“Please, Jude,” Carolyn said. “I’m only trying to make sense of what you’re telling me. You have to stop being so hostile. You’re alienating everyone who can help you.”
The girl fell silent for a while, then continued. “I must have passed out, because when I woke up I was on the ground beside the road. I didn’t have my purse or anything, so I walked to a store and asked to use their phone. I called my mom four or five times, but she didn’t answer. Someone at the bus depot told me a woman had been murdered at the Motor Inn. I knew it was Mom.”
Having your arm severed was a life-changing event, Carolyn thought, handing Jude a box of tissues. She believed she was telling the truth this time, but it was hard to separate what she’d told her before from what she was hearing now. “So you were at the motel the day your mother was killed? You said you weren’t there that day, that it was a day or two before.”
Jude arched an eyebrow. “I also said I was having sex with my father. We know that wasn’t true. Not only was I scared of Reggie, I thought people would think I killed my mother.”
“What about Haley Snodgrass?”
“I don’t know. Reggie must have killed her. He bragged to both of us about all the crimes he’d done in New Orleans. He thought it was funny that he’d conned this old lady into saying he was her son.”
“I read your diary,” Carolyn told her. “That is, what was left of it. Someone tore a number of pages out of it.”
“So? What’s the problem?”
“From what I read, it was your father who was abusing you, not Reggie. You said you loved Reggie, that you would die for him. Why would you write things like that if he was beating you and forcing you to have sex with his friends?”
“I hated my dad. I wrote those things because I knew you guys would find my diary and put him in jail. I thought I was in love with Reggie in the beginning. That was before I found out he was an older guy who’d escaped from jail. He was a dope dealer. He wanted to get into high school so he could deal to the kids. He said he’d killed people before, that he liked killing people. He also said he’d raped little girls.”
“I don’t understand,” Carolyn said, tilting her head to one side. “Why did you hate your father if he wasn’t abusing you?”
“Because he was a racist pig,” Jude said. “He hated blacks, Hispanics, Jews, you name it. And he was always putting me down. He’s the one who made my mother hate me. He thought anyone who wasn’t white was a gangster. As soon as I heard about my mother, I came home to help out with the kids. My father threw me out, telling me he was going to hire a live-in babysitter and give her my room. How do you think that made me feel?”
Jude had expressed regret, then a short time later placed herself back into the role of a victim. Drew might not have known, but Jude was partially responsible for Veronica’s death. By calling and asking her to come and get her, she’d caused her mother to unknowingly enter into a confrontation with a killer. No wonder Stockton had been able to get Veronica’s gun away from her. Carolyn wondered if people did have some kind of premonition about their death. Veronica had always insisted that carrying or owning a gun placed a person in greater jeopardy. If she hadn’t had the gun, Stockton might not have killed her. “What about the abortions?”
“I liked having sex,” Jude said. “It made me feel good, okay? It made guys like me. I was never popular, even in grade school. I hung out with an older crowd. Older guys want sex.”
“But you were so young.”
“I had real tits by the time I was twelve,” she explained. “The stupid kids at school made fun of me. That’s when I started hanging out with older kids. When I was thirteen, I went all the way. I was popular with the boys for a few years. Then regular girls started putting out in junior high. By the time I got to high school, even the ugly dorks didn’t want to be seen with me. I had to suck guys off just to get a ride.”
Carolyn gasped. How could a girl from a middle class family with decent values sink to such a level? “Haley had a car. Couldn’t you get rides from her?”
The morphine had finally caught up to her. Jude’s eyes closed and her head rolled to one side. Carolyn sat there for fifteen minutes in case she woke up, then slipped out of the room to go the police station.
At four o’clock that afternoon, Hank, Mary, Gary Conrad, and Gabriel Martinez were seated around the conference table, as well as Lou Redfield from the district attorney’s office.
In his early fifties, Redfield stood five-ten, and was a distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and intelligent hazel eyes. Compared to Kevin Thomas, he was a lightning bolt. “I know you people believe you can bypass Kevin by presenting the case to me. Kevin reports to the same boss I do, so you’re not accomplishing anything. I’m not trying to be negative, I just want you to know where we stand.”
Hank was slouched in a chair across from him. “So what do you think?”
“You have no physical evidence whatsoever,” Redfield said, placing his palms on the table. “You don’t have the gun used to kill Drew Campbell. You don’t have the car used in the hit-and-run accident.”
“Attempted murder,” Mary pointed out, poking her head out from behind Gabriel Martinez.
“Whatever,” Redfield said, making a jerky motion with his hand. “Your witness from the motel failed to identify Stockton in the lineup today. I realize the DNA test hasn’t been completed yet, so we can keep our fingers crossed there. According to forensics, though, there wasn’t much evidence left at any of the crime scenes. Sure, I can file murder charges against Stockton, but what good is it if I can’t convict him? We only charge people with crimes we can prove.”
“We have one of the key victims,” Carolyn said. “Jude’s story fits the facts of the case. Once her condition stabilizes, she can provide us with more specific details.”
“Let me ask you something,” the district attorney said. “Why are you trying so hard to link these four cases together? I concede that the probation officer and her husband were more than likely killed by the same suspect, especially since they were both shot in the forehead. But even there, the murder weapons weren’t the same.”
“Veronica Campbell was shot with her own gun,” Mary said, circling around to the other side of the table and taking a seat next to Hank. “The killer left it at the scene, so he must have got his hands on another gun. The streets are flooded with guns—”
“May I finish?” Redfield said, a sharp tone to his voice. “The Snodgrass girl’s death doesn’t fit, and neither does the hit-and-run accident.” He stopped speaking and looked hard at Mary. “The crime isn’t attempted murder, Detective. The girl stepped out from behind a truck and was struck by a vehicle.”
“You can’t let Reggie Stockton walk out of that jail,” Carolyn shouted, leaping to her feet. “He’s a cold-blooded murderer.”
The district attorney looked at Hank. “I thought he was being held on a felony warrant out of New Orleans.”
“They aren’t going to extradite,” Mary told him. “His public defender found out, and demanded we release him immediately. The jail is processing his paperwork as we speak.”
Lou Redfield sighed. “Then they’ll have to release him. Your so-called star witness, Jude Campbell, has established a reputation as a liar and heroin addict. She recanted her story about her father abusing her. Pretty callous, if you ask me. The last days of this man’s life were spent in a jail cell under the worst accusations a child could make. If you think you can hang a case on Jude Campbell’s testimony, you’re out of your mind. You can call every prosecutor we have, and you’ll get the same answer.”
“What about Don Snodgrass?” Mary asked. “You saw the pictures we found on his computer. His attorney says his wife was the primary user on that machine. She could be covering for him. Most women don’t even know how to set up a bios password.”
“I don’t agree,” Redfield said. “I’m not familiar with all the details in the Snodgrass matter. With the instances
of identity theft, people have become paranoid. As to the photos, there were two teenage girls in that residence who probably had access to the digital camera. One of their friends may have taken the shots in question. I have three daughters. Not long ago, we came across a picture of one of them on the toilet. I certainly didn’t take it, and neither did my wife. One of our girls finally owned up to it. She said it was supposed to be funny.” He stood and picked up his briefcase. “I’m sorry, but I have to be in court in thirty minutes.”
They all exchanged tense glances after Redfield left. “Jude isn’t lying about Stockton,” Carolyn said, furious. “I’m not sure if Drew abused her or she wrote the diary like she said to get back at him. Drew isn’t our problem anymore. I’m convinced Stockton killed both Veronica and Drew, as well as tried to run over Jude. He probably killed the Haley girl as well. How can the DA’s office snub their noses at us like that? We’re not talking about a burglar or a car thief. Stockton might come after Jude to finish the job. Veronica and Drew were my friends.” She slammed her fist down on the table. “I refuse to let this vile man walk out of the jail without suffering the consequences of his actions. Remember the night I was jumped in the parking lot? I was certain the man had an accent. I didn’t put it together from the interview with Stockton at Circuit City. Maybe he trained himself to speak without an accent in order to blend in. When we interviewed him this morning, he was nervous and I heard it. I’m certain now that Reggie Stockton was the person who attacked me. I certainly don’t have a problem with credibility. I want to press charges against him.”
“Great idea,” Hank said, tugging on his earlobe. “Preston was with you that night, right? He exchanged gunfire with the assailant. That means we can file under assault with a deadly weapon.” His eyes roamed to the other detective. “We may be able to make this fly, people.”
“Brad wasn’t with me when it happened,” Carolyn explained, pacing. “That section of the parking lot is dark, so neither of us got a good look at the guy. Besides, the bastard had his shoe in my face. He didn’t return Brad’s gunfire, so we can’t say for certain he was armed. He did poke me in the back with a hard object, which I believed was a firearm. You can still file under 245.”
“The DA’s office is going to see right through this,” Mary argued. “All of a sudden you know who attacked you, Carolyn, and it just happens to be Reggie Stockton, a man they declined to prosecute. Even if you described Stockton down to a mole on his dick, they wouldn’t believe you. Wait until the DNA tests come back tomorrow. If we can connect Stockton to the crimes by means of forensic evidence, Redfield will have to reconsider.”
Carolyn couldn’t believe Mary wasn’t arguing against her rather than supporting her. “Stockton will be gone by tomorrow. He’ll disappear into the woodwork and will never find him. He’s got Jude’s Taurus stashed somewhere. All he has to do is steal a clean license plate.”
Hank shook his head. “You’re not making sense, Carolyn. The guy was sleeping on the beach in Santa Barbara. Why would he do that if he had available wheels? If nothing else, he could have slept in the car. It gets cold up there at night.” Before she could answer, he turned to Gary Conrad. “Go park outside the jail so you can tail Stockton when he’s released. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll lead us to the Taurus.”
Conrad stood and shoved his chair back to the table. “Where’s Keith? I thought he was supposed to be our grunt guy.”
“Keith’s mother died,” Mary told him. “He had to fly home to Atlanta for the funeral.”
“Why do I always get the shitty jobs?” Conrad continued. “If Stockton’s on foot, I’ll have to follow him on foot or he’ll make me.”
“Maybe you’re a shitty detective,” Hank told him. “Some exercise will do you good. That gut of yours gets bigger every day. Quit whining and take care of it. I’ll have someone spot you as soon as I can. Lose this one and you’ll be back in patrol.”
After Conrad shuffled out of the room, mumbling profanities under his breath, Hank linked eyes with Carolyn. “Go home, spend some time with Marcus and Rebecca, get a decent night’s sleep. Tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the hospital and see what else Jude can tell us. Snodgrass is still a suspect. Don’t bite my head off, Carolyn, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Jude sings a different song the next time we talk to her. Personally, I think the girl is a mental case.” He paused, then thought of something else. “By the way, how were you going to handle the situation with her diary? It’s booked into evidence now. We can’t make it disappear. Jesus, it’s in her own handwriting. She didn’t say a damn thing about Stockton, other than the fact that she was madly in love with him. That alone would destroy the case. The defense will depict her as a liar, a loony, and a jilted lover.”
“Are you going to send someone to the hospital to protect Jude?” Carolyn asked, packing up her computer notebook. “Stockton doesn’t know she’s talked to us. He’s killed everyone else who might incriminate him.”
“I don’t have the manpower,” Hank said. “We’re stretched to the max. I don’t think he’d risk going to the hospital. The guy’s got his walking papers. My guess is he’ll put as much distance between himself and Ventura as possible.”
“I can’t go home, Hank,” Carolyn said. “I have to pick out caskets for Veronica and Drew. After that, I need to go back to the hospital to be with Jude. No matter what she’s said or done in the past, she’s a human being. The doctors don’t even know yet to what extent she’ll be able to use her arm. Right now, I’m the only person who seems to care about her.”
“I thought Veronica wanted to be cremated,” Mary said. “Isn’t that what Emily told you?”
“Drew intended to buy a family plot. I was supposed to go to the funeral home with him the morning after he was killed. Veronica never mentioned anything to me about wanting to be cremated. Emily may have told us that because having someone cremated doesn’t require a lot of effort.”
Mary walked her to her car in the parking lot. “This has been a terrible burden for you, Carolyn. Why isn’t Emily handling these things?”
“She’s in trial on a big case.”
“Christ, she’s a personal injury attorney,” Mary argued. “She can get a postponement for a death in the family.”
“She’s already saddled with the three kids,” Carolyn said, opening the door to the Infiniti. In reality, she was disgusted with Emily. She understood why she and Veronica had never been close. “I want to make arrangements to bury Veronica and Drew. I didn’t just let Veronica down, Mary. I let Drew down as well. I should never have let him go inside that house alone. I sent him to his death, just like I did Veronica. I’m the last person to see either of them alive.”
CHAPTER 30
Wednesday, October 19—6:30 P.M.
Marcus met Carolyn at the Morton Chase Funeral Home. She picked out two caskets, both of them outrageously expensive. Her state of exhaustion had intensified to the point where her thoughts were no longer completely rational.
“No one really knows what happens when you die,” Carolyn said, grabbing hold of Marcus’s lapels. “Your coffin might be like your home. Drew and Veronica lived in such a plain house. I want them to be buried in something beautiful. I don’t want the roof to leak, or bugs to get inside.”
“Bodies decay,” he said, slapping his credit card down on the mortician’s desk.
“No,” she protested. “I’m going to pay for it. I don’t want you to spend your money. Please, Marcus, I wouldn’t have picked out such expensive coffins if I knew you were going to pay for them.”
“It’s okay, baby,” he said, patting her on the back. “Let’s finish the rest of the arrangements so we can go home.”
Carolyn decided to have a joint service. Veronica’s body was ready to be released, but Drew’s had to undergo an autopsy. Sometimes the morgue ran out of room, and insisted the next of kin take possession of the body as soon as they were finished with it. She’d called Charley after she’d left the p
olice department and he’d agreed to keep Veronica until they completed the autopsy on Drew.
She had to decide on flowers, select the cemetery plots, arrange to have a priest officiate at the services. Veronica had lived the majority of her life as a Catholic, and Carolyn wanted her to have a Catholic funeral. Drew didn’t believe in God, but under the circumstances, she thought Father Michaels would agree to officiate at the service.
Rebecca had packed some of her things and decided to stay with Carolyn’s brother, Neil, who had a large home in the foothills of Ventura. Neil had been giving his niece art lessons for several years, and he lived close to her school.
When they reached the Infiniti, Marcus kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ll see you at the house. Josephine made lasagna. That should give you some energy.” He smiled, moving a hair off her forehead. “I’m going to put you to bed like a baby tonight. If you give me any trouble, I might have to spank you.”
“I have to check on Jude first,” Carolyn told him. Seeing the annoyed look on his face, she added, “I’m not going to stay, Marcus. I just want her to know I care about her. The doctor makes rounds at seven, so if I hurry I might be able to catch him.”
“Do whatever you have to do,” Marcus said, turning to walk off, then stopping. “You’re losing it, Carolyn. I’m not sure you’re even fit to drive. Leave your car here. If you insist on going to the hospital, let me take you. Forget about the lasagna. We’ll stop and get something to eat on the way home, then swing by and pick up the Infiniti. When people are under this kind of stress, they have to eat regular meals, and they have to sleep. Isn’t that what the doctor told you when you fainted the other day?”
Carolyn smiled, but only the corners of her lips turned up. “At least I don’t have to worry about fitting into my wedding dress.”
“No,” Marcus said, leading her by the elbow. “The damn thing is going to fall off.”
Revenge of Innocents Page 30
