check out the call, maybe even one of the detectives handling the case, huh Chapetti?”
“I was right outside the police station,” she protested. “How was I supposed to know this guy has balls of steel?”
“See, a detective might have known that. That’s why you’re supposed to be playing lawyer, not playing cop. You know, I want to yell at you for so many things right now, I don’t even know where to begin.” He looked at Shep. “And you Chapetti, what the hell were you doing? Talking to some girl while a psycho was trying to kill my daughter? Bad enough I can’t trust you to keep your hands off her, but it seems I can’t trust you to keep her safe either. You’re not stupid, son, but you have a bad habit of forgetting which head to think with.”
Shep looked the captain in the eye. Ryan’s thumb shot into her mouth. This was not going well at all.
“Captain, I think we’d better wait to have this conversation until you’ve calmed down,” Shep said. “And when we do, maybe you could let me know whom I’m speaking to– Captain Murphy, my boss, or Kelly Murphy, Ryan’s father.”
“As far as this investigation is concerned, Chapetti, who I am doesn’t make one damn bit of difference. Because you’re off, as of this moment.”
Shep looked as if he had been slapped. “What?”
“You’re off this investigation. I don’t want to have to worry every time you two have a lover’s spat or some pretty girl turns your head that my daughter is going to be an easy target for some homicidal maniac.”
“You don’t know anything about it,” Ryan began, but her father cut her off.
“Trust me, I know enough.” The captain pointed angrily at Shep. “I don’t need his swinging dick getting my baby killed. And if I have to take him off the investigation or boot his ass out of the whole goddamn department, I’ll do it. You are my only priority, Ryan, whether you like it or not.”
“This conversation is over,” Ryan said and stormed to the door. “You can say what you want about the stupid things I do, but you’re not going to screw with Shep because he likes me. When you’re ready to discuss things rationally, I’ll be more than happy to come back.”
The captain followed her to the door. “Where do you think you’re going, little girl? I’m not finished. You want to set things right for Chapetti? Move back in here until they catch this guy and quit playing hide the salami with my detectives.”
Ryan stopped at the front door, tears of rage welling in h
er eyes. “Detective, daddy, just one of them. I have not slept with any of your other men, whether you want to believe that or not. And for the record, I’m not playing anything with Shep, so you’d better get used to the idea of us being together.”
She started out the door, but stopped and slowly turned back. “And if I had been inclined to stay with you and mama, because maybe I am scared that some freak is after me, and maybe I would like the comfort and support of my family, with me losing my promotion and watching my whole goddamn career going down the toilet, you can just forget that now. After twenty-eight years, you think you’d have at least some small clue on how to handle me.”
The captain looked as if he was going to yell again, but instead just turned to Shep and said, “I guess I don’t even know my own child, do I?”
“I guess you don’t,” Shep said. “And you can take away whatever cases you want. But when you think about it, you’re going to realize that my time is better spent trying to help you figure out who’s after her, before something else happens.”
“Are you finished?” The captain had a menacing glimmer in his eye.
“Yes sir.”
“You’re off this case. You can work whatever new homicides come in, I don’t really give a shit. Just don’t let me see your face. Now get the hell out of my house.”
SUNDAY
11:30 A.M.
Shep worked quietly while Ryan slept. She had fumed about her father for over an hour after they had gotten back to her apartment last night, until Shep finally came up with several inventive ways to calm her down. After that, she fell into the sleep of the dead.
When Shep woke up this morning, he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as she continued sleeping. Realizing he wasn’t accomplishing anything with his borderline voyeurism, he left the room and sat at Ryan’s desk, trying to sort through things.
He couldn’t find any information in the D.A. file to support Ryan’s memory that there was another child at Patti’s apartment in the St. Thomas when the police had shown up. So he tracked down Detective Ribson, the detective who had authored the police report. It took a few calls to locate him in Gulf Shores, where he had retired.
After Shep introduced himself and explained that he was working on a homicide investigation, Ribson was happy to talk to him.
“Detective, I just need to know if there was another child in the apartment when you got there. Ryan seems to remember somebody else, but there’s no mention in the report.”
Ribson hesitated, and Shep knew there was something.
“There were actually two other kids,” Ribson said. “A boy inside the apartment, and a girl playing outside. Right as we got up to the door, a man came out with the little boy. The girl was about five or so, and ran up when the man walked out. The man said they were his kids, and he had just come to pick them up. Both of the kids said they were his, and seemed at ease with him, so I took his name and address and let him go. I didn’t want the kids around when we were making the arrest. Things can get ugly sometimes, you know?”
Shep nodded at the phone. “Yes sir, I do know that. So what happened to these two kids?”
“I checked the guy’s name after everything was over, I don’t know, maybe a week later. Turns out he was a convicted sex-offender. I couldn’t believe I had done something so stupid. The man gave me his real name like he wanted me to catch him, and I let him just walk out of there with those kids. I hunted him for a year. I thought I was going to lose my mind if I didn’t find him. And I finally did, right back in the St. Thomas, almost the same apartment we busted. But he only had the boy. He said he didn’t know what happened to the girl, but I figured she most likely got traded to another pedophile.”
“What happened to the boy after you found him?”
“He was pretty messed up from being sexually abused. Social Services took over from there. He was adopted a while later by an attorney and his wife, but I don’t know the family. Social Services should be able to tell you, if that helps.”
“Do you have any idea if either one of the kids was related to Patricia Ryan?”
“I don’t know for sure, but it would have made sense. When working girls got arrested they would often hand their kids over to a friend or relative to keep them away from DSS. Although why any mother would think her kids would be safer with a pedophile than in a foster home is beyond me.”
“So you don’t know if they were the children of Patricia Ryan or if the pedophile really was their father?”
“Sorry. Once Social Services stepped in, I was off the case.”
On a hunch, Shep asked, “Do you remember the name of the boy?”
“Hmmm, give me a second. I remember it was an old-fashion name. Joshua, maybe?”
Shep’s pulse quickened. “Could it have been Jacob?”
“Bingo, that was it. Jacob. And the girl was Ruth. I remember that because it was my wife’s name. And I thought it was odd that two kids with Biblical names would be living with a child molester.”
“What about the name of the pedophile?”
“Jude Lightell. It’s a name even my old age won’t let me forget. But you won’t find anything on him. He kicked up a fuss on the way to the station, and ended up getting himself shot by my partner. Died before he made it to Charity.”
“I appreciate you giving me this information,” Shep said. “If anything else comes to mind, would you give me a call?”
Shep left his number and the retired detective agreed to call him if he remembered anything else. When he hung up, Ryan was standing in the doorway.
“There was a little boy at Patti’s that day.” He avoided mentioning the little girl. Ryan had enough on her mind. “His name was Jacob. Ribson let him leave with a man named Jude Lightell who turned out to be a convicted sex-offender. Lightell was caught a year later and killed by the police. The boy was eventually adopted by an attorney. Ribson doesn’t know the attorney’s name.”
Ryan nibbled her thumb. “That clears Chad. He’s not adopted. In fact, he looks exactly like his perverted father. So that little boy with Patti in the St. Thomas, he’s the freak with the voice distorter? What about the nine people who had access to the stolen evidence? I thought you were convinced the killer had to be one of them.”
Shep pulled her into his lap and rested his cheek against the back of her head. Her hair still smelled of lavender. “The evidence that turned up on this case isn’t the only evidence missing from the evidence room at court. There’s a shitload of closed cases that are missing weapons and drugs. And an evidence room key has apparently been misplaced.”
“So it could be somebody who didn’t make your list then?” Ryan asked.
He nodded. “It could be one of those nine, but it also could be somebody else who had access to the key. The theory is that one of the clerks helped themselves to the evidence and sold it on the street. The Attorney General’s Office is taking the case from us.”
She leaned back against him with a big sigh. “Are they going to let you know what they find out?”
“They say they are. But the AG’s Office is so damn slow, or thorough, as they like to call it, that it could be eighteen months before they figure anything out.”
“And by then it could be too late,” Ryan finished. “So what’s the next step?”
“I’m going to try to find out if Jacob was Patti’s son. If I can verify he was, I can get a court order for his adoption records.”
“I don’t think you’re going to have enough to get a court order. Especially to get into sealed adoption records.”
Shep grabbed her hand, and kissed her palm before he answered. “Baby, I’ll get them if I have to break into Civil District Court in the middle of the night.”
“What about me? What can I do?”
“Go make up with your dad.”
A shadow passed over her face. “He ought to be trying to make up with me.”
Shep traced her lips with his fingers. “He’s going to be y
our dad the rest of your life. No matter what else happens, he’s always going to be there for you. And I know how important your family is to you.”
She shook her head. “When he’s ready to make up with me, he knows my number.”
An hour later, after leaving Dubuc outside Ryan’s apartment, Shep went back to the station and did a search of Jude Lightell’s name in the NCIC computer. Lightell’s prior arrests and convictions popped up, but the molestation of Jacob was not referenced since Lightell had never been arrested for the crime, having been shot by the police first.
Shep then tried to access the actual police report through the station’s system, and came up empty. The case was too old to be in the system, and the case file was old enough to be in storage. He decided to stop wasting his time looking for the old report. The police report would not have the information he wanted anyway, the name of the couple who adopted the boy.
He would have to try another course of action. He might be able to find out whether Patti had any other children by looking at her records from Upperline. Spence had caught the case, and would undoubtedly have no trouble violating the captain’s prohibition against Shep working on the cases related to Ryan.
His only concern was what Spence might expect from him in return. The last time he asked Spence for a favor, Shep had found himself dodging the Mexican police and the Sinaloa drug cartel in Nuevo Laredo, helping Spence smuggle a narcotics suspect back to New Orleans in the trunk of his Crown Vic. But whatever crazy thing Spence would ask, it would be worth it if Shep could find out who was after Ryan.
He went to Spence’s desk, looking around cautiously for the captain. Spence acknowledged him with a nod. “You want to know about Patricia Ryan?”
“What’s it going to cost me?” Shep asked.
Spence looked at him thoughtfully for a second. “My little sister needs a date to the prom.”
Gumbo Justice Page 21
