by Laurel Dewey
“But you and Sara will carry it.”
“It’s our burden.”
“It doesn’t have to be. And anyway, on some level, Mollie already knows.”
Aaron looked stunned. “Has she said something to you?”
“No. She knows in her heart. And if you keep lying to her, she’s not going to be able to rectify what she feels. Talk about a mind-fuck.” Now Jane was really starting to channel Jordan Copeland. “Is the burden of the secret equal to the burden of the truth?”
“Think of the ramifications of telling the truth, Detective…”
“Oh, hell, Aaron. Haven’t you ever heard of spin? You could spin this to your benefit.” She assumed the voice of a PR guru. “The man who only accepted the Old Testament embraces the New Testament and, like the book of Revelations, he now discloses to his flock things that were only previously whispered in the dark.” She let the idea sink in. “Jesus, Aaron. Don’t be a shmuck. This could be gelt …gold.”
Aaron couldn’t help but smile at Jane’s words. She handed him the photos and he replaced them in the album. “Are you going to spread this around town?”
“What kind of a person do you think I am?”
Aaron regarded Jane with pensive eyes. “I think you’re a good woman who just wants to know the truth.”
“Thank you. So, are you going to tell me the truth about what Bailey said to you?”
Aaron struggled. “This has to be off the record.” Jane reluctantly nodded. “You know I love Jake…”
“Yeah. He’s like your son. What did Bailey say, Aaron?”
“It was in Mollie’s best interest that they break up. There was no future and I didn’t want her to get hurt.”
“Why would she get hurt?”
“Because Jake is gay.”
Jane let the information settle. “This is what Bailey told you?”
Aaron nodded. “He said he… caught him…looking at gay porn on his computer and that, when he confronted Jake about it, the boy didn’t deny it. In fact, he said he was already hooking up with other homosexual boys he’d met on the Internet…”
“Hooking up how? He doesn’t have a car and only a learner’s permit.“
“I asked the same question. Bailey said Jake was sneaking out at night. He fashioned some kind of rope apparatus off his bedroom deck. He’d steal one of his dad’s cars and meet these guys. Bailey was…how can I say it… disgusted doesn’t even come close to his reaction. He described in very graphic detail the kind of stuff that he found on these gay porn sites…I just…I just couldn’t allow my daughter in good conscience to continue associating with Jake. These boys he’s meeting on the Internet… they could be drug addicts or perverts. It’s a dangerous world out there, Detective. You know that too damn well. In God’s name, why would I put my daughter in harm’s way?”
“I understand. You had no choice.”
Aaron shook his head in dismay. “I think my fears were validated by what happened to Jake.”
“What do you mean?”
“He struggled with being gay and after his dad found out about it, he was humiliated. But the damage had already been done. He went to the bridge to kill himself, but some freak who he attracted from an Internet chat room caught up with him and…” Aaron struggled. “And murdered him.”
“That’s what you think happened?”
“I do. But I would never say a word of that to Mollie.”
Jane realized that when you don’t have all the facts, evidence or clues, it’s easy to jump to erroneous conclusions. With only the titillating elements to draw upon, it was simple to create what seemed like the most viable and obvious outcome. But Aaron didn’t have the benefit of a bevy of clues that told a different story—a story that was told by someone who was highly intelligent and who wanted to be caught. Aaron didn’t have the knowledge that the Van Gordens held back a clue. He didn’t follow Bailey to a seedy strip club and watch a payoff being made. He didn’t suffer through a disturbing one-on-one conversation with Louise Van Gorden and walk away from it feeling filthy. There were too many questions and not enough answers to float a possible conclusion regarding Jake’s fate.
They parted, with Jane retreating to her room. She checked her cell phone in hopes of finding a voicemail from Candy at the strip club. It was reasonable to believe that if Bailey was on the phone with his connection when they were leaving his house, he most likely would be at the club by now. Of course, it was Sunday and it could be Miss Cane’s day off to rest, wash her thongs and polish her tassels.
Jane hung the teddy bear by its one good ear on the clothesline in its appropriate timeline slot. She turned to the address label with the mysterious BAWY! and the reoccurring twenty-five-cent Packard postage stamp. She’d already considered the relevance of the stamp as it was the answer to the cryptic riddle set forth by the kidnapper early on. A quick check on Jane’s computer showed that the stamp was issued in 1988 as part of an edition featuring old cars. Either the kidnapper owned the stamp in a collection or he bought it online, much like he probably bought the classic pack of Chesterfield 101 cigarettes. But why the Packard?
Jane found the third clue—the one with the magazine cutout of the young boy with the red cap holding out his arm—and looked at the envelope it came in with the uncancelled Packard stamp. She hadn’t noticed it before this, but the lower edge of the stamp on the envelope was slightly separated from the envelope. Wedging her fingernail under the stamp, it easily peeled off the paper. Underneath were the printed words: HELP ME!
“Shit,” Jane mumbled as she grabbed the address label she retrieved from the box that held the bear and peeled off that Packard stamp. There were five extremely small words printed under the stamp: TELL HER WHAT YOU SAW! Jane threw the label on the desk as an electric shock coursed up her spine. She heard Weyler’s footsteps outside in the hallway and swung the door open, motioning him to come into her room. “Look at this!” she said nervously, showing him the two pleading statements.
“Jesus,” Weyler said, examining the writing carefully. “Why would he hide them under the Packard?”
“Maybe he drives a Packard and he’s saying these statements inside the Packard?”
“That’s a stretch.”
“No, I don’t think it is. You have to think like this guy. He’s under the Packard? In the Packard? I’m not sure. But these words are connected to the Packard.”
“So, this black vehicle that the woman saw on the bridge before Jake went missing was a Packard? Don’t you think she’d mention something about the car being rather old?”
“If she doesn’t know cars, then maybe not,” Jane offered.
“Is this Jake’s writing? If a guy in a Packard kidnapped him, is he writing Help me and Tell her what you saw! in hopes that we’re going to peel off the stamp? That’s a little out there, don’t you think?”
“If he’s being held captive and at the point of death, why would he risk that?”
“Maybe because he’s not being held against his will.” Weyler took a seat on the desk chair.
“So the kidnapper wrote it,” Jane deduced.
“Why would the kidnapper write Help me and Tell her what you saw! Jane, this is starting to seem like something Jake’s involved with.”
It seemed appropriate at that moment to divulge what Aaron told Jane about Jake. She relayed the information to Weyler in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Oh, for Chrissake. Well, that might explain why his dad erased his computer, including all the current emails and website history. If Jake visited gay chat rooms or websites, he’d most likely be getting daily spam from those sites to this day. Maybe his dad didn’t want to have his son further humiliated?”
“I don’t think Bailey gives a shit about his son. I think whatever Bailey Van Gorden covers up, he does so for Bailey Van Gorden! When he saw the Ace of Spades card with the bloody fingerprint, he screamed ‘Fuck him!’ Who was he talking about? Jordan or Jake? Do you remember the first time we met th
e Van Gordens? Bailey was telling us to investigate Jordan but he was also focused on Jake. As an aside, Bailey said, “Little shit.” I told you then that I thought Bailey was referring to his own son and not Jordan. Just the same way that I think he was thinking of Jake when he screamed, ‘Fuck him’ today! There’s no love lost there!”
Weyler nodded in agreement. “If Bailey’s disgusted by Jake’s homosexuality, he might feel that Jake got whatever he had coming to him if he was hooking up with guys on the Internet…”
Jane cogitated. “But then, what has the Ace of Spades got to do with anything? Bailey and Louise clearly reacted to the card before they realized there was a bloody fingerprint on it!”
“Are you positive?”
“I was watching those two like a hawk. I am sure!”
“What does the Ace of Spades represent?”
“The number one or eleven.”
“There’s got to be a deeper meaning.”
“I don’t get the sense that Bailey and Louise are deep thinkers.”
“Wait a second. Isn’t the Ace of Spades known as the Death Card? I recall hearing how the Ace of Spades was laid on the bodies of Vietnamese killed by U.S. soldiers during the war. Soldiers would cover the ground with the Ace of Spades as a calling card of death. It was used as psychological warfare.”
Weyler’s idea of psychological warfare rang true to Jane. In her mind, all the clues—as bizarre and unconnected as they might appear—were all meant to trigger a psychological schism. Still, the revelation that Jake was gay still gnawed on Jane. “If Bailey is personally disgusted by his son’s homosexuality, it doesn’t compute that he’s going to take the time to confront Aaron about his son’s gay liaisons without knowing where that information is going to end up. In my opinion, it was done purposely to humiliate Jake. Bailey could give a shit about Mollie and her feelings. Mollie said Bailey hardly ever talked to her when she was at their house.” Jane contemplated further. “No, this has got massive manipulation written all over it.”
“If Jake’s gay, this could turn the case in an entirely different direction.”
The light bulb came on. “Exactly. I gleaned the information off the record from Aaron. If I breech that trust, it’s Aaron who gets hurt for being a minister who breeched a confidence. Then, Jake is publicly humiliated once the information streams through town. We’re sent on a gay trail to who knows where to track down people we have no record of because Bailey conveniently erased the alleged emails and websites. And while that’s all going on, the Van Gordens and whatever they’re hiding is tossed to the side while we chase our tails. It’s brilliant evil.”
“But it can’t be ignored, Jane.”
“Hang on…” Jane suddenly recalled a comment Bailey made during their first meeting. “You know, a guy can’t have it both ways. When we first talked to Bailey and I suggested that Jake may have met a predator online, he was adamant that Jake didn’t meet anyone online and then he was quick to add that the predator was Jordan Copeland!” She shook her head. “Damn! This is where understanding people is so critical. You can’t set the dominos in a clear direction if the first domino is a lie. Supposedly, Bailey told Aaron his son was gay to protect Jake. But the truth is he doesn’t give a shit about Jake. So everything else that follows after that lie is corrupted and meant to confuse the real issue.”
“Why would a father tell another man that his son is gay if he’s not gay?”
“I don’t know. But there’s a lot of things about Bailey I don’t know.” She turned to Weyler with a smug look. “Except for one thing…” Jane crossed to the clothesline and carefully removed the stuffed bear. “I told you they were holding something back from us.” He sat in stunned silence as Jane detailed her tense encounter with Carol in the kitchen and how Carol slyly directed Jane to the missing clue. “You can’t tell Bo about this one,” Jane advised, “because he’ll want to talk to the family about it and that’s going to put Carol in one helluva spot. Please trust me on this one.”
Weyler nodded. “I’ll say nothing for now. But if things shift, I’ll have no choice.”
Jane swallowed hard. “There’s one more thing I have to show you.” Walking to the desk, she slid out the top drawer, removed the ashtray and cigarette pack and dumped the twenty Chesterfield 101 cigarettes on the desk. She gently removed the remaining Chesterfield off the clothesline and tossed into the pile. Jane took a seat on the end of the bed and confessed what she’d done. Just to make sure he didn’t think she totally sabotaged the original crime scene, she showed him the photo of the cigarette layout in the woods that she captured on her cell phone camera. After a heartfelt mea culpa, she could see that Weyler was not thrilled. “Hey, I was pissed-off at Bo for being an asshole. I shouldn’t have done it, but there it is and you can take it to him and tell him what happened.”
Weyler scooped the cigarettes into a pile. “That should go over well,” he said dryly. “The DNA’s completely compromised.”
“They were lying in the snow. It was already compromised.”
“I’ll see if I can sell that excuse,” he said with an edge as he got up with the evidence in hand. “Anything else pertinent to this case that I need to know about?”
Jane figured she was already in enough trouble, it was time to give away the farm. She told Weyler how she followed Bailey to a strip club and watched him hand over an envelope of cash to another man and then disappear.
“Good Christ Almighty, Jane!” Weyler said, his voice rising. “When were you planning on telling me Bailey was working a back end deal?!”
“Soon?” Jane tried to ameliorate the news by informing him of her stripper contact, Ms. Candy Cane, and that she promised to call Jane if Bailey returned.
“And you really think she’s going to call you?”
“I gave her a hundred bucks to buy a new sweater. She seemed impressed enough to return the favor.”
“Jesus, Jane. Have you ever followed any of the rules or gone by the book?”
“I’m sure I have,” she replied, having a difficult time coming up with an example.
“You understand that I’ve got to tell Bo.”
“He won’t know what to do with the information. He’ll either ignore it because it came from me, or he’ll confront Bailey in his erratic manner which will likely compromise the entire deal that Bailey’s got set up. Either way, the whole thing will blow up.”
“I still have to tell him, Jane.”
Jane nodded. But inside, she thought, Not if I can get there first.
CHAPTER 26
After reading the thin stack of emails Mollie had given her from Jake, Jane grabbed Jake’s sketchpad and darted downstairs. Sara and Aaron were sitting in the backyard. Jane knocked on Mollie’s bedroom door and tried to open it but it was locked.
“Who is it?!” Mollie yelled with teenage attitude.
“It’s Jane! Open up!”
Mollie opened the door. “Nice shirt. Where do you shop?”
“Let me in.”
“I’m doing prayers.”
“It’s Sunday. Friday evening to Saturday evening is your Sabbath…unless of course, you’re jumping back into the Christian saddle?”
“I can do prayers any day of the week,” Mollie said with her back up.
“Are you going to let me in?”
She looked at Jane’s Glock. “Are you gonna shoot me if I don’t?”
“Not fatally,” Jane replied, stone-faced.
When it came to chutzpah and banter, the kid had met her Gentile match. “Fine!”
Jane closed the door behind her. “I was reading these emails you printed off. This is really the extent of them?”
“Yeah. Jake didn’t spend a lot of time on the computer or the phone. He liked talking to people face-to-face.”
Jane had already had this confirmed by Hank. She considered how that information could break either way for Bailey’s allegations. If Jake didn’t like to spend time on the computer, maybe he wasn’t obses
sing with gay porn. But on the other hand, if he liked one-on-one encounters and he was desperately lonely at home, maybe he was using the Internet to hook up and attain that up close and personal contact with strangers. “Okay…” Jane located the only email that intrigued her. “What did he mean when he wrote you on March 8th, I’m sorry about last night. It’s my fault, not yours. Please don’t think less of me…”
Mollie snapped the pages out of Jane’s hands and threw them on her bed. “Shut up!”
“You saying that to me or Jake?”
“I told you that it’s none of your damn business!”
“Hey, Liora?” She started to back the girl toward her bed. “I don’t know if you’re coming down off a catnip high, but you are going to tell me what in the hell he meant by that and you’re going to tell me now!”
Jane had a way of intimidating some people and Mollie was one of those people. “Okay, okay.” She sat on her bed, sliding a large pillow on her lap for security. “I swear to God if you tell my dad…”
“Oh, shit, I’m getting so tired of this. Tell me what you know!”
“He was referring in the email to when he snuck out of his bedroom and down the rope—which I’m sure you’ve already discovered—and over to my room.” She nodded to a corner window. “He tapped on the glass and he crawled in.”
“Okay…”
“We usually just sat up at night and talked until early morning. Sometimes, we’d kiss, but that was it.”
“But not that night.”
Mollie was clearly not comfortable relaying the information. “He showed up and he was all ferklempt…just an emotional mess. I tried to calm him down but he was like crazy, you know? He said he had a huge fight with his dad…I guess it was the absolute worst but he wouldn’t tell me what it was about. And then, out of nowhere, he crawls on top of me and I’m like, damn, don’t be a shlemiel! But then I’m kinda liking it too.” She smiled softly, embarrassed. “We start to make out like we never have before and I’m thinking, Oi! Where is this leading? That’s when he pulls out his shmeckle.”
