“I know so,” Carolyn said. “Give me a chance. I’ll give you enough money to make a new start. I’ll even buy you a plane ticket to anywhere you want to go. Once you get your diploma, I’ll help you get into college. Your mother had life insurance. Quite a lot, actually. If your father is convicted of killing her, you and the other children will get the money.”
“Humph,” Jude said, becoming acutely interested. “How much money is it?”
“Enough,” Carolyn said. “All you have to do is stay and tell the truth. If you don’t, your sister may go through what you have. You don’t want that, do you?”
“No,” Jude said, getting back in the bed and curling up in a fetal position. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Right now I just want to sleep.”
Carolyn slipped out of the room and closed the door. She stood motionless, as terrified as Veronica’s daughter. Instead of celebrating her wedding, something she’d looked forward to for over a year, she had placed herself in the path of a tornado. She forced herself to enjoy a moment of quiet before she fulfilled her promise and dived into hell.
CHAPTER 10
Thursday, October 14—4:45 P.M.
Carolyn sat beside Jude on a white sofa in Marcus’s living room. The exterior of the house resembled a hacienda, but the furnishings were formal. Bronze sculptures stood on marble pedestals. Marcus had an extensive art collection. He’d also purchased several paintings from her brother, Neil, who painted in the style of the old masters. A Waterford crystal lamp sat on the end table, and the cherrywood floors were partially covered with intricately patterned Persian rugs.
Hank Sawyer and Mary Stevens were seated across from them on a love seat, and Marcus was in a burgundy-colored high-backed chair. Carolyn had arranged for Rebecca to spend the night with a friend in Ventura. A doctor who was a personal friend of Marcus’s had come to the house earlier to check Jude’s injuries. In addition to the pain medication, he’d given her a mild tranquilizer to help her deal with the sensitive questions Mary Stevens was about to ask her.
Carolyn had already written a report for protective services, as well as given her statement to Mary for the criminal complaint. Hank had written the request for an arrest warrant for Drew, then hand-carried it to a judge to sign. Kevin Thomas at the DA’s office had agreed to file multiple counts of sexual abuse of a minor, as well as aggravated assault charges and rape, representing the more recent crimes.
Marcus stood, knowing it was time for the men to leave. “Would you like to see what I’m doing with the barn?” he asked Hank. “I have an office out there. If we get bored, we can watch TV.” He looked over at Carolyn. “Call me when you guys are finished.”
As soon as they left, Mary removed her laptop from her briefcase and placed it in the center of the coffee table, then adjusted the camera and microphone. She turned the computer around so it was facing Jude. “I want to make sure I get all the facts straight. Is this okay?”
“No,” Jude said, knocking the microphone away. “I’m ashamed enough as it is. All I need is a stupid video floating around about the gross things I did with my dad. What if it ends up on the Internet? Things never go away, you know. Even when you delete something on your computer, it’s still there.”
“We won’t use it, then,” Mary said, closing the computer and pulling out a yellow pad and a pen. “There’s something we need to get straight, Jude. You’re filing a criminal complaint against your father. Because you’re an adult, we can’t prohibit the press from releasing your name. I’ll do my best to see that it doesn’t happen, but I can’t make any promises.”
Jude’s jaw dropped. “You’re going to tell the newspapers and TV stations? Why would you do that to me?”
“I’m not going to tell them,” the detective answered. “They have access to police reports and court files in adult matters. The proceedings will be open to the public unless the judge decides differently. That means anyone can come, even strangers. You have to be prepared, Jude. It doesn’t mean that everything you tell me or testify to in the courtroom will be reported. I’m sure you’ve read about cases like this before. Most of the sensitive details are omitted.”
Jude cut her eyes to Carolyn. “Why didn’t you tell me it was going to be this way? I’m not going through with this now. No wonder you had that doctor give me tranquilizers. You’re not my friend. You just want to use me like everyone else.”
“That’s not true.” Carolyn placed a hand on her thigh. “Don’t you want your father to pay for what he’s done? You told me you were certain he killed your mother. And what about Stacy? We talked about these things this afternoon.”
A hushed silence fell over the room. Jude stared at a spot on the wall, her arms stiff at her side. “Fine,” she said. “Everyone already thinks I’m a slut and a retard. As soon as this is over, I’m going to leave town and change my name. Ventura sucks.”
Mary asked her a string of rudimentary questions, such as her age, date of birth, address, and Social Security number, then placed her yellow pad in her lap. “When did your father start molesting you?”
“I’m not sure,” Jude said. “Probably when I was a baby. To be honest, I can’t remember when he didn’t molest me.”
“Why don’t we start with the most recent incident and work our way back? Did your father sexually assault you on the day your mother was killed?”
“No, it was a few days before.”
“It’s important that you be specific, Jude. Your mother was killed on Tuesday. Was it Sunday?”
“Can you please stop talking about my mother dying?” she said, her eyes glistening with tears. “It’s my fault she’s dead. I threatened to tell her. That’s when he beat me. If I’d kept my mouth shut, Mom would still be alive.”
“You can’t blame yourself, honey,” Carolyn said, reaching into her pocket and handing her a tissue. “Just because your father abused you doesn’t mean he killed your mother.”
“Oh, he killed her.”
“How can you be certain?”
“Because he took me to the same shitty motel.”
Mary asked, “The Motor Inn?”
“Yeah.”
“When were you at the Motor Inn with your father?”
“The day he beat me.” Jude leaned forward. “I was going to starve myself to death. The problem was it isn’t that easy. I lost weight, but I’m not dead, am I? It was a dumb plan. Before you’d die, you’d pass out. Then people would find out and force you to eat. I knew a girl who was anorexic. She passed out at school and they took her to the hospital and stuck a tube down her throat. She ended up in a mental hospital. Shit, I don’t even know what happened to her. She’s probably still there.” She paused and blew her nose. “I stopped eating after my dad told me I was fat. Up until a year or so ago, I had sort of a boy’s body. You know, not much of a chest and a flat ass. For some reason, I started filling out. Maybe I was a late bloomer, or I might have been eating more because of stress. I was trying to get off dope so I could concentrate on my schoolwork. I used meth. People get fat when they stop doing meth.” She paused and took a deep breath. “When Mom started working at home, it was hard for Dad to get to me. That was the first time he’d ever rented a motel room. You have to give them a credit card, and he couldn’t use his or Mom would have found out. She paid the bills.”
“It’s important that we know what day you were at the Motor Inn,” Mary repeated. “Can’t you remember? Carolyn tells me you’ve been attending Ventura High. If it was the weekend, you wouldn’t have been in school.”
Jude waved a hand in front of her face. “You don’t get it, do you? Days and times are just a blur for me. I wasn’t eating enough to keep a bird alive. If I was in school, I wouldn’t have been at a motel with my asshole father. Write down it was either Saturday or Sunday. That’s the best I can do, okay?”
“How did you get to the motel?”
“In my dad’s car.”
“Do you know how he paid for the room?”
>
“No,” Jude said, fidgeting in her seat.
“Your father took off work on Tuesday,” Carolyn said. “Are you sure that wasn’t the day you were with him?”
“Isn’t that what I already said?” she answered, defensive. “I wasn’t there when he killed my mother. If I had been, don’t you think I would tell you?”
“Do you remember the room number?”
“God,” Jude exclaimed, slapping the sofa with her palm. “Why don’t you just shut up and listen? My dad took me to the motel and forced me to have sex with him. I told him if he didn’t leave me alone, I was going to tell my mother. He went crazy and started hitting me. I was going to call the police, but I chickened out. I’ve been in juvenile hall twice, you know. Once for stealing, and another time for dope. My dad said the police wouldn’t believe me.”
“How did you get away from him?” Mary asked, jotting down notes on her pad.
“I snuck out of the room when he was asleep,” Jude said. “I walked to the Greyhound bus station. I stayed there until I came home. Then the prick told me my mom was dead and that I couldn’t live there anymore.”
“Is there any way we can document the previous times your father abused you?” Mary said, tapping her pen against her teeth. “Were you treated by a doctor? Did you tell anyone, say one of your girlfriends? Did anyone see bruises or other signs of injuries on your body?”
“I haven’t been to a doctor since I had my last abortion.”
“When was that?”
“I think I was fifteen. If you want to know when my dad had sex with me, check the attendance records at the schools I went to. He made me pretend I was sick. That’s the reason I didn’t graduate last year. I got an incomplete in two of my classes.”
“I’ll check that out,” Mary told her, asking her the name of the junior high and grade school she had attended. “Now I have to ask you specific questions about what your father did to you. Did he force you to have oral sex with him?”
“Duh?” Jude said. “Of course he did.”
“How many times?”
“I didn’t keep track. Fifty, a hundred.”
“And you had sexual intercourse, is that true? That means penetration.”
“Yeah. Do you want to know if he sucked my toes, too?”
“Different sex acts represent different crimes,” Mary explained, not responding to Jude’s sarcasm. “Some carry a greater penalty than others. I know how embarrassing it is for you to talk about these things, Jude, but I have to provide this information to the district attorney so they’ll know what kind of charges to file. What age do you believe you were when your father first engaged in sexual intercourse with you?”
“The day after my eleventh birthday.”
“Did this occur once a month, once a week, or just every now and then?”
“Once or twice a week.”
Mary asked her a few more questions, then terminated the interview. Jude excused herself and went to be bed.
“I checked her record before I came over here,” the detective said. “She wasn’t arrested for possessing a joint, Carolyn. She was dealing. She mentioned one arrest for theft.” Removing a thick file from her briefcase, she fished out Jude’s juvenile record and handed it to Carolyn. “In case you don’t want to take the time to add them up, there’s sixteen arrests. She was even charged with assault on an officer. She threw a bottle at a cop who was trying to disperse a crowd at a rock concert. He had to have ten stitches in his head. You know what we’re talking about, don’t you?”
Carolyn washed her hands over her face. “She’s not a credible witness. Jesus, Mary, she fits the classic profile of a victim of incest. Why would she obey the law when her father was routinely beating and raping her? Frankly, I don’t know how she survived all these years.”
“She also lies.”
“Her whole life was a lie.”
“I realize that,” Mary told her. “There’s several reports in her file that you should read. She assaulted a younger girl at juvenile hall, then blamed it on another inmate. Regardless of what happened to her, she has a history of violence. Are you certain you want her to stay with you? Protective Services can find a placement.”
“Right,” Carolyn said facetiously. “Who’s going to take in an eighteen-year-old with an extensive criminal record? Veronica was my best friend. I might not be able to look after her other children, but I’m going to do everything I can for Jude.”
When Hank and Marcus returned to the house, they followed Carolyn into the kitchen so she could put up a pot of coffee. The kitchen had stainless steel appliances, and a wood-burning fireplace. Everyone gathered around the center island.
“I don’t understand why the DA won’t file murder charges against Drew,” Carolyn said, pouring water into the coffeepot. “He doesn’t have an alibi, and we’ve established a motive.”
“Kevin Thomas won’t file charges he can’t prove,” Hank told her, tossing a toothpick into the trash can. “Jude didn’t witness her father kill her mother, nor could she place him at the scene of the crime.”
“She did place Drew at the scene of the crime,” Carolyn said. “Tell him, Mary.”
“Jude says her father took her to the Motor Inn, but she insists it wasn’t on the day her mother was killed. I’ll fill you in on all the rest of the details later. She’s fuzzy on dates and times. You think Kevin Thomas will run with it?”
“Hard to say,” Hank answered, digging into a bowl of jelly beans. “The lab hasn’t finished processing all the evidence yet. It doesn’t look good, though. They even dismantled the drains in the motel room. The killer must have let the water run for some time in both the tub and the sink. If there was anything in there, it’s gone now. We don’t have fingerprints. We don’t have DNA. And we have a young black male allegedly renting the room. If the DA took a case like this to trial, it would end up in acquittal.”
“Were you able to track down Reggie Stockton?”
“No,” Mary answered, glancing down at the floor. “We spoke with several students at Ventura High. Stockton works at Circuit City. We reached his mother by phone. She works for an agency that provides home health care. The family is originally from New Orleans. After their home was destroyed during Katrina, they decided to relocate here. Mrs. Stockton said Reggie had a number of girlfriends, but she doesn’t know of anyone named Jude. I didn’t want to question Jude about Stockton yet. We got a copy of his picture from the yearbook. We’re going to put together a photo lineup tomorrow and show it to the clerk from the motel. He didn’t recognize anyone from the mug shots we—”
Marcus interrupted. “You can’t let Drew go free. He’s a murderer, for Christ’s sake. Look what he did to his own daughter.”
“He won’t go free,” Carolyn told him, pouring out four cups of coffee, then placing them on a silver tray next to the containers for sugar and creamer. “The penalties for sex crimes are stiffer than murder. Even if they do prosecute Drew for Veronica’s death, they’ll have trouble proving premeditation. The sentence for second-degree murder is twelve years to life. With good time and work time credits, Drew could be out in seven. Each time he forced Jude to engage in a sex act constitutes a separate crime. Start stacking up the counts, and he could end up serving the rest of his life in prison. Also, the majority of sex offenses committed against children are written so they have to be served consecutively.” She told Marcus and Hank what Jude had told them about her father making her feign illness on the days he wanted to have sex with her. “Are you going to check her attendance records, Mary, or do you want me to handle it?”
“You’ve got the girl,” the detective said, spooning sugar into her cup. “I’d much rather handle the investigation. If she’s telling the truth, the school records will substantiate her story and help us establish a timeline.”
“The poor kid,” Marcus said. “Her father should be taken out and shot.”
“You mean like her mother?” Mary said, arching her eyebro
ws. “Although it’s not a pleasant thought, Veronica may have known what was going on. If your child was sick all the time, you’d be concerned enough to take her to the doctor. Of course, we have to verify that what Jude told us is true.”
“Veronica didn’t know,” Carolyn argued. “She abhorred child abusers. What pushed her over the edge was the Bell…” She clamped her mouth shut, staring at the two detectives. It was too late. Hank had already put it together.
“I remember that case,” he said, setting his empty coffee cup on the counter. “Lester McAllen killed and dismembered the Bell boy. The bastard got his, though, regardless of Robert Abernathy.”
“Abernathy was chief over forensics, wasn’t he?” Marcus asked. “He was falsifying DNA evidence so he didn’t have to go to the trouble of testing it. When they caught him, every case he’d handled went down the toilet. What did you mean when you said McAllen got his, Hank?”
“The son of a bitch was murdered,” he said, shoving the bowl of jelly beans to the other side of the counter. “I hate people who keep candy sitting around. I think they do it purposely so their visitors will get fat.”
“You were telling me what happened to McAllen,” Marcus reminded him.
“Someone gunned him down in Camarillo only a few days after he was released from prison.”
“Did you ever found out who did it?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Hank said. “It happened in Camarillo, so it wasn’t our jurisdiction. To be honest, I don’t think anyone gave a rat’s ass who killed him.”
“What happened to Abernathy?”
“Same thing. He was shot on the porch of his house in Oxnard. I don’t remember the time sequence, just that the Abernathy homicide took place prior to McAllen’s conviction being overturned.”
“Sounds like a vigilante,” Marcus said. “The chances of both these men being killed without their deaths being connected is slim, wouldn’t you say?” He turned to Carolyn. “Wasn’t McAllen your case? I remember us talking about it.”
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