by Diane Capri
CHAPTER FIFTY
Jess looked behind her. Nelson’s door was closed. “Okay. Tell me what I don’t know.”
Nelson sighed. “I arrived here three years ago. The outgoing guy wasn’t around to brief me, or anyone else for that matter.” He tapped his chest. “Heart attack. So I reviewed the cases from the past ten years. It didn’t take long. Randolph isn’t exactly a hotbed of crime. Until I got to the Crystal Mackie case.”
Jess raised her eyebrows, encouraging him on.
“Crystal disappeared. She was gone for six days, reappears at her house for,” he shrugged, “minutes? Certainly not an hour. She’s seen leaving. Heading toward the back of the Meisner estate.”
“Toward the woods.”
“In that direction. But there was no evidence found that she went into the woods, or even reached them.”
“She must have gone somewhere.”
“There were no more reported sightings. Her car turned up in a Greyhound station a couple of months later. No CCTV. No fingerprints.” Nelson shook his head. “None. It’d been wiped clean. Inside, outside, the trunk, the gas cap. Thorough job.”
“But it was her car. Why would she wipe it clean?”
“She wouldn’t. There would be no point.” Nelson nodded and took a deep breath, as if he didn’t want to go further, but he did. “Which is where we need to start talking about Charlene. She made the same deduction. Everyone did. Up until then, it was a missing person’s case.”
Jess nodded. Made sense.
Nelson leaned forward. “From what I understand, that’s when she started to fall apart. She’d been looking for every chance her daughter might be alive. But then? It was like her whole world collapsed.”
Jess squeezed her lips together and shook her head. “It’s understandable.”
“Definitely.” He nodded. “But she lost it. She became obsessive. She blamed everyone and everything. Every detail she could latch onto became a reason someone had killed her daughter. The boyfriend. People on the Meisner estate, and of course, Meisner.”
“Meisner?”
“Well, he wasn’t exactly a bundle of sympathy.” Nelson nodded. “And he started a lawsuit to keep people off his property.”
“The path?”
“The right of way. Long precedence, yadda, yadda. Big court fight. Meisner put up that fence, which is overkill if you ask me. Cut off people’s access. It was a big inconvenience, but most people just put up with it.”
“Except Charlene?”
“Oh yes. She went wild. Walking through the estate and the woods had become a habit. Every day. More than once. The place was, well…like a shrine to her, I suppose.”
“It’s a mean fence. Built by a vindictive person. Who puts barbed wire on the top of a fence like that? It’s not like he’s worried about livestock.” She paused. “He did it to keep people off his property. Overkill.”
Nelson shrugged. “Guess he’s entitled to his privacy. And he’s a politician. On any given day, he’s probably got half a dozen death threats. Half the voters are bound to hate him. The nature of the animal. His security detail probably insisted on the barbed wire.”
“Are they Government security?”
“Senators who aren’t members of leadership aren’t entitled to constant protection, even though they need it.” Nelson shook his head. “Meisner calls them aides, but they’re former military and clandestine operatives. You wouldn’t like to tangle with them unarmed.”
Jess shrugged. “His security detail wasn’t there when we met Meisner that day at the tree.”
“Must have been nearby. Somewhere.” He shrugged. “The point is, Meisner got a restraining order against Charlene.”
“Why? What did she do?”
“She was accosting him everywhere. She’s lucky he didn’t sue her for slander. Or have her arrested or held on involuntary commitment to a mental hospital. She was relentless, apparently. Stirred up a lot of anger among the locals.”
“I don’t remember hearing about any altercations during his last election.”
“Like I said, he’s a wealthy politician. Lots of money and plenty of clout. He’s good at handling the media.” He grimaced. “No offense.”
Jess shook her head. “None taken. Tell me about the restraining order.”
“Still in effect. Meisner has it renewed regularly. Charlene doesn’t protest. But he doesn’t seem to enforce it now because she still walks along the lane.” Nelson shook his head.
Jess thought about everything Nelson had said and everything she’d learned from Charlene. “Does she still blame Meisner for her daughter’s disappearance?”
“Probably.” Nelson shrugged. “She’s blamed a long string of people. And she has no evidence against him. She feels Meisner waited a suspicious amount of time before reporting that Crystal hadn’t turned up for work.”
“Charlene mentioned that to me. And I think she’s right, don’t you?”
Nelson nodded. “Did she tell you they hired someone new the day after they made the report about Crystal?”
“Yeah, she mentioned that, too. But it’s a big house. Maybe they needed the help. I mean, no one knew what had happened at that point, right?”
“A search started as soon as Meisner made the report, but she wasn’t formally declared a missing person for another two days.” Nelson nodded again. “But no one knows what happened to Crystal even now.”
Jess shuffled in her chair. “Not exactly damning evidence, is it?”
Nelson shook his head. “It isn’t evidence of anything. She just got obsessed.” He sighed. “Her daughter had gone missing after all.”
Jess bit her lip. “Is she clinically depressed?”
“Not diagnosed by a doctor, as far as I know.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “It’s like she’s on the verge of climbing out of it sometimes, but she never does. Which probably means she should be getting treatment.”
“Explains why she’s so focused on Peter Whiting.”
Jess pulled out the memory card she’d kept from Peter’s drone. She handed it to Nelson. “Peter Whiting climbed that tree to recover a drone. It was a higher-end toy, and it had a camera.”
He turned the memory card over. “You didn’t think to mention this before?”
She sighed. “I’ve been a little busy. I took that card from the drone before one of Meisner’s aides took the drone from me.”
He frowned.
“I didn’t hand it over willingly.”
“Where was the drone?”
“Stuck in the tree. A little higher than he climbed.”
“He’s in the hospital all because of this?” Nelson leaned back in his chair, the memory card still between his fingers. “Doctors say another couple of days before he’ll regain consciousness. Even then… Damn.”
“Kids do crazy things sometimes. Aren’t you the one who told me that?”
He held up the memory card. “You’ve looked at this I guess?”
She nodded. “He was a good pilot. The drone went all the way around Meisner’s mansion, but on the way back it crashed in the tree. High up. He fell before he reached it.”
Nelson plugged the memory card into his computer. Jess watched the twisting and turning video. The drone’s camera swooped over green fields, and animal trails marked the early morning dew. The images were bigger and easier to see on the computer screen.
“The video doesn’t tell us why the boy was there in the first place.” She shifted in her seat. “Have you talked to the Whitings?”
He nodded. “And they don’t want to be interviewed.”
She held out her phone with the two Barbara Whiting signatures side-by-side on the display. “Have you asked them about these signatures?”
He nodded again. “We’re meeting with their lawyer this afternoon.”
“So at least one of these signatures is actually hers, then.”
“I’ll keep an open mind until this afternoon.” He took a deep breath and look
ed at the ceiling. “If this goes as I expect, there’s a fifty-fifty chance Peter could be taken away from them.”
“Maybe. At this point, all we know is that Peter isn’t their biological child. Doesn’t mean he was kidnapped or the adoption was illegal.” Jess shrugged. “If Charlene is right about the signatures on the delivery record, looks like Crystal effectively consented to the adoption.”
“My parents robbed a convenience store when I was six. A man died. I had no family, and the state put me in an orphanage where I stayed until I was eighteen. The only time I saw my parents after the conviction was through Plexiglas. They both died in prison. I’ve had to explain that all my life. From bullies in the playground to every job interview I’ve ever had, and now to you. If I can save Peter from that sort of life, I’m planning to do it.”
Jess didn’t know what to say. Peter was not the Whitings’ biological child, but that didn’t mean they’d kidnapped him. If they weren’t his legal guardians, the potential quagmire could last for years.
They sat in silence a few moments. Jess stared at the signatures on her phone. “This issue isn’t about Peter.”
Nelson nodded. “It seems to be about Crystal Mackie.”
“Does Meisner have an alibi for Crystal’s disappearance?”
“We are not going there.” Nelson waved his hand and shook his head. “We have absolutely no evidence linking anything to Meisner. It’s going to be difficult enough cleaning up after Charlene’s behavior yesterday. Adding an angry senator to the mix would just…” He shook his head.
“Doesn’t stop me,” Jess said. “I met him again in my hotel this morning. I asked him about Crystal.”
Nelson slowly closed his eyes.
“He referred me to his office for an official statement.”
Nelson opened his eyes. “I have a copy of his prior statement in the file. Doesn’t say much. Nice words. Sympathetic. He refers to “the family,” never Charlene. Denies knowing Crystal, denies knowing what happened to her.”
“Everything you’d expect from a politician.”
“Or someone who knows nothing about the disappearance.” He slid a picture across the desk. “You’ve met Meisner. Do you think he’s capable of that?”
Jess stared at the image. Not that she needed the reminder. Norah Fender. Her legs dangling over the edge of the tub, her head twisted against the wall. Large stains where the bullets from Jess’s gun had pierced her clothes. Blood on pastels.
“The point is,” Nelson sighed, “Nothing links Meisner to Crystal Mackie’s disappearance or Norah Fender’s murder. Nothing. So stay away from him. Please.”
Jess pushed Norah Fender’s photograph back to Nelson. “She died for some reason. If you look at the contents of her modest house in a downscale neighborhood, it’s obvious she wasn’t even the kingpin in the baby-selling operation.”
Nelson didn’t argue.
Jess curled her hands together, and folded her fingers backward, cracking her knuckles. “Maybe we’re ignoring the elephant. Crystal’s disappearance is suspicious. Who’s the most likely culprit?”
Nelson grunted. “Usually, the spouse, or in this case, her significant other. Not that I’d call Johnny Yukon significant in any way.”
“Surely he was interviewed at the time.”
“Hell, yes. But he said very little besides a long string of cuss words.”
“A DNA sample might clear up a lot of this.”
“Confirm him as Peter Whiting’s father? That certainly wouldn’t help anyone. Least of all, Peter. And Charlene hates the guy.”
“Is Johnny Yukon still in the area?”
Nelson frowned. “He’s still in the same house, 46 Pine Street on Sunshine Estates.”
She pulled out her car keys. “Let’s go meet him.”
He shook his head. “I’ll drive.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Blackstake sat in his car on the side of the road, a hundred yards down from the police station. It hadn’t taken long for word to reach him that Kimball was back in Randolph. He’d seen the drones and the boss was right—they didn’t have memory cards inside. Kimball had probably removed them before security arrived to get her off the property. He’d get the photos from her and then deal with that damn reporter once and for all.
A police cruiser approached. He rearranged a paper map over the steering wheel and kept his head down. The cruiser passed by. Without moving his head, he saw the passengers in his peripheral vision. Two people. A man driving, and a woman engrossed in her phone. Nelson and Kimball.
They showed no interest in him or his car.
He waited until the cruiser took a side road before pulling out after it. He kept a safe distance back. Several cars between him and his target.
Nelson turned onto Sunshine Estates and took the first left again. Blackstake drove past. Half a mile later he found a fast food place and parked, his car pointed at Sunshine Estates, both for a quick getaway, and to watch for the cruiser to pass.
He pulled out his phone. The boss answered without speaking.
Blackstake cleared his throat. “Kimball is riding shotgun with Nelson. They’re visiting Johnny Yukon.”
The boss blew out a long breath.
Blackstake said, “They’re opening it up. Starting again. They’re going to go round the whole thing at the worst possible time.”
“Recommendation?”
“Nelson’s controllable.” Blackstake flexed his scarred hand. “Limited options at this point for Kimball.”
Blackstake heard labored breathing. “You’re supposed to be the best.”
“Doesn’t mean I can work miracles.”
Silence from the other end of the line.
Blackstake said, “I’ll sort it.”
“You do that.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Nelson parked outside a two-story townhouse with a garage to one side. No fences separated the front lawns, but 46 Pine Street was easily distinguishable from the others on the row. Thistles had taken hold across the dirt that might once have been as lushly green as its neighbors. An unpainted square of plywood covered the lower half of the front door. Gray duct tape crossed the glass in the upper half.
The curtains were drawn. No light spilled around their edges. No shadows flitted across the windows. No movement inside. No recognition that the police had arrived.
Jess followed Nelson up the path to the front door. He pulled a foot-long metal flashlight from his belt, and rapped on the plywood. The door shook. The glass rattled. Nelson rapped again. The same force. The same shaking and rattling. He gave it a moment and repeated his actions.
“It’s morning,” he said. “Johnny’ll be sleeping.”
“A night owl?”
“Among other things.”
A shout came from inside. Slurred words. Muffled.
Nelson rapped on the door again. The shouting was clearer this time. Jess caught the word “off.” Nelson grinned. “If you put Johnny in your magazine, you’re going to have to edit any quotes.”
Jess smiled. “I’ve dealt with worse.”
“Don’t call him Spud. A nickname he hates.” He grimaced.
Nelson rapped again. Johnny Yukon’s response was unambiguous this time. The second word was definitely “off.”
“It’s Captain Nelson. I need to talk to you,” Nelson’s voice was loud and controlled.
The door opened.
A man with long hair and several days’ beard growth hunched in the doorway. He cussed twice. He stared at Jess, and back at Nelson. “Ain’t seen her before. Never touched her.” He pushed the door.
Nelson held the door open with his boot. “Hello, Johnny.”
Johnny shook the door in an effort to free it. “I ain’t never touched her. No matter what she says.”
“I never said you did. Nor did she.”
Johnny stopped shaking the door. “Then what you here for?”
Nelson pointed down the corridor with his flashlight. “I
nside.”
Johnny sneered. “I ain’t done nothing.”
Nelson nodded down the corridor. “Inside, Johnny.”
Johnny Yukon let go of the door and worked his way down the corridor into the house, using the walls for support.
Jess closed the door behind her.
Johnny led them into a kitchen at the rear of the house. He sat in a chair at a small table. Jess stood by the window. Apart from a sagging washing line strung between a pole and the side of the house, the back yard was no different than the front.
Nelson stood directly in front of Johnny, six feet away, downwind.
“What?” Johnny said.
“Crystal Mackie.”
Johnny sagged and put his hand to his forehead. “I ain’t got nothing more to say on that. Nothing.”
“New details have come up.”
Johnny lifted his head, frowning. “Like what?”
“Where have you been for the past two days?”
Johnny screwed up his face. “What?”
“Anybody to vouch for you? The last two days.”
“Why would I need that?”
“Because something has happened in the last two days that you don’t want to be arrested for. If you’ve got any sense, you’ll answer my question.”
Johnny rotated his head from side to side. Slowly. Trying to shake away the fog shrouding his mind without bringing down the wrath of whatever he’d been doing the night before. “I might. Maybe some of the time.” He waved his hand in front of his face. “It’s a bit hazy, see?”
“Well, unhaze it.”
Johnny rocked his head back and forth and sighed. “Wait a minute.”
He left the kitchen and thumped up the stairs. He returned a minute later with a young woman trailing behind. Her head was down, her long blond hair dangled limp, obscuring her face. Every step seemed like an Olympic achievement.
“This is Laurie.” He held out Laurie’s hand. “Tell ’em when you got here.”
Laurie waved her head from side to side. “Um…”
Johnny rolled his eyes. “How many nights you been here?”
