Leading the Witness

by Carsen Taite

  “We’ll see. I’m still not sure this was the right decision, but if it brings her back, I’m not going to argue with the result. Any movement at our favorite suspect’s house?”

  “No. You ready to roll?”

  “Absolutely.”

  They were almost there when Starr’s phone rang. She stared at the phone. The number on the screen was vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place it. Deciding to err on the side of caution, she answered. “Rio here.”

  “It’s Catherine Landauer. I need to see you. Right now.”

  Right. She’d given Catherine her cell during the Knoll trial, but Catherine had never used it, seeming to prefer email instead of calls or texts. “I’m on my way to an appointment. I don’t know if you saw the news conference, but we have a lead, and we need to follow up.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. I need to see you right now. Are you still at police headquarters?”

  Starr paused before answering. Catherine sounded out of breath and oddly panicked. “Are you okay?”

  “What? Of course. Can you just tell me where you are? It’s important or believe me I wouldn’t ask.”

  “I’m on the way somewhere. Can you just tell me what it is?”

  “No. What time will you be done with whatever it is you’re doing?”

  Catherine’s voice was infused with anxiety, and Starr wondered what the hell was going on. “I can meet you in an hour. How about Guero’s,” she said, naming the only place she could think of off the top of her head, knowing it would be familiar to Catherine.

  “Fine. I’ll be there.”

  Silence filled the line and Starr stared at the phone in disbelief.

  “Everything okay?” Pearson asked.

  “I guess so.” She shoved her phone into her pocket. “Do you know Catherine Landauer?”

  He chuckled. “Barracuda? Sure, I know her. You have a case with her?”

  “Had a trial with her a week ago, you know the one where she kicked Reese’s ass, and the defendant wound up pleading out to next to nothing. But she’s not calling about that case. She has some strange interest in this one.”

  “That so. What’s the deal?”

  “I don’t know, but she’s kind of obsessed about it. You have any reason to think she’s off balance in any way?”

  “Never struck me that way. Does seem strange though considering how she has a reputation for taking out law enforcement on the stand. Plus, she doesn’t take any cases involving child victims. Only criminal defense attorney I know of that doesn’t besides the ones with DWI-only practices.”

  Why did Catherine have an aversion to child abuse cases? Starr filed the question away to reexamine later. “She wants to meet with me. Something about the press conference set her off. I told her I’d show up after we’re done here.”

  “You want me to come with you?”

  The obvious answer was yes. If Catherine really did have some useful information about the case, then it made sense to have the lead detective present if for no other reason than to be a witness to whatever Catherine had to say. But Starr hesitated. “I’ll take this one on my own. She sounds a little skittish, and I don’t want to scare her off in case she really does have something that can help.”

  “Sounds good.” Pearson’s tone was neutral. “We’re here.” He pointed at Ricky’s house. “How do you want to play this?”

  “You take the lead. I’m here to show you have direct access to get a warrant, an indictment, whatever we need to get him to start talking.” Starr followed him to the door and stepped to the side when he rang the bell. They heard some rustling inside and then the slow clomp of footsteps growing closer. When the door swung wide, Starr held back her surprise. Ricky looked so much like his brother, he could be his twin.

  “What are you doing back here?” Ricky said to Pearson.

  “Just doing our job. You want us to find your niece, don’t you?” Pearson raised his shoulders as he asked the question, not a trace of defensiveness in his tone. “I brought help and some information. Invite us in and we’ll share what we have so far.”

  Ricky looked over at Starr, and then back at Pearson. Despite the grim frown, Starr could tell he was wavering, but she resisted saying anything for fear of scaring him into shutting down. Whether he was the concerned uncle or the psychotic kidnapper, the promise of an inside scoop should be enough to get him to invite them in.

  He turned away from the door, but left it open, a tacit invitation to follow. Starr let Pearson take the lead, and she focused on taking in as much detail as she could as Ricky led them down the hall to the kitchen. No photos, no personal items, the two doors they passed were both shut. She detected no sounds other than their footfalls.

  “Coffee?”

  Starr took one look at the grimy surface of the coffee maker and smiled. “A little late in the day for me, but thanks.”

  Pearson also declined. “Sorry I forgot to introduce you. Ricky, this is Starr Rio. She’s the prosecutor assigned to the task force. She’s worked with me many times before, and we’ve been very successful at prosecuting dozens of perpetrators.”

  “I know who she is. I saw the press conference.”

  “Excellent,” Pearson said. “Then you saw the evidence we’ve collected.”

  “That bow doesn’t look like anything my niece would wear.”

  Starr couldn’t resist chiming in. “You’ve gotten to know her well since you moved to town?”

  Ricky hunched his shoulders. “Well enough.”

  “I must admit I agree with you. First time I saw it, I thought, this can’t be Hannah’s.”

  “Right. So you’re no closer now than you were the day she was taken, are you?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that.” Pearson pulled out his phone, scrolled to a picture of the bow, and set it on the table. “I think we can all agree this wasn’t hers, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t have it on at some point.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Our working theory is that the kidnapper gave it to her, and then left it behind as a clue. He probably called in the tip himself.”

  “Interesting theory.”

  “Won’t stay a theory for long. We were able to get several pieces of evidence from this little bow.”

  “What is it you want from me?”

  Starr stepped closer as if to intervene in the grilling. “We could use your help. Look, we know you’ve been in prison. Is it possible that you made enemies there that might want to get back at you by kidnapping someone close to you?”

  He shook his head vigorously. “I did my time with my head down. I don’t have any enemies other than the people who are constantly reminding me that my past means I will never have a chance at a future.”

  His voice was laced with bitterness, and Starr pounced on that. “I get it. I see people every day who write off their lives for a payoff in the moment. You made a mistake. I don’t think you should have to pay for it for the rest of your life, but is it possible that you don’t know any other way to get ahead?”

  “Are you implying that I’m somehow involved in kidnapping my niece to make a buck? If so, where’s the ransom note, the demand for a payoff? What do you have to say about that?”

  “How do you know there’s not been a ransom note?”

  “Because my brother would’ve told me if there were.”

  “When’s the last time you spoke with him?” Pearson asked. They’d specifically asked Keith not to talk to his brother or anyone else for that matter about the case.

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “No,” Starr said.

  “Then I’m done answering questions. I’d like you both to leave.”

  Pearson stood and Starr followed him back out of the house, waiting until they were back in the car before saying anything. “I didn’t expect him to confess, but what do you make of him?” she asked.

  “My gut says there’s something off about him, but I don’t know how or if it relates to his niece.” He scrunc
hed his face in a classic something smells but I can’t put my finger on it expression. “He didn’t flinch when we mentioned the bow was being tested.”

  “Which either means he knows there’s nothing on it because he was super careful, or he isn’t involved. He’s all we have right now, so let’s keep a car on this block and monitor his movements.”

  “Fair enough.” Pearson pulled away from the curb. “Where to now?”

  Starr remembered her scheduled rendezvous with Catherine and realized she hadn’t allowed enough time to get there. If she had Pearson take her back to her car, she was going to be late. “I need to take care of something. It won’t take long. Can you drop me off at Guero’s? I’ll catch an Uber back to headquarters as soon as I’m done.”

  She had him drop her off down the block from the restaurant to give her a few moments to collect her thoughts. It had been a long freaking day, and it was hard to believe it had only been this morning since she’d last seen Catherine. As she approached, she spotted Catherine on the patio of the restaurant. Unlike this morning, she was dressed in a suit, and this was the put together woman Starr was used to seeing around the courthouse, but as she drew closer, Starr noticed Catherine didn’t look as composed as she usually did. She was glancing around furtively, and she looked like her world could come crashing down at any moment. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Traffic was awful. I don’t have a lot of time. Do you want to grab a table?”

  Catherine shook her head. “Do you have a picture of the bow with you?”

  Starr hesitated. “What’s going on?”

  “The bow. Show it to me, please.”

  Catherine’s voice was commanding, but it carried an undercurrent of anxiety that immediately put Starr on edge. Deciding there was no harm in showing Catherine something that had been aired for all the world to see, she pulled out her phone and thumbed her way to the photograph. She held it out to Catherine who took the phone and held the edges in a fierce grip. Starr watched her study the photo, turning the phone several times to catch all the angles, but instead of handing it back, Catherine held it like it was a lifeline. “What is it?”

  “Have you done a database search yet?” Catherine shook her head. “You haven’t. If you had, you would know that this clue means you’re dealing with a known child abuser.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Catherine bit her bottom lip, a sign Starr took to mean she wanted to say something more, but didn’t for some reason. Starr wanted to prompt her but sensed it would only spook her away.

  Finally, Catherine spoke. “I’ll tell you some things, but you’ll have to find the rest out on your own. Before I say anything, promise me you will follow up on what I’m about to tell you. And I don’t want to be involved.”

  “Okay.”

  “Say you promise.”

  “I promise.” Starr made a show of crossing her heart, but she grinned like it was a joke.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “I know, sorry. You just sound so serious and I don’t have a clue what to expect.”

  “You’ve heard of Jill Winfield?”

  Starr thought for a second. The name certainly sounded familiar. She searched her mind and landed on a childhood memory. “Yes, of course. She was abducted from her home when she was twelve. Her mother was killed by the abductor as I recall, and they never caught him. Wait a minute. Do you think that the same person was involved in this case? He’d have to be like sixty years old.”

  “Actually, more like fifty. He was younger than most people thought.”

  Starr made a mental note to ask her why she had that fact memorized. “Tell me why you think it’s the same guy.”

  “You have the answer right in front of you if you’d bothered to be more thorough.”

  Catherine’s know-it-all tone rankled. “Since you seem to know so much, why don’t you tell me?” Starr asked. Silence followed while she tried to read the troubled expression on Catherine’s face. She was just about to walk away, when Catherine finally spoke.

  “The bow. It’s your biggest clue. The kidnapper left it behind for a reason. He wants us to know he’s back in action. He’s teasing us because he got away the first time and he thinks he’ll always be above the law.”

  “Us?”

  “What?” Catherine asked.

  “You’ve said ‘us’ twice. He wants ‘us’ to know he’s back in action. He’s teasing ‘us.’” Starr stared intently into her eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Catherine stared back, her expression blank for a few seconds, and then her eyes started blinking rapidly. She shook her head and the blinking stopped, but her voice was laced with angry impatience. “I’ve told you everything I can. The bow is the key. Run a search with the FBI and it will connect you to the kidnapper. Everything you need to know will be in the original file.” She edged away. “I have to go.”

  Starr called out. “Wait.”

  Catherine stopped but she didn’t turn around.

  “Can I call you later if I have more questions?” Starr didn’t bother trying to hide the desperate tone in her voice. Catherine knew something. Something vital about this case, and whatever it was caused her pain, pain that Starr felt compelled to erase.

  The pause was interminably long and seemed longer because Catherine never turned back to face her. Noise from the restaurant filled the air with a party atmosphere completely incongruent to the urgency Starr felt as she waited for Catherine to respond. Finally, Catherine started walking again, but her voice carried over the boisterous sounds of the Saturday night crowd. “Contact the FBI. Do it now.”

  Chapter Nine

  Catherine paced the waiting room of her therapist and punched in another text on her phone. She knew Dr. M was here because the lights were on and a car was parked outside the small building. She also knew Dr. M saw clients on the weekends because she’d often accommodated her schedule when she was in trial.

  Hell, she should be an investigator. She’d be a helluva lot better one than the team that was trying to find Hannah Turner. She’d scoured the news since her meeting with Starr last night but had seen nothing to indicate the task force had made any progress. She’d resisted the strong urge to contact Starr again and ask if she’d followed up on the connection to her own case. Of course, Starr had no idea that she had any personal connection to the bow. Jill Winfield hadn’t been in the public eye in years, and Catherine had taken many carefully calculated steps to ensure the public couldn’t connect the powerful attorney she’d become with the little girl whose face had been plastered on news channels around the country after she’d been snatched from her bed and held captive.

  She sent another text, her agitation growing at Dr. M’s lack of a response while her meeting with Starr replayed on an endless loop. She should’ve sent an anonymous note, left a message on the tip line, anything to avoid the risk her true identity might be found out. If all she’d wanted was to tip off the task force that the crimes were connected, she could’ve done so without potentially exposing herself to the lead prosecutor on the case. What was it about Starr that made her take that risk?

  Maybe it was the very thing that she professed to hate about her. Starr’s take no prisoners type of justice was infuriating for Catherine the defense attorney, but for Jill Winfield, who’d spend her life looking over her shoulder for the man who’d never had to answer for his crimes, it was refreshing. She was drawn to Starr, but acting on the impulse to trust her would only draw her back into a past she’d managed to bury.

  The door to the inner sanctum opened, and Dr. M appeared. She looked surprised to see Catherine standing in her waiting room.

  “Finally,” Catherine said. “I’ve been texting you for hours.”

  “Catherine, we don’t have an appointment.”

  “I know that.”

  “Would you like to make an appointment?”

  The exchange was infuriating, but Catherine recognized Dr. M’s efforts to school her about boun
daries. “Look, I know I’m not supposed to just show up here, but this is an emergency and I didn’t know where else to go.” Damn. Her voice was cracking. She cleared her throat, struggling to hide the depth of her desperation even while she knew she had to show she was frantic for help. “I know I’ve pushed your buttons before, but you have to admit this is over-the-top, even for me. I promise I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important. Is there any chance you can talk to me now?”

  Dr. M looked back toward her office. “I suppose I can spare a little time, but if you’re in immediate danger of—”

  “I’m not going to harm myself or others,” Catherine said, finishing the portion of Dr. M’s outgoing message that cautioned patients to call 911 under those circumstances. She stepped closer to the office door. “I’ll take whatever time you can spare.”

  Dr. M held open the door. “Come on in.”

  Catherine followed her into the office and took her usual seat on the couch. Now that she was here, she felt silly for having barged in, and she wasn’t entirely sure where to start. Dr. M settled into her chair, her familiar notepad in hand.

  “Is this about the Turner girl?”

  The Turner girl. The phrase grated against Catherine’s already raw nerves. How many people had once referred to her as the Winfield girl? Newspapers, newscasters, police, lawyers. Both before and after she’d been found, she’d been a commodity to be examined and exposed for maximum gain, her identity secondary to the prurient interest of the prying public. “Please don’t call her that.”

  Dr. M leaned forward. “Okay. What would you like me to call her?”

  “Her name is Hannah. Let’s call her that.”

  “Sounds good. Are you here to talk about Hannah?”

  “Yes. No. I mean, I’m here to talk about me, but she and I are connected now, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Would you care to expound on that?”

  “He’s back.”

  Dr. M nodded knowingly. “I can certainly see how this case has affected you, and it’s pretty normal for memories to come flooding back.”