Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller)

by L. J. Sellers

  Jackson turned left and headed for their bungalow. Kera would understand.

  Chapter 24

  Twelve days earlier, May 19

  Carla checked her face in the mirror, grabbed her small briefcase, and got out of the car. She pulled her shoulders back and marched into the insurance office. She wanted to project confidence, to seem like a person you couldn’t say no to, a salesperson you wanted on your team. This was a cold call; the business had not advertised for an open position. There were so few listings in the classifieds, her strategy was to target successful businesses and try to get a foot in the door.

  Stomach fluttering, Carla walked up to the receptionist and smiled. “May I speak with the manager?” She reached in her briefcase.

  “Is that a resume?” The receptionist was her age, but thinner and prettier and better dressed.

  Carla suddenly felt like an aging stewardess in her navy blue skirt and jacket. “Yes. I’d like to give it to the manager.”

  “I’ll take it, but don’t get your hopes up. We’re not hiring.” The receptionist held out her hand with a grim smile.

  Carla did not want to let this woman take her perfectly crafted list of qualifications and toss it in the recycling. What else could she do? Stand there and be obnoxious about it? She handed over her resume. “I would like to speak to someone about a part-time internship.”

  The receptionist raised an eyebrow. “You mean like a college student who works for free just for the experience?”

  “Something like that, yes.” Carla smiled and stood straighter, trying to look thinner. This was humiliating.

  “I don’t think we do that kind of thing here. Thanks for stopping in.” The woman went back to her computer work.

  Carla fled the building. Back in the car she took long deep breaths. She didn’t want to sell insurance anyway. In fact, she didn’t want to sell anything. She was sick of sales, sick of the pressure. Yet that was the experience on her resume, except for the recent jewelry design position. It had been a miracle to get that job. The one thing that kept her going now was the hope that Silver Moon would hire her back when the economy turned around. She told herself she wouldn’t have to work in sales forever.

  Carla pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the Planned Parenthood Clinic in west Eugene. Her procedure was scheduled for 9:15 a.m. Anxiety flooded her stomach every time she thought about having the abortion. She pushed it out of her mind. She had no choice but to go through with it.

  On the drive to the clinic her legs began to shake. She decided she would ask for a sedative as soon as she got there. The nurse who had counseled her yesterday had offered to send her home with one, but Carla had turned it down. She regretted that now.

  The nearly new clinic was located at the back of a cul-de-sac, with Court Sports on one side and the Target shopping center on the other. In case she wanted to play handball or go shopping afterward, Carla thought, feeling bitter. In reality, she had been instructed to take it easy for several days after the abortion, which was why she had visited the insurance company this morning.

  The group of protesters on the sidewalk in front of the clinic made her heart nearly stop. She eased past them into the driveway, glancing back at their signs. Carla parked the Subaru, shut it off, and willed herself to get out of the car. She had to do this. They had no jobs and no money and soon they would have no place to live. She couldn’t bring a baby into such a life. Babies were expensive and needy. A baby would make her life way more stressful than it already was. When Lori had been born, they’d lived with her parents for years because they couldn’t afford anything else. She couldn’t do that again. Not at thirty-six. She and Jared were the parents now, the ones who were supposed to be stable and provide for their kids. Lori was eighteen, the same age Carla was when she had Lori. What if Lori got pregnant? Who would give her a place to live and help her with her baby?

  Carla leaned back against the seat and let the warm tears roll down her face. She was ashamed and disgusted with herself. Getting pregnant, losing her job, stealing the baseball card to pay for an abortion. How had she gotten to this point? Part of her blamed Jared for his lack of ambition and refusal to get a real job, but it was her fault too. She had taken the jewelry job to make herself happy, even though it paid less and was less secure than the sales position she’d been offered. Now her whole family was paying for it.

  With a burst of resolve, Carla jumped from the car and hurried across the parking lot. Don’t look at their signs. Don’t think about the baby. It’s not a person yet. Considering her age, the baby probably had Down syndrome, she told herself. She was doing the right thing for everyone involved. Carla entered the clinic and waited in the four-foot-square glass foyer. From yesterday’s visit, she knew the interior door was locked for security purposes. A receptionist at the counter ten feet away asked her to state her name and business.

  “Carla Walker. I have a 9:15 appointment.” Her hand went to her stomach. This was Jared’s baby too and she hadn’t even told him. The lock on the door buzzed, letting her know she could proceed through. Carla didn’t move. She heard Jared’s voice in her head saying, It’ll be okay, sweetheart. As long as we have each other, we’ll be happy. We’ll find a way to make it work.

  Carla turned around and walked out, fresh tears rolling down her face.

  Chapter 25

  Thursday, June 3, 5:30 a.m.

  Jackson got up early out of habit, but he had no need to rush into the department. Engall was in jail and would be charged with the Walker murders. His team still had to examine all the DNA reports and blood analyses from the victims, but the urgency was over. Building a case against the accused was a long tedious job.

  He went for a slow, one-mile jog, the first since his surgery, then took a leisurely hot shower. He and Katie had breakfast together, scrambled eggs and cantaloupe, before he dropped her off for her last day of middle school. He was back in his routine and it felt great.

  On his way into the department, Jackson called the taskforce members and scheduled a wrap-up meeting at nine. When he walked into the Violent Crimes area, Lammers was sitting at his desk.

  “Jackson, I hear we’ve made an arrest. Great work on this case.”

  He waited for the real reason she was in his space.

  “I want you to meet with the press and announce we have the Walkers’ killer in custody. You can tell them we’ve caught the carjackers too. Bohnert brought one of the victims in last night, and she identified Gorlock and Alvarez as the men who assaulted her and took her car.”

  Jackson hated talking to the media. “Why me?”

  “The public likes you. You look good on camera and you solve murder cases. The press conference is scheduled for two this afternoon. Do not blow it off.”

  Jackson resisted the urge to give her a mock salute. “Right out front by the fountain?”

  “Be there.” Lammers got up from his desk and strode out.

  Jackson went across the plaza to Full City and bought a tall coffee and a pastry, figuring he’d earned it. By the time he got back to headquarters, the other detectives had gathered in the conference room. The aroma of McCray’s fruity tea filled the air again.

  “Thanks for coming on short notice. This meeting will be brief. It’s a chance to get everyone caught up before we move on. I’ll do most of the legwork getting this case ready for court and you guys can start taking other assignments.”

  “I’ve already got the home invasion assigned to me and I’m meeting with Bruckner this afternoon,” McCray said.

  “Do you have anything new to add to our body of information?” Jackson gestured at the board where the Walker family and its connections had been mapped out.

  “I don’t think Engall did it,” Evans announced. She looked fresh and perky as usual, but also troubled.

  Schak stared open-mouthed. “You’re flip-flopping. You backed Engall as a suspect even when we all thought it was Shane.”

  “I know.” Evans gulpe
d some coffee. “But I participated in the interrogations and I talked to Engall as I drove him to jail last night. I think he’s telling the truth. He didn’t take Jared’s blackmail letter seriously and he has no history of violence.”

  The room was silent. Jackson had been having the same thoughts and pushing them away. “The physical evidence doesn’t implicate him.”

  “We still don’t have the DNA analysis?” Evans looked at Jackson.

  He made a note to call the lab. They had to have some results by now. He remembered something he hadn’t shared with the group yet. “When we questioned Tyler Gorlock, he told us Lori was Shane’s girlfriend. It surprised me.”

  “I thought they were cousins,” McCray said, scowling.

  “Not biologically,” Jackson explained. “The parents, Jared and Tracy, are step brother and sister. It’s a little weird, but does it change anything?”

  “Sure it does.” Evans jumped up and hustled over to the board. “If Shane is in love with Lori, it gives him motive to hurt anyone who comes between him and his girlfriend.”

  “Gorlock says her parents didn’t know.”

  “Maybe they found out.”

  “He knifed Lori too,” Schak reminded them.

  “Maybe she tried to protect her family,” Evans countered.

  Jackson cut in. “I’ll go see Shane at the jail today and use the information as leverage when I talk to him.” His phone rang and he checked the ID: Jasmine Parker from the crime lab.

  “Hey, Parker. I’m in a taskforce meeting, but if you have information about this case I’ll put you on speaker.”

  “I finally do. I’ve got the two suspects’ DNA comparisons with the trace evidence we sent over.” Parker’s voice was soft and scratchy coming from the phone’s tiny speaker. “A hair found on Carla Walker’s shirt matches Shane Compton’s DNA sample.”

  A mix of emotions washed over him. Surprise, relief, excitement.

  “There’s the physical evidence placing Shane at the scene,” Evans said.

  “Do you have anything else?” Jackson asked the lab tech. “What about the analysis of the victims’ blood?”

  They heard paper shuffling, then Parker said, “Carla Walker showed hormones consistent with pregnancy but nothing else unusual. Jared’s blood had an alcohol content of point zero four, which is also not significant. And Nick Walker had a trace of marijuana.”

  “What about Lori Walker?”

  “We don’t have her blood because we didn’t do an autopsy.”

  He’d forgotten to ask the hospital to send a vial of Lori’s blood for analysis. Jackson wondered if the hospital had done a tox screen. He made himself a note to call them. At this point, though, it seemed like a waste of time. “What about the hundreds of fingerprints you processed? Any hits on CODIS?”

  “Shane Compton’s prints were on the front door and on one of the kitchen cabinets. We also got a match on a print we took from the door leading to the garage. Roger Acker, convicted twice of check fraud, but he’s been dead for two years. The print has been there for a while.”

  “Thanks, Parker.” Jackson hung up and looked around at his team. “Any thoughts?”

  McCray spoke up. “What if Shane Compton is part of Gorlock’s smash-and-grab campaign? They know each other. They could have busted into the Walker home looking for the guns and killed everyone in a rage when they didn’t find them.”

  “Without Gorlock or Alvarez leaving a single print or hair?” Jackson might have bought the theory before Parker’s report.

  “You know it happens sometimes.”

  “We’ll never convict either of them even if they were there. Alvarez is dead and Gorlock is going away for a long time on the other home invasion. He has no reason to confess or plea bargain in this case.”

  A silence followed.

  “We have to focus on Compton again.” Jackson stood. “I’m heading over to the jail now.”

  “I’d like to go with you.” Evans stood too. “Maybe he’ll respond better to a woman.

  “Can’t hurt to try.”

  Chapter 26

  They took Jackson’s car and drove the five blocks to the county jail. Yesterday’s summer-like weather was gone and the sky was dark with rain clouds, a more typical June day in Oregon. On the way, Evans said, “How are you doing? I mean with your recovery?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I noticed you’re not staying with Kera. Is everything okay with you two?”

  “How do you know I’m not staying with Kera?”

  “You brought in your black coffee container the last couple days. When you were staying at Kera’s, you carried a silver container.”

  “Your powers of observation are improving, Detective Evans, but you’re still too nosey.” Jackson turned left on 5th Avenue and looked for a place to park.

  “I don’t let it get in my way.” She grinned, unabashed. “So tell me, are you still seeing her?”

  “Yes.” He decided to be polite and ask about her personal life. “What about you? Still dating the painter?”

  “No. He’s too soft, too liberal. How can I date someone who doesn’t think cops should carry stun guns?”

  Jackson laughed. “I told you. You need to start going out with law enforcement guys.”

  “I’m thinking about it.” As he parked, she caught his eyes. “The good ones are all married or taken. I’m feeling a little SOL.”

  “Be patient. It’ll happen.” Jackson was ready to change the subject. “Good cop, bad cop again? It got Engall to finally talk.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  The red-brick two-story building sat at the base of Skinner’s Butte less than a mile from the park where he’d picked up Katie the night before. The jail was also within shouting distance of the Hult Center, Eugene’s performing arts venue, and the Fifth Street Public Market, where upscale shoppers spent their money. It seemed like an odd spot to house criminals, but at least the county-run facility was close to the city-run police department.

  A crowd of newly released inmates hung out in front of the jail, some waiting for rides or to catch a bus, others simply socializing with their peers before they wandered downtown to look for more trouble. A disheveled women looked him over but no one else paid any attention to their arrival. Jackson’s jaws tightened as they strode through the group. Criminals were arrested and released faster than you could throw back an undersized fish. One whole wing of the jail had been shut down for years because of lack of funding, and the morale of uniform cops was plummeting as a result. What was the point of making arrests if the criminals didn’t suffer any consequences?

  Evans jogged up the stairs to the admitting desk and Jackson pushed through his pain to keep up with her. He was paying for his jog that morning. They waited while a haggard-looking woman tried to convince the deputy on the other side of the plexiglass her inmate son needed a certain prescription. The deputy noticed their presence and asked the woman to step aside. She glanced at the two of them in their dark jackets with gun bulges, rolled her eyes, and lumbered out of the way.

  “Detectives Jackson and Evans. We’re here to see Shane Compton. We need an hour with him in the interrogation room.”

  “I’ll see where he’s at this morning.” The deputy, who looked ready to pop out of her beige uniform, keyed the name into the computer system. After a moment she read from the digital file. “Shane Compton was transferred to North McKenzie yesterday. He developed a fever and our staff doctor thought he needed IV antibiotics.” She looked up. “I’m sorry. Would you like me to call the hospital and check on him?”

  “Did you send a deputy with him?” Jackson knew better than to hope.

  The deputy gave him a quizzical look. “Compton was officially released after he left the facility.”

  Jackson tried to keep his irritation in check. “Why was he released? He’s a suspect in a murder investigation.”

  “He was booked in on possession of a controlled substance. He has no history
of violence.” The deputy didn’t even sound apologetic. She dealt with annoyed and angry people all day and Jackson was just one more. “There was no reason to keep him in jail except your request for a twenty-four-hour hold, which expired last night. Our staff doctor sent Compton to the hospital because he was too sick to turn out on the street. I’m sure he’s still there.”

  Jackson started to say something sarcastic and caught himself. He turned to walk away, then spun back. “Please make a note that the detective who brought him in would like to have been notified about Compton’s transfer and release.”

  “I will, sir.”

  Lori wished her Aunt Rita would go home. She knew Rita was missing work and it made her feel guilty. There was nothing anyone could say to make her feel better and nothing Lori wanted to talk about either. They were trapped in this room together, Rita quietly reading her book and Lori wishing she could be alone.

  The nurse who’d said she could probably “go home” tomorrow had meant well too, but Lori had no home. The house was still there but she would never set foot in it again.

  How was she supposed to keep on living when her family was dead and Shane no longer wanted to be with her? Thoughts of suicide came and went. The act would require planning and follow through, and she wasn’t capable yet.

  Her cell phone rang on the sliding tray next to her bed. The familiar ringtone made her smile. When they’d heard she could leave soon, Rita had rounded up her cell phone and backpack from the police, and these small pieces of her old life gave her some comfort. She picked up the phone, looked at the ID, and her heart quickened. “Shane. I’m glad you called. Why haven’t you been in to see me?”

  “I was in jail. Now I’m in the hospital.”

  “Oh my God. What happened?” Lori got out of bed and padded toward the window where her aunt couldn’t hear.

  “They questioned me about the–” Shane paused. “About what happened to your family. They think I did it.”