Brad picked up a large stack of files. “Most of this stuff should already be on your computer.” He opened one and handed her the autopsy pictures. Until a person saw the aftermath of violence, homicide was only a word. “Victim is a forty-two-year-old nurse who was murdered by her twenty-year-old son, John Richard Butterfield, aka Ritchie Stick, Two Finger Banana, and Johnny B. Kool.”
“What in the hell is a two-finger banana? Is the guy a rapper or something?”
“A wannabe maybe,” Brad told her, taking a sip of his coffee out of a mug with a picture of a race care on it that Carolyn had given it to him for Christmas several years back. “Have you had your ration of caffeine for the day, or do you want me to have Rachel get you a cup? It’s your favorite. Chocolate macadamia nut.”
“No, but thanks,” Carolyn said, shuffling the first picutre to the bottom of the stack and examining the next one. “Give me a quick rundown.”
“The defendant comes from a white middle-class family,” he told her. “Oxnard PD claims he has ties to several violent street gangs, all of them black. Father works for a textile manufacturing company. The older brother is in his last year of college at UCLA. The defendant was the black sheep of the family, no pun intended. The DA who prosecuted him is Orin Aronson. The conviction was for second-degree murder. The lab counted twenty-one stab wounds. Murder weapon was a hunting knife.”
“Any signs of mental illness?” Carolyn asked, studying the bloody corpse. The worst thing about a violent death was the degradation. No matter how many times she saw it, it still made her stomach turn. The woman’s clothes were in shreds. One of her breasts was exposed, along with her buttocks. From the looks of it, she had multiple stab wounds in both areas, as well as her lower abdomen. “There’s something sexual about this, don’t you think? Look at the areas he targeted.”
“Probably,” Brad said, yawning. “I worked at home until three this morning, then got up at five. I really don’t care what motivated sonny boy to start carving up old Mom. All I want to do is get this thing assigned, finished, and submitted.”
“You’re getting old,” Carolyn said, studying the next picture. “You used to be able to party all night and put in a twelve-hour day. Who do you want to handle this?”
“Hey, I’ve been assigning cases all week. This baby is yours. All I know is it has to go to one of the new transfers. Our regular people are so buried, they’ll never see daylight. Linda Cartwright is a sport, but when I dumped ten new cases on her this morning, she threw a fit and threatened to throw in the towel.”
Carolyn scratched her left wrist. When she got nervous, she had a tendency to break out in hives. “Do I know any of the new people?”
“Doubtful,” Brad told her. “They’ve been hiding out in supervision picking their noses. James Rowley is pretty sharp. He used to race a few years back. Then he got married and his wife made him give it up.”
Carolyn smirked. “Racing cars doesn’t qualify a person to handle a murder investigation. Sometimes I wonder how you got promoted.”
“It’s not a sentencing nightmare like Drew’s case will be if he’s convicted. Second-degree murder is simple. Twelve years to life. What’s the big deal?” He placed the file on top of the stack and shoved it to the edge of his desk. “You can’t nitpick every case that comes along, Carolyn, not if you’re going to keep working with the PD. It’s about time you learned to supervise, don’t you think?”
Carolyn stood, walking over and picking up the stack of file folders. “It’s time you learned the law. The victim was stabbed. A knife is a deadly weapon. That’s an enhancement.” She flipped open the file and scanned the pleading, jostling the stack of folders in her arms. “The DA pled it as an enhancement. The defendant also has a prior felony conviction. That falls under 1170.12. I know this one by heart. ‘If a defendant has one prior felony conviction that has been pled and proved, the determinate term or minimum term for an indeterminate term shall be twice the term otherwise provided for the current felony conviction.’ Try explaining that one. Your twelve to life just flew out the window.”
Brad tossed his feet on top of the desk. “I don’t have to explain anything,” he said. “I’m an administrator now.” He closed his eyes. “Get back to work. It’s time for my nap.”
“By the way,” Carolyn said, knowing he was teasing, but unable to resist putting a dent in his testosterone-driven ego. “Mary Stevens told me she slept with you. She called you a prick.”
Brad’s eyes flew open. “A little prick or a big prick?”
Men, Carolyn thought, disgusted. He didn’t care that she had to assign a high-profile homicide to an officer with no experience in court investigations, but he snapped to attention when she mentioned sex. “She said you couldn’t compete with the brothers. Does that answer your question?”
He jerked his head back as if she’d slapped him. “Damn women,” he said. “When did you get so vindictive? Can’t we have some fun every now and then?”
“I canceled my wedding,” she reminded him, blowing a strand of hair off her forehead. “My best friend and top investigator was murdered. Her sexually abused daughter is living in my fiancé’s house, and her husband may spend the rest of his life in prison. There’s not much I feel like joking about right now.”
Brad sat up in his chair and picked up a pen. “You wouldn’t have Mary’s home number on you, would you?”
“Why? You want to try again to see if you can get a better score? You’re incorrigible, Brad.” Carolyn headed toward the door, then turned around and glanced back at him. “Maybe you should take a nap. I like you better with your mouth closed.”
When Carolyn returned to her office, she found Kevin Thomas waiting for her. “I hope you don’t mind,” the district attorney said. “Your door was open.”
“Not at all,” she told him, circling behind her desk. “Have a seat. Do you want some water, coffee, soda?”
“I’m fine,” Thomas said, placing his briefcase in his lap and opening it. “I need to take Jude Campbell’s deposition. I’d like to schedule it for tomorrow.”
Carolyn sat down in her chair. Although Drew’s trial was months away, they had only three weeks until the preliminary hearing. She’d been surprised that Hank had talked Thomas into getting a warrant for Drew’s arrest so fast. With any suspicion whatsoever of child abuse, however, getting a court order to remove the children was a snap. The district attorney’s office generally shied away from filing prematurely on a case this complex and serious. In most instances, they would have taken more time. She assumed they’d acted fast because of the fact that Drew might also be a murderer, and they were fearful of leaving him at large in the community. Once a defendant was arraigned, the clock began ticking. They could ask for continuances, of course, yet eventually the judge got fed up and forced them to go to trial. “Do you want to do it at my fiancé’s house, or in your office?”
“I realize it might be more comfortable for the victim if we deposed her at your home, but I think it’s important that she gets used to speaking about the situation with her father in an official setting.” He used his finger to adjust his glasses higher on his nose. “I’ll make arrangements for a victim’s advocate to be present, someone who can be with her throughout the criminal proceedings. I’d appreciate it if you would call Ms. Campbell now so we can set a time.”
“I was just about to check on her.” Carolyn had no doubts that Kevin Thomas was a competent prosecutor, but he was somewhat peculiar. She noticed how his inexpensive brown suit hung loosely on his shoulders. He certainly didn’t spend hours in the gym the way Brad did. Thomas was dreadfully thin, to the point that he didn’t look healthy. She hadn’t seen him in a few months, but he appeared to have lost a great deal of weight. Her brother, Neil, had a slender physique, but he dressed stylishly, turning it into an asset instead of a negative. She’d always been jealous that she hadn’t inherited his metabolism. Neil could eat a truckload of food every day and never gain a pound.
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br /> Kevin Thomas moved and talked in slow motion. Listening to him was sometimes exhausting, and even the judges dreaded having him plead a case before them. The attorney was also a perfectionist, which wasn’t always bad when you were dealing with people’s lives. His handwriting was miniscule. She’d heard that this was indicative of low self-esteem. In most instances, she didn’t put much stock in handwriting analysis, at least when it came to revealing character. With Thomas, however, it seemed to fit.
While the attorney sat there like a statue, Carolyn dialed the main line at the house. It was after four, and Rebecca picked up the phone. “It’s me. Can you be a sweetheart and put Jude on the phone?”
“Where are you?” the girl shouted. “I called your office, but your answering machine picked up. I left three messages on your cell phone.”
“I forgot to turn it back on after I left court,” Carolyn explained. “Is something wrong?”
“Big time. Jude’s gone. The bitch stole half of my clothes, even my bridesmaid’s dress for the wedding. Not only that, she clipped the two hundred bucks I was saving out of my nightstand, then tried to bust open Marcus’s safe with a hammer. She even took my iPod. It took me a year to download all those songs.”
Carolyn placed her hand at the base of her throat. “I have a family matter I have to take care of, Kevin,” she said. “Do you mind stepping out for a few minutes?”
“No problem,” he said. “Would you like me to close your door?”
Her mouth was already parched. She smiled stiffly. “Please,” she said. “It’s always something when you have a teenager.” Her daughter was screaming in her ear, the young person she had taken on the responsibility to protect was missing, and the attorney was taking forever just to close his damn briefcase.
Once she was alone, Carolyn cupped her hand over the phone. The walls were thin, and she didn’t want Thomas to eavesdrop on her conversation. “Calm down, Rebecca. How could Jude leave? Bear was on duty today, and I set the alarm when I left this morning. Are you certain she isn’t somewhere on the property? What about the barn?”
“What about the car?” her daughter tossed back. “She took Marcus’s Jeep. When I couldn’t get you, I called him at work. He’s on his way home. Bear wanted to report it to the police, but Marcus told him he better ask you first. He didn’t remember the license plate number, anyway. He was surprised it even started. Bear said the jumper cables were gone from the garage, and that Jude must have jumped it off the Range Rover.”
Carolyn’s future husband was a car collector. One of the reasons he’d purchased the house in Santa Rosa was it had enough land to build a five-car garage. “I have to go,” she told Rebecca. “We’ll figure everything out when I get home. If Jude calls, get in touch with me immediately. Oh, and try to get her to tell you where she is.”
“Where do you want me to call you? On your cell phone? I called you three times and you didn’t answer.”
Carolyn yanked her cell out of her purse and turned it on. In addition to the messages Rebecca had left, Marcus and Bear had tried to get in touch with her. “My phone’s on now. I’m in a meeting, but I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t go anywhere. I need you there in case Jude calls.”
“Duh, Mom,” Rebecca said. “People who steal things don’t usually call to say hello. Marcus isn’t going to marry you if you keep doing stupid things. Then what will be do? We already sold our house. I can’t believe you let someone like Jude stay here. Shit, you might as well bring a murderer home.”
“Don’t curse,” her mother said out of habit.
“Why not? You’d say dirty words, too, if someone ripped off all your stuff. For all I know, she did. I didn’t check your closet. How did she know the safe was in the floor in the pantry? Even I didn’t know until—”
“I’m hanging up, honey.” Carolyn disconnected and placed her head in her hands. Jude must have been terrified her father would be released from jail. They had to find her. Without a victim, the DA would have no choice but to withdraw the charges and release Drew. She unscrewed the cap from a bottle of water on her desk and took a long swallow, then went to tell Kevin Thomas the bad news.
CHAPTER 16
Friday, October 15—6:30 P.M.
Carolyn saw the black-and-white sheriff’s unit when she steered the Infiniti into the circular driveway. Marcus was outside talking to the deputy. She’d called and told him not to press charges against Jude. Ventura PD had already broadcast an attempt to locate on the Jeep Wrangler.
On the way home, Carolyn had stopped off at the bus depot since Jude had mentioned staying there in the past. Mary Stevens had called Reggie Stockton to see if he knew where Jude had gone, as well as the girl whose cell phone she’d had in her possession at the hospital.
Marcus had changed into a pair of jeans and a red turtleneck sweater. When he saw Carolyn, he walked over to the Infiniti, opened the door, and extended his hand to help her out.
The evening air was damp and chilly. The weather report had predicted rain. She could already smell it in the air. She stepped into his open arms, pressing her head against his chest. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I should have let Social Services find a placement for Jude. I blame myself because I left her alone in the house. I was going to ask Josephine to come in, but Jude swore she’d be fine, that all she wanted to do was sleep.” She pulled away. “Did she take anything valuable? Rebecca said she tried to get into your safe.”
“With a hammer,” he told her. “All she did was ding it up.”
“How did she know where it was?”
“You can find anything if you look long enough,” Marcus told her. “That old Wrangler isn’t worth more than a few grand. Rebecca was bent out of shape, though. I promised her I’d replace everything Jude took.”
“Where’s Bear?”
“He went home with his tail between his legs. He’s lucky I didn’t fire him. The guy is supposed to protect me from terrorists and foreign agents, and he’s outsmarted by an eighteen-year-old girl. Was Jude standing nearby when you punched in the alarm code?”
“I don’t think so,” Carolyn told him. “No, wait. The night I brought her home from the hospital, she was right behind me. I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, she was in a new place, so I just assumed she wanted to stay close. You think that’s how she got the code, right?”
“Yeah,” he said, placing his hands on his hips. “I should have replaced the alarm pad with a palm sensor like I have at the office. I didn’t think I needed it since we had on-site security, and I don’t keep classified material in the house.”
“How did she get past Bear?”
“She threw some pots and pans out the back door. By the time Bear ran around to see what was going on, she’d already taken off in the Wrangler.”
“Did it have much gas in it?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Marcus said, kicking a snail off the driveway. “She took Rebecca’s money, then picked up another three hundred from the drawer in the kitchen where Josephine keeps the cash I give her for groceries.”
The deputy walked over, clearing his throat to get their attention. “I think I’ve got what I need, Mr. Wright. We didn’t list any of the items the girl took as stolen, but we’ll send out notices to all the pawnshops.”
“Thanks, Officer,” Marcus said. “Jude’s been through a rough time. Make certain your people go easy on her if they find her. We just want to know that she’s safe.”
Carolyn didn’t say anything, but there was a lot more at stake than Jude’s safety. If the DA decided to withdraw the charges against Drew, he could sue for false arrest. Technically, the district attorney could prosecute without Jude’s cooperation, but it wasn’t the wisest way to proceed. If the case went forward and Drew was acquitted, he could never be prosecuted again for those specific crimes. A person could spend more time in prison for sex offenses, particularly those committed against minors, than for murder. The Butterfield case, where the son had murdered his mother, was d
ifferent as the defendant had a prior felony conviction.
They stood side by side on the front porch, gazing out over Marcus’s avocado orchard. “Tell you what,” he said, “why don’t we take Rebecca and go out for a nice dinner? We can go to that French place you like so much.”
Carolyn listened to the wind rushing through the trees. Her despair at the overall situation was beginning to take hold. If she wasn’t careful, she could lose Marcus. They’d only lived together a short time. He had stress of his own. His company had recently lost a number of government contracts. He needed a woman who would be there for him, not someone who brought home more problems. “I’d love to go out tonight, honey, but I have too much to do. You and Rebecca go without me.”
“Are you sure? We could go out tomorrow night.”
She reached up to kiss him. He cupped his hands under her hips and pressed her tight against his body. “Now that our houseguest is gone,” he said, “maybe we can pick up where we left off last night.”
“Oh, Marcus,” Carolyn said, pulling away. “How can you forgive me for getting you involved in all this? Our beautiful wedding…” Her voice trialed off. “I’ve ruined everything.”
“No, you haven’t, sweetheart,” he said, cradling her in his arms again. “I wouldn’t love you if you weren’t such a caring person. No one would want to get married with all this going on. At least you’re in a position to do something.”
Carolyn chewed on a cuticle, stopping when she saw blood oozing out around her nail. As a child, she’d gnawed on the loose skin around her fingernails to the point where she looked like a person with leprosy. The kids stayed away from her, fearful they would get a disease. It was funny how old habits could resurface when a person was under stress.
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