Driven Be Jack_A Jack Nolan Novel

by Robert Tarrant

  PJ's neutral but direct tone returned as she asked, "So Doctor, what happened to Amanda in the past twenty-two hours that caused such a dramatic change in attitude?"

  He looked down at his desk and in a voice barely above a whisper said, "Her ex-husband was here last night."

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Dr. Burns' words sent me into a mental rage. How the hell could that happen? He doesn't see her for years and now . . . now! Why the hell was he let in to see her? I could feel myself almost bouncing in my chair. I wanted to reach across the desk and choke the little wimp, wire rim glasses and all. Fortunately for the investigation, his words seemed to have the opposite effect on PJ. Her mind seemed to go into a mode of laser focus, totally devoid of emotion.

  We spent forty-five minutes with Dr. Burns learning the entire story and talking about a potential way forward with Amanda. Dr. Burns was obviously embarrassed that Butch had gained access to Amanda, so it took gently coaxing from PJ for us to get the entire story. Butch had shown up at 7:00 p.m. and given a story to one of the nurses on duty that Amanda had called him and asked him to visit her. The nurse was an evening nurse, so she hadn't been on duty when we visited Amanda, but she had been briefed that Amanda had made significant positive strides on that day and everything was to be done to continue her progress. The nurse, being totally unfamiliar with Butch or their marital status, had attempted to reach Dr. Burns to confirm Butch's story, but Dr. Burns was in a group session providing support for returning war veterans and unavailable. Butch was insistent that it was important that he honor Amanda's request to see him to continue her progress and intimated that she might suffer a setback if he wasn't allowed to, and so the nurse relented. He spent thirty minutes with Amanda and this morning the few words she uttered were that she didn't want to see us, ever again. Otherwise, she had totally retreated back into her shell.

  While I was totally focused on my analysis of 'how in the hell could this happen,' PJ seemed to dismiss it as quickly as she pulled the story from Dr. Burns. She immediately switched to discussing what the doctor could do to gently persuade Amanda to again talk with us. Unfortunately, having no idea what Butch had used to intimidate Amanda, we could only speculate on strategy to counter it. Dr. Burns assured us that he would begin immediately trying to gently nudge Amanda back toward accepting a meeting with us. There was a sincerity in his voice that left little doubt that he would do everything in his power. We were fighting to save Freeman Robinson's life, but he was fighting to save Amanda's.

  Our walk out to the car was in silence. I felt as if the wind had been knocked totally out of me and it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other. PJ seemed to be in some zone that could only be reached through her thousand-yard stare. We got into the car and as she closed her door PJ screamed, literally screamed, "That stupid bimbo, how the hell could she do something like that. Let him in like that. Stupid . . . stupid . . . stupid." The steering wheel was taking a pretty good beating from her notebook.

  I was relieved to see that she was not totally devoid of emotion, but was afraid once she had destroyed the steering wheel she might turn on me, so I attempted to lighted the moment. "You don't really know that she's a bimbo. Maybe she's not even good looking. I think you need to be good looking to actually qualify as a bimbo." My joke brought a felonious glare, so I held my hands out palms up and added, "Just saying."

  That brought a long exhale and a short chuckle from PJ, followed by, "Okay. I've blown off my steam. Now let's get back to work."

  I said, "I'm all for that, but I have to tell you I'm clueless about where we go next."

  PJ backed the car out of the parking spot and started down the drive. "Well, ultimately our travels will take us to Butch Bennett, but we need to do a couple of other things first."

  I scratched my head, "Okay, but what are we going to do when we see Butch Bennett?"

  She accelerated onto the roadway. "I was thinking castration. Castration with a rusty knife." Without conscious thought my hands dropped into my lap.

  As we drove we discussed PJ's actual strategy. How the woman had time to analyze what we had learned and formulate a strategy while we were walking from Dr. Burns' office to the car was beyond me. She said that the only people outside of Greenhaven who knew of our visits to Amanda were Chief Davies and Senator Palmer. She said that the timing was just too coincidental to not be Senator Palmer. What she wasn't certain of was whether Palmer would have called Davies and Davies called Butch, or Palmer called Butch direct. Either way, it was obvious we had touched a tender cord when we talked with Palmer. He had scrambled to block us from talking with Amanda. I was starting to feel that what I had originally chalked up as incompetence fueled by subtle racism was even more insidious.

  PJ said that with access to Amanda blocked we would need to push Butch hard and see what we could get him to spill. She explained her strategy. I told her I was very impressed, to which she replied, "This isn't my first rodeo, Buckaroo."

  When we drove up in front of the Pineywoods Police Department, PJ glanced at the marked car parked near the door and smiled. "Showtime."

  As we walked in the front door we heard the chief's deep voice say "All right, all right. Listen, I've got a walk-in, so I've got to run. Talk soon." The sound of a phone being cradled was followed by his office door opening. He stopped short, "Oh, it's you two. Surprised to see you two back again." He stood in his office doorway, making no effort to approach us.

  PJ strode through the small gate in the front counter as if she owned the place. I followed in her wake. She didn't hesitate the slightest as she brushed past the chief and entered his office. I waited until the surprise drained from his face and he turned to follow PJ before I followed. The chief joined PJ where she was seated at the round table in the corner. He still hadn't said another word.

  Once we were all seated, PJ fixed the chief in her gaze and said, "We've had a significant development in the Jessica Parry case and we wanted to give you the courtesy of telling you before everything becomes public. Obviously, this will bring considerable media attention, what with an innocent man within days of death in Raiford. So we thought it important to give you a heads up. Give you the opportunity to do whatever you can to protect the reputation of your department."

  You shouldn't play poker with this woman, at least Chief Davies shouldn't. Card players say everyone has a tell, Chief Davies has a multitude. He masked his micro-expression of terror quickly, but it had been there. His voice cracked just a touch as he asked, "What do you think you've found?"

  PJ didn't miss a beat as she replied, "Oh Chief, you know we can't release details at this point. Those will come from official sources. We're just private investigators, remember. No, the details will come from the state guys, unless the feds trump them."

  "Feds?" He was incredulous.

  She nodded and said, "Yeah something about civil rights. You know, acting under the color of law. That kind of crap." Then she shook her head, "But to think of it, that probably won't come until later. The feds and all. Once the state is done with sorting out things, the feds will probably decide how hard they want to come down on everyone here."

  "But, but, I didn't do anything wrong. I went by the book. I investigated and presented what I found to the prosecutor. If there was anything done wrong it was there. The prosecutor. Palmer."

  At his comment about doing everything by the book PJ dipped her head and raised her eyebrows. I swear just her look caused Davies to flinch. She replied, "Oh, based on the comments I heard, I think the feds will find plenty of blame to go around."

  His face was reddening more and more by the second. I couldn't tell if he was going to reach across the table and throttle PJ's throat or burst into tears. He bellowed, "You can't just come in here telling me these things and not give me the details."

  PJ sat back in her chair as if slapped. As she started standing she said firmly, "Oh, I guess we made a mistake coming here at all. I thought it was a professional cou
rtesy I would want if I was in your spot, but obviously I was wrong."

  As we were going out the door to his office Davies was yelling, "You have to tell me what you found," but he hadn't budged from the chair at the table.

  We were in the car and a block away before either of us spoke. PJ looked over at me and smiled, "Well, I think that went rather well."

  I scoffed and muttered, "Sure hope he doesn't send his friend in the black pickup after us."

  PJ's expression turned serious, "Oh, just the opposite, Jack. He believes we've found something and that we've already gone to the state with it. He also knows that he looks bad enough in this whole mess already. Last thing he needs is to have something happen to us. He'd be number one suspect and the state and the feds would be all over him." I nodded agreement, but inside I wasn't so convinced. Davies certainly had seemed scared when we left and her theory was based on his reacting rationally. Of that, I wasn't totally confident.

  Part two of PJ's strategy required that we wait at least an hour before making our next visit. We drove down to the small park we'd seen on our first visit to town and parked looking out past the boat launch onto the confluence of the two rivers that bordered the town. PJ looked over at me and said, "Hey Jack, you okay? You look a little pale."

  I opened one of the bottles of water Madeline had insisted we take with us as we left this morning and took a swig. Really wished it was Landshark. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just not used to this cloak and dagger stuff. Especially, when it's cops we're scamming."

  PJ opened the second bottle and took her own drink. "We're not really scamming him, we just exaggerated a little. We have discovered some things in our investigation. They just don't add up to anything significant yet and we haven't gone to the state guys yet. Otherwise, everything we said was true." The dimples were back again. "Well, sorta true."

  "What about the stuff about the feds and a civil rights investigation?"

  "Oh that. That comes under the heading of speculation. Speculation on my part. How could I possibly know what the feds would do or not do? A sharp investigator like Chief Davies knows you can't put stock in speculation."

  I asked, "What did you make of his reaction? He seemed to get mad instantly. He never questioned the fact that we couldn't have found anything so dramatic as you were portraying. He just accepted it and was mad, either because you wouldn't tell him what we found or because we found it in the first place. Seemed like an overreaction to me."

  "He knows he did a lousy investigation and that the prosecution was a railroad. He doesn't know what information is out there, but he knows that there is likely a lot to show how poor his investigation was. That's why he's so mad. The investigation was nothing more than a house of cards and he sees it falling down around him. He's been worrying about this day for ten years."

  We fell quiet for a few minutes as we watched a couple of guys launch a shallow draft fishing boat with an attached outboard motor the size of a Mini Cooper. After throwing a couple of fishing rods into the boat they carried two cases of beer to the dock and loaded them into a cooler while the boat sat idling like a fighter jet waiting to be launched from an aircraft carrier. Minutes later they were roaring down the previously peaceful river. Maybe it was the beer distributors who lobbied to have this park built.

  PJ reached into her satchel and pulled out a couple of energy bars. Handing one to me she said, "I've started carrying these to tide us over when we visit around here."

  I opened mine and replied, "Yeah, we can't expect Windy to procure food for us every time we get hungry." We munched on the bars and watched the sloshing river gradually return to it's tranquil flow. I caught myself constantly looking around the park, half expecting to see the black pickup. I asked, "Do you really think that Senator Palmer called Chief Davies and he in turn called Butch?"

  "When we left Greenhaven I wasn't sure. Felt it was a strong possibility, but after Davies' reaction I'm not so sure."

  "What do you mean?"

  "If Davies was in the loop I think he would have pushed back on us. He would have known that Butch had visited Amanda and that she wasn't talking to us again. He would probably know what little she had told us, I'm sure Butch got that out of her, so he would have known that we were bluffing. No, we had told him about our first meeting with Amanda last week, so I think he believes we've uncovered something additional, something unrelated to that meeting. And I don't think he even knows we met with her yesterday."

  "So you think Palmer called Butch and told him?"

  PJ nodded and replied, "Only way I can see Butch knowing so fast. And we laid it on pretty heavy with Palmer, so he thought we were really going to get something out of Amanda."

  "So that means Palmer thinks Amanda knows something that could have a dramatic impact on Robinson's conviction?"

  "That would be my guess." With that PJ started the car and said, "Shall we pay a little visit to Butch Bennett."

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  It was after 1:00 p.m. when we pulled into the Bennett driveway. We joked that we should bet on whether Butch was up yet, but neither of us wanted to take yes. The old Dodge pickup was in the same spot it was when we last visited, but the hood was up this time. As we walked toward the house PJ pointed at a pair of legs clad in dirty jeans sticking out from under the truck. She turned toward the legs and said, "Mr. Bennett?"

  "Who the hell is it?" was the grumbled response from under the truck.

  "Patty Johnson and Jack Nolan. We spoke to you last week about your daughter, Jessica."

  After a significant effort, Butch Bennett was able to extricate himself from under the truck. He had a large wrench in his hand. I noticed PJ take a subtle step to one side separating us and leaving the three of us standing in a triangle formation. He could only swing the wrench at one of us at a time and it was no doubt her plan that the other was to neutralize him. She might be carrying a pistol somewhere on that little body of hers, but my weapon was going to need to be a bear hug.

  Bennett was wearing a dingy wife beater to complete his ensemble of dirty jeans and worn flip flops. I thought about telling him the the shirt didn't really enhance his physique, but decided it might distract him from the purpose of our visit. He was nearly clean shaven and his hair looked recently washed. My guess was that he had done a makeover before visiting Greenhaven last evening.

  Bennett jerked open the door of the pickup and grabbed a pack of cigarettes sitting on the dash. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. He still hadn't said a word, other than his warm and friendly inquiry when we arrived. I decided to break the ice with some guy talk. "What's wrong with the truck?"

  His beady eyes threw lasers at me, "What, you a mechanic now? Thought you were investigators?"

  PJ's cop voice, "Yes, we are investigators and we have been investigating the death of your daughter. There have been some developments." She let the words hang in the heavy afternoon air.

  Bennett pushed himself up onto the seat of the pickup, tossing the wrench into a pile of other tools laying in the dirt. Sitting on the end of the seat in the truck, which like most in the area was jacked-up with oversized tires, he glared down at us as he asked, "So, what brings you out to see me?" His glare morphed into more of a leer as his eyes roamed up and down PJ several times.

  She never blinked as she stared back at him and said, "We've talked to a number of people, including your ex-wife Amanda, and they paint a pretty clear picture of things around here at the time Jessica disappeared." With that she casually waved her hand in a circular motion pointing at the yard and house.

  He took a long drag on his cigarette and with a smirk asked, "Oh really, and what did my crazy ex-wife say anyway?"

  PJ took a step forward, now herself glaring. "Amanda described a drunken abusive husband and father. That sound like anyone you know?"

  A red hue coursed up his scrawny neck. "Like hell she did. She didn't say any such thing. That's bullshit." He seemed to regain some control as he continued, "I don't bel
ieve she said any such thing to you. I don't think she even talked to you."

  Now it was PJ's turn to smirk. "Oh she talked to us alright," she made a show of looking at her wristwatch, "and by about now she is no doubt talking to the state investigators. You see Butch, Amanda is not the first witness I ever dealt with who had been intimidated. Oh, your little visit last night did necessitate some extra effort on our part this morning, but certainly nothing we have not experienced before. Of course, we did have assistance helping Amanda through the fear you instilled in her with your threats, Dr. Burns was very helpful. By the way, he really dislikes you, just in case you ever wondered. Actually, your little visit was exactly what Dr. Burns needed to demonstrate to Amanda the tactics you had employed to keep her, and Jessica, under your thumb all of those years."

  Butch barked, "Bullshit. It's all bullshit."

  PJ held up her hand in a stop sign, "No Mr. Bennett, it's not. You see there is a fine line between fear and hate. Amanda no longer fears you, she now hates you. You made the mistake so many bullies make, you pushed too far. Once the oppressed people cross the line from fear to hate, the oppressor looses all control. You've lost control of Amanda and now everything she's kept bottled up for so long is pouring out."

  He threw his cigarette in the dirt at my feet. "Bullshit. If that was true, you wouldn't be here, the cops would be here." He was already lighting another cigarette.

  "Oh, the cops will be here soon enough. The difference between their visit and ours is that we're going to leave you here, they're not, they're going to take you with them."