Thrilled to Death v5

by L. J. Sellers

  “I’m just trying to figure out why two of your patients went missing, voluntarily or not, on the same day.”

  “I’m sorry but I don’t know. I will think about it though. At the moment, I’m very tired and I’d like to wrap this up.”

  Jackson too was bone weary. “Just a few more questions. Was there anything unusual about Danette’s last appointment with you?”

  “Not really.” Callahan looked down at the folder in front of her. “Except that it wasn’t her regular day. Danette normally came on Thursday, but she called Sunday night and asked if I could squeeze her in the next day.”

  “So you made room for her?”

  “Yes, I think I had a cancellation.” Callahan reached for her desk calendar. “Oh, that’s weird.” She looked up at Jackson. “Courtney is the one who cancelled. Danette took Courtney’s usual appointment time on Monday.”

  Chapter 20

  The full impact of what the switched appointment could mean didn’t hit Jackson until he was in the cruiser, turning the keys, and staring at the parking lot. He shut the car off. Danette could have walked out of the building at 9:55 that morning and found someone waiting for her, someone who was expecting Courtney Durham. Someone not very bright, like Eddie Lucas.

  Holy crap. Had Danette been kidnapped by mistake?

  If so, where the hell was she? Where was her car? Jackson’s head pounded with the craziness of it. Danette and Courtney were the same height and age, but that was about it. Courtney was blond and fair-skinned, and Danette was a brunette with light brown skin. Had the Dirty Jobs guy really made that mistake? Jackson recalled Danette had been wearing a hooded sweatshirt. If she’d had the hood up covering her hair, it was certainly possible. Lucas might have simply seen a pretty young woman of the right size, leaving the office where his target was supposed to be and assumed it was Courtney.

  Then what had happened? Dread invaded his weary bones. Jackson started the car and turned on the heater. The warm sunny days of April quickly chilled into winter-cold evenings. When did Lucas realize his mistake? After he showed up at Valder’s? Or had Lucas recognized his error sometime before? If he’d made it out to Valder’s, why hadn’t they simply let Danette go when they realized she wasn’t Courtney? Would they kill Danette to protect themselves?

  Who were they? Eddie Lucas and Seth Valder?

  Lucas was in jail in Redding, California, about five and a half hours away, and would be transported to Eugene in the morning. Seth Valder was, in theory, trapped in his own home by agoraphobia and a police officer in the driveway. Jackson checked the time on his cell phone: 11:33. He wanted to drive out to Valder’s and slap him around, but he had to play this right. The first to squeal got the deal. He suspected Lucas was just a grunt guy who’d made a horrible mistake and Valder had made Danette disappear. He needed Eddie Lucas to turn on Seth Valder.

  Jackson put the cruiser in gear and finally left the parking lot. He’d planned to head over to Kera’s and curl up in her arms for a few hours of sleep, but that would have to wait. He tried to map out all the scenarios in his mind. First, they had to bring Valder in and let him sit in a holding cell until after they questioned Eddie Lucas. How serious was Valder’s agoraphobia? Would he become violent or hysterical when they forced him out of the house?

  Jackson drove the ten blocks to city hall and barreled into the department’s headquarters. He used his card to get through the security door, then doubled back to the front desk officer who sat behind the plexiglass.

  “Jackson, you’re working late.”

  “I think I caught a break in this case. I need you to send a second patrol unit to Seth Valder’s place at 35829 Territorial Hwy. Contact the officer watching the house. Instruct him to knock on the door and ensure Valder is still there. I want the front and back doors watched closely. Give both officers my cell phone number and tell them I’ll be out soon.”

  Jackson needed another detective to brainstorm with and back him up on this arrest. He figured Schak had gone to bed early and already had a few hours sleep. Evans had wanted to be in on Callahan’s questioning. He called them both, and even without hearing the details, they readily agreed to get dressed and go back to work at midnight. Law enforcement personnel, including judges and district attorneys, weren’t clock-watchers. They acted when they needed to.

  He also called McCray who took a while to answer. “Hey, Jackson. What have you got?”

  “I think Eddie Lucas kidnapped Danette Blake by mistake, then Seth Valder made her disappear. So I’m bringing Valder in.”

  “No kidding? That’s wild. Should I meet you out there?”

  “I’ve got Schak and Evans on the way. I need you to write up a search warrant for Valder’s house and computer first thing in the morning and get it signed ASAP. Be very inclusive. I want samples from everything. If Danette’s DNA is anywhere on the premises, I want to find it. I’ll be at the autopsy at eight, then we’ll meet up and go search Valder’s house from top to bottom.”

  “You’ve got it.” McCray paused. “How did you come up with that theory?”

  “Danette and Courtney were seeing the same shrink. Danette took Courtney’s cancelled appointment.”

  “Oh, man. Talk about wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “I think so. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  Jackson called Dr. Callahan, hoping she would still be awake. Stella answered on the third ring. “Yes? What now?”

  “I need your expertise on something. I have to bring in for questioning someone who is agoraphobic. How can I keep the drama to a minimum?”

  “Oh dear. It’s likely this person has a prescription for anxiety attacks. Make sure he or she takes a healthy dose of medicine before you attempt to move them outside. If the agoraphobic doesn’t have a benzodiazepine handy, you can always use a blindfold. If you’re going now–and I assume that’s why you called at this late hour–then the fact that it’s dark outside should help.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do I still need to photocopy and submit those patient files?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Thirty minutes later, Jackson was cruising down Valder’s private driveway in the dark, his stomach gurgling from hunger and stress and his heart hammering with adrenaline and caffeine. What if he was wrong about this and the whole thing was a coincidence? Would Valder sue the department for harassment? Jackson wondered if Valder owned a gun.

  The second patrol unit was in the driveway and so was Evans’ car. Lara Evans lived in west Eugene, so she’d had a ten-minute head start. She was waiting in her cruiser for him. Jackson felt for his Sig Sauer, a reflexive habit, then climbed out. He coached himself to move slowly and carefully. Valder wasn’t going anywhere.

  As he neared the patrol unit, the officer stepped out. “Officer Hutchison. Are we taking him in?”

  “Yes, but I’d like you to stay out here for now and watch the front door in case Valder makes a break for it. Be ready to pursue. Detective Schakowski should be arriving soon. After he gets here, block the driveway with your car until I signal.”

  “Got it.”

  Jackson and Evans strode up the walkway, weapons drawn. Jackson rang the doorbell, waited five seconds, then rang it again. He continued the pattern until Valder shouted from the other side of the door. “What the fuck?”

  “Eugene police! If you have a weapon, put it down. Open the door slowly. We have the house surrounded.”

  After three long seconds, the door opened and Seth Valder hung back out of reach. He stood there in sweatpants only, puffy-eyed and irritated. “What do you want now?”

  “You’re coming into the department for questioning. I’d like to be sympathetic to your condition, but this is the way it has to be.” Now that Jackson could see Valder had no visible weapon, he holstered his Sig Sauer and readied his Taser. Evans kept her firearm drawn.

  “Oh Jesus.” Valder took another step back and vigorously rubbed the top of his hairless head. “Oh Jesus.” S
hirtless, he looked even bigger than he had yesterday.

  Next to him, Jackson felt Evans shift her weight, readying for a confrontation. “I’d like this to go as smoothly as possible.” Jackson used his calm-father voice. “Do you have anti-anxiety medication you can take?”

  “Oh Jesus.”

  Had Valder even heard him?

  “Do you have anti-anxiety medication?” Where the hell was Schak?

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t taken any in a while.” Valder’s eyes jumped around and the head rubbing continued.

  Jackson had never been in a situation quite like this. He wanted to avoid a physical confrontation if possible, but he also had a deep distrust of this sleazebag.

  “Turn around and put your hands behind your back. I’m going to cuff you.”

  “What is this about? I told you everything.”

  “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  “I want to call my lawyer.”

  Jackson held out the Taser. “If this is easier for you…”

  “Oh Jesus.” Valder finally started to turn. Jackson heard Schak coming up the walk and felt his body let go of some tension.

  “Schak? Step into the house and watch this guy from the front while I cuff him.” Evans might be offended but she would understand. Schak was seventy pounds heavier than Evans, and Valder would respect that.

  When Schak was in position, Jackson stepped forward and grabbed Valder’s right wrist, then quickly cuffed it to the suspect’s left. “Let’s go find your meds.”

  The four of them moved down the hall with Valder in the lead. By the time they reached the master bedroom, Valder had begun to hyperventilate. He plopped on the edge of the bed. “Check the cabinet above the sink,” he said, gesturing with his head toward the master bathroom.

  Jackson glanced over at Evans, and she moved in to make the search. He kept the Taser ready. He’d discovered its usefulness soon after being issued one. Too bad it had taken the department so damn long to adopt them.

  In a moment, Evans came back with three small pill bottles. She read from the labels. “We’ve got hydrocodone, Keflex, and diazepam.”

  “Open the diazepam.”

  “There’s one left.”

  “Oh Jesus.” Valder started to shake. “It’s not enough.”

  “You might as well take it.”

  Evans went back for a glass of water, put the pill in her open palm, and held her hand up to his mouth. She understood Valder had to be the one to actively reach for and ingest the medicine, which he eagerly did. Evans offered him water. It ran off both sides of his mouth as he gulped it.

  “How long will it take to kick in?” Jackson wanted to know.

  “My stomach is empty, so twenty or thirty minutes.” Valder shook his head. “It’s not enough to make me walk out the front door.”

  “We’ll see. Let’s go stand next to the door so you can get used to the idea.”

  They stood around for twenty minutes, watching Valder as he sat in a chair near the front door with it partially open. Jackson took a moment to update the two officers outside. He decided to keep them at the house until he had a warrant and they could come back and thoroughly search it.

  When he re-entered the house, Jackson noticed Valder’s eyes were less jumpy and his pupils had dilated a little. It was time. He remembered what Callahan had said about a blindfold. “I’ll be right back.”

  Jackson retrieved a t-shirt from a drawer in the bedroom.

  “What’s that for?” Valder wanted to know.

  “A blindfold. A psychiatrist said it would help.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Valder let Jackson tie it around his eyes and reluctantly stood when Jackson prodded him. As Valder shuffled forward, handcuffed and blindfolded, with a detective at each elbow, Jackson visualized Courtney coming into this house with the same bindings. Danette too. Danette, of course, had been terrified.

  Valder stopped in the doorframe and swore. “I can’t do this.”

  Jackson and Schak propelled him forward. “I’ve experienced 5,000 volts of electricity,” Jackson said. “Whatever you’re feeling now is nothing in comparison.”

  “No!” Valder struggled to free himself from their grip.

  “Evans, get ready to stun him if we jump back.”

  “With pleasure.”

  Valder buckled and he was suddenly two-hundred-plus pounds of dead weight. Jackson let go, so Schak did too. Valder dropped to his knees, then pitched face first onto the sidewalk, panting like a dog on a hot August day.

  Schak looked over at Jackson, his expression barely visible in the darkness. “What now?”

  “We drag him. Maybe once he’s in the backseat, he’ll be calmer.”

  As they hauled the large, panting, moaning man toward Jackson’s car, Jackson was aware that in some police departments, they would have simply beat the suspect into unconsciousness. Especially knowing what they did about him. But it was not in his nature, and it was not the culture of the department either. Eugene’s citizen watchdog group reacted rather strongly to violent police behavior.

  As they tried to lift and drag Valder into the back seat, which was partitioned from the front with plexiglass, he started thrashing violently, twisting his torso and slamming his head against their thighs and groins. Feeling his kidney pain flare like a hot knife in the gut, Jackson gave up.

  “Let him go and step back.”

  Schak moved quickly for a barrel-shaped man. Jackson nodded at Evans and she pulled the Taser’s trigger as Valder lurched to his feet. The prongs hit the suspect in the bare chest, and for a split second he was still. Valder collapsed on the ground again, writhing and moaning. Jackson had experienced the sensation during training and wanted to feel sympathy for Valder, but he was too tired.

  “Let’s get him downtown before he comes out of it.”

  As they hauled the limp but heavy man into the backseat and secured him with ankle chains, Jackson said, “I did everything possible to prevent this outcome.”

  “You sure as hell did,” Evans said.

  Jackson paced the room, struggling to stay awake as Valder was processed into the jail—strip searched, questioned about his medical condition, and given a dose of Valium. Valder had come in wearing only sweatpants, slippers, and a t-shirt around his face, so there wasn’t much to put into the plastic bag for his possessions. From the intake area on the ground floor, a deputy escorted Valder upstairs to the main jail and interrogation room.

  “Should I leave him cuffed?” the deputy asked.

  “Yes.”

  Valder’s body seemed to fill the tiny room, and the pale-green walls were especially sickly to Jackson. His head pounded from exhaustion as he took a seat. He’d been awake and working for nearly twenty hours. Valder didn’t look much better. His eyes were glassy and his shoulders slumped. Jackson hoped to catch him off guard.

  “Where is Danette Blake?”

  “Who?”

  “The first girl Eddie Lucas kidnapped. The mistake.” Jackson paused, giving Valder a moment to process the line of questioning. “Lying to me will work against you in the long run. Danette was in your house, and we’ll find proof. All we need is a single piece of hair. You might as well tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you all about Courtney. If Eddie has something else going on, you need to talk to him.”

  “I have Eddie Lucas in custody, and I expect him to turn on you to save his own skin. This is your one chance.”

  Valder blinked and his shoulders tightened. After a long moment he shrugged. “I don’t have anything else to say.” His speech sounded a little slurred.

  “Maybe Danette was never in your house, so you think you’re safe. Or maybe Eddie realized his mistake, killed her and dumped her, and never told you about it. If you don’t talk to me, he’ll blame you for it. It will be his word against yours.”

  Valder didn’t respond. Jackson tried again, but Valder
shut down. After a few minutes, the suspect put his head on the table and closed his eyes.

  Crap! How much Valium had they given him?

  Jackson stepped out and called for a deputy. He was done for this day.

  Chapter 21

  Friday, April 10, 9:06 a.m.

  Sophie couldn’t stop thinking about Courtney Durham and Danette Blake. She was supposed to be writing a roundup story about three recent deadly accidents involving drunk drivers. The news angle was: Why the sudden increase? It was no mystery to her. The economy was bad, people were unemployed and depressed and drinking more. The bigger question was what to do about it.

  Meanwhile, nobody seemed to be investigating the disappearance of Danette Blake. Sophie had called the police department and been referred to Detective Zapata, who said foul play did not seem to be involved. He based the assumption on the fact that Danette’s car was also missing, therefore, she drove away in it. If Courtney Durham hadn’t also disappeared Monday, Danette’s case would be easier to dismiss. Having Courtney’s body turn up had piqued Sophie’s interest to the point of near obsession.

  “Hey, Sophie, how’s your drunk driving story coming?” Her boss, Karl Hoogstad, had wandered up behind her.

  “I got some great quotes from the Alcohol Abuse Prevention Network. I’m digging up some statistics from the early 80s to see if there’s a pattern between unemployment and alcohol-related crimes.”

  “Great. I like it.” Hoogstad clapped her shoulder and headed downstairs. Probably going to the cafeteria, Sophie thought. The statistic idea was impromptu, but it made sense, so she started accessing online Lane County files.

  Her cell phone rang in her bag under her desk. Sophie dug it out and glanced at the caller ID: Elle Durham. Finally! She’d been trying to talk to Elle ever since Jackson had confirmed the dead body was Courtney. Sophie answered the call, grabbed a pen and tablet, and turned her back to her cube neighbor.

  “Ms. Durham, thank you so much for getting back to me.”