“Helping Jude was the right thing,” Marcus told her.
“I’m not so sure about that now.”
“She did what she did because she’s scared. If I was in her shoes, I might have done the same thing. Her bastard father made her life a living hell. If you can’t trust your parents, who can you trust?” He fell silent, his hands closing into fists at his side. “I think Veronica knew. She just chose to ignore it. How could she not know? It went on for years.”
Marcus’s mood kept rising and falling. He was a positive person by nature, yet even he’d been short-circuited by the events of the past few days. “If Veronica knew,” Carolyn said, peering up at him, “she paid a terrible price. I saw the pictures from the crime scene.”
“Once we get through this, everything’s going to be great. Our wedding will be even better. We’ve got more time to plan, take care of all the loose ends. Now, are you going to be waiting for me tonight?”
Carolyn’s eyes drifted down. “I need to talk to Drew.”
“What?” Marcus said, his voice elevating. “I don’t want you anywhere near that despicable man.”
“You don’t understand. He’s the only one who knows where Jude might have gone. He knows her friends, her hangouts.”
“Leave it to the police.”
“I’m going to play him, Marcus, make him think I’m on his side. The police are his enemies now. He’ll never talk to them.”
“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed. “You’re insane. How can you look at me and tell me you’re going to intentionally manipulate a murderer?”
“Have you forgotten?” Carolyn shot back. “That’s what I used to do before my promotion. And I was good at it, really good. Besides, there’s a chance that Drew might be innocent. Hank probably came down on him hard, thinking he could crack him. Men won’t humble themselves to the degree that a woman will. Even if they did, it probably wouldn’t work. Women are softer, less confrontational. Please don’t fight me on this, Marcus. It’s something I have to do.”
Marcus glared at her, then went inside the house and left her alone on the porch. Carolyn waited for a while before she went to reason with him.
She found him at the bar in the den, making himself a martini. She took a seat on a bar stool. “If you insist, I won’t go,” she told him, placing her hands on the marble counter. “Jude is desperate, Marcus. She’s a young girl, alone and afraid. Forget about the case. Think of what could happen to her. She hasn’t recovered from the beating. Good Lord, she was trying to starve herself to death. She threw up this morning, probably because her stomach isn’t used to digesting food. She may try to leave the state. A few hundred dollars isn’t going to last very long. What’s she going to do when it’s gone? Think about it, then tell me I should leave it to the police.”
He gulped down the martini before answering. “Go,” he said, gesturing with his hand. “When this is over, you’re going to turn in your resignation.”
Carolyn’s yanked her hands back as if he’d slapped them. “Is that an ultimatum?”
Marcus set his glass down. “Yeah, I guess it is. Try to see things from my perspective. I love you, Carolyn. I don’t want to have to go to the morgue and identify your body. I may not be the richest guy in the world, but I earn enough that my wife doesn’t have to risk her life for a living.”
She slid off the stool. “I’m going to talk to Rebecca before I leave. We’ve already canceled the wedding, so if you want out, now’s the time to do it. The job I do is important. Someone has to do it, regardless of what it pays. I’m a supervisor now. I don’t have to deal with criminals on a regular basis. I have no idea what you do for a living, other than it has something to do with computers. For all I know, you could be a CIA agent. Since you require bodyguards, whatever you do is obviously dangerous.”
“My work is classified,” Marcus told her. “You know I can’t discuss it, Carolyn. I could be prosecuted for treason.”
She fixed him with an icy gaze. “I’ve never once asked you to quit, have I?”
Before he could answer, she walked out of the room. When she reached the foot of the stairs, Marcus caught her from behind and spun her around. “I need you,” he said. “And whether you realize it or not, so does Rebecca.”
“Rebecca may not like what I do,” Carolyn told him, “but she understands. That’s all I’m asking of you, Marcus.” Pulling away, she continued up the stairs.
“How in the fuck did we lose our victim?” a male voice echoed through the detective bay at the Ventura PD.
Mary jumped up and met Hank in the aisle. “Calm down,” she told him, placing her hand in the center of his chest and feeling his heart pounding. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack. We broadcast the license number on the Jeep Wrangler. Someone will pick her up.”
“Drew Campbell is a murderer,” Hank said, gritting his teeth as he yanked his tie off. “I’m sure of it, even if we don’t have enough evidence yet to convict him. I saw it in his eyes, understand? If we can’t find the girl, the bastard will walk.”
“I know, I know,” Mary said, hating it when he got this worked up. For years, he’d carried around fifty extra pounds and abused his body with alcohol. Although he’d stopped drinking and lost the weight, his arteries might still be clogged. She’d seen it with her father. When they’d conducted the autopsy after he was killed, the medical examiner told her he probably would have suffered a major heart attack sometime in the near future.
She followed Hank into his office, waiting for him to remove his jacket and sit down before she brought him up to date on the most recent developments. “Reggie Stockton is an imposter,” she said. “I got his prints when I went to speak to him this morning. His real name is Reginald Louis Marcel.”
“No shit?” Hank said, giving her his full attention. “Does he have a record?”
“Wait,” Mary told him, “you haven’t heard the best. This guy came here from New Orleans after Katrina and enrolled in high school. His DOB makes him twenty-four years old. At the time of the hurricane, he was pending trial on a narcotics charge, as well as carrying a concealed weapon. The rest of his criminal history was lost, but according to the New Orleans PD, Marcel was one of the inmates who escaped when the jail flooded.”
“Pick him up, for God’s sake.”
“We tried,” she said, sucking in a deep breath. “He walked off his job at Circuit City right after Carolyn and I spoke to him this morning. I met a patrol unit at his mother’s place while you were at dinner. Mrs. Stockton says he came home, packed some of his things, and took off.” She held up a palm. “Hold on, Hank, the story gets even better. Reggie isn’t really her son. She was one of the people holed up in the convention center, if you remember that nightmare. When they were moved out to other shelters, Reggie was mistakenly listed as her son. He’s a good-looking guy, and he has a way with the ladies. She’s a widow with no family. Get the picture?”
“She didn’t know the guy was a thug?”
“Nope,” Mary said, swinging her leg back and forth. “Also, Stockton claimed his father was killed by a New Orleans cop. He said he’d gone out to search for food when a couple of uniformed officers drove by and shot him for no reason. This guy’s good, Hank. I took the bait, and so did Carolyn. New Orleans said there was a rumor that rogue officers were shooting random civilians, but it turned out to be unfounded.”
Mary saw the corners of Hank’s mouth turn down. She placed both her feet on the floor and squared her shoulders off, knowing she was about to be reprimanded.
“You had this guy, right? Why didn’t you bring him in for questioning? We could have put him in a lineup. Benny might have recognized him if he saw him in person.” His fist came down on top of a pile of papers. “Damn it, Mary. Not only have we lost the victim, we may have let the killer slip through our fingers. This was sloppy police work and you know it.”
“I admit I screwed up,” Mary told him. “But didn’t you tell me a few minutes ago that you w
ere certain Drew killed Veronica? Except for the fact that Reggie is black and went to the same school as Jude Campbell, we had nothing to substantiate an arrest. It took three attempts for Benny to pick him out of the lineup. Christ, Hank, we only showed him eighteen guys. We were nowhere near a positive ID, and at the time, everything was leaning toward Drew. Reggie comes across as a clean-cut young man. Maybe he came here and cleaned up his act. He could have got in with the wrong crowd in New Orleans while he was in high school, and saw this as a second chance. When he realized I was going to run his prints, he fled. That doesn’t mean he’s a killer. All it means is he doesn’t want to go to jail.”
“Let me tell you something,” Hank said. “Guys like that don’t wake up one morning and decide to walk the straight and narrow. There’s no telling what kind of criminal activity this man was involved in. He was probably dealing drugs at the high school.”
The phone rang and Hank hit the button for the speaker. “We’ve got a body, Lieutenant,” Gary Conrad said, out of breath. “A man was walking his dog in an orchard near Foothill Road. The dog dug up what he thought were human remains. When patrol called me, I thought it was probably some kind of critter. I’m out here now and it’s definitely human. The grave is pretty shallow. Stand by, I’m going to try to get a look at the face.”
A cloak of tension fell over the room. Mary stared at the floor, while Hank’s skin tone faded from red to white.
“It appears to be a female in her late teens or early twenties. I don’t want to disturb the crime scene any more than I already have, so that’s about all I can tell you.”
Mary asked, “Is it Jude Campbell?”
“Not sure,” Conrad told her. “I asked the dispatcher to notify CSI and the coroner. I’ve got more patrol units rolling. We’ll secure the perimeter until you get here.”
Before Mary made it to her feet, Hank had grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and raced out of his office. “We’re on our way,” she told Conrad, rushing to catch up.
CHAPTER 17
Friday, October 15—7::30 P.M.
Carolyn pulled the Infiniti into a parking space in front of the jail, turned on the dome light, and opened her briefcase. On her way home, she’d called the number for Tyler Bell. A machine had come on, but it was a voice-generated announcement, so she wasn’t certain if the number was still Bell’s. It was visiting hours at the jail. She could use her badge and see Drew any time she wanted, but she knew she’d draw heat if she went now when it was so busy.
She pulled out her computer and went online, searching for painting contractors to see if anything came up under Bell’s name. Just because he’d fallen on hard times after his son’s death didn’t mean he wasn’t working. When that failed, she entered the county’s database and searched for business licenses. “Got you,” she said, punching the phone number into her cell.
“You have reached Bell Industrial and Residential Painting,” the recording said. “Our office hours are—”
Carolyn hung up. It was a man’s voice, though. She knew what Tyler Bell looked like, but she’d never seen or spoken to him in person. If she left a message, he might panic and disappear. She would get up early tomorrow morning and drive by the address to see if she could catch him. She had to eliminate Bell as a suspect. She’d already sat on it far too long.
Carolyn stared at the clock on the dashboard. She started to review some of the cases Brad had given her, but changed her mind. Even though she might inconvenience the staff at the jail, she needed to speak to Drew now.
She walked into a sea of humanity. There had to be sixty people crowded in the waiting room. She was assaulted by the smell of stale milk, dirty diapers, alcohol, and body odor. She’d never seen so many tattoos in her life. A reed-thin girl with dirty, stringy blond hair fidgeted in her seat. Her left arm was completely covered with tattoos, as well as the upper portion of her chest. Tattoos were a good way to hide tracks, and this girl was obviously a user.
Pushing and shoving her way to the front of the line, Carolyn tossed her badge into the metal bin. “I need to see Drew Campbell,” she told the bailiff, a young dark-haired man.
“Hey, Kirsh,” he called out, swiveling around on his stool. “I got a PO that wants us to pull a prisoner during visiting hours.”
Sergeant Bobby Kirsh’s bald head filled up the window. “Come back in an hour, Carolyn. These people must think we’re dispensing free crack or something. There’s no way we can take care of you right now.”
“Ah, come on, Bobby,” Carolyn cooed, smiling to show off her dimples. She’d never possessed the kind of bold, take-your-breath-away beauty that Mary Stevens had, but she had a few years left of cute and sexy. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Everything’s important.” He pointed across the room at a Hispanic woman sitting spread-eagle with a grimace on her face and her hand pressed over her swollen abdomen. “That lady is gonna give birth any minute. She refuses to leave until she sees her husband. I’m not in the mood to deliver a baby. You know what kind of mess that makes? Give it up and come back later.”
Carolyn fell serious. “Don’t you know who Drew Campbell is, Bobby? He killed Veronica Campbell. She was one of my probation officers. She was also my best friend.”
“Humph,” he said, brushing his hand over his head as glanced at the prisoner’s record on the computer. “I don’t see any homicide charges, just a shitload of sex crimes.”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Probably,” Kirsh said, nudging the bailiff. “Have someone pull Campbell and put him in a room. She won’t leave until we give her what she wants. She’s holding up the line.” He glanced at the pregnant woman who was now panting. “And call an ambulance. No kid should take his first breath inside a jail.”
When a bailiff unlocked the room where Drew had been deposited, Carolyn rushed over to embrace him. “This is so awful,” she said. “I’ve been arguing with Hank and the DA all afternoon, trying to convince them that the charges are unfounded. How could they put you through this?”
A look of relief appeared on his face. “Thank God someone believes me. When I saw you in the courtroom today, I didn’t know what to think. I’m getting paranoid, Carolyn. Where are my kids?”
“They’re staying with a nice family until this is cleared up,” she lied, not wanting him to know that the children were with Emily in San Francisco. “Let’s sit down, okay? Do you need anything?”
“Not really,” he said. “I swear on a stack of Bibles that the things Jude told the police aren’t true. You know the problems we’ve had with her. Veronica’s death must have pushed her over the edge. Jude needs to be in a mental hospital or some kind of in-patient drug rehab.”
“I agree,” Carolyn told him, keeping her voice low and measured. “You hired a good lawyer, Drew. Maybe that’s something he can take care of for you.”
“Farrow charges a fortune,” Drew said, cracking his knuckles. “As soon as they let me out of this place, I’ll find the lying little brat myself. Can you imagine a kid, any kid, doing this to her father?”
“Why don’t you let me help you?” Carolyn said. “The police won’t tell me where Jude’s staying. Since she’s an adult now, they may have let her stay with friends. If you give me the name of the people she hangs out with, I’ll start checking around. At least she knows me. I might be able to talk some sense into her.”
“Do you have some paper?” Drew asked, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “This place is turning me into an animal. The other day I ran out of toilet paper and had to wipe my ass with my pillow. My neck is killing me now since I’ve been sleeping without anything supporting my head.”
Carolyn had brought along a small notepad and pen. She placed it on the table to let him know she was ready.
“Let me give you some background first,” Drew said, adjusting his position in the chair. “Jude’s closest friend used to be a girl named Hale
y Snodgrass. They were into the same things. You know, hanging out, partying, getting high. Sometime last year, Haley started dating a black guy named Reggie Stockton. She brought him by the house a few times and he didn’t seem like such a bad egg. To be honest, I asked myself what he was doing with Haley and Jude. Then there was a big fight. Haley caught Jude making out with Reggie one night and came unglued. She used to camp out at our place all the time. Last week, Haley came over while Jude was out and picked up all her things. She claimed Jude had stolen something from her, but she wouldn’t tell us what it was. Veronica and I were relieved in a way. The last thing we needed was another teenager lying around the house and eating our food.”
“So you think Stockton was beating Jude?”
“Yeah,” Drew said, pausing to clear his throat. “I certainly wasn’t beating her. Knowing Jude, though, the injuries could have been self-inflicted. That’s why Veronica and I didn’t report it to the police. I’m not sure if Jude is a hypochondriac, or if she’s simply a lazy kid who craves attention. Ever since she was in grade school, she’s been concocting one reason or another to stay home from school. One day I caught her holding the thermometer against a lightbulb to trick me into believing she had a fever. In the beginning, we’d run her back and forth to the doctor. After a while, we ignored her. Later, I thought the stints in juvenile hall might bring her around, but for Jude it was just another adventure. Veronica called her a drama queen. Jude reminded her of her sister, Emily.”
“Interesting,” Carolyn said. “Was Jude anorexic?”
He laughed. “God, no. I think Haley went through a stage like that before she and Jude broke up. I used to tease Jude and tell her she had her mother’s ass. Boy, did she hate that!”
“Veronica mentioned that Jude had lost a lot of weight recently.
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