Evans jotted the boyfriend’s name on the board, looked at Jackson. “What about Danette? Is she anything like Courtney?”
“Not at all.” Jackson reached for a carton. “Full disclosure here. Danette is Kera’s daughter-in-law. I first learned about her disappearance from Kera. I’ve met Danette and spent a little time with her. What I know is she was a student at Oregon State until the baby was born and she has no criminal history.”
“You ran a check on her?” McCray made a little tsk-tsk sound.
“We all do it. It’s one of the perks of the job.”
No one argued.
“So what do these two young women have in common?” Schak voiced what everyone was wondering.
“Probably nothing. But if they are connected, we have to find it.”
Brett Fenton was playing basketball under the Washington Street Bridge with a group of other twenty-something young men. As soon as the weather warmed every spring, the outdoor court was in constant use, often by players who just dropped in for a pickup game. Not that you didn’t see people out here in the winter, just not nearly as often. The uniform age of this group made Jackson think the game had been arranged in advance.
With the sun dropping in the sky, Jackson stood on the grass at the edge of the court and tried to see if he could pick out Brett, who apparently was blond, lean, and good-looking, similar to the man seen dancing with Courtney Monday night. Jackson pegged the guy in the white shorts and t-shirt, who seemed to be in better shape than the others.
When one of the players noticed him watching and called a time out, Jackson moved toward the group. “Brett Fenton?” He’d called Fenton after leaving the Durhams and arranged to meet him here.
The blond guy in white jogged over. “I’m Brett.”
“Let’s go sit at the picnic table.” Jackson wanted to watch Brett’s face as they talked. He also wanted him to be sitting down and away from his friends when he heard the news of Courtney’s death.
“What’s going on with Courtney?” Brett wiped a drip of sweat from his temple. Jackson sensed Brett was trying to sound more casual than he felt.
“Someone found her body this morning behind Autzen Stadium.”
“Oh no.” Brett’s hands flew to his face. “Oh shit.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I’m also sorry to pressure you at a time like this, but I need to ask a lot of questions.”
Brett shook his head. “Give me a second.” He got up and walked a few feet away. Jackson gave him a moment.
When Brett came back, his eyes watered and his breath came in short gasps. “What happened? I knew Elle hadn’t heard from Courtney, but I wasn’t too surprised.”
“Why weren’t you surprised?”
Brett’s eyes flashed with guilt. “It’s complicated. Courtney’s complicated. I kind of broke up with her Monday morning.”
“Why?”
“She’s crazy.”
“Party-til-you-drop crazy? Or alternate-view-of-reality crazy?”
“Spoiled-rich-girl crazy.” Brett’s shoulders shook and he let out a sob. “I can’t believe she’s dead.”
“When did you see her last?”
A small pause while he thought. “Sunday night. I was over at her place.”
“Has she called you in the last two days?”
Brett rubbed his forehead. “No.”
Jackson was sure he had just been lied to. “I can get your cell phone records in less than an hour.” Maybe.
Brett calculated the possible scenarios. Finally, he said, “Courtney called me from Diego’s Monday night. She was drunk and I told her to leave me alone.”
“What time?”
“Around eleven.”
“Did you hear from her yesterday?”
“No.”
“Were you worried?”
“Not until Mrs. Durham called and said Courtney hadn’t come home. Even then, I wasn’t really worried. If you knew Courtney, you’d understand.”
Jackson was starting to feel like he did know Courtney. The table began to vibrate and Jackson realized Brett’s legs were shaking. “You seem nervous. What are you holding back?”
“Nothing.” Brett opened his eyes wider in an attempt to look sincere. “This is just freaky. I told her on Sunday I wanted a break from her. Now three days later, you tell me she’s dead.”
“Can you think of anyone who would want to harm her?”
“No.”
Jackson stood. “Let’s go down to the department and document an official statement. I want to know everywhere you’ve been since Monday night.”
Brett choked back another sob. “Please don’t arrest me. I think I know what happened.”
Chapter 14
The interrogation room’s pale gray walls and cheap overhead lighting made everyone look a little ill, but Brett was devoid of color. The young man from an upper-class family had never been inside a police station before. Seated at the table in the windowless room he looked smaller and younger than he had on the basketball court. Jackson knew better than to let himself have any compassion. Brett was a viable suspect. Age no longer mattered when it came to murder. Two weeks before, an eight-year-old boy in another state had shot two men, one of whom was his father.
“This conversation is being recorded.” Jackson didn’t mention the camera. “The purpose is to simply get your statement on record. You are not under arrest, you are here willingly, and you have declined the presence of a lawyer.”
Brett nodded.
“First, let’s get your timetable nailed down. When was the last time you spoke to Courtney Durham?”
Brett cleared his throat. “Monday night around eleven o’clock. She called me from Diego’s. She was drunk, so I told her I didn’t want to talk to her.”
“Where were you all day Tuesday?”
“I went to classes at the University of Oregon, then had dinner with some friends at Pegasus Pizza around six. Afterward I went home to study. I live with my parents, so they can confirm that.”
“What are their names?”
“Sherry and George Fenton. They both teach at the UO.”
This was mostly formality, which was why he hadn’t called another detective in for the session. Jackson’s instinct was to believe the kid, especially knowing what was coming next.
“What do you think happened to Courtney between late Monday night when she left Diego’s and late Tuesday night when she died?”
“I think she was picked up by a company called ThrillSeekers. Courtney told me she had hired them to kidnap her.”
“Why would she do that?” When he’d first heard Brett’s story, Jackson had been stunned. Sometimes living in Eugene made him feel naive.
“She did it for the adventure. Courtney likes to live on the edge and she’s tried everything else.” Brett shifted, looking even more uncomfortable. “I also think she wanted her mother’s attention.”
“Did you know when the kidnap was supposed to happen?”
“No. Neither did she. That was part of the thrill.”
“You went along with this activity?”
“No!” Brett pushed his hands through his hair. “Courtney told me about it after she had already hired them. I thought it was stupid and dangerous and begged her to call it off. But she wouldn’t. So I told her I couldn’t see her anymore.”
“When did this conversation take place?”
“Sunday night at her house.”
“When was your next conversation with Courtney?”
“Monday night when she called from Diego’s.”
“Did she mention the kidnapping?”
“No. She said she loved me and wanted to see me. She was drunk so I said no and got off the phone.”
“When did you realize she might have been kidnapped?” Jackson was uncomfortable calling it a kidnapping if Courtney had arranged it, but there wasn’t another term for this craziness.
“Her mother, Elle Durham, called me Tuesday afternoon and said Courtney
hadn’t been home. She wanted to know if I’d seen Courtney, which I hadn’t. After I got off the phone with Elle, I wondered if Courtney had been picked up by the adventure company.”
“Did you mention ThrillSeekers to her mother?”
“No.”
Brett shifted again, like a kid with a guilty conscience. “I didn’t know for sure that was what happened. Courtney could have been anywhere. I didn’t want Elle to be mad at me for not telling her sooner.”
“Tell me the details about the kidnapping. Where did they plan to hold her and for how long?” Jackson would ask these same questions tomorrow morning at ThrillSeekers. How could such a business be legal?
“I don’t know any of that. I got so mad when she told me she’d already paid for it, I never asked. I just kept telling her to cancel it.”
“Do you have any idea why Courtney is dead?”
“No.” Brett hung his head.
Jackson debated whether to keep Brett on hold until he could confirm his story. He had already checked ThrillSeekers’ website and called the company, which didn’t answer. The owner, Zoran Mircovitch, had an unlisted number. Jackson would drive to Portland first thing in the morning with a search warrant.
“I’ll let you go for now, but I want you to be available at a moment’s notice. Don’t even go see a long movie.”
Back at his desk, Jackson checked his phone messages. Sophie Speranza had called, asking him to confirm the identity of the body found that afternoon. Did he still owe her something? He’d done the interview, so they should be square. Jackson pressed for a return call, regretting it instantly.
“You got back to me. Thanks.”
“I can’t give you any real information.”
“Just tell me the identity of the dead woman.”
“Courtney Durham.”
“Was she murdered?”
“We’re not sure yet how she died. We’re waiting on toxicology reports.”
“Off the record, what do you think?”
Jackson held back a chuckle. As if he would trust her with an off-the-record statement. “I really don’t know yet. I have to get back to work.”
“What about Danette Blake? Any word on her disappearance?”
“Not yet.”
“Is Courtney’s death related to Danette’s disappearance?”
“It seems unlikely at this point.”
“Can I quote you on that?”
“I’d rather you didn’t. Gotta go.” Jackson hung up before she could ask anything else. He decided he had evened the score and could go back to ignoring her calls, just as he did with all the other media people. The department had a spokesperson whose job it was to talk to the media so he didn’t have to.
He checked his cell phone messages. He’d missed a call from Katie. Earlier, he’d contacted his ex-wife and asked if she could keep Katie overnight. Renee had been happy to comply. His daughter had called just to say goodnight. It made him feel loved, and lucky, and guilty all at once.
Kera and Maggie sat down in the family room to watch the local evening news together, with Micah in Kera’s lap. They shared an unspoken hope that someone out there had seen or heard something about Danette and reported it to the television station.
Keith Peterson, an aging red-head with a square jaw, led the broadcast with economic news, which seemed less depressing than usual. Trina Waterman, seated on his right, launched into the next report, her voice thick with suspense and conspiracy.
In a breaking story, the body of a young woman was found in the wooded area behind Autzen Stadium today, about a half mile from the Willamette River. Police have not confirmed her identity. A passing cyclist found the body and called 911. He posted the event on Twitter, an online social networking site, where it was picked up by our news organization. A call to the Eugene Police Department confirmed the cyclist’s account, but no further details are available.
In another story, there’s been no update on the whereabouts of Courtney Durham, twenty-one, who disappeared Monday after visiting a downtown nightclub. Her mother, Mrs. Elle Durham, who publically pleaded for her daughter’s return yesterday, was not available for comment.
Courtney’s picture flashed on the screen with a number to call.
We’ll have more on this breaking story as details emerge.
“Could the body they found be Danette’s?” Maggie cried out.
Kera muted the TV. “No. The police have Danette’s picture. They would have called us. The broadcaster made it sound like it could be Courtney.”
“Poor girl.”
“I notice they didn’t mention Danette is still missing.”
“She’s not rich, blond, and connected.” Maggie’s voice was thick with bitterness. “Danette was always a bit of an outsider in school with her brown skin and dark eyes. I didn’t realize how deep the bias is.”
“I’m not even sure the media realizes how biased it is.”
While Jackson wrote up the paper for the search warrant, he called his team members to update them and to ask Schak to go with him to Portland in the morning. On the drive to Judge Cranston’s home, he called Kera. It was after ten o’clock but he knew she would still be awake.
“It’s Jackson. Are you okay?”
“More or less. I’m a little worried about Maggie. She seems to have lost hope and keeps talking about Stephanie Condon.”
Stephanie was an Oregon teenager who’d vanished without a trace, until her body turned up eleven years later. Jackson hesitated to tell Kera about Courtney’s fate. “Did you get some posters put up?”
“About twenty this afternoon. I focused on the area around Danette’s duplex to start with.”
“Did Katie help?”
“I called her, but she didn’t get back to me. I found out a few things about Danette though.”
“Tell me.”
“Danette’s boyfriend is Chad Whitehorse and he works at the Red Apple market.” Kera paused. “One of her friends who I’d e-mailed got back to me and said she met Danette at the Young Mothers Outreach center on 17th and Oak. The center offers drop-in babysitting, peer support, and networking with other resources, that kind of thing. Maybe you can check into it.”
“I won’t have time. I’ve been assigned a case with a suspicious death.” Jackson drove up the ramp to the Ferry Street Bridge, grateful for the lack of traffic. “That’s why you haven’t heard from me until now.”
“Is it Courtney Durham?”
“Was it on the news? We didn’t release her name until moments ago.”
“Trina Waterman didn’t identify her directly, but she put the connection out there. Was Courtney murdered?”
“It’s possible.”
“That means Danette could be dead too.” Kera’s voice choked up.
“I don’t think so.” Jackson wanted to reassure Kera, but without giving her sensitive case information. “There are circumstances surrounding Courtney’s disappearance and death that make me pretty sure Danette’s situation is unrelated.”
“That’s good. I mean for Danette, but not for Courtney. Does her family know?”
“Yes. I told them this afternoon.”
“Are you still working?”
“I’m about to wake up a judge to get a search warrant signed, then I’m leaving for Portland early in the morning. I’m not sure when I’ll get to see you.”
“Good luck with your case and call me if you can. I’ll keep searching for Danette.”
“Keep Detective Zapata in the loop, will you? He’s a good man with too much work on his hands.”
Danette woke to sheer blackness. The cloth was still over her eyes, but it was more than that. She was covered head to toe by a heavy blanket. Suffocating. She could barely pull in enough air. She was on her side, knees bent, and her head jammed against something hard and cold.
All at once she became aware of motion. The road hummed below her. She was on the floor in the back seat of a car. Where were they taking her now?
&nbs
p; For a while, she tried to gauge the distance she was traveling, but there was too much slowing down, stopping, and rolling forward again. They had to be traveling in a well-populated area with stoplights. Danette prayed she was still in Eugene. If they kept her in town, she might find a way to escape and make her way back to Micah.
She wanted to stay awake, to be aware of her surroundings, but the drug and motion made it impossible.
Danette woke again when she was lifted from the car and carried across a small open space. The cold air, even with the blanket, made her think it must be the middle of the night. Still, Danette was hit with the call of freedom; it surrounded her, taunted her to scream and fight and run to safety. Her feet were tied, her hands were cuffed, and she had bindings around her mouth and eyes. She had learned the hard way all she could do was injure herself.
They entered a building where it was warmer, but still cool. The other smaller man possessed her now and she heard him breathing heavily under the weight of her body. They crossed a room with a familiar smell she couldn’t name, then jostled down a short flight of stairs. Another basement, Danette realized, as he dumped her on a mattress on the floor. Would this be the last place she ever knew? She vaguely remembered a reference to a Dutchman.
Who was he and what did he want with her?
Chapter 15
Thursday, April 9, 5:02 a.m.
Jackson met Schak at the department at five as planned. Each carrying a thermos of coffee, they headed down to the parking lot below the city hall building. Typically, he would have made the trip alone, but Jackson didn’t know anything about Zoran Mircovitch and the presence of two detectives might deter the suspect from trying anything stupid.
“We’re taking your car, right?” Schak said.
“Would you mind driving?” Jackson hated being a passenger, but the stents were driving him crazy.
“Are you in pain?”
“Sometimes. I just need to be able to shift around.” Jackson hadn’t told his co-workers about the stents and didn’t plan to unless he peed his pants and had to explain.
Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 03 - Thrilled to Death Page 10
