Burning Proof (12 page)

SATURDAY MORNING
Woody hit the button to start the coffee brewing. He stretched and then sat at the table to peruse the paper while awaiting his caffeine fix. For nearly thirty-five years he’d worked graveyard or afternoon shift and loved it. He’d never wanted to work days. Now, retired and out of uniform, he found he loved the feeling of normalcy and looked forward to meeting up with Luke to work more on the Molly Cavanaugh case.

His phone buzzed and he frowned. It was a PD extension; it would be Abby if she were there, but he knew that she was still out of town.

He answered the call, surprised to hear Bill Roper on the other end.

“Bill, what’s up? Anything wrong?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I got a call from a patrol unit on my day off. Abby’s house was burglarized last night.”

“What? She’s not there. She’s
 
—”

“I know. She’s out of state. She had her friend Jessica Brennan house-sitting.”

“Jessica? I know Jessica. Is she okay?”

Bill chuckled. “She is. In fact, I bet the burglar is worse off. Apparently she woke up and confronted him. He was going through files in Abby’s office. She says he was as surprised to see her as she was to see him.”

“He knew Abby was gone.”

“Yep. The short story is, Jessica got in some well-placed kicks and the guy fled limping and bleeding. Officers were out fast but didn’t pick up his trail, and nothing is missing that Jessica can see.”

“She’s okay?”

“A little shaken, and she might have sprained a finger, but she’s okay. The reason I called is, well, she doesn’t want to tell Abby until Abby gets back. She doesn’t want to ruin Abby’s vacation. That doesn’t sit well with me. I’d want to know, if it was me. But you know Abby better than anyone. What do you think?”

The coffeemaker beeped. Woody rubbed his chin. “Give me a minute to think.”

He poured a cup of coffee and left it steaming on the counter before responding. “Offhand, if nothing is missing and Jessica is okay, I’d say let it go. Abby will be mad when she gets back, but she’ll get to enjoy her time off. Did Jessica get a good look at this guy?”

“Not a great look, but she’s working with a sketch artist. She did bloody his nose, so there is DNA, but . . .”

His voice trailed off and Woody knew why. No loss, no one hurt
 
—the department would not pay to have the DNA analyzed. Woody poured his coffee and took a scalding gulp.

“What bothers me,” Bill continued, “is that he was obviously
looking for something. What if this is related to the Triple Seven?”

“I can’t see why it would be. But I understand why you’d think that. The Joiner case is hot
 
—hot enough that people would burglarize Abby’s house?”

“The protests have been loud, but mostly confined to the main station, so I doubt this is related to the shooting.”

“Let me talk to Luke. He’s got a stake in the Triple Seven as well. I’ll call you in a couple of hours. You can hold off a decision that long, can’t you?”

“Yeah. But I can’t promise anything if Abby happens to phone or text and ask how things are going. I’ll tell her.”

“I doubt she’ll do that. If she’s smart, the last thing she’s thinking about right now is the PD. And Abby is smart.”

DEDE WAS LEANING
against the Jeep, looking down at Scout, when Abby hurried out of the house. Arms folded, Dede looked up. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” She held up the package of Oreos she’d grabbed on the way out and tried a weak smile.

“I’ve been waiting for over an hour. I thought maybe I was too hard on you.”

“Maybe,” Abby said. “What you said stung. But it also made me realize that I wasn’t finding any answers in bed.” Abby shook her head. “I still want to crawl into a hole and never come out. I’ve never felt this way before, but maybe you’re right
 
—it’s no way to solve a problem.”

Dede stepped forward and held her arms out. Abby fell into a tight hug. “So glad to see a little light in your eyes again,” she whispered in Abby’s ear.

“So much is jumbled in my mind right now, I can’t even pray. Maybe I need to think about something else for a while.” Abby pushed back from the hug. “We’re going visiting?”

“Yeah, hop in. I think you’ll be impressed by Ethan’s project.” Dede wiped her eyes and jumped into the driver’s seat.

“A church over in Butte Falls burned down a few months ago,” Dede explained as they drove. “So a lot of other churches in the valley have come together to rebuild a sanctuary. Since Ethan specializes in building things in the mission field, he’s running the show, and he’s doing a great job.”

Ethan had been born and raised in Butte Falls. Abby had met him in a small church there before getting to know him better in youth group.

“Have you been working with Ethan?” Abby asked.

“There’s a lot to do. I’ve been helping a little and will be more involved next week.”

When Abby said nothing, Dede clarified. “We haven’t been talking about you, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s excited about you taking time off but worried about you at the same time.”

Abby sighed. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about our relationship. I wonder . . . maybe Ethan is right. Maybe I should just marry him, quit my job, and be a missionary wife.”

Dede slowed the Jeep as they passed through minuscule downtown Lake Creek. She grunted her displeasure. “You go to the mission field because you’re called, not because your life hits a hard patch.”

“But maybe this is a sign that I am called.”

Dede laughed. “Abby, you get married because you love someone and you desire to raise a family and be together for life. I’ve known Ethan since he was little. He’s always known he was called to travel, to build and plant. You never were. I’ve wondered about the attraction, but I do believe that if you
are both committed to God and each other, everything would eventually work out for the best. To travel the way Ethan travels on the mission field, you need to be called and totally committed.”

“What if I can’t be a cop?”

“Abby, you don’t go on the mission field because you can’t do anything else. Stop using today’s strength for tomorrow’s trials. Give yourself time.”

They reached the building site about thirty-five minutes later. The place was active and busy. Work trucks were everywhere, and two cement trucks were lined up behind a third that was pouring concrete into the mold for the foundation.

“I don’t see Ethan right now. Let’s go meet Pastor Cliff.”

Dede led Abby to a man on crutches, who was missing the lower half of one leg. Around him were several children and a woman holding a baby.

The man smiled. “Dede, glad you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Pastor Cliff, I want you to meet my niece, Abby, up from Long Beach for a visit.”

“Ah, Ethan’s friend.” The pastor smiled broadly as he shook Abby’s hand. “He speaks of you often. It’s my pleasure to finally meet you.”

Introductions were made all around. Abby learned that Pastor Cliff and his wife had four children. He was a man full of hope and enthusiasm, despite having a body crippled from a car accident that cost him his leg.

“Ethan is meeting with the main contractor, firming things up for next week when we plan to push hard to finish everything.”
Pastor Cliff excused himself and stepped away from Dede and Abby to talk to the concrete men.

One truck left and another pulled in. Abby learned from Dede that the small congregation Pastor Cliff served could not pay him a living wage even when they’d had a set meeting place. After the church burned, they’d moved from place to place and attendance had dropped. He’d taken a part-time job to supplement his income and was extremely grateful for the help with the new building.

Already partly finished, the foundation would be completed today, and then framing was scheduled to start next week. An army of volunteers would descend on the site and get the building up and enclosed in record time.

“This is the most important phase,” Pastor Cliff said when he returned. “The foundation.” He looked at Abby. “The foundation is a vital part, whether it be your foundation in faith firmly set in Christ or the foundation to build firmly set in concrete. That’s why I wanted to be here, to pray and watch the hard work that goes into it.”

Abby looked away from his perusal and wondered why his words seemed meant specifically for her even though he was speaking to many people.

Dede retrieved some papers. She was coordinating the meals and needed a head count and a shopping list. After she had the papers, she and Abby left.

As they drove away from the site, Abby watched the men work the concrete pump, admired the coordination and concentration she saw as they spread the viscous gray substance. The image stayed with her for some time as she pondered the importance of a solid foundation, concrete or otherwise.

“BURGLARIZED?
” Luke stared at Woody. They were about to set out for the Lancaster sheriff’s office to formulate a plan of attack on their cold case. Because they’d been given the okay to work through the weekend, they decided to divide the workload and hoped to be able to comb through everything pertinent by Monday. Then the plan was to pool what important information they’d each pulled out and determine the most useful tidbits, see if they had a handhold and a place to start.

“No harm, no foul. Apparently Abby’s friend Jessica was house-sitting and she scared the guy off. Bill called me this morning.” Woody fastened his seat belt.

But Luke stopped the car in the driveway. “Does Jessica know what the guy was after?”

“She caught him in Abby’s office. As far as she can tell, nothing was removed.”

“What does Abby say?”

“I told Bill not to tell her.”

“What? Is that a good idea?” Luke was beginning to wonder if Woody was going overboard on the “protect Abby” angle.

“I don’t want her rushing back for no reason. Do you think we should call her?”

“Uh . . .” Now Luke stammered with the ball in his court. “I guess I’m not sure. I want her to get the rest and relaxation she needs away from all the bad stuff here, but . . .”

“When she calls Jessica to check in, Jessica will tell her.”

Luke had to be content with that response. He put the car into drive and they started the long trek to Lancaster. Traffic was light, and for the first part of the drive they bounced possible reasons Abby’s house was burglarized. It all circled back to the Triple Seven.

But who still had a stake in that investigation?

They talked themselves out after an hour and rode the rest of the way in silence. It wasn’t until they’d parked in the SD lot that Luke’s mind fully returned to the task at hand.

“Where do you want to start?”

In the conference room they had before them all the materials pertinent to Molly’s case.

“I’ll take the official police reports,” Woody said. “I’ll be able to read between the lines and sift out what is important.”

“Good idea.” Luke nodded. “I’ll go through the tip line files and the follow-ups.”

They sat for several hours and got through a good bit of the paperwork. After lunch they took a break to go over what they’d found so far.

The first step in opening a cold case was reconstructing the investigation from the beginning. So they’d drawn a time line of the investigation on the whiteboard. Point one was the date of the attack, and the last point was the most recent due diligence review done by Steve Jones on the tenth anniversary.

The due diligence reviews were extremely helpful. Many of these reviews were brief, noting only another check with CODIS, but it was useful to know that the case had not been buried away and never reviewed.

Luke stood in front of the board. The first point was the bus stop where Molly and her assailant had their fateful meeting. Also on the board was a map of the entire area, with pushpins of all the relevant locations in place: the Antelope Valley Mall, the strip mall where the assault occurred, and the road where Molly got away. Additionally they had a box of various reports, pages from the tip line logs, and all the follow-ups to the initial investigation. There were also pages of notes written by the investigators regarding Molly herself.

It was as important to understand the victim as it was to understand the crime. The original investigators had looked at Molly to ascertain her veracity and discovered that she was the proverbial good kid. She had no history of running away or fights or problems with high school classmates. She was an average student, on the swim team, and the day she was abducted, she’d had permission to be at the mall.

Particularly interesting to Luke were the girl’s references to God and prayer. The investigator asked her how she got out of the trunk.

“I prayed and prayed for God to help me with the rope. It was really tight at first, but the more I prayed, the looser it got. When my legs got loose, I thanked God and kicked something and it released the latch. I believe Jesus opened the trunk. He saved me.”

When Luke looked over the photos taken of Molly and saw the marks the tight ropes made on her wrists and ankles, especially on her wrists where the securely tied bonds had broken the skin, he didn’t have any problem entertaining the thought of a miracle freeing her. He wondered, looking at the reports on the girl’s struggles now, what had destroyed her faith over time, since it was obviously very strong ten years ago even after the horrible rape and kidnapping.

“Well, I’m not sure.” Woody studied the board. “As far as the crime scene or scenes, the strip mall where the rape occurred is no longer there, and there’s a big-box store there now. But it looks like not much else has changed in the area.”

“Yeah,” Luke said. “Not sure we could learn much from the mall even if it were still there. And the two servicemen who saved Molly were interviewed three times. Their stories were consistent. I’m not sure we need to recontact them.”

“Good call. They seemed squared away and innocent.”

“I’m drawn to a couple of other things,” he said, tapping on the table. “The most interesting stuff I found revolves around the composite drawing of the suspect.” He taped the picture up on the whiteboard. “I think the guy looks like Johnny Depp with short hair. All he needs is a little mustache.”

“I’ll take your word on that,” Woody said. “You think by focusing on this picture, maybe seeing if we can get it rebroadcast, we’d find the guy after all this time?”

“Maybe. The tip line logs document a call from a woman convinced she knew the guy. She said he looked exactly like her old neighbor, even named him. I’d like to connect with her, find out why she was so certain before we run to the media with the photo. My instincts are telling me this is our best bet.”

“Didn’t the original guys follow up?”

“Yeah, but it’s not clear what they found.” Luke pulled out a piece of paper. “See, here’s the guy’s name and address and a note that says
Iraq
, with a question mark.”

“Did you ask Jones about that?”

“I did, but he wasn’t familiar with it. He remembered the tip, that it went nowhere, but doesn’t recall exactly why. Other than this tip sheet, I don’t find any more references to this guy. Does his name ring a bell with you?”

“Nope, I didn’t see this name in anything I looked at. Maybe the note ‘Iraq’ means he was serving and it wasn’t possible for him to be our guy.”

“I thought that, so I asked Orson to check enlistment records. Once we hear back from him and know one way or another, I’ll have a better idea of the next step I want to take.”

As if on cue, Luke’s cell phone rang and he answered. It was Orson.

Luke put the call on speaker. “Speak of the devil, we were just talking about you. Were your ears burning?”

“Only if you really sit around and think of me as the devil. I have info for you. I got no match on that name you gave me. The guy never served.”

“Thanks; that helps.”

“Is he a suspect already?”

“Just an avenue to investigate. There’s a question as to why he was crossed off the list ten years ago.”

“Cool. I’m glad to hear it. If you do a great job on this case, it may clear the bottleneck no matter how the sponsors’ legal issues play out.”

“Sounds great. Thanks again for your help.” Luke hung up
and looked at Woody. “Not in the service. I think I need to ask Faye if she’s heard of this guy.” He ignored Woody’s raised eyebrow and the flush he felt in his own face at the excuse to talk to Faye again.

Luke had spoken at length with Faye about Molly, and at the same time he learned more about the victim, he also learned a lot about Faye. He could tell she was still hurting over the loss of her husband. But she had strong faith and a strong sense of purpose, and Luke found that very appealing.

He cleared his throat and got back on track. “She might know something not in the notes. And I’m going to set up an appointment with the tipster. Her name is Brenda Harris. I’m pretty sure I can find her.”

“Tell Faye I said hello when you talk to her,” Woody said with a smile in his voice.

Luke ignored him and phoned Faye to ask if she remembered the tip from a woman who was certain she knew the face in the composite.

“No, I don’t. Did she have a name to put to the face?”

“Barone. Gil Barone from Northridge.”

“I don’t remember that, and if someone had mentioned that to me five years ago, I would have remembered.” Her voice turned hopeful. “It sounds like you’re already making progress. I’m impressed.”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up. This may just be a miscommunication, but I will set up a meeting with Harris if I can find her.”

“Well, miscommunication or not, I can tell you’re working hard. Thank you for that.”

“It’s what we do. Thank you for the time you put into this
before us.” He wanted to say more, but Woody was watching, and there really wasn’t more to say. So he thanked her again and said good-bye.

Turning to Woody, “She doesn’t remember the name.”

Woody nodded, pensive. “That Faye sure is a looker. Too bad I’m not twenty years younger.”

“This from the guy who’s been divorced three times?”

“Not thinking of me, thinking of you. She took a shine to you. I could see it.”

Luke was sure his face flushed crimson. “Ah, Woody, don’t try to be a matchmaker here.”

“Just saying. I’ve been working with you for a while and you seem to live like a monk. No reason for that when there are women like Faye out there worth dating.” He held his hands up as Luke started to protest. “I’m a trained observer. I know what I see.”

“The woman still misses her husband,” Luke said, trying to ignore the “she took a shine to you” comment.

“Maybe you could give her a good reason to move on.”

Shaking his head, Luke tried to change the subject. “I did some poking around about Lucy Harper. She graduated from Jordan, so I talked to some people I know from church who were in her class. She was Simon’s girlfriend, on and off, from what the two people who remembered her said. I’ve also been searching the Web, but the name is common, and she could have married and now have a completely different name. Not sure if I’ll get anything anytime soon.”

“I wish I could help, but I didn’t know Simon at all. He didn’t hang around with his brother, and his actual arrest was in San Diego.”

“I’ll find her, I’m sure. That’s what I do.”

“I have faith in you.”

“I still think we should let Abby in on this.”

“Not unless we get something solid. Trust me, she’ll need a solid connection, not another wisp of smoke like she’s gotten all these years.”

Luke said nothing and prayed that Woody was right.