Jameson had to admit, though, that he felt sorry for at least one member of the Forrester family. He had never met Shana Forrester, and he wasn’t about to speculate as to whether or not she had been involved in the death of the young man in Los Angeles. He did know one thing. This was one young lady who was no stranger to problems.
20
Shana shook her mother by the shoulder. “Wake up, Mom. It’s getting late.”
“Oh,” Lily said, staring out over the room in a daze. “I guess I was exhausted. What time is it?”
“Almost five,” she said. “I woke you because I wanted to know what we were going to do for dinner.”
“Are you hungry now?”
“No,” Shana said. “I can’t find the TV remote, though.”
Lily found the remote stuck between the cushions of the sofa, handing it to her and then excusing herself to go to the bathroom. She couldn’t stop thinking about the events which had occurred in the days following the rape. She splashed water on her face, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Returning to the living room, she told Shana she was going to soak in a hot bath. “We’ll figure out what to do about dinner when I get out, okay?”
“Take your time, Mom,” she said. “We had a big lunch.”
Lily filled the tub with water, then stripped her clothes off and climbed in, leaning back and closing her eyes again. After Shana had identified Marco Curazon from the photo lineup, Lily had taken the mug shot out of Hernandez and compared it to the one Margie Thomas had given her of Marco Curazon. With her glasses on, she’d noted a number of differences in the two men’s appearances, yet she’d continued to refuse to believe that she’d killed the wrong person.
As she pressed on her eyelids with her fingers, another crucial incident appeared, the images and details so real, she felt as if she were watching them projected on a screen. They had tracked down Marco Curazon and brought him in to participate in an actual lineup. Shana had been the first to view the men.
“Mom, give me the car keys,” Shana said. “I’ll wait there. I can start working on some of my homework.”
Lily desperately wanted to know what had transpired inside that room, yet she knew she was forbidden to ask until it was over. She tried to read Shana’s eyes when she came out, searching for something, but she appeared remarkably composed, calmer now than before. If she had just seen the man who had raped her, would she be this composed? It must have been exactly as she’d thought from the start—that once she saw him in person, she’d know it wasn’t him. She started to follow Margie, who was already headed toward the room with the two-way glass where they conducted the lineups.
“Give me the keys, Mom,” Shana asked again.
“Here,” Lily said, handing over her purse. “They’re in the bottom somewhere.”
Once she looked at the men assembled, it took her only seconds before she saw him. Then she could look at no one else. The lights were low in the viewing room, and Margie sat without speaking. “Tell them to turn sideways,” Lily told the detective, listening as she spoke to the men via a microphone. She walked to the window and placed her palms on it, staring at his profile. He looked older than in the mug shot. “Was the photo of number three that we saw the other day recent?”
“I thought it was because he was in jail on a parole violation, but it wasn’t. It was five years old, from an old booking. Someone forgot to put the new one in the file.”
“Tell them to bend down like they’re tying their shoes or something,” Lily asked, and the woman detective complied.
Finally she left the window and collapsed in the seat, her head in her hands. In the past, every time she’d recalled the rape, the face of Bobby Hernandez had appeared instantly. Her mind was reeling like a boat about to capsize. The man in the room was more than a face in a mug shot; he was a presence, and that presence reached through the glass and seized her with fear. Had she murdered the wrong man? She raised her eyes again and looked at him. She could taste the crusty knife in her mouth. It was him! Shana had been correct. Then the boat tipped again and she saw Hernandez. She was battling her own will. There was still a thread of doubt. If she could only see Hernandez again in person, then she might know. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed it. Hernandez would never be seen in person again. She’d made sure of that.
Removing her glasses, she reached for her purse to look at the mug shot she’d brought from the office. Her fingers brushed against the carpet, then her palm. Shana had her purse. Inside was the mug shot of Hernandez. Leaping from the seat, she rushed to the door, Margie right on her heels.
“Come back,” the detective yelled, thinking she was having another panic attack. “We have to finish this and then you can leave.”
Lily was out the door and actually running through the squad room, passing the records bureau, where every head turned, as she slammed through the double doors to the lobby. Her breath coming hard and fast, she bent down and held her stomach just as Margie caught up with her before she was out of the building.
“Please,” Margie Thomas said, also gasping from chasing Lily, “I have to know if you’ve seen enough.” Her lavender eyes were full of annoyance. “My God, you’re a D.A. Get a grip.” Once she had said it, her eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry, okay? That was a low-down thing to say, but I’m only trying to do my
job.”
“It’s number three,” Lily snapped at her, refusing her apology, knowing she was making her feel like shit. “I’m going to get Shana, and we’ll come back and give you a statement.” The woman had her hand on Lily’s arm, and Lily jerked it away. “I’m only doing my job, too. It’s my daughter.” With that, Lily turned and walked out of the station.
She went directly to the passenger side of the Honda and tried to open the door. It was locked. Shana saw her and rolled down the window. In her hands was the small picture of Hernandez.
“Who is this?” she demanded, no longer composed, her eyes wild with confusion.
“It’s just an old defendant in a case at the office. Someone gave it to me, thinking he looked like the man I described. It’s nothing.” Lily reached inside the car and tried to take the photo from Shana’s hands. The girl held it away where Lily couldn’t reach it.
“No! It looks just like him. I want him brought in for a lineup. I thought it was the guy in there—number three—I was so sure. But now—”
“Shana, please give me the picture. You were right. I picked number three too. This other guy isn’t the guy.” Lily tried to still her racing heart by taking several slow, deep breaths, willing herself not to think of all the ramifications of what was happening. She had to stop it now. “He’s dead. It was a mistake. I just found out.”
“What do you mean, he’s dead? Does Margie know about him?”
“The man who gave me the photo didn’t know that he’d been killed. He was killed in a gang shooting or something a long time ago, months before the rape. He means nothing to Margie or anyone now. I told her we’d come right in and make a statement. She’s waiting.”
“Everyone looks alike. Maybe that guy isn’t the one, either.” Tears started falling from her eyes.
Lily pulled the latch on the door and opened it, reaching in to Shana, leaning down beside the car. “Honey, we’re not the judge and jury. All we’re doing is telling the truth—that the man in there appears to be the man who attacked us—nothing more. Once I learned this man in the picture was dead, I just forgot to put the picture back.” Shana let her remove it from her hands. His name was printed at the bottom of the photo.
“Get my purse and we’ll go in. Then we can go home and try to put this out of our minds. Okay?”
Once the photo was back in her purse and she and Shana were walking back to the building, she said, “Don’t mention this to Margie. We’ll all be confused, and it will be a waste of time. I wasn’t supposed to take this photo from the office, and I’ll get in trouble.”
Shana looked at her mother only a moment,
but her expression was one of disbelief. “I won’t tell Margie,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t even look that much like him anyway. His face was thinner and he was uglier, meaner-looking. He had pimples like the man I saw in there. That’s the man.”
Lily surfaced from the past, getting out of the bathtub and drying herself off. When she returned to the living room, she saw Shana staring at her, almost as if she had been reliving the same events as her mother. The girl had to know the truth. Would she ever turn against her if John followed through on his threats to expose her? Lily couldn’t believe she would ever do such a thing, especially not after her father’s recent involvement in the hit-and-run. But what would transpire if she was forced to testify? How could she allow her to perjure herself under oath? Just the thought of it made Lily’s stomach roll over.
“Did you enjoy your bath?” Shana asked, using the remote to turn off the TV.
“Not really,” Lily said, flopping down beside her again on the sofa. “I have a better understanding why you haven’t spent more time with me. You’re right when you say being together makes us strong. Unfortunately, it also makes it impossible not to think about the rape.”
Shana remained silent for some time, a sullen expression on her face. “You’re not going to keep paying Dad’s rent, are you?” she said finally. “Unless the police blame me for what he did, he’s going to end up in jail. At least he won’t have to work or worry about a place to live.”
“It sounds as if you really meant it when you said you were fed up with your dad,” Lily said, testing the waters. “I’m in no way condoning what he did, but he didn’t intentionally kill that young man. Alcoholism is an illness. John might have some serious faults, but he’s not a criminal, nor is he in any way violent. I’ve prosecuted people who kill just for the thrill of it, Shana. I don’t believe he falls into that category, do you?”
“No,” she told her, removing her chewing gum and wrapping it up in a tissue. “But let’s face it, Mom, if he had thought about someone other than himself, he would have notified the authorities right away. Then maybe that guy might have lived.”
“You definitely possess the potential to go beyond the level of an attorney,” Lily told her. Her wet hair was wrapped in a towel. She removed it so her hair would dry. Sunlight was still streaming in through the doorway. Even though Lily had trimmed the roses the night before, several of the gardenia bushes were still blooming, and their delicate scent was drifting in through the open screen door. “The points you just emphasized are the precise factors a judge will take under consideration when your father’s case goes before the court. He’s lucky they didn’t charge him with murder.”
“What did they charge him with?” Shana asked. “I thought you said it was vehicular homcide.”
“The specific charge is gross vehicular manslaughter while intoxicated, which falls under section 191.5(c) of the penal code. They’ve also charged him with a separate count of felony hit-and-run. They can’t try him for both. They only added the extra charge in case they decide to settle the case somewhere down the line.”
Shana fished a brush out of her backpack. “Turn around,” she told her mother, repositioning her by placing her hands on her shoulders. “I want to brush your hair while we talk. Remember how you used to brush my hair?”
Lily was touched. She was glad her back was turned. She didn’t want Shana to see the tears in her eyes.
“Go on, Mother,” she said, gently pulling the bristles through Lily’s wavy hair. “You were explaining the charges to me. I enjoyed reading your law journals this afternoon.”
“Well,” Lily said, sniffling, “the way that section reads that I just mentioned, they could prosecute whoever committed this crime under section 188, which is homicide. In order to do so, though, they have to establish that his actions constituted wantonness and conscious disregard for human life.”
“How long would he have to serve in prison?”
“On which term?” Lily asked. “The crime he’s been charged with falls under one set of guidelines, while the other section I mentioned is considered an indeterminate term.”
“Does that feel good?” Shana asked, continuing to brush her mother’s long hair.
“Wonderful,” Lily said, her scalp tingling. “What was I saying?”
“You were telling me how long Dad might have to go to prison.”
“I’m not sure we should talk about this,” Lily said, turning around to look at her.
Shana was emphatic. “I want to talk about it.”
“Fine,” Lily told her, taking a deep breath. “The aggravated term is ten years. He won’t serve ten years, however. He’ll only serve five, maybe six.”
When Shana stopped brushing her hair and fell silent, Lily said, “Richard can explain a lot of things to you tonight at dinner. Why don’t we take a walk? There’s some beautiful trails around here, especially in the foothills. I hike almost every weekend.”
“I don’t want to go for a hike.” Shana’s face clouded over again with concern. “What are we going to do about Dad and the duplex?”
“We’ll have to get a truck and move your belongings somewhere else,” Lily said, turning around to face her. “I called the landlord today and told him we would be terminating our lease at the end of the month. It was up for renewal, anyway.” When she saw the girl’s face fall, she added, “I didn’t think you would want to continue living there under the circumstances. You’d be alone, honey, and I don’t want you to be afraid.”
“You said I could advertise for a roommate.”
“I’m not sure that would be the best course of action right now,” Lily said, rolling her head around to release the tension. “If your dad can’t find another place to live, he’s going to end up on your doorstep. From the way it looks, he’ll probably go to prison, but since he’s out on bail, we’re talking six or seven months from now. With the way the Los Angeles system is clogged, it might even be longer.”
“What about my school?”
“That’s a decision you’re going to have to make on your own,” she answered. “I called campus housing as soon as I woke up this morning. There’s nothing available in the dorms right now. Someone could drop out, though.”
Lily took a seat in the wooden rocking chair. Shana stretched out on her stomach on the sofa, staring at the framed photographs of herself on the end table. “Where’s that picture of me you had taken last year? You know, the one we had made in that glamour photo place in the West Hills mall.”
Lily knew precisely what picture was missing. Shana looked so gorgeous in it that her eyes were drawn to it all the time. She walked over, thinking the portrait was either hidden behind one of the others on the table, or she had accidentally knocked it to the floor. When she couldn’t find it, she stared at the table, realizing something else was missing.
Shana occasionally received mail at her mother’s post office box in Santa Barbara. Unless it was something urgent, Lily would store whatever arrived during the month inside the pre-addressed envelope she kept tucked under the edge of one of her pictures. This way she wouldn’t forget to include it when she mailed out Shana’s monthly check. Lily distinctly recalled placing a card from one of the girl’s former camp buddies during the past two weeks. Yet the entire envelope was missing.
Although Lily was fearful someone might have been inside the cottage, she tried to remain calm, hoping the items would turn up somewhere. They both searched the cottage, even getting on their hands and knees, then finally gave up. “This isn’t a very large place,” Lily told her. “When I moved from the house, I might have put the picture you’re talking about in storage with some of my other things.”
“I’ve seen it here,” Shana said, visibly shaken. “The last time I came to visit you it was here. That means you couldn’t have stored it with your other things when you moved in. I’m not an idiot, Mother. I know what I saw. Stop trying to placate me.”
Lily rubbed her sweaty hands on her jeans
. “It’s only a picture, honey.”
“But it’s gone! Someone must have taken it.” She walked over and slammed the door, shoving the dead bolts into place, then leaning against it. “Marco Curazon was paroled to Camarillo,” she said. “That’s only a twenty-minute drive from here. What if the man outside the duplex really was him? And I told you the guy who was following me around campus a few days ago looked just like him.”
Lily rushed over, pulling her into her arms, knowing Shana’s fear would intensify if she knew the envelope with the address of the duplex was also missing. “You’re panicking because of all the stress you’ve been under. I shouldn’t have said anything about you being afraid to stay at your place. That was foolish of me. It’s my fault for upsetting you.”
“No,” Shana shouted, wrenching away. “Why would you say it’s your fault? I hate it when you do that, make yourself responsible for everything that goes wrong.” She flung her arms in the air. “It’s his fault! Why did he have to rape us? And the stupid courts should have never let him out of prison. I don’t care what the law says. People who do things like that should never get out of prison. Never! Did you hear me? Never!”
“Please, calm down,” Lily said, cupping her hand over her mouth, then letting her arms fall limp at her sides.
“I don’t want to calm down!” Shana shrieked, as if she had no choice but to release the pent up rage inside her. She walked over to her mother and seized a handful of her bathrobe in her hand, a wild, out-of-control look in her eyes. “I’d like to hurt someone right now, do you hear me? I’d like to break something, kick some guy in the balls, maybe smash something over his head!” Suddenly she started walking backward, the tempest past, appalled that such terrible words had poured out of her own mouth. “I’m sorry,” she told Lily. “I don’t know what made me say those things.”
“I do,” Lily answered, taking her hand.
“Where are we going?”
Buried Evidence Page 19
