By His Own Hand

by Neal Griffin

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Owen waved off the sympathy and fell into a steady cadence. “We ended up at a little church in Chippewa Falls. That’s when I met Ezekiel Mills. He didn’t have one of those megachurches back then. Just, I don’t know, a normal-size, regular church, I guess.”

  Even though her mind was already racing, Tia was careful not to jump in or appear anxious. She felt pretty confident where Owen’s story was headed, but she knew it was his story to tell.

  “Right off, my mom thought he was, like, some kind of prophet. We started going to services three times a week. I still remember the first time he came over to our house. Just for a visit. You know? Like pastors do. My mom freaked out, cleaning and cooking. You would’ve thought the pope was coming.”

  Tia smiled but still kept quiet. Owen finally sat back in his chair. He took his hands out of his pockets and rubbed his palms nervously across his legs.

  “But don’t get me wrong. I thought he was pretty great, too. I mean, at first. I don’t know … he was just nice to me, right? He’d say hi at church. Talk to me about school. He was a great talker. And man, he could listen. He could make even a dumb kid feel pretty important. Couple of times we went out after Sunday services and got ice cream. Sometimes my sister would tag along but mostly it was just me and him. He hired me to cut the church lawn. Then I even started to cut his lawn. Paid me like twenty bucks a month and believe me, that was a fortune. After a while he started taking me to ball games. Taught me to fish.”

  Owen paused and Tia sensed this was it.

  “I was really into stargazing back then. Sometimes we’d, I mean, me and Mills, we’d lay on a blanket in his backyard and watch for shooting stars. Or we’d just call out different constellations by name. Hours at a time…”

  Owen stopped. When he picked up again his voice went from nostalgic to one of resignation. He swatted at the air with his hand as if shooing away the memory. “Anyway, that’s when it started. I was fourteen years old and I had a relationship with Ezekiel Mills.”

  “A relationship?”

  “Yeah.” Owen’s eyes never left hers. “A sexual relationship.”

  “Owen,” Tia spoke carefully, “fourteen-year-old boys don’t have sexual relationships with grown men. Fourteen-year-old boys are molested. They’re victimized.”

  “Yeah? Well, I let it happen so…” Owen shrugged his shoulders and looked up toward the ceiling. He pointed to the camera. “You sure that thing’s not on, right?”

  “It’s not on,” Tia said. “Owen, you didn’t let it happen. You were groomed. He picked you out because you were vulnerable.”

  Tia saw the glisten in his eyes and he smiled in a way that said he felt foolish. “I thought he loved me. I thought maybe I loved him. That maybe this was how I was supposed to show it. I mean, I was proud, you know? He could have chosen anyone but he chose me.”

  “You’re right,” Tia said. “He did choose you. Because he knew you were hurting. That your dad had left and that you were alone. To him, you were a mark.”

  Vickers looked up at the ceiling, then back at Tia. She saw the still-burning grief of a lost childhood in his eyes. She didn’t doubt a single word he’d said. “How long did this go on?”

  “About two years. Then it just … stopped. After that, he acted as if nothing had ever happened between us,” Owen said. “Barely spoke to me. I thought it was something I’d done, at first. But after a while, it was like I was coming out of some kind of trance, you know? It all came clear and I was just so … so ashamed. Embarrassed. Even angry, I guess, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell anyone. So, I just … I don’t know … went on with my life…”

  His voice trailed away and Tia tried to reassure him. “It’s not unusual for boys to respond that way. They internalize. At that age they hardly ever disclose.”

  “Yeah,” Owen said. “I can believe that.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “I’d always planned on going to college, but I barely made it through high school. A lot of alcohol. Drugs. Sex that I didn’t even want or understand. Men and women.”

  “I’m guessing at some point you did talk about it?”

  He gave her the slightest smile. “I met my wife. Man … I don’t think I would have survived much longer without her. One night, I told her everything. All of it. It was like scrubbing away some nasty oil that had been on my skin for years.”

  Owen put his elbows against the metal desk and crossed his arms. “After we got married, we had a son. I was twenty-one years old. It had been years but I couldn’t look at my boy without remembering what it felt like to be that alone. To be so desperate for someone to care about me that I would do those things. I wondered how I could have been so gullible.”

  Tia fought to maintain some level of professionalism, but she felt like she’d never had a more intimate conversation. She resisted the temptation to reach out to him.

  “I felt like I had let Mills get away with it. I couldn’t keep quiet any longer.” He looked up and Tia saw his relief that the worst of the story was over. His voice went clear and matter-of-fact. “So I went to the police.”

  “That’s the police report?”

  “Yeah, eight years ago. By then it’d been almost seven years since we’d … well, since it had ended. I thought maybe too much time had passed, but the police said I could still press charges. So I told them I wanted to. I didn’t want it to be happening to other boys.”

  “So was there an investigation?”

  “If you want to call it that. After I gave them my statement, they asked me to call him on the phone. Get him to talk about what happened between us.” Owen nodded his head toward the wall. “That was in a room almost exactly like this one.”

  Tia nodded. “It’s called a pretext. A controlled phone call. Pretty standard tactic. What happened?”

  “I did what they told me to. I confronted him. I asked him why he’d done all those things to me. He acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about. Within a couple of minutes he hung up.”

  Owen took a deep breath before going on. “The next day, he went to the police department with a lawyer and told them about the phone call. Said he was worried that I was having some sort of breakdown. That I was unstable. ’Course he denied everything.”

  “Pretty slick move on his part,” Tia said. “He probably figured out it was a setup call, so he turned the tables on the cops. Walked right into the PD and played it off.”

  “Tell me about it. The next thing I knew they were investigating me. Wanted to know what I had against Mills. Why I was trying to ruin his life by making things up. They threatened to arrest me. I ended up having to get a lawyer. In the end, he backed off; the cops did, too. I just wanted to forget the whole thing. All of it. That’s when my wife and I moved to Rice Lake.”

  Owen paused and when he spoke again his voice was tired, as if he’d lived the whole nightmare all over again. “A few years later I heard that Mills had moved away. I kind of wondered about that, but to be honest, I didn’t even care. I just wished I’d never said anything.”

  “I can understand that.”

  They sat in silence for a minute or two.

  “I’m not sure what any of that has to do with a murder case, but…” He shrugged. “That’s what happened.”

  “Well, like I said, Owen, sometimes the pieces just start to fall into place.”

  “All right, then. If it helps, fine. Let me know what else you need me to do. I’ll deal with the fallout.” He smiled. “Our house is rented, but he can sue me for my ten-year-old Hyundai.”

  The room went quiet and Tia watched as the smile slowly left his face. His chin quivered slightly at first then almost convulsively. He took off his glasses and tossed them down on the desk. He covered both his eyes and lowered his head. His shoulders began to shake and Tia sat still while Owen Vickers sobbed and sobbed. From past experiences in similar situations, Tia knew it would likely be several minutes before he com
posed himself and he could use some time alone. She leaned forward and touched him lightly on the knee.

  “Take your time, Mr. Vickers. I’m going to step outside, okay? Give you a little privacy.”

  “Why?” She heard fear in his voice. Near panic. “What are you going to do? Are you going to call someone? Him? Are you going to call him? Is that camera still off?”

  “Mr. Vickers.” Tia set her hand on his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “Owen, trust me. I’m not going to call anyone and yes, the camera is off. And just so you know? I believe every word of what you said. Every single word.”

  Their eyes met and his anguish seemed to lighten. Tia stood and walked out the door.

  Once in the hallway she strode quickly to the administrative offices which, as expected, were dark and empty. Stepping into the Chief’s office, she clicked on the light, then picked up his trash can. Yes! Tia pumped her fist. The city’s cut back to once a week janitorial services had paid off. Carefully extracting the juice can, she gently shook it and felt a little liquid sloshing around in the bottom.

  More than enough, she thought. More than enough.

  FORTY-FIVE

  “Hey, Tia, wake up. We’re here.”

  Tia sat up, initially disoriented. She’d never actually ridden in the backseat of her GTO. When she saw Rich looking down over her, it took a few seconds to remember how she’d gotten there.

  Tia had called Travis at almost 3:00 A.M. and after an awkward apology for her walk-off, she filled him in on what Owen Vickers had reported. They both agreed, there was no getting around an interview of Reverend Ezekiel Mills. They also agreed it would rock Newberg to its foundation, and it might take what had been pretty ridiculous regional media coverage and turn it national. When Travis was hesitant, Tia pointed out the connections.

  “Think about Gosforth’s statement. He was being exploited by a couple of young con men. These little shits Kimo and Henry. They played on men for their sexual proclivities, right? Men with a lot to lose. Now we find out that Ezekiel Mills might have the same issues. He might be someone who ended up in a situation where he was being blackmailed.”

  “But is that really enough to haul him in? Question him about a homicide?”

  “When you think of what’s at stake? Yeah, it is.”

  Travis sounded tired and Tia pictured him still in bed. The man was supposed to be in California in two days. She was pretty sure at this point he just wanted to check out. Her emotions and exhaustion got the best of her.

  “Don’t worry about it, Travis. I’ll take the heat. You can just get on the plane. I got this.”

  That brought him fully awake. “That’s not what I’m saying, Tia. Can you just slow down for a minute?”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “You’re telling me that Ezekiel Mills went out into the woods at two o’clock in the morning and blew a kid’s face off. That we ought to bring him in and question him about a murder?”

  “I don’t know if he pulled the trigger, but yeah. He’s connected.” Tia’s head hurt and buzzed with fatigue. “Maybe he’s the shooter, or maybe not. I don’t know what to think, Travis, but we can’t ignore it. I mean, Mills has been cockblocking this investigation since day one. You were there when he admitted the hasty press conference was his idea. And the detective out of Chippewa Falls tells me it was Mills who leaked our interview with Gosforth to the press. Now with this Vickers thing? Come on, Travis.”

  “Can we at least give the Chief a heads-up first? Does he need to wake up and see it on the fricking news?”

  Tia knew he was right. There was no rush at this point. The man wasn’t exactly a flight risk and chances were he was still feeling pretty confident. Most importantly, Tia knew she needed to wait to interview Ezekiel Mills. She was pretty certain her best ammunition against him was still pending.

  Right after she’d escorted Owen Vickers to his car, Tia had booked the nearly empty beet juice can into the PD evidence room. She’d called Livy to brief her on the developments and Livy had promised to pick the evidence up first thing in the morning and hand deliver it to the DNA examiner at the DOJ lab in Madison. Livy said on a case of this magnitude they could get results in a matter of hours.

  The dregs of juice contained Ezekiel Mills’s saliva and therefore, his DNA profile. And when compared to the DNA lifted from the shotgun, Tia knew it would identify the killer. She was certain of that.

  “All right, Travis,” Tia said into the phone. “We’ll brief Ben beforehand. In the meantime, I’m going to head back up to Lincoln School. Pick up the files I ordered on Kimo and Henry.”

  Travis and Tia agreed to meet with the Chief at noon in his office to break the news. That’s when Tia called Rich and told him to get over to the station. When he started asking questions she repeated her orders and hung up the phone. He showed up ten minutes later and she was already asleep in her desk chair. He was wearing blue jeans and a Packers T-shirt. He had on black-framed glasses and there were sheet lines on his face.

  “What’s with the specs?” Tia asked.

  “I wear contacts. What’s going on?”

  “Now you really look like an egghead.” Tia held up the keys to the GTO. “We need to be in Irma in two hours. You’re driving. I’m sleeping. Do not wreck my car.”

  A wide grin broke over his face as he snatched the keys from her hand. “I can make it in an hour and a half.”

  Good to his word, Rich made the drive in a little over ninety minutes. He parked the car and they walked to the guard shack. Tia was surprised to see the same person on duty. He explained shifts were twelve on, twelve off, so the odds were always pretty good. Sure enough, the old man, Jake, showed up a few minutes later to escort them in.

  When they got to the admin building, Trisha Washington was just pouring her first cup of coffee. Tia explained what had developed, that Kimo might very well be involved in the murder of Henry Hayes. Tia thought it best to leave the rest of the details out. If the Ezekiel Mills connection somehow got out, there’d be no stopping it.

  “Well then,” Trisha said. “I’m sure you’re going to need those files. I’ve got the copies ready for you.”

  Trisha took Tia and Rich back to her cubicle, passing through a long hallway. Tia rubbed her face, doing her best to wipe away the fatigue. She looked off to the side and stopped in her tracks. What she saw brought her fully awake. She moved to a door located in the hallway for a closer look. She stood and peered through a thin, wire-mesh window into a classroom.

  “I’ll be damned,” Tia said, still staring into the classroom.

  “Hey, Tia?” Trisha said, stopping in the hallway. “You okay?”

  “That’s Sam Mills,” Tia said, then looked at Trisha. “That’s Sam Mills from Milwaukee, right?”

  Trisha came back and looked through the window. “Sam? Yeah. He’s been volunteering up here for a few months. Really helps out. Like I’ve told you, our staffing has been cut to the bone and having a volunteer who has a background in counseling helps. Why shouldn’t he though, right? Damn near seventy percent of everyone who comes through here is from Milwaukee. It’s hard to keep the boys from rival gangs separate.”

  Hearing herself, the woman laughed. “See? There I go. Calling them boys.”

  “What’s he do?” Tia looked in at Sam sitting in a circle of metal folding chairs, along with ten boys all dressed in tan jumpsuits and black sneakers.

  “You’re looking at it,” Trisha said. “He runs a discussion group. Mostly anger management, impulse control. The boys seem to like him. His class is strictly voluntary but he never has an empty room. Then again, they get easy points for being in his class and there’s no homework. All they have to do is talk. Goes toward time off for good behavior. You know him?”

  “Yeah,” Tia said, still looking through the window. “We had lunch. Showed me around his church and some project he’s working on.”

  “That transformation project?” Trisha asked.

  �
��That’s it. You’ve heard about it?”

  Trisha smiled. “That’s all Sam talks about. I have to say, I wish the state would throw some money his way. Sounds like he’s on to something. For that, I might give up my fancy office.

  “You want to say hi?” Trisha said, putting her hand on the door.

  Tia looked at Sam sitting in a chair, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him. He looked on intently as the young men in the group talked among themselves.

  “No. Not right now.”

  “I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

  “Actually, I’d rather you didn’t, but there is one more thing you can do for me.”

  FORTY-SIX

  They made it back in time for the noon briefing. Tia filled Travis in on the latest development and they both briefed the Chief. He was nearly floored by what he heard, but he gave Tia the go-ahead. She made the call. At precisely one o’clock Reverend Mills walked into the police department and Tia wasn’t at all surprised when he arrived alone. He wasn’t the sort to hide behind an attorney. If she had been talking to his father, she knew it would have been entirely different.

  “Hey, Sam. Thanks for agreeing to come in.” Tia walked up to where Sam had taken a seat in the small lobby. She was surprised when he stood to give her a warm hug. When he pulled away, he wore a genuine smile. “I was thinking of you today. I enjoyed our talk this week.”

  “Me, too, Sam.”

  “What’s up?”

  Tia walked Sam into the interview room that was connected to the lobby. It was a near-exact copy of the room she and Vickers had shared a few hours before, but it wasn’t located in the secure area of the building. It was easily accessed by anyone in the lobby area, including civilians. She shut the door and said, “By the way, I want you to know, this door doesn’t lock.”

  Sam cocked his head a bit and smiled as if perplexed. “Okay. Good to know, I guess.”

  “And,” Tia said. “I also want you to know, Sam, you’re free to leave anytime you want. You don’t have to talk to me and you don’t have to answer any questions.”