Revenge of Innocents

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  Hank held up a palm. “Slow down a minute. If Stockton shot Drew, who ran over Jude?”

  “Drew,” Mary told him. “Don’t you see? Jude may have found a spare key to the house the night she overdosed. She hands the key to Stockton, then goes to one of her regular hangouts to wait for him to do the deed. Instead, her father shows up. Maybe it was a legitimate accident. She could have tried to get away from him and he chased her down with the car. Or maybe she was hiding behind the truck, then came out when she thought it was safe only to see her father barreling straight at her. As soon as he hit her, Drew took off. At the same time, Stockton is lying in wait for him here at the house. He uses the key to enter, and when Drew falls asleep, he shoots him.”

  “There’s only one major problem,” Hank said. “Forensics says there’s nothing on Drew’s car that would indicate it was involved in an accident. The Explorer is white, Mary. The nurse said the car was dark. Some of the other stuff is good, though. We’ll run with it as far as it can take us. You’ve left out Snodgrass. What part does he play?”

  “Well,” Mary said, “Snodgrass could have been the one who ran over Jude instead of Drew. Maybe he was afraid she would implicate him, and we’d find out he killed his daughter. He may also have been worried that Drew would spill his guts one day. If Snodgrass killed his own daughter, he could kill anyone.”

  “What color cars does he own?”

  “A white Mercedes and a blue Jag.”

  “Sounds like the guy’s got some bucks.”

  “Snodgrass is a CPA. He owns an accounting firm.”

  Hank wasn’t buying Stockton’s role in the murders. The truth was in there somewhere, though, hidden among the thousands of loose ends. Brainstorming at the crime scene sometimes produced results. They were only a few feet away from the bloodstained sofa where Drew Campbell had spent his last moments. When you studied a homicide from behind a desk, you were removed from the stark reality, even in a series of crimes this brutal. “Why didn’t Snodgrass shoot Jude, then?”

  “If he hit her with his car, he assumed she was dead. He doesn’t want to establish a pattern, so this worked out perfectly for him.” Mary paused and placed her hand on her head. “Now that you mention it, there is a pattern. Veronica was shot. Haley was beaten. Drew was shot. Jude was hit by a car. Maybe every other victim gets shot. That’s an easy death compared to what Haley and Jude have gone through. I hope to God she can keep that arm.”

  “There’s two killers,” Hank said adamantly. “Drew and Don Snodgrass. Stockton is nothing more than a low-level thug, just some guy who took advantage of a disaster to escape from jail. Get cooking on the search warrant. As soon as you’ve got it, call me and we’ll pick up Snodgrass. I want to execute the warrant while he’s at the station.” He turned to walk away, then thought of something else. “What happened to the other car?”

  “What car?”

  “Jude had a car,” he said. “She said her parents wouldn’t let her drive it until she got a job to pay for the insurance. I think she said it was an older model Taurus. Don’t you remember? She mentioned it that first night in Santa Rosa.”

  “I forgot, Hank,” Mary told him, a chastised look on her face. “It wasn’t here when she overdosed. The only car listed in the report was the Explorer. We towed Veronica’s county vehicle from the motel.”

  Hank had been the first one at the scene that night. They’d both dropped the ball on this one. “Either Jude has the car, or the person who ran over her has it. Pull the license number off DMV and broadcast it immediately. Make certain the dispatcher cautions that the driver may be armed and dangerous. Use Stockton’s description, and send it out nationally. We know Jude isn’t driving it, and it’s highly unlikely a CPA knows how to hot-wire a car. If we don’t make an arrest soon, there won’t be anyone to arrest. At the rate we’re going, all our suspects will be dead.”

  “I’m on it,” Mary said, elbowing her way through the throng of officers.

  Rebecca was sitting next to Carolyn in the waiting room at the hospital, thumbing through a People magazine. Marcus had fallen asleep on the sofa across from them. She tossed the magazine on the table and stared at Marcus. “Why do guys sleep with their mouths open? It makes them look like old men.”

  “I don’t know,” Carolyn mumbled under her breath. Still in shock over the tragic events related to Jude, she felt completely devastated by Drew’s death. She should never have let him go inside that dark house alone. She should have stayed with him, insisted he come back to Marcus’s place. She wished she could talk to her mother. Marie Sullivan was a retired chemistry professor, and possessed the type of rational mind that had always helped Carolyn put things in perspective. Just when her mother had convinced everyone she was on her death bed, she’d sold her condo and taken off on a trip around the world.

  She considered calling her brother, Neil, but she knew he might only intensify her hysteria. He was definitely not the type to deal with a severed limb. Until Marcus came along, Neil and Carolyn had either talked on the phone or seen each other every day. Moving in with Marcus had seemed like the perfect time to cut the cord. Her brother’s lively personality made him a delightful person to be around when things were good. When problems developed, he could be more irritating than supportive.

  She looked lovingly at Marcus, remembering how disturbed he’d been after he’d found Drew’s body. Right now, there was nothing she could do but cope.

  She’d insisted Marcus bring Rebecca to the hospital to make certain she was safe. Since Jude had slipped out of the house without their knowledge, she didn’t trust his bodyguards. Would the killer come after her now, thinking Drew had told her something when she picked him up at the jail? Not only was she at the end of her emotional rope, but she was legitimately frightened. Whoever had written her the letter and assaulted her that night in the parking lot had threatened to go after her children. “Can you call one of your friends and have them pick up your work from your teachers?” she asked Rebecca. “I don’t want you to go to school tomorrow.”

  “But why, Mom?” Rebecca protested. “There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing you can do, either. The doctor said Jude’s going to be in a coma. You can call and check on her from the house or your office. It seems silly to make us all sit here. I’ve worked so hard to keep my grades up.”

  “I want you with me,” her mother told her. “I need you. These people were my friends. Our friends, Rebecca, not just mine. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices in life. You can do your schoolwork here.”

  “Fine, I’ll call Anne Marie.”

  Carolyn locked her fingers around her wrist. “Call someone else.”

  “You’re hurting me,” Rebecca told her, jerking her arm away.“Why can’t I call Anne Marie? Her sister was killed. Shouldn’t I be there for her? I mean, you’re making such a big deal about Jude.”

  “I can’t tell you everything that’s going on right now, but you may have to talk to the police about the things you told me about Mr. Snodgrass.”

  “What things?”

  “There’s a killer out there,” Carolyn said in a firm voice. “We don’t know who he is, or what he’s going to do next. Haley Snodgrass was sexually abused, more than likely by her father.”

  Rebecca tossed her hands in the air in frustration. “You’re going crazy, Mom. You must be sleep-deprived or something. In my health class, we learned that going without sleep for a long time can make you delusional. Anne Marie’s father is a sweet man. He’d never do perverted things to his kids.” A sad look passed into her eyes. “I wish my father cared as much for me as Donny does for Anne Marie. He takes her to amusement parks all the time, gives her money, and lets her buy anything she wants. When Haley got her driver’s license, he bought her a BMW convertible. It was used, but not many kids get a BMW for their first car.”

  “Do you call him Donny?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m not being disrespectful or anything. He tells all Anne Marie’s f
riends to call him Donny.”

  Everything was gelling in Carolyn’s mind. “He didn’t buy Anne Marie a BMW, did he? You told me she has to borrow her mother’s Cadillac when she wants to go somewhere. That’s why she can’t come to see you at Marcus’s house, because the gas is too expensive.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “Maybe Donny doesn’t have a lot of money right now. How do I know?”

  “Has Anne Marie ever talked to you about her father?”

  “He embarrasses her. He tells stupid jokes and tries to act like he’s a teenager.”

  “Do you know what a pedophile is?”

  “A creep who likes to have sex with kids. Good God, Mom, Donny isn’t a pedophile. You think everyone is a criminal. Take a pill and chill.”

  “I need to check on Jude,” Carolyn said, pushing herself to her feet. “Don’t call anyone. Marcus will pick up your schoolwork.” Afraid Rebecca would call her friend and tip her off about her father, she stuck her hand out. “Give me your cell phone.”

  “Here,” the girl said, removing the phone from her back pocket and throwing it at her. “You don’t even trust me now. I hate you. You jump through hoops for someone else’s kid when you never have time for me. Between that and your job, I might as well not have a mother. You’re just like Dad. He doesn’t give a shit about me. It’s been over a year since he even called me. Jude isn’t your daughter. She’s not even related to us.”

  Carolyn exploded. “When Jude wakes up, I’m the one who’ll have to tell her whether she still has an arm. Then I’ll have tell a girl whose mother was just murdered that the same thing happened to her father. Don’t you have any compassion, Rebecca? Are you that self-centered?” She paced around the small room, determined not to say anything else until she calmed down. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to spend more time with you lately. Haven’t I always been there when you needed me? Most of the time, you’re with your friends or locked in your room. There’s no law that says a mother-daughter relationship runs in only one direction.”

  “What’s going on?” Marcus asked, bolting upright in his chair. “Why on earth are you screaming at each other?”

  “It’s my fault,” Carolyn told him, picking the phone up and handing it back to Rebecca. “I trust you, honey. I was wrong to take your phone away. The police suspect Anne Marie’s father may have killed her sister. That’s why I can’t let you speak to her right now.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” her daughter said, glaring up at her.

  Carolyn walked over and sat back down beside her. “I’m going to tell you something, but you can never, ever repeat it. If you do, you’ll start something that will come back to haunt you. The person this is about isn’t here to defend herself. She died a horrible death. She doesn’t deserve to be disrespected by people who earn their living off someone else’s pain and misfortune.”

  Rebecca flicked the ends of her fingernails. “You’re talking about Haley, right?”

  Carolyn sucked in a deep breath, then blurted out, “The coroner who performed the autopsy said she’d been sexually active since she was approximately ten.”

  “That can’t be true. Anyway, how could he tell?”

  “Because when a prepubescent girl engages in sexual intercourse on a regular basis, it leaves scars. It can also cause permanent damage to the vagina. I’d rather you not hear things like this, but you didn’t give me any option.”

  Rebecca stared at her in stunned silence.

  “Maybe Donny, as you call him, didn’t buy Anne Marie a BMW because she didn’t do the things for him her sister did. I failed at protecting Jude, but maybe I can help prevent this from happening to someone else. This is the world I live in, sweetheart, and girls like Haley are why I work so hard at my job. I generally only learn about these crimes after they happen, but every now and then I get a chance to prevent them. My job is to make certain the men and women who hurt innocent people are punished. When it comes to pedophiles, there’s no cure. A pedophile could be in prison for thirty years and still be compelled to molest children the day he was released.”

  Rebecca wiped a tear from her eye, then threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “I’m sorry I said those hateful things to you. I didn’t mean them. I’m proud to have a mother like you.” She pulled back and glanced over at Marcus, kicking out and touching the toe of his shoe. “You did good, Mom. You got me a new father, someone who actually cares about me.”

  Marcus stood and came over, pulling Rebecca to her feet and embracing her. “I’m going to make certain you have a good life. I made a lot of mistakes with my own children. I won’t make them with you.”

  Carolyn draped her arms around both of them. “You guys go on home,” she said. “I’ll stick around here for a while, then call and have you pick me up. Unless something goes wrong, we’ll have dinner together. Marcus, can you arrange for someone to watch out for Jude while she’s at school tomorrow?”

  “Certainly.”

  “You mean I’m going to have my own bodyguard?” Rebecca said, excited. “That will be totally cool. Everyone will think I’m a celebrity.”

  Marcus smiled. “You’ve had a bodyguard for a long time, even before your mother asked me.”

  “Really? Why didn’t you tell me? I never saw anyone.”

  “You’re not supposed to see him,” Marcus told her. “That’s why they call it shadowing someone. I told you I wasn’t going to make any mistakes this time around. My family is my most important asset.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Tuesday, October 18—1:45 P.M.

  Carolyn stared at Jude through the glass in intensive care. Her left arm was heavily bandaged, her eyes tightly closed, and her bodily functions were being taken care of by machines. Dr. Samuels, a man in his late forties with thinning brown hair and dark-framed glasses, stepped up beside her. He spoke with a New York accent. “The reattachment went remarkably well. Barring infection, I think your daughter will be able to keep her arm.”

  “Where’s Dr. Martin?”

  “He’s not available,” Samuels told her. “He still has privileges here, but his primary practice is in LA now. We were lucky he was in town visiting his daughter. I’m an orthopedic surgeon as well, but Greg Martin has far more experience when it comes to this particular procedure.”

  “When will she wake up?”

  “We’ll start tapering off the drugs in forty-eight hours unless a problem develops. She’s still going to need narcotics for pain control, but she should be conscious and able to speak with you.”

  Carolyn felt like a talking head. The rest of her body was numb. “Will she be able to use her arm?”

  “To what extent, we’ll have to wait and see. Before we start physical therapy, however, the wounds need time to heal.”

  Carolyn decided her ruse had to end. “I’m not Jude’s mother, Doctor. Her mother is dead. She was murdered a week ago. Last night, her father was shot and killed as well. My name is Carolyn Sullivan.”

  Dr. Samuels blinked several times, but otherwise didn’t react. “What relationship do you have to the patient? Are you her legal guardian?”

  “Technically, Jude doesn’t need a guardian since she’s eighteen. I’m a close friend of the family.”

  “But, Ms. Sullivan,” he said, somewhat agitated, “this patient isn’t able to make decisions for herself right now. Surely, she has relatives.”

  “She has an aunt in San Francisco,” Carolyn said, unsteady on her feet. “I may be her legal guardian, though. Her mother and father made provisions in their wills for me to take care of their children should something happen to them. I haven’t verified this yet. Everything happened so fast.”

  “Are you all right?” Dr. Samuels asked. “I can have the nurse bring you some water. How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

  “I’m…” Everything went black as Carolyn crumbled to the floor at the doctor’s feet.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re fine,” a redheaded nurse told Carolyn
. “You’re in the emergency room. You fainted. Dr. Samuels ordered you a dinner tray. It should be here any minute. He said we couldn’t let you go home until you ate.”

  “But I was supposed to have dinner with my family,” Carolyn protested. “What time is it? I have to call my fiancé.” She tried to sit up when she realized she was attached to an IV. “What are you giving me?”

  “Just fluids.” The nurse handed her a juice box with a straw in it. “The doctor suspected you might be dehydrated. Have you been drinking?”

  “I don’t know,” Carolyn said, lacing her fingers through the bars on the bed.

  “Then you’re probably dehydrated. Just relax, sweetie. Your fiancé and your daughter are on their way.” She checked the IV. “This is almost finished.”

  Carolyn closed her eyes and fell back to sleep. She dreamed she was in a morgue. Veronica was there, as well as Drew. Jude’s severed arm was resting on a gurney by itself. She screamed, but no one came.

  “Wake up, honey,” Marcus said. “You must have been having a bad dream. Rebecca’s waiting outside with Anne Marie. Her mother called and asked if she could stay with us for a few hours. The police picked up her father, and they’re searching their house. I didn’t know what to do, so I said okay.” He hit the button on the bed to elevate her to a sitting position, then positioned a table in front of her with a tray of food on it. “All you have to do is eat some of this, and we can get you out of this place.”

  “How’s Jude?”

  “I spoke to her nurse in intensive care,” Marcus said, cutting a piece of chicken and stabbing it with a fork. “She’s doing fine, Carolyn, no sign of infection. Come on, open your mouth. This looks tasty. Don’t worry, we’ll go out for a nice meal later.”