“I don’t have the key yet.”
“I’ll get it from Sue tomorrow. She’s in on my undercover operation. I told her what was going on because I was afraid I’d run into her somewhere and she’d recognize me and blow the cover. She lives with a ex-cop, so she knows the drill.”
“Sounds like a plan. Maybe we can get to the island next weekend. I’ll call you when I finish in Cordele.”
CHAPTER 26
SATURDAY MORNING IN The Villages was like any other morning. Somebody once told J.D. that when you’re retired, every day is Saturday. J.D. thought it was really the converse in The Villages; Saturday was like any weekday. The same things were happening. The multimodal paths were full of golf carts packed with clubs and couples on the way to tee off on one of the forty-three courses available to the residents. The sun was shining, the sky clear, and the sweet aroma of spring flowers suffused the air. Just like every other day.
J.D. was in Judy’s cart on the way to meet Will Hall. He’d called late Friday to tell her he had a lot of data from the video surveillance at the gates of the ninety-one neighborhood villages. He assured her that he hadn’t hacked anything or committed a crime to gather the information. He’d simply gotten permission from his boss to look into The Villages’ servers to see if he could find two vehicles and chart their travel. He had the results on his laptop at his aunt’s house.
Bob Geoghegan answered the door and invited J.D. in. “Want some coffee?”
“That’d be great. Black, please. Are you playing golf today?”
Bob laughed. “Tried it. Didn’t like it.”
“I don’t blame you. Same thing happened to me.”
“Patty’s in the kitchen and Will’s in the living room. Go on in. I’ll have the coffee ready in a minute.”
Will was at his computer. He stood when J.D. entered the room. “Have a seat on the sofa,” he said. “We can look at my laptop together.”
Patty came in with the coffee. “Hope you made some progress,” she said. “I’ll leave you two alone. Bob and I are off to the farmer’s market in Brownwood.”
When Bob and Patty had gone, J.D. asked Will, “Were you able to isolate the vehicles?”
“I think so, at least the rental car, but I’m not sure about the van.”
“Tell me what you’ve got.”
“I put the Chevy’s tag number into the computer and it came up quickly. It only showed up one time—going into the gate at Hillsborough Village.” He pulled up a picture. “This is the plate and you can see from the area around it and tell that it was an automobile as opposed to a van or a truck. Now look at the next picture. This was taken from the camera at the same gate.”
The picture clearly showed Olivia Lathom leaning out of the window, presumably pushing the button to raise the bar. “That’s her,” J.D. said. “What time was this?”
“There’s a time stamp in the lower right corner. The picture was taken at six thirty-two on Wednesday evening two weeks ago.”
“She was driving to her death,” J.D. said. “Did the car ever exit one of the gates?”
“No. At least, not with the same license plate on it. It could have been switched and we’d never find it in all the security footage.”
“Did you find anything on the van?”
“That was a little easier to look for since I only had the gates to Hillsborough to look at, but on the other hand, I didn’t have a plate number. I made some assumptions and then narrowed the search field. For example, if the victim was killed around eight o’clock on Wednesday evening, I figured it would take at least an hour to get somebody in a van to remove the body. If the van was seen in Brownwood a little before two on Thursday morning, I assumed it would take about twenty minutes or less to get from the Hillsborough gate at Buena Vista Boulevard to Brownwood where the van was seen. I then limited my search to the time between nine p.m. and one-thirty a.m. Given the different vehicle configuration in the area where the license plate would be mounted, I went through the pictures and isolated only the ones that appeared to be vans. From that angle you can’t really tell the difference between a passenger van and a utility van. There weren’t many vans though, and all but one had visible license plates. None of those left Hillsborough Village during the time frame I was using, so I assumed they were residents returning home for the night. Only one of the vans did not have a plate visible, and that van entered at twelve fifteen a.m. on Thursday and left through the same gate about an hour later at one ten.”
“Do you mean that the van didn’t have a plate at all?”
“When you look at the picture very closely, you can see that it looks like a metal plate covered the tag. There are devices that you can install in a vehicle that, with a push of a button by the driver, will let down a metal plate to cover the tag and then bring the metal plate back up when you don’t need it anymore. They sell these things on the Internet for people who want to avoid paying tolls on toll roads.”
“And you’re sure this was a van?”
“Pretty sure. Look at the area surrounding the license plate. It’s straight up and down. Most cars would have some curvature in the area. We can’t be certain, but given the lack of a license plate, and the fact that it went in the same gate that the victim’s rental car used, I’d think it’s a pretty good guess.”
“What about the picture of the driver?”
Will touched a couple of keys on his laptop and a picture of a man with short-cropped dark hair appeared. “Do you recognize him?” Will asked.
J.D. shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“Well, that’s the end of my magic show.”
“Can you email me the pictures of the car and van and the people driving them?” She gave him her email address.
Will tapped a few more keys on his laptop. “They should be in your inbox now.”
CHAPTER 27
I MET JAMES Hurt in his office on Saturday morning. He hadn’t changed much since our law school days and we sat and drank coffee and caught up with each other. I’d called him the evening before and told him that I was looking for Grace Hanna and wondered if he could help.
“Drive on over here tomorrow,” he’d said. “I think I know who you’re looking for. Besides, I want to hear all about your beach bum life.”
James’ office was pleasant and quiet on a day when the staff didn’t come into work. We drank more coffee, laughed at some of the antics of our fellow law students, told stories of our lives since, and enjoyed each other’s company. When we finished our small talk, James changed the subject. “May I ask why you’re looking for Grace Hanna?”
“I’m hoping she can tie up a loose end in a murder case I’m working on down in Sumter County, Florida.”
“I thought you’d retired.”
“I have, but the accused is my girlfriend’s aunt.”
“You must be serious about this girlfriend to take on a murder case.”
“She’d be my wife if she weren’t so picky.”
James laughed. “Smart girl.”
“Do you know Grace?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I represented her son about four years back.”
“How many sons does she have?”
“Just the one. His name’s Josh Hanna. About twenty-two now, I guess. He’d just turned eighteen when he was arrested.”
“What was the charge?”
“Assault and battery. The boy beat the pure hell out of one of our more marginal citizens. Kid’s got a real temper on him.”
“What made him do that?”
“The victim called the boy’s mama a whore.”
“Did you try him?”
“Yep. Not guilty. I think our jury thought he had good reason to beat on a guy who called his mama a whore.”
I laughed. “God, I do love small-town Georgia.”
“That’s the reason I’ve lived here my whole life. We still believe in civility. It’s part of the code, our ethos if you want to sound high falutin�
�.”
“Is Josh still around?”
“He’s back. After the trial, he joined the Army. Ended up in intelligence. Did a couple of tours in Afghanistan, got out and came home.”
“What’s he doing now?”
“Don’t know. Probably just relaxing. He only got home a couple of weeks ago.”
“What can you tell me about Grace?”
“A real sweetheart. She’s a teacher over at Crisp County High School.”
“Husband?”
“No. Never married.”
“Unwed mother?”
“Seems so. She never talks about it, but she went off to college and came back with a degree and a little boy whose last name is the same as her maiden name.”
“She grew up here?”
“Sure did.”
“Where did she go to college?”
“Valdosta State.”
“Did her family send her there?”
“No. Her dad was killed in an accident out on the interstate when she was in high school. Her mom worked in the office at the local Pontiac dealer. Grace worked at various jobs all through high school and then college. She’s a pretty determined woman.”
“Where can I find her?”
“I can take you out there and introduce you to her, if you like.”
“That might put her at ease. I’d appreciate it.”
“Let me call her.”
Grace Hanna was in her midforties, blond, petite, and a bit nervous. James had assured her that we were only looking for information and that nothing had happened to her son, Josh. Grace’s concern about an adult child gave me pause, but I decided it was probably nothing more than a mother’s constant worry about her chicks, even the grown ones. She and James didn’t run in the same social circles, so his call may have disconcerted her a bit. After all, the only other connection she’d had to James was her son’s run-in with the law.
If the old Confederacy has a national drink, it is iced tea. I don’t think I’d ever been in a Southern home that I hadn’t been offered a glass of tea. And that meant iced tea. Few Southerners drank what we called “hot tea.” This home, a small well-kept bungalow, was no exception. We accepted.
After we were seated, our glasses on coasters provided by our hostess, introductions made, and pleasantries exchanged, James asked Grace if Josh was home. “No,” she said, “he’s been gone for about a week. He went down to Florida somewhere to get some beach-time. He’s still decompressing from his last tour in Afghanistan. I gather it was pretty bad.”
“As I told you on the phone, Matt and I were law school classmates. He has some questions to ask you and they might be a little personal. If you want me to leave at any time, just say so, but understand that anything said in this room today will remain absolutely confidential.”
“No worry, Mr. Hurt. After what you did for Josh, I trust you totally, and you know how grateful I am.”
“Ms. Hanna,” I said, “I practice law down in Florida and I’m representing a woman, a retired schoolteacher as a matter of fact, down in The Villages. She is accused of killing a woman named Olivia Lathom.” I saw something cross her face, a fleeting little flinch perhaps, a small acknowledgment of the name. “Did you know her?”
“I knew of her, but I never met her.”
“Ms. Hanna,” I said, “I’ve done a lot of investigation on this case, and I know things that aren’t any of my business. I hope you’ll understand that I wouldn’t be asking you these questions if a woman, whom I am convinced is innocent of the charges, wasn’t facing life in prison.”
“I understand, Mr. Royal. If Mr. Hurt hadn’t taken my son’s case, he’d probably be in prison now. I know he had to ask some hard questions of people, but he did it to protect my son. I’ll answer anything you need to ask.”
“Was Danny Lathom Josh’s father?” That was blunt and quick, like a question in a courtroom that comes out of left field and is meant to shake the witness, to let him know that I know a lot more than he might think and that I wouldn’t accept anything but the truth. I was sorry to use the tactic on this kind woman, but it didn’t seem to rattle her.
She bowed her head and said quietly, “Yes.”
“But you never married?”
“No.”
“May I ask why not?”
“We weren’t in love, or anything like that. I met him when he was visiting a client on some business matter, and we ended up sleeping together. It was what you call a one-night stand. I’m not proud of it, and that’s the only time in my life it happened. Danny was almost old enough to be my daddy, and that may have had something to do with the attraction. He was very shy, just like my father had been. I can’t really explain the whole thing.”
“You said he was visiting a client. What was that all about?”
“I worked in a care facility, an old folks home. They weren’t really patients because they weren’t sick. Just old and feeble. We called them clients.”
“Where was this?”
“Valdosta. I was a student at the college there.”
“Did you ever work in a sex shop out near the Interstate?”
She seemed shocked by the question, then laughed. “No. My Lord, where would you hear such a thing?”
“Obviously, from a poor source. I apologize for the question. Did you let Danny know you were pregnant?”
“No. But about a year later, Danny showed up at the care facility again. I didn’t work there any longer, but he asked about me. One of the other caregivers told him I’d had a baby three months before and was here in Cordele living with my mother. He called and came for a visit.”
“Did he have any suspicion that the baby was his?”
“Not really. I think he did the math and figured out that he might be the father. I didn’t plan on telling him, but when he showed up here and saw Josh’s head of red hair, I think he knew.”
“Knew that Josh was his?”
“Yes. Josh’s hair was the same color as Danny’s.”
“Danny had red hair?” I asked.
“Yes. You didn’t know?”
“That never came up,” I said. “What was Danny’s reaction?”
“He asked if he was Josh’s father. I told him he had to be since I hadn’t had sex with anyone else in almost a year before that night in Valdosta and with nobody between that night and when I learned I was pregnant. He offered to support Josh, and I told him that wasn’t necessary. He said he wanted to pay child support and be Josh’s daddy. He wanted to visit regularly and for Josh to know who he was. He said it was a trade-off. He would help support Josh in return for being able to be a real daddy to him.”
“And you agreed?”
“After we came to terms on some guidelines.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“He would have the right to visit at any time, and as often as he wanted, but he had to call ahead and arrange the visit. I would have complete authority to raise Josh. Danny would have no control over that.”
“Danny accepted those terms?”
“Yes. He told me he would send me a check for two thousand dollars each month, and he wanted me to go back to school and get my degree. He’d pay tuition at Valdosta State, and if the money he sent wasn’t enough to take care of day care for Josh, he’d pay more.”
“Was there a court order implementing the agreement?”
“No. It was a handshake deal. And Danny never missed a payment.”
“He sounds like a very generous man,” I said. “Did he insist on a DNA test?”
She smiled. “No. I did.”
“You did? Why?”
“I wanted him to be absolutely sure Josh was his son. I didn’t ever want him to have second thoughts.”
“You were afraid he’d change his mind about the money?”
She frowned, as if the question was distasteful. “No. I was afraid he might have second thoughts about being Josh’s daddy and I couldn’t stand the thought of him getting to know the boy and then aban
doning him.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Hanna,” I said. “That was a stupid and unnecessary question.”
“Not really, Mr. Royal. You don’t know me. I can see how it was a reasonable question.”
“So Danny had the tests run?”
“Yes. By some lab up in Atlanta.”
“How did the relationship go with Josh?”
“Wonderful. As I said, Danny never missed a check, and he usually delivered it himself. He’d come over several times a month to see us. We kind of fell into a pattern. I was working again, waitressing at a restaurant here in the evenings, and Mama was keeping Josh. We’d go to lunch somewhere, the three of us, and he always got some playtime with Josh. When I moved back to Valdosta, he helped us move and put the security deposit on the apartment I rented. The visits continued, and as Josh got older, he developed a close attachment to Danny. Called him ‘Daddy.’” She wiped at her left eye, brushing a single tear away. “Then he died, and it may have been my fault.”
“How was it your fault?”
“I graduated from Valdosta State when Josh was two and was offered a job teaching at the high school here. I took it and was planning to move back when Danny came to visit one evening. I hadn’t worked since going back to school. Danny made sure we didn’t need anything.
“Up until that time, Danny had shown no romantic inclination toward me at all. I told you he was very shy and there always seemed to be some distance between us. But a few days before I left Valdosta, Danny came for dinner. After we put Josh down for the night, Danny told me he had to ask me something. Then, out of the blue, he asked me to marry him. I certainly didn’t see that coming and I tried to tell him that, while I thought the world of him, I wasn’t in love with him and I couldn’t marry him. I explained that we would always be family of sorts, that Josh would always be our son, and that I had so enjoyed our times together over the past couple of years that I hoped they would continue.”
“How did he take that?”
“I could see that he was hurt, but he seemed to accept it. He left, telling me that he had to go to Atlanta on business and that he would see me the next week.”
Vindication Page 16
