Burning Proof (19 page)

AFTER RETRACING THE CRIME,
Woody and Luke finished their survey and made the hour drive to Tehachapi, arriving a little after one. They checked into the hotel Faye Fallon recommended, and Luke sent her a text.

“She wants us to meet her at a deli,” Luke told Woody. “That place we drove by, the one you thought looked good.”

“Great. I’m starved.”

Luke agreed, and a few minutes later they ordered a late lunch and joined Faye at a table in a wonderful-smelling German deli.

“So did the two of you find anything on your tour of the valley?” Faye asked. Luke couldn’t help but notice how casually beautiful the woman looked wearing jeans, a light-green sweater, and a baseball cap, her long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail and sticking out the back of the cap.

“Unfortunately, no,” Luke said. “But we have perspective.”

They went over their reconstruction of the crime, the time line, and their investigation so far.

Faye looked over their notes. “Thanks. You guys are doing
a great job. You sifted through so much in such a short time. I’m not at all worried about the statute of limitations expiring before you stir up a good lead.”

Their lunch came and for the next few moments everyone concentrated on their meals.

Luke swallowed a bite of his ham sandwich. “Yesterday I did get a chance to talk to the person who called that tip in ten years ago, the one I asked you about.” He told her about his meeting with Brenda Harris.

“It’s odd that the tip would have been left hanging. I certainly never heard anything about it.”

“Not really so odd,” Woody said. “I’ve been on task forces, big deals where there’s a tip line open. So much information is generated in a short period of time. It wouldn’t surprise me if someone made a note of ‘Iraq’ and meant to follow it up, but never got back to it for one reason or another. I hate to say it, but cops are human; things get missed.”

“It would be nice if that pans out.” Fallon frowned.

“What’s the matter?” Luke asked.

“That name, Barone. Ever since you called, I’ve been thinking. It’s vaguely familiar.”

“I found him. He owns a computer shop here in town.”

“Here?”

Luke nodded.

“That’s not it. I see a tech guy in Palmdale if I need help.” She made a face of frustration.

“From the crime file?”

“No, I can’t place it.” She shrugged. “It will come to me. I’m afraid I have bad news as far as Molly is concerned.”

“She’s not ready to talk to us.”

“No, not at all. I think I told you that she was hit by a car a week ago and is working through some pain and being slightly immobile. She’s not up for any company. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I understand. But I’d like to throw a new wrinkle into the mix.” He told her about Abby, her offer of help, and her background, why she might be the right person to talk to Molly. “If we call her, she’ll be here as soon as she can. What do you think?”

“I’ve read about Detective Hart, I know her story, and I think that’s a great idea. I’ll talk to Molly’s mom tonight and text you. Is that okay?”

“Perfect. We have some other things to work on
 
—I want to talk to Gil Barone for one
 
—and then we’re doing some work on another case. It will be great if Molly changes her mind and talks to Abby.”

After lunch, Woody excused himself to go to the restroom and left Luke alone with Faye.

She smiled warmly. “I can’t thank you guys enough for coming up here and looking into this case.”

“Even if nothing pans out?”

“I’m an optimist. I’m praying something will pan out. And
 
—” she paused
 
—“in a way, something has panned out: I’ve met you and your partner. We have a lot in common, I think.”

Luke nodded, appreciating the optimism. “We do. We all want to see justice done.”

Her expression mellowed, saddened for a minute. “Yes, it was my husband’s greatest desire to be a police officer, to help people who were victimized by criminals. You remind me a lot of Jared. I wonder why you didn’t enter a career in law enforcement.”

Luke explained to her how he’d started at the police academy
but dropped out after he realized how much time he’d spend away from Maddie. “It’s worked out. I love what I do now, and I still get to spend a lot of time with my daughter.”

Woody came back and Luke and Faye stood.

“Thank you both again,” Faye said. Pausing, she looked at Luke. “I hope when all this is over, we can sit down and talk more about the cold case squad and life in general.”

Luke felt his heart warm and looked forward to that sit-down.

THE BELL OVER THE DOOR JINGLED,
and Bart walked in.

Gil nodded toward him. “News?”

“Yep, it was pretty easy. Fallon is here. I don’t mind following her around.” Bart leered at Gil. “She’s staying at the La Quinta, and she just met with two guys I never saw before.”

“What is she doing here, anyway?” He’d not told Bart the whole story; he’d only said there was money in keeping an eye on Fallon and a couple other people. Bart was, after all, his legs, the one who could sneak about without being obvious.

“She’s all worked up about a cold rape case, like the guy said. I bought some coffee and listened for a little bit while she talked with the two guys. Apparently they’re private investigators here to work on the case. I left when they started eating lunch. Got the license plates for both cars, like you asked.” Bart handed him a sticky note.

“A cold rape case?” Gil took the paper. “Fallon is always on about crime in her blog. Why this cold rape case?” Gil wanted to know if the reason that the case was being investigated now was because of a new lead. He didn’t think that was possible
 
—in
fact, he’d bet good money this was just a shot in the dark
 
—but he’d like to know what the people were saying.

“I don’t know. Something about the statute of limitations. You know that chick
 
—it’s always about crime and victims.” Bart made an L with his thumb and forefinger and held his hand up.

Gil agreed. Faye Fallon was a loser in one respect, but not in another. He bet every red-blooded American male in the AV knew Faye Fallon. Gil loved to fantasize about him and Fallon, what they could do together if he still had two good legs. But the money phrase was “statute of limitations.” That was why the case was being reinvestigated. There were no new leads.

“Bart?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“I’m going to go home for a bit. Can you handle things here?”

“Sure. Anything wrong?”

“Nah, just need some downtime. Be back in a couple hours.”

Gil rolled out of the store and into his van. The fear was gone, replaced by calculation. He needed to know everything there was to know about these “cold case warriors.” Jerry had e-mailed him quite a bit of information. He doubted they’d ever get remotely close to him, but if they did, he’d show them what he was made of. Along with hacking, Gil was proficient with weapons and explosive devices. He could also make their electronic world a nightmare if he chose to. And if worse came to worse, with his knowledge of electronics, it would be a piece of cake to set up some kind of device on a timer or a remote and blow those two investigators to bits. Whatever he did, he’d plan it carefully.

Once home and safely locked inside his man cave, he powered up his personal computer, set up with an Internet connection that was more secure than the Pentagon’s.

Luke Murphy was easy to find, YouTube videos and all. Gil sneered. For such a proficient PI, he wasn’t that computer savvy. He had some safety protocols on his home computer, but in half an hour Gil was through them, and he knew everything there was to know about the private investigator. Still lived with his mommy and daddy. Hmm, he had a pretty little daughter.

Gil checked out the kid’s electronic trail and then filed away what he knew about her, thinking it might be useful at a later date.

The other guy, Robert Woods, was more problematic. He didn’t have an electronic trail. There were a couple news articles about him. Gil pulled them up and printed them out. The guy was old, probably didn’t know anything about computers. Gil’s dad had resisted computers to his dying day.

His next foray into cyberspace was to find the victim. He never knew the full name of his victim ten years ago, and the blog only used a first name and gave no address. Gil knew it wouldn’t be a problem to ferret that information out for himself. He could access so many databases that he had no business accessing.

When he found the girl, he sat back and laughed. She was right in his backyard, living in Lancaster, working for an ambulance company. And she had family living even closer, here in Tehachapi. If he could still stand, he would have been dancing. He doubted that she would be able to identify him now, but seeing her name and remembering the night she got away made him angry. He picked up the grip strengthener he kept on his desk and began to squeeze, five times with the left hand, and then transfer to the right.

The anger took him back in time to when he had two legs
and the perfect MO. Picking up stupid girls, doing what he wanted with them because he was stronger and smarter, was a blast, proving each and every time he was at the top of the food chain. He’d successfully dumped three empty-headed girls out in the desert before this one, and it irritated him to no end that she got away. That night, when he saw her running, and then the other headlights, he panicked. The first and last time he’d ever given in to that emotion.

He’d fled, knowing that he was headed out of the country the next day. It was an irony. He’d been trying to get out of the trip to Iraq, was having too much fun hunting girls, had even considered not showing up and letting the plane leave without him, no matter the consequences. As it was, he was the first guy to arrive at the staging area, congratulating himself because being in Iraq was the perfect alibi.

He remembered thinking he’d finish the job with the girl when he returned home, but the accident changed everything, changed him forever. Until this stupid pair of cold case warriors reminded him of his one great failure, Gil had actually begun to think of life after the accident as different, but better. He’d proven he was still as dangerous and capable as ever, maybe more so because of his talent with computers.

This could not stand. He had to deal with this girl, put an end to any investigation as soon as possible. He knew that he could; he had the skills. But he needed to figure out the best way, the most devastating way. And he would. Maybe he’d even take care of Faye Fallon as well.

ABBY PRAYED
about her meeting with Althea. She wasn’t sure what the woman could want with her, but she knew it was the right thing to accept the invitation.

Grounds Bakery & Café was one of Abby’s favorites, but she didn’t make it to the shop on Spring Street often. Abby arrived early and ordered coffee, hoping that by having it in hand, and already sipped, her nerves would settle.

She took a seat in a corner where she could look out the window and saw Althea arrive. There was a man with her, and Abby tensed. Was this some kind of setup?

The couple stopped at the curb and seemed to be arguing. Althea was insisting he stay outside
 
—Abby could discern that much by her gestures
 
—while the man was trying to keep her from going inside. A lot of hand gestures and angry expressions went back and forth before Althea turned away from the man. Was he the lawyer, Freeman? Abby had never seen the man, so she didn’t know. But Althea left him standing there fuming and strode into the bakery.

Abby stood and the woman saw her immediately. Althea was
a striking woman. Adonna had looked like her mother. Smooth chocolate-brown skin; tall, lean frame; she’d played professional basketball and moved purposefully, like an athlete. But her lean frame was thinner today, painfully thin.

Her features were set in pain
 
—Abby could see that and almost feel it when the woman saw her. She pointed to the coffee counter, and Abby understood she was going to purchase a beverage. Nodding, Abby sat down in her chair again, fiddled with her coffee cup, and worked to stay relaxed. People in pain were dangerous; she knew that and fought the jolting urge to leave, to say this was a bad idea.

A few minutes later Althea arrived at the table and sat across from Abby. She was silent for a moment and sipped her coffee. She shifted in her chair and looked up. “Thank you for meeting me, Detective Hart.”

“Please, it’s Abby.” She gestured to the man outside, who was still there, pacing and occasionally looking their way. “I take it that man didn’t want you to meet me.”

“No. That’s my brother. He can’t forgive you. He wants me to sue, to get you fired.” A muscle jumped in her jaw, and she set the cup down, looking toward her brother. “Part of me can’t forgive either. It hurts. I’ve lost my family.”

Abby paid no attention to the threats of lawsuits or of a firing. Althea’s pain was too obvious, her struggle too apparent. Abby felt it across the table, and a lump rose in her throat.

“If there were anything I could have done differently, I would have done it,” Abby said, voice thick.

“I try to put myself in your place.” Voice breaking, Althea drew in a breath. “I hate what happened, but I can’t hate you.” A tear rolled down her cheek; bracelets clanked on her wrist as
she swiped it away. “I know you did your job. It’s not just forgiving you I struggle with; it’s forgiving Clayton as well. He never should have rushed out there like he did.” She paused to blow her nose and looked Abby in the eye. “I’ve been on my knees in prayer about this. I know I will see my baby girl and my man again in heaven someday. I also know I can’t honor their memory if I stay bitter and angry like my brother. I hurt worse than I ever thought I could hurt and still be standing. I needed to look you in the eye and say that I forgive you.” She reached her hand across the table and gripped Abby’s. “It’s only by saying it that maybe, one day, I’ll feel it.”

Abby couldn’t stop her own tears from falling as she held Althea’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I thank you, Althea; I do.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank the Lord we both serve. The Lord can and does bring good out of the bad, the painful. And I know that you know my hurt. My prayer for you is that you keep working for those like my Adonna, to make sure we are safe, even if you run into more people like Clayton who can’t wait for justice and try their own way.”

“I promise you that I will.” With those words, and the burning in her throat and eyes, Abby resolved never to run and hide from the work she did. Her calling was law enforcement, and she gritted her teeth and vowed to remember the most important thing: being a voice for those who couldn’t speak, catching killers. Even through the tears she knew her vision was clearing.