Over the past week the investigation team had listed 173 men who had been arrested for burglary, loitering and prowling, or knife assaults in the county within the past three years, who were not currently incarcerated. Kemp had put twenty men at the top of the list and sent detectives to talk to them. Mrs. Chastain's information narrowed the possibilities.
One of the men on the list was Kenneth Ray Clark, a twenty-two-year-old day laborer whose last known address was a trailer park off Cove Road, south of town. Two things grabbed Kemp's attention. First, Clark had been arrested three months previously for an attempted burglary of a residence a quarter mile from White Heron Way. Seeing police, he'd tossed a Baggie containing five grams of marijuana. Clark had bonded out on all charges, and the case was set for trial.
The more compelling fact was that on the booking form Clark had listed his employer as "JWM Co." Kemp showed his photograph at the River Pines construction trailer, where the supervisor told him that Clark and a friend of his, Glen Hopwood, had been let go about three months before for selling marijuana on the job.
In addition to the more recent charges, Clark's priors included a juvenile burglary, a couple of DUIs, a resisting without violence, and an arrest two years ago that Kemp noted with interest: an aggravated assault with a knife. Clark had been put on probation.
Mrs. Chastain was asked to wait while Kemp and his partner assembled a photo display. She picked out one of the six but wanted to see him in person to be absolutely sure.
"Stop. The Department of Justice has put out advisories, don't do this, but the police continue to do it. The photograph she ID'd was Kenny Ray Clark, no?"
"Of course."
"And the other five were a refrigerator, a fire hydrant, a nun, a cowboy, and a German shepherd. Then they brought him to the station on a pretext and put him in a lineup. None of the other five in the lineup was in the photo display. Of course she would pick him out."
"She said she was absolutely certain."
"Certainty does not mean accuracy. All right, go on."
Wednesday, February 15
Detective Kemp drove Mrs. Chastain to the sheriffs department headquarters the next morning and took her into a room where she could view six men through a two-way mirror. She pointed to number four. She had previously stated that the man she had seen was of medium height and weight with very long brown hair. This man's hair was only to his shoulders, and he was six feet tall. Nevertheless, Mrs. Chastain was certain that he was the one she had seen going behind the Dodsons' house. She was also sure of the time—five minutes past ten. She had been looking at the clock and worrying she might miss her flight.
"If she was looking at the clock, how in hell did she see a man fifty yards away across the street? Did the defense attorney bring this out at the trial?"
"No."
"Que idiota."
Kemp took Clark into an interview room, where Clark told him that on Monday a week ago he had been hanging drywall from eight in the morning till four in the afternoon at a new building going up in Fort Pierce, in the next county. When asked who could confirm this, Clark gave the name of the crew boss. Kemp asked Clark to wait while he checked it out by telephone.
Kemp had a feeling in his gut that Clark had been lying, and his spirits rose when the crew boss said that Clark had been laid off on February third. When Kemp came back into the interview room, Clark said he had mixed up his dates. He'd meant to say that on the morning of the murder he'd been at home till around ten o'clock, then had gone to see a friend of his, Lougie Jackson. Kemp tried to question him further, but Clark insisted on leaving.
Captain Bryce told Kemp not to make an arrest until they had more to go on.
Thursday, February 16
Another detective had good news. He had shown a photograph of Clark's blue Chevy truck to the fisherman who had been at the county park the morning of the murder. The man's original statement had mentioned a dark-colored truck with fender damage, make unknown. Clark's truck had a missing rear bumper, but the man was "pretty sure" it was the same vehicle.
The evening of February 16, Detectives Kemp and Federsen went to Clark's previous address, a trailer owned by his friend Glen Hopwood and wife Tina. Glen was in jail in Palm Beach County, unable to make bond on a felony drug charge. Tina was a nurse's assistant at a retirement home in Stuart. Kemp's report stated that Kenny Ray Clark had been living in the Hopwoods' spare bedroom, but on the morning of February 6, Tina Hopwood evicted him. Kemp wrote, "Hopwood stated she has no recollection of what time Clark left."
Friday, February 17
Kenny Ray Clark moved in with his girlfriend, Carol Malloy, who lived in Jensen Beach, in the northeast part of the county. They were in bed asleep at 6:30 a.m. when someone knocked loudly on the door. They ignored it. A second later a muffled voice shouted "Police!" A moment after that the door crashed open, and a SWAT team poured in. The woman kept screaming while Clark was put on the floor and handcuffed.
A search produced carpentry tools and a wood-handled hunting knife with a six-inch blade. Clark's pickup truck was towed to a police facility to be examined for trace evidence.
News cameras and reporters were waiting at the entrance to the county jail when the convoy arrived. They panned on the police car going by, catching a glimpse of a wiry, bare-chested young man in the backseat. He leaned forward as if to hide his face, and his hair swung over his eyes. The lens of the TV camera reflected back, distorted by the curve of the glass. These few seconds were played over and over again in slow motion on every broadcast.
At the press conference, Sheriff Carr, with Captain Garlan Bryce at his side, thanked Ron Kemp and the rest of the investigative team for their outstanding work. The sheriff announced, "We are confident that we have apprehended the killer of Amber Dodson."
CHAPTER 6
Saturday morning, March 10
"I don't know who that lady across the street thought I she saw, but I know one damn thing. It wasn't Kenny. No way."
Gail's digital recorder sat in the middle of the table among the plates and napkins and coffee cups. The waitress had brought breakfast, but no one was eating. They were at a booth in the back, away from the noise of the grill and the half dozen customers in the place. The diner was too run-down to attract much of a crowd.
Anthony sat to Gail's left, and she couldn't see his reaction to what Tina Hopwood had just said. So far Tina Hopwood hadn't said much. She seemed to be waiting for them to accuse her of some crime. She was thirty-four, but pale, smoke-damaged skin made her look older. Her hair was long and unnaturally black, an odd choice for eyes clear as seawater. Her T-shirt repeated the cartoon on the van in the parking lot: a smiling poodle in a footed bathtub, bubbles rising and popping over its head. CLIP 'N' DIP PET GROOMING.
Gail said, "At the trial, Dorothy Chastain said she saw Kenny at just past ten o'clock. You say he was with you. You would have testified for him, but the police pressured you not to. Is this correct?"
The strangely pale eyes flared with anger. "They threatened to have my probation revoked if I got on the stand. They said I was trying to protect a killer."
"What were you on probation for?"
"Writing bad checks." Tina Hopwood swung out an arm to pick up her coffee. "I paid back every last cent, over three thousand dollars in restitution. I worked a lot of overtime."
"Have you had any arrests or convictions since then?"
"One speeding ticket. I don't get into trouble. I have two boys, I own a house and a business. I groom pets for some of the finest people in the area." Pride sent a flush of color into her cheeks. Tina Hopwood locked eyes with Gail, then Anthony, daring them to criticize.
Anthony sent a warm smile across the table. "You have two boys? How old are they?"
He had promised to let Gail ask the questions, but she was glad he jumped in. A change of approach was needed. His voice conveyed intimacy, and laugh lines curved around his mouth. His chocolate-thrown eyes could make a nun swoon. Gail waited for Tina to say som
ething.
She was still hiding behind her coffee cup, but she raised a shoulder in a shrug. "Michael is sixteen; Jerrod is fourteen. They're good kids, and I love them to death. I divorced their father eight years ago, and I've been on my own ever since."
"Oh, but you have done very well. I have a teenage son myself. He says he wants a dog, but I don't know."
"He has to be responsible for it," she said. "He can't expect you to bathe and feed it. Dogs are like children, they need attention and love. But they give more than they get, unlike most two-legged creatures."
"Ah, yes. Very true."
Tina Hopwood smiled back at him.
Gail felt the little nudge on her thigh and started over in a more conversational tone. "Tina? Back in February of 1989, where were you working?"
"At a retirement home in Stuart called Bella Vista, basically mopping floors and emptying bed pans. I'd wanted to be a nurse, but I got pregnant in high school, and there went that idea."
"You married Glen Hopwood?"
"Yes, in 1985. We bought a double-wide south of town, near Cove Road. It had a leaky roof and bad plumbing, but Glen knew how to fix things. Glen usually worked at a marina his uncle owned in Port Salerno. It was close enough that he could walk whenever his car broke down, and it did a lot. Those were hard days."
"How did Kenny Ray Clark come into the picture?"
"We all went to Martin County High. The guys didn't hang out then, but they wound up working the same construction site. One day I get home and they're drinking beer out in the yard, and Glen tells me Kenny's going to be renting the spare room. Well, okay, Glen, thanks for asking. I think Kenny paid forty dollars a week."
"The police reports say that Kenny worked at River Pines, but was let go a few months before the murder. Amber Dodson worked in the office there. Did he ever mention her name?"
"No. At the trial they made it sound like he broke into her house because he knew her. He didn't. River Pines was a huge project, and if you worked construction, you were at River Pines. My ex-husband, Glen, was out there, and he got Kenny a job. They both got fired, though. Glen was selling weed to some of the guys, and the crew boss figured Kenny was in on it, since him and Glen hung out together. I never seen a man with worse luck than Kenny Clark."
"Did either of them ever mention the name of the owner, Whitney McGrath?"
"I never heard of him "
"All right. How long did Kenny live with you and Glen?"
"About a year and a half"
"Were you all using drugs? I'm sorry, but I need to know."
"Do you have to record this?"
Gail turned the machine off.
Tina Hopwood broke the corner off a piece of toast. Her inky black hair framed her face. "It was recreational. That's what Glen and I had in common in high school, an appreciation for a good line of coke. After we got married, we were using when we could afford it, but mostly it was weed and beer. When I got pregnant with Jerrod, I cut way down, but Glen wouldn't. He started selling. He'd get stuff for the rich beach kids who didn't want their parents to catch them in East Stuart. Kenny didn't do drugs, but he would if Glen gave it to him. He looked up to Glen in a way. I think Kenny moved in with us so he could have a family. It wasn't great, but it was better than he grew up with. Do you know that he got beat so bad with the buckle end of a belt that he still has scars on his legs? His mother killed herself when he was fourteen. The newspapers called Kenny a career criminal, but most of the stuff he got into, it was from tagging along after somebody else—like my dear ex-husband."
"Where is Glen now?"
"In prison. He robbed a gas station. He won't get out for a long time. I wouldn't care except for my boys."
"May I turn this back on?"
"Sure."
"Tell me what happened the morning of the murder."
"Well, Kenny came home about four in the morning, waking the kids, banging into things. He'd been out partying, and he never could hold his liquor. He went in the bathroom and threw up. I got the kids back to sleep, but I was so mad I just laid there and boiled. Glen wasn't there at the time. He was in jail, I forget why. Kenny owed me rent money, but he'd give me these big puppy dog eyes. 'Oh, Tina, don't put me out, I don't have nowhere to go, I'll pay you Friday, I swear.' Then he lost his job. I was about to snap. That morning, I dropped the boys off at my mother's house and clocked in at work, but then I told my boss I had a family emergency, and drove back home."
"What time did you get home?"
"About nine-twenty. It only takes fifteen minutes when there's no traffic. Kenny was still asleep in his clothes and boots, dead to the world. I started putting all his stuff in plastic trash bags and carrying them out to his truck. He wouldn't wake up, so I threw some ice water on his neck, and he jumps up and starts yelling. I told him to get out. He begged me to let him stay, but I said forget it, buddy, I had enough of this shit. So he left and moved in with his girlfriend."
Exhaling a breath, Tina Hopwood looked at the ceiling. "I keep thinking, if I hadn't been in such a bad mood, if I'd stayed at work and not woke him up, none of this would've happened. Anyway, about ten days later these detectives from the sheriff's office knocked on the door. I'd just put the kids to bed and I was watching TV. They said they were investigating the murder of Amber Dodson, and they wanted to know about Kenny. I told them he moved out that same morning, the day she died. They asked me what time. I had to think about it for a while, then I go, ten o'clock. They say, are you sure! Yes, I'm sure, because I went straight back to work, and I got there right around ten-fifteen. Kemp did most of the talking. He said, that can't be right. We have proof he killed that girl. A neighbor saw him there at ten o'clock, so you're wrong. I said, I'm not wrong, she is."
"Do you remember the detectives' names?"
"Ronald Kemp and Tom Federsen."
"Okay. Go on."
"They left, but two hours later, they came back and asked me the same questions all over again. Kemp says, 'You're lying. You're trying to protect that piece of shit.' I said, 'No I'm not, you're the piece of shit.' He pushed me into a chair. He said, 'You're on probation for a felony. I could have your ass back in jail in two minutes, bitch.' I said, 'For what? And he goes, 'For possession of the drugs that we could find if we looked. Are you going to help that murdering slimewad or are you going to tell me the truth?' "
Tina Hopwood turned her seawater eyes toward the window. Her lashes were spiky black. "It's funny how your mind can make you believe whatever you need it to. I thought about my kids. What would happen if I went to jail. When Kenny's lawyer called me and wanted me to testify, I said no. I told him I thought Kenny was guilty, and I did think that. There was this thing that him and Glen got into one time that made me justify it to myself and say, well damn, he had it in him to kill that girl."
"What do you mean?"
It took her a while to reply. "It was on Fourth of July weekend, so it sort of sticks in my mind, you know? That Friday, Glen got home from work and told Kenny that this guy he knew wanted him to chase some Mexican squatters out of a shack in an orange grove, and bring a friend. They'd split a hundred dollars. I said,'Glen, don't do that,' but he went anyway. They were gone almost all night. I woke up when Glen opened the door to our room to get some clothes. He was all covered with mud, and I said, 'Glen, my God, what happened?' He told me, 'Nothing, go to sleep.' He took a shower, and then I went out in the living room, and they were drinking a bottle of Black Jack and smoking a joint. I said, 'What did you all do? Tell me right now.' He says, "Tina, shut up or I'll shut your mouth for you.' And Kenny just sat there and wouldn't look at me.
"I knew they'd done something terrible, and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kenny Ray started drinking real heavy and missing a lot of work. Later on, when the cops told me Kenny murdered that woman, it was in my mind that he could have done it."
"Who were the Mexicans? Migrant workers, do you think?"
"I guess. We never talked about it again."
"Tell me what made you decide to help Kenny after so many years."
"It started because of my younger boy, Jerrod. Over Christmas break he was staying the weekend with a friend. They had this brilliant idea. Hey, let's go throw rocks at cows. Don't ask me why they thought that would be fun, but they did. So they went out to a pasture and climbed through the barbed wire. The owner must've seen them, because a sheriff’s deputy showed up. He pulled out his gun and told them to lie on the ground. He called for backup, and they made the boys turn out their pockets and take off their shoes. They didn't find anything, but they arrested them for criminal trespass. It was real late that night before they called me, and when I saw Jerrod, he was so scared and mad, madder than I'd ever seen him. I said, honey, I understand, because I did understand. We had a long talk, and I told him about the past. Not everything, but a lot. I told him, ‘I am so blessed to have you and Michael. So blessed.'
"I hadn't thought about Kenny in a long time. He was in prison, Glen was in prison, and I was getting on just fine, my new business and all. You get out of a bad place, you don't want to go back there. But when I was talking to Jerrod, this light went on. I remembered how they treated me, what Kemp said. How he made me feel like a criminal. Scared and dirty. He made me think I was wrong, but I wasn't. Kenny didn't leave my place any earlier than ten o'clock, and even if he did, he was so hung over, he wouldn't have gone out looking for a house to rob. It doesn't make sense. Kenny wouldn't hurt anybody, not like that. He made some mistakes when he was young, but he's not bad. He's not."
The sunlight had shifted its angle on the table. The digital numbers moved silently in the display. Gail looked at Tina Hopwood. "Is there anything else you want to add?"
She wiped her eyes on a napkin and shook her head.
Gail turned off the recorder. "I'll send you a draft of the affidavit. If you have any changes, let me know."
Suspicion of Vengeance Page 7
