A Perfect Grave (27 page)
Authors: Rick Mofina
Chapter Sixty-Five
I
n the days that followed, Rhonda and Brady Boland were questioned.
They were investigated by Grace Garner, Dominic Perelli, FBI agents, and lawyers from the King County Prosecuting Attorney’s Office, the U.S. Attorney’s Office, and detectives from several other agencies.
The case had so many emerging complexities no one was quick to sign off.
After interviews and analysis of the new evidence on the histories of Jack Boland, Leon Sperbeck, and Anne Braxton, investigators concluded that Rhonda Boland had zero involvement with the original heist and its outcome.
Rhonda Boland was never aware of the stolen money, nor did she gain from it. In fact, she and her son were victimized because of it.
These were the new facts: Some twenty-five years ago in Seattle, Washington, Russell Scott Schallert, of Newark, New Jersey, alias Jack Boland, his girlfriend, Chantal Louise Segretti, of Montreal, Canada, and Leon Dean Sperbeck, of Wichita, Kansas, while disguised with ski masks, committed the armed robbery of $3.3 million from an armored car operated by a small subsidiary of U.S. Forged Armored Inc.
After shooting and wounding the armored-car guards, the suspects separated and fled. Schallert and Segretti absconded with the cash. Seattle police officers Vernon Pearce and Henry Wade, among the first to respond, encountered Sperbeck, who took a hostage, Timothy Robert Hope, aged eight, of Seattle, Washington.
Sperbeck fired upon Pearce, then at Wade, who returned fire. Hope was killed in the crossfire by Sperbeck.
After Sperbeck’s arrest and trial, he refused to identify his accomplices and avoided the death penalty by admitting that his actions contributed to Hope’s death. No evidence emerged to identify the other suspects and none of the stolen cash was located, until now.
During an interview with Brady, Grace Garner twigged on something he’d said about his father always digging deep to add nutrients.
“Did you ever see what was in those plastic-wrapped bricks?”
“No. He had them wrapped pretty good.”
Upon further study of the old landscaping records, Brady was able to lead police to a dozen locations of former clients where, after securing warrants, they unearthed scores of plastic-wrapped bricks. The bricks were bundles of cash. Serial numbers confirmed they were from the old heist.
The total: $894,380.
Since the story broke with Sister Anne’s murder, it never moved from the front page of Seattle’s big dailies.
And the
Seattle Mirror
owned it.
Jason Wade scored exclusive after exclusive and the paper’s circulation climbed. In the wake of Sperbeck’s death, it remained Seattle’s lead story for weeks. It led to others.
After reading about Rhonda and Brady Boland’s hard life, a lawyer, a single mom herself, from a high-powered firm stepped forward to represent her and Brady pro bono. She made convincing closed-door arguments to several parties that Rhonda and Brady had a strong case for civil action.
Without assigning blame, it was agreed that authorities should have been suspicious of Sperbeck’s activities upon his release. It was also agreed that information provided by Rhonda and Brady Boland was critical to closing the case. Therefore, they qualified for the standing reward which amounted to a percentage of the recovered funds.
“Rhonda and Brady Boland almost lost their lives helping clear this case,” the lawyer said.
American Eagle Federated Insurance, in cooperation with state and federal officials, provided Rhonda Boland with $250,000; in addition, the insurance company agreed to provide the Bolands with full medical coverage for life.
Brady underwent the risky surgery to remove his tumor. The operation was successful, and before long he was back at the park playing basketball with Justin and Ryan.
Ethan Quinn received a per diem and $25,000.
Henry Wade was offered $75,000 and requested it be used to establish a scholarship in the name of Timothy Hope.
For the sisters with the Order of the Compassionate Heart of Mercy, the revelation of Sister Anne’s past compounded their anguish over their loss, but ultimately they found meaning in it all.
This is what happened.
After the revelation of Sister Anne’s involvement in the old heist became national news, Sister Vivian Lansing flew back to Seattle from the Mother House in Chicago, uncertain of what would transpire.
Sister Denise admitted to giving Sister Anne’s diary to the press. Vivian did not reprimand her, for she herself had had a change of heart. In the end the information helped save lives by resolving a violent situation. “I regret that you did not discuss it with me, but I’m sure God was guiding your heart and it ultimately led to a greater good.”
Sister Anne’s story became news in Europe, with French and Swiss authorities debating the prickly issue of what steps to take on Sister Anne’s “donation” of $1.5 million to the Order. Did it not arise from a crime?
The victims, the American armored-car company and its insurer, both indicated to European investigators that they would write off the amount as unrecoverable. And given that all those involved in the crime were deceased, no further action would be taken.
The Vatican weighed in.
Rome not only insisted on offering to repay the $1.5 million, but issued a strong indication that it was considering the posthumous excommunication of Sister Anne Braxton, also known as the criminal Chantal Louise Segretti.
That twist in the story was carried on news wires around the world and gave rise to protests that arose among the very street people that Sister Anne had comforted at the Compassionate Heart of Mercy Shelter, at the fringe of Seattle’s Pioneer Square District.
Their opposition found support in cities across the United States and around the world when an online editorial compared Chantal Louise Segretti’s case to the story of The Good Thief, who acknowledged his crimes but asked Christ to remember him for good on Judgment Day.
At this time, Jason Wade received a call from Pincher Creek, Alberta. Sister Marie had located a series of letters Sister Anne had written to be opened in the event of her death. She faxed them to the
Mirror
for Jason to print.
I could never confess to another human being the horrible things I did. As a young, confused woman I succumbed to drugs and joined a group of lost souls rushing down a road to damnation that culminated with the death of an innocent child.
I wanted to end my own life, but realized that was a sinful, selfish act that would achieve nothing. I wanted to surrender, but I did not believe that it was the answer for me. I begged God to help me and after months of torture, while I was praying alone in a tiny church in Paris, He called me.
I decided then that I was a failure, unworthy of forgiveness, but I would use every remaining breath of my sinful life to help others overcome their mistakes and find their way to Him.
Later, I tried to convince Russell to search his heart and do the right thing himself. But he shut me out. Russell grew paranoid, fearing that Leon would betray us to police one day. So he lived in torment. I don’t believe he touched the money. Eventually, I tried to convince Leon to surrender to God, but prison had made him bitter and he was blind to the path of redemption that God was willing to light for him.
As for me, I do not ask for forgiveness, for I am
not worthy. I do not ask for understanding, for my actions were beyond comprehension. All I ask is that you know that God spoke to me, told me to dedicate myself to helping others overcome their human mistakes and turn to the Light.
Chantal Louise Segretti
The day the
Mirror
published Sister Anne’s lost letter, Grace met Jason at the Rusted Anchor.
“How’s your old man doing?”
“One day at a time.”
“How about you?”
Jason shrugged.
“Might take some time off, drive down the coast to Mexico, do some thinking. I got an offer to write a book.”
“It’s an unbelievable story,” Grace said, “when you look at all the people it touched, the impact, and what they carried with them all these years. People dealing with their mistakes, you know?”
“I know.”
“I mean, look at the nun. Look at Boland, afraid to spend the money, Rhonda and Brady, what they were facing, Sperbeck gave up twenty-five years for a payday. Then there’s your dad and you.”
Jason looked into his ginger ale.
“Yup.”
“Helluva toll.”
“Yup.”
“So, uhm, this drive to Mexico, you thinking it’ll be one of those solo soul-quest journeys, or what?”
He looked at her, at her smile and what it offered.
“I don’t know, Grace. Guess I’m open to ‘or what.’”
“Then we’ll talk about that.”
“We will.”
Later, Jason drove his Falcon to his old man’s house, south, between Highway 509 and the west bank of the Duwamish River, not far from the shipyards and Boeing Field. The house where his mother had read him bedtime stories, where he’d dreamed of being a writer.
Since Sperbeck had ended things, Jason’s dad wasn’t talking much. But Jason’s daily visits were like balm to him. Today, as steaks sizzled on the grill, they reflected on the Seahawks, Mariners, and the Sonics, which was their way of putting the broken pieces of their lives back together.
On this night, Jason noticed that his father had taken out an old family album and was looking at a picture of Jason’s mother, who’d walked out on them years ago.
“You ever think of looking for her, Dad?”
Henry Wade gazed out beyond his deck toward the sun setting over the ocean.
“Every day, son. Every day.”
Author’s Note & Acknowledgements
In getting this story to you, I benefited from the hard work and the kind work of many people. My thanks to my editor, Audrey LaFehr, and everyone at Kensington. I would also like to thank Amy Moore-Benson, Mildred Marmur, Jeff Aghassi, Lorella Belli, John and Jeannine Rosenberg, Shannon Whyte, Donna Riddell, Beth Tindall, Chris Rapking, Ib Lauritzen, Theresa Greenwood, Sherri Pilgrim and Cath Collins. A special thanks to Barbara, Laura and Michael. My thank to friends everywhere for their support. Again, I am indebted to sales representatives and booksellers for putting my work in your hands. Which brings me to you, the reader. Thank you for your time, for without you a book remains an untold tale. I hope you enjoyed the ride and you’ll be back for the next one. For updates, visit me at www.rickmofina.com.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
MIRA is a registered trademark of Harlequin Enterprises Limited, used under licence.
First published in Great Britain 2010.
MIRA Books, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road,
Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1SR
© Rick Mofina 2007
ISBN: 978-1-408-90562-3
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