by LS Sygnet
He stiffened.
"It's unusual for a man your age. No gray, and it's so black. Some might say blue-black."
"He's a natural blond just like Gwen and Brighton were," Johnny said. "That's a good question though, Doc. Why did you dye your hair, Dennis? Were you trying to hide from someone?"
"It's none of your business."
"I think it's obvious, Johnny. Dennis here has been living a lie for a very long time. I doubt Vinnie knows he's really Dennis Bennett. Vinnie would've been what, three years old when Brighton died? That murder was so close on the heels of what Gwen suffered, I'm sure that Dennis and Frank both knew that their family was this guy's target. Gwen changed her name to hide her true identity."
"She wasn't married to Tom Foster?"
Dennis stared at the tabletop.
"Wow. She lied to me," Johnny murmured. "She told me that Tom was a youthful mistake that lasted less than two months."
"There's nothing wrong with using a different name. It ain't a crime," Dennis said.
"No, it certainly isn't. What is a crime is dragging your heels and refusing to help me catch the man who has tortured this family for more than three decades. Tell me what really happened, Dennis? Why all of a sudden did you decide to live life as Harlan Hartley, to color your hair, to lay low buried on this dilapidated farm?"
"We have our share of enemies. It was Jenny's public fight, not mine."
"Your ex-wife?"
Bennett nodded. "I wanted no part of it. It was over as far as I was concerned."
"Because you know what really happened to Salvatore Masconi."
He looked up sharply. "I don't know any specifics, but there are some who were there for this family when his case fell apart. We were assured that Masconi would never hurt another girl again."
"I doubt he harmed any in the first place," I said. "Salvatore Masconi was framed for killing your daughter, Mr. Bennett. We have conclusive evidence that he was innocent."
Dennis hung his head. "Well then, I'm sorry for that."
"This friend who assured you, I'm pretty sure I know who it was," I said. "He probably helped you get Vinnie away from here this morning, didn't he?"
Nod.
"Danny Datello."
"He has tried to help us!"
"We will have an official conversation about Mr. Datello another day, Dennis. You may count on it. What I need to know is why you changed your appearance about the same time that Gwen changed her name. Who were you hiding from?"
"Like I said. We had enemies."
"You have one enemy in particular. Why does he hate you so much?"
Bennett's voice dropped to a low rasp. "We tried to keep him away from her."
"From your sister." Suddenly, the light began to illuminate what had remained so obscure in my mind.
"He wasn't good enough for her, what with his family history and all. They were low people, Dr. Eriksson, crazy people."
"Crazy in what way?"
"His mama," Dennis said. "She was out at Dunhaven for years. In fact, his daddy raised him alone for the most part."
"What was wrong with his mother?"
"Schizophrenia I think. This was a long time ago. People had different ideas about places like Dunhaven back then. It didn't even have the same name. Fielding Psychopathic Asylum was what they called it in those days. He had such a terrible crush on Gwen. It scared us, you know? We weren't sure what somebody like that might do to her."
"How did Gwen feel about him?"
Dennis shrugged. "At first she liked him well enough. Frank and I were a lot older you see. Overprotective I guess you'd call it. He was twelve years her senior and I was ten."
"But something happened, didn't it? Gwen became frightened of him."
"I suppose she did."
"Did Gwen ask you to make him leave her alone?"
Tears slid down Bennett's cheeks. "Yeah. So Frank and I roughed him up a little. His daddy came out here and got up in our daddy's face about it, said he'd go to the cops if we didn't make it right. Our daddy didn't back down. He told the story about how this guy's son followed Gwen around all the time and scared her. He said the boy threatened Gwen if she wouldn't go steady with him."
"I see. And how did he respond?"
"The kid didn't come back to school for a couple of weeks. When he did, Gwen said you could still see the bruises."
"He beat his son."
"Within an inch of his life, or so we heard. He blamed me 'n Frank, I expect. We never gave it much thought to tell you the truth, not even the next year when Gwen disappeared. We figured it was just one of those random things."
"But after Brighton?"
Dennis Bennett's face grew taut. "When I saw what they promoted that bastard to do in Darkwater Bay, I knew we'd never get justice for my daughter. Just like we'll never get justice for Gwennie's murder now."
Reality of all the events I'd witnessed and experienced since my arrival in Darkwater Bay snapped into place in my head. "This is important, Dennis. Does Danny Datello know anything that you just told me?"
"He's out of town with Vinnie. Are you telling me that for all these years, this has been the guy, the one who killed my baby, my sister, my niece?"
"I'm not certain yet," I said, "but I have the means to find out, Mr. Bennett. Please don't mention what you told me to anyone. I promise. I will not rest until we have this man captured."
I barely waited for Bennett's reluctant nod before necessity propelled me out of the Bennett kitchen.
Orion followed me out to his car.
"Do you plan on filling me in on your little epiphany any time soon?"
"Can you call Darnell and get a John Doe warrant? I don't want to take any chances on news of our lead falling into the wrong hands."
Orion gripped my arm and yanked me out of the jaws of the car. "Tell me who you think did this, Doc?"
"You heard everything he said as clearly as I did, Johnny. Christ, this is your city. I shouldn't have to explain what the big clue was."
"Assume that I'm too close to the case then. Fresh eyes have opened a lot of doors in the past few days."
"We need to search his home first. If we find the safe, it'll probably lead to more conclusive evidence."
"Like the trailer where he keeps the girls and commits his crimes."
"It's possible."
"Do I get to know the address?"
I bit down on my lower lip. The second I said it, Orion would know who the suspect was. Could I control him if he went ballistic?
"Twenty-one three seventeen Carter Place."
Orion's blue eyes shot sparks in the moonlight. "Jerry Lowe? You think Jerry Lowe is smart enough to play this kind of game or ambitious enough to commit damn near perfect crimes?"
"I take it you disagree."
"I thought you told Chris this guy was older. You think Lowe started killing when he was what, fifteen? What did Bennett say that led you to this conclusion?"
"He couldn't believe it when he saw what position that man had been promoted to. I know for a fact that after Harry McNamara died that Lowe lobbied hard for the job. He didn't officially get it until shortly before Brighton Bennett's murder. Briscoe told me when he gave me the Darkwater Bay history lesson. I should think you'd remember the event clearly, Johnny. It was Jerry Lowe that wanted you moved from Downey Division to central. Why do you suppose he did that?"
"Because I was a good cop!"
"Too good. He had to keep close tabs on you. Get the John Doe warrant. If I'm wrong, I'll eat my words."
Chapter 38
The moment we entered Lowe's kitchen through the back door of his house, a flood of memories assailed me. I gripped Johnny's arm.
"What's wrong? Chris assured me that Lowe is out at OSI with everyone else. He's not gonna walk in on us, Doc."
"I remember."
"You remember what you were doing outside Lowe's house?"
"Not that specifically. I remember what I was doing here. Johnny, he invit
ed me to come here for lunch Thursday. We sat at that table and had zucchini frittata. I started feeling funny after I started drinking the glass of chardonnay he gave me," I pointed, "through there. In the living room."
Johnny charged through the kitchen. "In here? Then what happened?"
"I felt worse after we started eating lunch. Dizzy. Kind of woozy."
"The son of a bitch drugged you."
"Why not kill me then when he had the chance?"
"Doc, I do not wanna think about how close you came to having that happen."
Carrie's recollection of the needle in her arm ricocheted through me. "He drugs his victims, Johnny. He did it to Carrie Blevins. The fact that he did it to me without a needle isn't important."
"Or it explains that bruise on your arm."
"You mean Maya didn't draw my blood for testing Thursday night?"
"Of course not. I would've hounded her for the results if she had."
"If I was already incapacitated, why inject me again?"
"Let's look for his safe. Maybe we'll have a better idea if we find it."
We were half way through the search of the living room when Orion's cell phone rang. He spoke too low for me to pick up more information than it was Darnell who called. When the call ended, he didn't resume his search.
"What's wrong?"
"They didn't have to reach too far to pretend that someone died at your house, Helen."
"What do you mean?"
"They found two bodies. Winslow just called Chris. Identification on one was easy to confirm. He died of a single gunshot wound to the head."
"Rodney?"
Orion nodded. "She's not certain on the other yet, waiting for dental records to confirm the ID found on the body."
"Who was it?"
"Matt Rogers."
"Rogers? What on earth was he doing there?'
"Probably his master's bidding. His body was found in close proximity to the center of the explosion that destroyed the house. Chris says it looks like he planted the bomb and something went wrong."
"We need to find the safe, Johnny. If Lowe could exert that kind of influence over his subordinates, I can only imagine the lengths he went to to control Hardy and Weber."
"You think they're being blackmailed?"
"They admitted as much to me Wednesday. Of course no one has ever tipped his hand and given them reason to suspect the identity of the blackmailer, but any time they stepped out of line, they both received stern reminders. Given their behavior on Thursday when I met with them after interviewing Datello, I surmised that they had received a dire warning for bringing me into the department."
"I see."
"The only person in that meeting who was remotely supportive was Jerry Lowe."
"To gain your confidence so you'd accept his invitation for a cozy dinner for two in his house, no doubt."
"Are you pissed?" Orion's tone and terse words said he was. I couldn't fathom why. "And for the record, it was lunch. You make it sound like I had a date with the guy."
"Was it?"
"Was it what?"
"A date."
"Of course not." Still, I didn't mention that Myre was present at lunch too. Doubt leeched into the periphery of my certainty. "He's a colleague, Johnny. I was curious about him, about why Weber and Hardy had pretty much cut him off from anything pertaining to this investigation."
"Do you really think they had no reason to suspect him?" Orion continued his interrogation, unaware of the reconsideration silently churning in my brain.
"I don't know. Maybe."
"What kind of answer is that? Maybe."
I pointed to a room behind French doors. "We don't have time for this discussion right now, Orion. We should split up. I'm going in there."
"No way. I've spent the last fifteen years trying to solve this case," he said. "We search the room together."
Nestled underneath Lowe's desk we found the safe. I pulled the keys out and slipped them into the locks. "Dammit."
"Switch them around," Orion said. "If they still don't open it, we'll take the safe with us and do a body cavity search if we have to. Lowe took those keys out of evidence Doc. You know it as well as I do. Flynn Myre blabbed what he knew about CSD finding the keys."
I suspected as much too, but Myre's unusual movements clicked in my head; it was tardive dyskinesia, often caused by antipsychotic medication. It reminded me of something Dennis Bennett said. Schizophrenia had a genetic component. What if he had been talking about Myre all along? Why hadn't I flat out asked him for the name of the person he and his brother caused so much torment?
Because I already thought I knew. I believed that Jerry Lowe was a liar.
Lowe blamed the problems at central on the police union being atypical and standing in the way of his ability to weed out the bad officers. Had that been a lie?
"Doc?"
"What do you know about the department's union, Johnny?"
"It's your average run of the mill service to police officers. Why?"
"It hasn't changed since your days as a Darkwater Bay cop?"
"I seriously doubt it. Again, why?"
"Something Jerry Lowe said to me at lunch the other day. He blamed the union for the lack of effective police work, said they make it impossible to discipline or terminate substandard employees."
"I can tell you that's bullshit, Doc. If that were the truth, don't you think Crevan and Tony would've said something to me about it?"
"They know what you're doing."
"Of course they do. There are a select few who are aware. Now are you gonna open this safe, or do I really have to lug it out of here?"
I flipped the keys around. This time, the handle on the safe moved when I twisted it. "Moment of truth."
"Uh huh."
The paper evidence in the safe was scant. A deed to a property in the mountains and a rental agreement for a storage garage in Fielding.
"Any bets on what we'll find in there?" Orion muttered.
My focus was fixed on the remaining contents of the safe. Hundreds of blood vials with rubber stoppers in the ends, all lavender, were arranged in trays. Of course! "I'm so stupid," I said softly. "He didn't have to steal evidence from the autopsy to frame Salvatore Masconi. He used one of his trophy vials to do the job."
"What?" Orion squatted down beside me. "Jesus! Is that what it looks like?"
I pulled out vials from the top front rack of blood samples. Names and dates were written on the labels. The last two were Blevins, C. and Eriksson, H. "He really planned to kill me."
"Helen –"
"I'm all right."
"I'm sorry," Orion said. "Let's pack this into evidence bags. We can start sorting through it later."
"There are hundreds of vials, Johnny."
"Yeah, and more than one from you. Let's not jump to astronomical numbers based on this alone. We need to get to that storage garage and see if we can find his mobile crime scene."
"He's going to try to claim insanity for his defense when we arrest him."
"I don't doubt it. Good thing we've got you to testify as an expert in this case. He won't get away with what he's done. We won't let him."
The problem with Orion's suggestion was that I knew the truth. Not only would I not let Jerry Lowe get away with what he'd done, I couldn't let him get away with it. Recent history proved my response to the guilty slipping through the cracks in the criminal justice system.
"We need to search the rest of his home office," I said. "This is all well and good, but it doesn't help Hardy and Weber with their little problem. I'd like to know if Lowe is behind the blackmail too."
"You look. I'll keep bagging evidence."
I tore the room apart and found nothing on Weber and Hardy. There were files on the detectives at central, the men Lowe handpicked to serve his purposes. Matt Rogers was divorced due to gambling and alcohol addictions. Lowe documented every penny he used to help keep Rogers from drowning in debt. Flynn Myre's history of mental
illness should've prevented him from being hired by the police department in any law enforcement capacity. Delusional disorder, not otherwise specified. As I suspected, Myre had been on antipsychotic medications since his early twenties. And the fixed delusion? Well, apparently there was no Mrs. Flynn Myre. Jim Daltry's file indicated nothing that could've been used as blackmail. Instead, it had a notation on the resume that highlighted Daltry's occupation in college. He worked construction and had been responsible for explosive demolition.
I tossed the file on the desk. "I guess this explains who was responsible for my house and the rental car."
Orion scanned the page. "Those sons of bitches. Did you find anything about Hardy and Weber?"
"No."
"Just because you haven't found anything doesn't mean we won't find it eventually. We'll be going through this place for days, I imagine. We've got enough to arrest Lowe with the contents of the safe. I'll call Darnell and have him sequester Myre, Daltry and Lowe. We'll tell them something innocuous."
"They could have information about what I was working on before my untimely demise," I suggested. "That way there won't be any red flags before we show up."
"I suspect they're getting antsy because Rogers hasn't shown up yet."
I shrugged. "So tell them he's assisting with the investigation in Beach Cliffs."
Orion grinned at me. "This lying thing comes naturally to you, doesn't it, Doc?"
He meant it as a compliment. Instead, it pushed me into self reflection mode. We are, after all, the products of both nature and nurture. Had mine left me predestined to be the flip side of a Jerry Lowe type coin? I remembered feeling hopeful that he might be a kindred spirit, someone who thought and behaved and acted like me. Someone who bent the rules of law and society to serve the greater good.
The reality of his existence defied my notion of a greater good. What purpose had his crimes served? Who benefited from the slaughter of innocent young girls? Was rejection or personal pain justification for anything?
My thoughts drifted back to Rick, consuming everything. I didn't know how I got to Orion's car or where he was driving. All I could think about was Rick's crime. And Dad's words.
