by Neal Griffin
At the hospital in Madison, Tia and Rich learned that Kevin “Kimo” Moore was in intensive care and under the guard of Sun Prairie PD. Outside the room, the officer guarding the door introduced himself as Donnie Trevino. Tia immediately picked up on Donnie’s distinctive accent, a blend of big city wise guy and Canadian hockey player. Donnie said he hailed from the Cicero neighborhood of Chicago up until four years ago, when he hired on with Sun Prairie PD. Tia noticed his tumbled-dry uniform was tight across the middle, where he carried an extra twenty pounds. His duty belt hung low on his hips and instead of the collapsible-style baton that most cops had been carrying for over twenty years, Donnie sported a solid-ash twenty-four-inch nightstick with a leather strap. But she made him to be a good guy, confirmed when he began to offer his apologies for the damage done to her wanted subject.
“We went to contact him at the dealership like you asked. Took two units, covered the front and back.” Tia picked up on the fact that Trevino was a bit embarrassed by how things had gone down. He launched into his story.
“I wasn’t the contacting unit, all right? I was just outside, standing next to the garage bay, ya know? Watching the back when he just, like … flew out.” An animated speaker, Trevino spread his arms and lunged a bit to demonstrate his point. “I mean, he was ten feet in the air when he passed by me. By the time I realized what the hell just happened, he had twenty yards on me. I took out after him and I gotta tell ya, and I’m not lying, I was closing. I woulda caught his ass; swear to God I woulda.”
“Where did he take off to?” Tia asked, already enjoying the story and the enthusiasm with which it was being told.
“Son of a bitch, I mean, I’m just watching all this happen, right?” Trevino ramped the pace up even more. “I’m watching while he runs his dumb ass right out into the middle of the One fifty-one and, boom!” Trevino banged his fist hard against his palm, then put both hands out in front as if to signify the obvious end to the story. “Smacked by a Prius doing about sixty.”
“How bad is he?” Tia asked, laughing.
“Scrambled up his brainpan pretty good, but I don’t figure he’ll notice much difference. Worse thing is a busted femur, and I’m talking like bone-poking-out, mangled-as-hell busted.” Trevino smiled as if to say the injury was well deserved.
“I gotta tell ya, this guy,” Donnie hooked a thumb toward the door of the hospital room, “he’s all stretched out on the hood of this little bullet car when I come running up. Dog-ass tired, right? I mean, I ain’t run like that since the academy. I see his leg is … well, it ain’t where it’s supposed to be, that’s for sure. He looks to his right, all bleary-eyed, half-conscious, says, ‘Ohhh … whose foot is that?’ I was so pissed by then I gave it a good cuff with the back of my hand and said, ‘Yours, you stupid motherfucker.’ Pretty sure that’s when he passed out from the pain.”
“Damn, Donnie…” Tia laughed. “But he’s going to live, right?”
“You kiddin’ me?” Trevino blew it off. “You know how it is with crooks, sons of bitches got more lives than … Hell, if I got clipped by that golf cart of a car going half as fast? They’d already be raising a glass. Lining up the bagpipes and planning my funeral.”
A few more questions assured Tia that no officers had been hurt, the only cop injury being to Trevino’s pride. They laughed it off together, Tia telling him not to worry—he’d be drinking free beer for a while with that story. After thanking Trevino for the briefing, she and Rich went into Kimo’s room.
Sure enough, Kimo’s right leg was in an air cast that went from ankle to hip bone. Even with the bubble wrap, Tia could see a jagged section of bone jutting through the torn flesh of his thigh. It was the kind of break that meant several surgeries, months of bed rest, and years of rehab. All paid for by Wisconsin’s taxpayers. Even at his age, Kimo would be lucky to ever walk without a limp.
Kimo’s head was wrapped in white gauze that was moist and stained brick red across the forehead. His eyes were shut and Tia had to fight the urge to do like Trevino and smack him on the leg to wake him up.
“Not so full of spunk now, is he?” Rich sounded like he was enjoying the view.
An IV bag full of a clear liquid hung from above the bed, dripping steadily into Kimo’s arm. He was breathing on his own and his eyelids were fluttering.
Tia looked around and saw a tall chrome stool on wheels, probably used by the medical personnel. She wheeled it in close to Kimo’s bedside and took a seat. She leaned down next to his ear. “Open your eyes, dumb ass.”
His face twitched and Tia was certain he’d heard her.
“I swear, Kimo, I will grab that leg bone of yours and use it like a Nintendo joystick if you don’t open your damn eyes.” Kimo’s eyes half opened. “See? There you go. You’re practically ready to walk out of here.”
“I ain’t talking to you,” Kimo said in the lazy cadence of someone feeling the effect of opiates. “You tryin’ to put a killin’ on me.”
Tia ignored the obvious invocation of his right to silence. She looked Kimo up and down. “Heard you took a nasty spill.”
“I said, I ain’t talking.”
“You might want to reconsider. Things have changed quite a bit since we got together. I can put you in the woods with a gun and a dead body. You sure you don’t want to clear up some of the details?”
She saw recognition cross his face. “That’s right, Kimo. We talked to some folks. We can put you at the scene, with the murder weapon. In the high lexicon of the legal world, that’s what we cops technically refer to as being fucked.
“As in,” Tia leaned in a little closer with each word, “You. Are. Fucked.”
When Kimo shook his head, Tia went on, “We talked to Gosforth. We know you and Henry were extorting him.”
“Say what?”
“Extorting him. You know what that is, Kimo?”
Kimo shook his head in slow motion. “I just know Henry sucked his dick and we was cashing in, like anybody would.”
“Exactly,” Tia said. “That’s extortion, dumb ass. Did you put Henry up to that?”
“Put him up to it? Shit … Henry didn’t need no encouragement.” When he looked at her, she could see that his pupils were nothing more than tiny black points. “You telling me you wouldn’t suck a dick for a thousand dollars? Hell yeah, you would.”
Tia scooted her stool in closer, making sure to knock up against Kimo’s leg. His howl was primal. The door to the room opened and Trevino stuck his head in.
“Everything okay in here?” he asked.
Rich moved to block Trevino’s view as he replied, “Yeah, we’re good.” Officer Trevino nodded and the door closed.
The redhead’s eyes were screwed shut but tears still managed to leak out. “Goddamn you…”
“This conversation ain’t about me, Kimo,” Tia said. “Don’t make that mistake again.”
“I’m just saying, Henry was down with it,” the injured man said, now staring at her, his face a mask of pain. “Whatever you call it. Ex-storing them dick-smokin’ fuckers. He worked ’em good. I was his partner. His cover man. I was in for forty percent. Why would I kill him?”
“So you’re saying this wasn’t a onetime deal?”
“Hell, no. Henry told me all about his scam when we was in Lincoln.”
“What scam?” Tia knew they were getting somewhere.
“Henry talked about always seeing those rich fuckers on TV. Rich old white dudes, always getting busted and shit because they couldn’t resist getting with a young’un. Politicians, football coaches. Schoolteachers. Henry said he’d get with one, film the shit, and tell ’em he was gonna put it all over the internet.
“He tol’ me he was making steady bank, but every once in a while someone’d get all feisty and shit. Said he needed him a partner. So when I got outta Lincoln, we started workin’ together.”
“So he set up Gosforth?”
“Schoolteacher?” Kimo nodded, drifting further under the influence of the narcotics. “Hell,
yeah. We did that one together. Shit went smooth, too. Had him on video. We was going to clean up on that old boy. String him along, hell … for years. I mean, what else was the motherfucker gonna do but pay up?”
“Henry set up the meeting for the payoff?”
Kimo didn’t respond so Tia asked again. He nodded loosely. The IV bag was nearly empty and Tia knew the drugs were really beginning to kick in. She hoped to get her next questions answered before he went under.
“You carried the gun, right?”
“That’s how we did it,” Kimo said. “Hell, man, why would I want to kill him? We was partners.”
“All right,” Tia said. “Who else was in the woods that night?”
“Yeah, there you go,” Kimo said. “Exactly.”
“What do you mean, ‘exactly’? Exactly what?”
“Who else … exactly.”
The door to the room opened again and she turned to see Officer Trevino waving his arms over his head like he was warning them of some disaster. A moment later a doctor filled the doorway, a look of exasperation and anger on his face.
“What in the world are you doing? This man is in no condition to be questioned. He is scheduled for a major surgical procedure in thirty minutes.” Tia held up her badge, ready to introduce herself, but the man kept talking. “I don’t care who you are or what crime you think is so important that you have to come in here and question my patient. I need you both to leave.”
Tia checked on her witness and saw that he was out. Frustrated, she knew that for the second time she’d been close to getting real answers from Kimo, a guy she pretty much figured as having all the answers. But once again, she’d have to wait. Still, Kimo wasn’t going anywhere. She nodded to Rich and they headed out the door.
FORTY-FOUR
The sun was beginning to settle below the horizon by the time they pulled back into the Newberg PD parking lot and drove past the line of media trucks—longer now that talk-radio and cable channels had joined the fray. All the pundits had their own opinions allowing for plenty of on-air antics, but in the end everyone agreed, the Newberg Police Department was out of control. To Tia, it all felt painfully familiar.
She dropped Rich at his car and told him to head home. Nothing else could be done until they got a clear shot at Kimo and, considering his medical condition and the attitude of his doctor, that could be days away. Further complicating the issue, once his mind was clear of the painkillers, a man of Kimo’s pedigree, Tia felt pretty certain, would stick by his right to counsel.
While she hadn’t gotten much from her reluctant witness, Kimo had confirmed that Henry was the textbook definition of an unsympathetic victim. The picture Kimo painted was of a first-rate con artist who preyed on the darkest secrets of vulnerable men. It was also pretty clear Gosforth had not been Henry’s only target. How many marks was he playing? Henry had turned sexual extortion into his own little cottage industry and there were still unidentified players involved. And Tia was certain, one of them killed Henry.
Giving the media trucks a wide berth, Tia headed for the back steps of the PD, realizing there was one issue hanging over her head. She wanted to see Travis, apologize for blowing him off in the Chief’s office. Tell him even though she was mad as hell he was leaving, that was only because she couldn’t imagine working for a better sergeant. Or finding a better friend. She put her head down and quickened her step to get inside.
“Excuse me, are you Detective Suarez?”
Tia turned to see a man standing on the grass near the back door, his hands jammed into the pockets of a light gray hoodie worn over a T-shirt and jeans. Her gut said television cameraman—at this point they all recognized her. She took a step in his direction.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Tia said. “You’re not supposed to be back here. What station are you with?”
“Excuse me, I’m not with—”
“Look, dude, you guys have been circling like vultures for going on three days. You know I’m not going to comment on anything.” Tia couldn’t keep herself from cracking wise. She shook her hands as if calling up evil spirits. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I got a secret investigation to work.”
Tia made it as far as the first step.
“My name is Owen Vickers.”
She spun around. “You’re Owen Vickers?”
“Yes, I am. Is there someplace we can talk?”
The nearby reporters were beginning to take notice.
“Yes. I mean absolutely. Come on inside.” Tia tried not to sound too anxious as she led the way into the building. “I’m embarrassed, Mr. Vickers. I apologize. I just figured you were with the herd out there.”
“I get it. Looks like you got a lot going on,” Vickers said, sounding reasonable and following her down the hallway.
Tia opened the door to the first-floor interview room. “Come on in. Have a seat.”
Vickers stood in the doorway, staring into the small, box-like room. The only furnishing was a metal desk, two stiff-back chairs, a wall clock, and a rotary phone. “Is this a recorded room?”
Tia smiled at the man’s savvy question. “Yeah, it is, but only if I hit the switch.”
“Then I want you to promise me you won’t.” Tia heard the nervous tremor in his voice.
“You got it, sir.” Tia pointed to a toggle switch partially concealed on the edge of the table. “There it is and I won’t touch it.”
“I’ve got your word on that?”
“You do. What are you worried about?”
“I’m not worried about anything. Just that I’ve been down that road with cops. Eight years ago. Took a long time to put it behind me.”
“I understand. Come on in.” She pointed out the camera in the joint of the wall and ceiling, repeating her assurance that it was turned off. Tia shut the door and took a seat. She gestured to the only other chair in the room. “Can I get you some coffee or anything? Soda?”
“My wife told me you came by our house.” He sat on the edge of the chair, back straight, his hands still buried in the front pockets of his hoodie. His dark hair was chopped short, with uneven bangs that looked like he’d cut it himself. His face was thin and pale, but behind the smudged lenses of his wire-frame glasses his blue eyes were clear and penetrating. Tia picked up on the hardscrabble life of an intelligent man.
“Yeah, I did. Me and my partner. You’d already gone to bed. She didn’t want to bother you.” Tia went for casual conversation. “You work nights, huh?”
Owen nodded his head but wanted to move things along. “She said you were asking about a police report, from Chippewa Falls.”
“That’s right.” Tia spoke casually, working to ease the man’s nerves. “She was nice, your wife.”
“How did you find out about it? The report, I mean. What’s it to you?”
Tia did a quick silent assessment and decided to skip the chitchat. The “softening up” approach wouldn’t work on this guy. The best way to deal with Owen Vickers was to be upfront and honest. Something told her that the cops he’d dealt with in the past hadn’t been.
“We’re investigating the death of a seventeen-year-old boy found in the woods. He was shot to death a mile or so from a campground that was occupied by a church group.” Tia watched for Owen’s reaction as she laid out the facts. “The group included Ezekiel Mills.”
Tia paused for a reaction but when Owen only stared back, she went on, “My partner and I were doing some background work. Routine stuff. Records checks on everyone who had been at the campground. That’s when I came across the report from Chippewa Falls. Your name was in it, along with Mills.”
“The boy was seventeen?” Tia heard what struck her as disbelief in his voice.
“Yeah. Indian kid. Name of Henry Tyler Hayes. Mean anything to you?
“No,” Owen said. “Nothing.”
“Initially we were thinking suicide, but turns out, he was murdered.”
“My God. I can’t believe…” Tia picked up on his mild shock before
Owen went on, “I can’t help you with any killings, Detective.”
“Well, like I told your wife, you just never know how the pieces are going to fall into place. Sometimes things seem completely unrelated, then you put them together and everything makes sense.”
“I really don’t know why I came down here. I didn’t even tell my wife. She doesn’t want me talking to you. She…” Owen’s voice sounded hopeless, then resigned. “Well. She just doesn’t really understand.”
“Doesn’t understand what?”
“What it’s like when no one believes you. When everyone thinks you’re a liar. As if I’d make up something like that. Sometimes I don’t even think she believes me.”
“Believes what, Owen? I’m not following you.”
Owen looked to the floor. “I’m not supposed to talk about it. It was all agreed to. They told me I could get sued for libel.”
But he wanted to talk about it, that much was clear. He didn’t drive over two hundred miles to Newberg for nothing. Tia knew she just needed to wait. He would bring himself around. The buzz from the second hand of the clock marked time and still she waited. He took a breath and looked directly at her when he spoke.
“When I was thirteen…” It sounded as though he pushed the words out but then he stopped and turned to stare at the door. Tia knew he was reconsidering. She wondered how she should react if he simply changed his mind and decided to leave.
“Owen?” She said and he looked back toward her. “When you were thirteen?”
He took a breath and dove in. “When I was thirteen, my parents split up. Actually, my dad just took off. Found out later he’d moved to Pittsburgh. A woman, I think. My mom, she was a wreck. There was no child support or alimony. Nothing. She got a job as a waitress working nights. It was pretty fucked up.” Owen stopped. “Sorry.”
Tia shook her head. “No worries. I agree. Sounds totally fucked up.”
“At some point she, my mom, that is, decided we all needed to go to church. She thought it would be good for us.”
“‘Us’? You and…”
“My sister. She was six. She died three years ago. Car wreck in Sioux Falls.”
