Deadly Bonds (A Detective Jackson Mystery)

by L. J. Sellers

  Kera didn’t answer when he called, and he didn’t leave a message. Was she with her ex-husband? Daniel Kollmorgan had wanted Kera back after she and Jackson started dating, and Jackson had almost let her go. At that point, he’d been trying to consider little Micah and how Kera and Daniel might have to raise their grandson themselves. They could be having the same discussion again now. Danette’s parenting had always been questionable, and her bad choices seemed to have finally caught up with her.

  Five minutes later, he called Kera again. This time she answered, sounding weary. “Okay, Wade. You have my attention. What now?”

  Good question. “I want to apologize for not being there for you in the hospital yesterday. Things got a little crazy for me, and I didn’t find anyone to take Benjie.”

  “I heard. Don’t worry, I know you hate hospitals.” Her voice had a detached quality that worried him.

  “How is Danette?”

  “They drilled into her skull to relieve the pressure on her brain, but it didn’t go well. Her body is shutting down.”

  “Are you at the hospital now?”

  “No. Her mother’s there, and I had work this afternoon. A few days from now, they’ll ask Maggie to pull the plug and donate her viable organs.” Kera was a nurse who’d once volunteered with Doctors Without Borders. She’d experienced field trauma and knew what to expect.

  “I’m so sorry.” Jackson paused, trying to find the right words. He wanted to make an offer, but not go too far. “Will you adopt Micah?”

  “Yes.”

  “When all this has settled down, we need to talk about our future.” The sound of a car made him look up. A small SUV with a woman driving.

  Kera hesitated. “I’m glad to hear we have a future. But I think you’re still on the fence, and I worry that I don’t have your full affection.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I mean. I saw Evans this morning.”

  That was weird. “Where?”

  “At the hospital. What’s important is that you make up your mind. We’re at a critical point.”

  “I know. I love you, but we have to talk about the kids.”

  The SUV pulled into the Chadwells’ driveway.

  “I have to go. I’ll call again later.” Jackson hung up. Did Kera think he had feelings for Evans? Did he have feelings for Evans? Of course he did. He loved her the way he loved Schak and Quince and McCray, his retired partner.

  Jackson slipped his phone into his pocket and watched a young woman climb out of the vehicle, carrying a paper bag. He didn’t want to startle her, but he also didn’t want her to get inside the house and ignore him.

  He climbed from his sedan and strode up the driveway. “Can I help with your groceries?” A hundred-watt smile. “I’m Detective Jackson, Eugene Police.” He reached for the bag, and she let him take it. Probably to free herself to run. “I called you yesterday about Andra Caiden. I’m trying to solve her murder, and I need your help.”

  Tears rolled down the pretty blonde’s face. He really knew how to make women unhappy.

  Jackson continued. “I’m sorry for your loss. Can we go inside and talk?”

  “My husband doesn’t allow men in the house when he’s not home.”

  “I’m a police officer.” Jackson reached for his badge.

  “So is he.” She gave him a rueful smile. “His job doesn’t build faith in humanity.”

  She had that right. “Can we sit in the backyard?”

  “Sure. I’ll take the groceries in and meet you out there.” She pointed at a side fence. “You can go through that gate.”

  As he headed around the house, he reflexively felt for his weapon. He didn’t hear any dogs, but that didn’t mean anything. He forced himself to relax. Shooting her dog wouldn’t inspire Christy to open up to him.

  He reached the patio area in their perfectly manicured yard and took a seat. A few minutes later, she came out with two glasses of iced lemonade and set them on the table. “Sorry to make you sit out here in the heat.”

  “I’m fine.” He normally didn’t drink anything strangers offered in an open container, but he was thirsty and she wasn’t really a suspect. Jackson downed half the glass, wondering why he never made lemonade.

  Christy stretched out on a chaise lounge, still dressed for office work in a black skirt and pink sweater. She pulled a tissue from her purse to wipe her eyes. “I can’t believe Andra’s dead. Yet, I’m not surprised.”

  “Who would want to kill her?”

  “You mean besides her father, her ex-fiancé, and the baby’s father?”

  He suppressed a groan. Why did it have to be so complicated? He needed to get the unlikely scenarios out of the way. “Why would her father want to kill her?”

  “She left the Mormon church.” Christy made a face. “But Mr. Caiden’s dead now, so he didn’t kill her.”

  “And the fiancé?”

  “Also Mormon and angry. He thought she cheated on him, so he dumped her. But Isaiah Bowen isn’t really violent. Besides, he’s engaged again.”

  That left the baby’s daddy. “Who’s Benjie’s father?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  He didn’t believe her. “What hospital was he born in?”

  “St. Mark’s. But Andra didn’t stay long after Benjie was born.”

  “When did you see her last?”

  “Three years ago. She stopped at my office with her newborn baby and said good-bye.” Christy took a drink of lemonade and mulled something over.

  He waited her out.

  “Andra said she had to disappear and couldn’t contact me ever again. I broke down and cried.” A sad smile. “I do that a lot.”

  Jackson squeezed his hands into fists, then released his tension. “You don’t know who she was dating? What about the ex-fiancé? Could it be his child?”

  “No. They’d been split up for a year, and she wasn’t seeing anyone. She said the baby was special and she planned to give it up for adoption.”

  He remembered the brand. “Was Andra ever a prostitute?”

  Christy sat up, aghast. “No! She was homeless and broke after Isaiah dumped her, but she would never do that.”

  “Did you know anything about the brand on her hip?”

  She pressed her lips together. “No, that’s just weird.” Christy leaned over to whisper. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but the day she left town, Andra told me she’d been a surrogate mother and had signed a contract. Then after the baby was born, she couldn’t give it up, so she took him and ran.”

  A surrogacy? How messy would it be to untangle the parental rights? “Any idea who the contract parents are? There’s a little boy who needs a family.”

  Christy shivered, even in the heat. “Andra was afraid of the father. That’s why she begged me to never tell anyone about the surrogacy and to never try to contact her.”

  Why would she be a surrogate for someone she was afraid of? “I need to talk to Andra’s family. Are they here in town?”

  Christy’s lips trembled. “Her parents died in a plane crash two years ago, and her brother is in Uganda doing missionary work.” She perked up. “But I think she has a grandmother in Oregon.”

  Not anymore. He didn’t want to tell her about Lucille, afraid she’d start crying again. “Did Andra ever file a restraining order against the father?”

  “Not that I know of.” Christy shook her head, tears dripping. “But she didn’t tell me anything the whole time she was pregnant. It hurt our friendship, and we didn’t see each other much.”

  “Give me your best guess about who the father is.”

  “I really don’t know. Maybe the police can help you. You should talk to my husband, Dan, at the department. He’s a sergeant in Internal Affairs.” She grabbed Jackson’s hand. “Do you think
the baby’s father killed her?”

  “It’s very possible. And if he did, I need to find him and bring him to justice.”

  “What about the little boy? Who has him? And what happens now?”

  “He’s safe.” Jackson instinctively held back the details. “He may end up in foster care.” He stood to leave. “What day was he born? I need to find his birth certificate.”

  Christy had to give it some thought. “August seventeenth, three years ago.”

  At least he had a starting point.

  CHAPTER 25

  Friday, September 6, 7:55 a.m.

  St. Mark’s Hospital was smaller than Jackson expected, giving him hope the administrators would be flexible and want to assist him. But he was soon disabused of that notion. The silver-haired administrator looked soft and matronly, but she was reluctant to reveal birth information without a subpoena. “I’d like to help you, but I can’t if you’re not a family member or guardian.” The expansive blue sky in the window behind her did little to soften her words.

  “The boy is in my care.”

  “Show me your court papers.”

  Jackson wasn’t giving up. “What if I was a parent who’d lost a birth certificate and needed a new one? How would I go about that?”

  “You’d fill out a form, pay a fee, and wait a month.”

  He didn’t have that long. “What if I was a parent, sitting right here, needing a birth certificate because I had to leave the country?”

  “But you’re not the child’s parent. You already told me that.”

  “Call the Oregon state office for Children and Family Services.” He remembered that he had Mariah Martin’s number in his phone. “Better yet, I’ve got the number of the boy’s caseworker.” He located it and handed her the phone. “This child needs a family. And I need to know who his father is. You don’t have to give me a copy of the certificate. I just need the information.”

  The administrator pressed her lips together and thought it over. “What’s the child’s name again?”

  “Benjie Caiden.” It was his best guess. Jackson gave her the date too.

  After a few clicks and a moment of staring at her monitor, she said, “The father’s name is John Doe.”

  Jackson clamped his jaws to keep from cursing.

  His next stop was the Salt Lake Police Department, oddly located in the middle of a residential neighborhood. Its parking area was somewhat empty except for a few white patrol cars. The woman at the front desk wore civilian clothes and probably wouldn’t be able to help him. Jackson introduced himself and showed his badge. “I need to talk to the sergeant or detective who handles custody dispute cases or parental kidnapping incidents.”

  She seemed stumped. “We don’t have a specific department for that.”

  New strategy. Christy had said he should talk to her husband if no one else could help him. “Is Sergeant Dan Chadwell in?”

  “I’ll check.”

  “Thanks. This is important.”

  The woman made a call and shared Jackson’s credentials. After a moment, she nodded, held her hand over the phone, and said, “What is this about? He only has a few minutes before a lunch meeting.”

  “A three-year-old boy and his dead mother. I called about this yesterday.”

  She relayed the information, then escorted Jackson down the hall. “I’m the one who took your call. I passed the information to the patrol sergeant, but apparently that wasn’t the right decision. I’m sorry.”

  “No problem. It’s a complex situation.”

  They stopped at a corner office. She knocked, then walked away.

  A man in an expensive suit opened the door and held out his hand. “Sergeant Dan Chadwell. But call me Dan.” Chadwell was shorter and heavier than Jackson and pale enough to look Icelandic.

  Jackson introduced himself as they shook hands, then took a seat, noting the private office. Chadwell had rank for someone in his thirties. “Thanks for your time. I’m not even sure you can help, but I have to try.”

  Chadwell sat too. “I know you talked to my wife about this last night, but I’d like you to recap for me.”

  Jackson wondered if the other man knew Andra. But first, he summarized the case, then added, “If I can find the father, I can probably solve her homicide. As a bonus, I might be able to locate an aunt or cousin who’ll take Benjie.”

  “Why do you think the boy’s father killed her?”

  “She had a threatening note from someone who thought she stole something. Plus, no other motivations have surfaced.”

  “I see why you’re here.” The sergeant cocked his head. “I met Andra a few times long ago, so I knew her name. And I would have noticed if she had been involved in any kind of domestic altercation.” He reached for his keyboard. “But I’ll search our database and see if we get a hit.”

  A few minutes later, he said, “She had a speeding ticket four years ago, but that’s it. No complaints filed.” Chadwell looked up from his monitor. “If anyone had accused her of kidnapping, I would know.”

  “Unless the father went to the FBI. Do they have an office here?”

  “Of course. I’ll call over there for you, but we would have heard about it.”

  The wait took a little longer this time, but the result was the same. “No kidnapping charges connected with either the mother or the child’s name.”

  The custody dispute between Andra and the father had been kept private. Apparently, their surrogacy contract had been too.

  Chadwell jumped up. “I have a lunch engagement. I’ll walk you out.”

  On the way, Jackson asked for assistance in locating his murder suspect. “I know it’s a long shot, but if you would keep this as a back burner project, I’d be grateful.”

  “I sure will.”

  As they stepped outside, a tall man with a buzz cut approached. Chadwell introduced him. “This is my friend, Carson Buckley, a retired police officer.”

  They shook hands. Buckley’s grip matched his size.

  “Andra Caiden was murdered, and Jackson is here to investigate,” Chadwell said. “I guess she moved to Oregon.”

  “You think the perp fled to Salt Lake?” Buckley asked. “We’re not exactly a haven for criminals.”

  “I think he’s from this area. He may even be the father of her child.” Jackson had to ask. “Did you know Andra?”

  “I met her once, but I didn’t know her.”

  Chadwell snapped his fingers. “What’s the name of the couple from church who took Andra into their home when she was pregnant?” He turned to his friend.

  “You mean Carl and Susan Wagner?”

  The surrogacy parents? A tingle shot up Jackson’s spine. He was closing in. “What can you tell me about them?” He grabbed his notepad and scribbled the names.

  “They’re friends of her mother’s. God rest her soul.” Dan Chadwell started down the steps and talked over his shoulder. “They’re good people. They risked the scorn of church members by taking in an unmarried pregnant girl.”

  “The Mormon church?” Jackson asked.

  Both men laughed. “It’s the only church around here.”

  “Please tell me how to find them.”

  “They’re probably in the phone book.”

  Jackson handed Chadwell a business card. “If you think of a family member, let me know.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Friday, September 6, 1:05 p.m.

  Evans called the Department of Motor Vehicles again and asked for Stacy Garrett. She was Jackson’s contact, and Evans had been trying to reach her all morning. This time, the woman came on the line. “Who is this? I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Detective Evans. I’m working a case with Jackson. He said to call, that you could help us.”

  “Why isn’t Jackson calling?” A little worry in her
voice.

  “He’s out of state, looking for a murder suspect.”

  “Huh. I didn’t know he ever traveled.”

  “It’s unusual.” Evans grew impatient. “What we need is a list of owners of light-blue Nissan pickups from 2002 through 2005.”

  “Statewide?” The clerk’s dismay was obvious.

  “No, just Lane County.” They might have to expand the search, but it made sense to start local.

  “That’s probably doable. But color information isn’t in the database, so your list of owners will be huge. And all you’ll get is a name and address, an address that might not be current.”

  “I understand. But we have to find this guy.”

  “You want male owners only?”

  Evans hesitated. It would make the list more manageable, but it could also eliminate the suspect’s car. Some people drove cars listed in their spouses’ or parents’ names. “No, I want them all.”

  “I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  Now what? She needed to show some initiative on Andra Caiden’s case while Jackson was gone. Without bank statements to peruse or coworkers to interview, the leads were hard to find. She hadn’t taken a close look at any of the physical evidence, so the crime lab was a good place to start. As she stood to leave, her phone rang.

  “This is Paula Grayson.”

  Logan’s mother. Evans had called her yesterday to give an update, but the woman hadn’t answered. “Did you listen to my message?”

  “I did. But I still don’t understand how a college senior could have a heart attack.” She sounded a little slurred, as if she were medicated. “Did you ask his coach about steroids?”

  “Yes, and I asked other players. They all denied it. We still have to wait for the state to analyze the blood sample.” Evans didn’t bring up the cocaine. It was still speculation.

  “Will you call me when you get the report?”

  “Of course.” She remembered Catalina had asked about his funeral. “Will there be a service here in Eugene?”