Crimes of Memory (A Detective Jackson Mystery) (28 page)

River jumped out and flashed her badge at the uniformed officer. “Agent River. This is my case.”

The officer nodded, picked up the cone, and moved it behind River’s car. She didn’t see Fouts, but two dark-blue patrol cars sat side by side in the street outside R&L Enterprises, blocking the driveway. A green car was parked next to the walkway to the front entrance. River jogged up and tapped on the trunk of one of the patrol vehicles. The officers jumped from their cars and hurried toward her.

“Agent River, FBI. The perp is Russell Crowder, who we think set off the firebomb Tuesday night.” Agent Fouts rushed up as she briefed them, so she introduced him, then continued. “Rock Spring has its business office here, and we think the owner, Ted Rockman, is inside with the perp. We have an agent in there too, but I lost communication with her. They might both be hostages.”

“Is the SWAT unit on the way?” The female officer’s lips were set in a grim expression. She probably had kids at home and didn’t want to be on the front line.

River didn’t blame her. “They’re on standby, but we’re not sure what we’re dealing with yet.”

“Our report is that it’s a bomb threat,” the officer said.

No wonder they were parked out in the street. “Have you seen the perp? Does he have any other weapons?”

“No, ma’am.” The male officer shook his head. “No activity so far.”

River set her briefcase on the back of the patrol car, popped the case open, and took out binoculars. She focused on the small front window with blinds pulled up. She could see the edge of an unoccupied reception desk and the space in front of it. No people, no movement. A large multipaned window on the other side of the door had closed curtains, but River could make out a figure and some movement. Along the side of the building was another window that seemed to open into a kitchen. Also empty. Wooden fences bordered the parking lot on the left and back. Private homes sat on two of the surrounding lots. They needed to evacuate both residences and the chiropractic business on the right.

What the hell did Crowder want and how mentally ill was he? River wished she knew what the hell they were dealing with. Environmentalists were not known to take hostages, so this had
to be personal. She needed to check her e-mail for Crowder’s court file.

Finally, River said, “I see movement behind the big windows on the right. The other rooms look empty.” She nodded to the officers. “I’d like you both to circle wide to the back side of the building, take cover, and hold your position until the snipers get here. The perp is young with a mohawk haircut. If he comes out, notify me.”

Fouts drew his weapon. “We’ll cover you.”

The officers split up and ran through the adjacent properties. River lost visual contact with them and glanced back to the street. Patrol officers had blocked traffic both ways. She grabbed her tablet computer from her briefcase, clicked it on, and checked her e-mail. Nothing from the juvenile court yet.
Damn
. River willed herself to be calm. Even if the file didn’t arrive in time, this could still turn out well. She had crisis negotiation training, just like every other agent. The key factors were to empathize and stall. It was time to contact Crowder and find out what he wanted. “I’m going back to my car for a bullhorn.”

Fouts looked worried. “What if we don’t have anything to negotiate with?”

River knew what he meant. “We pray that Rockman cooperates with whatever Crowder wants.”

CHAPTER 28

Jackson pushed the speed limit but resisted using the siren to move traffic out of his way. Maggie might not even be home. If she wasn’t, he’d put out an attempt-to-locate and they would stop by the restaurant where she worked. Searching her house for the nail polish and bow/arrows was their next priority. Schak had stayed at the department to produce the warrant and take it to a judge. Evans was following him so closely, she would rear end him if he braked too hard.

At the trailer house, Maggie opened the door a few inches. “What do you want now?” She sounded weary and resigned, as if the fight had gone out of her.

“We have more questions. Open up.”

“I’m working the lunch shift today and have to leave soon.”

“This won’t take long.” A blatant lie. But Maggie had lied to them, and it was just part of the job.

A long sigh, then the door opened and Maggie stepped back. “I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

Once inside, Jackson did a quick visual search and sensed Evans doing the same. He planned to take Maggie into the department for questioning this time. Maybe the small space, harsh lighting, and video camera would persuade her to tell the truth. Now that they had the leverage of the trace evidence, a confession was a good possibility.

Maggie wore a pullover sweatshirt with a Ducks logo and kept her hands in the pouch pocket.

“Show me your hands,” Jackson commanded.

“What?” Maggie held them out. “You think I have a weapon?”

Her nails shimmered with dark polish. Jackson couldn’t tell if it was purple, blue, or black. He suspected it didn’t matter. “The pathologist found a chip of your nail polish in Craig Cooper’s wound. So you’re coming with us to make a statement.”

Panic filled her eyes. “That’s crazy. I didn’t kill Craig.”

“I’d like you to come with us peacefully. Otherwise, we’ll have to cuff you.”

“I want to call a lawyer.”

“You’ll have a chance later if we arrest you.” Jackson stepped forward to take her arm, and a book on the coffee table caught his eye.
The Hunger Games
. A weird chill shot up the back of his neck. He’d watched the movie with Katie a month ago. The story was about a teenage girl who hunted with a bow and arrow. It all came together in his head. “Whose book is that?” He nodded at the coffee table next to Maggie.

“Jenna’s. Why?”

“Where is she?”

“She’s taking a film class downtown at Lane Community College. Why?” Maggie’s lip trembled.

Jackson suspected she knew. “Jenna went out the night Craig Cooper was murdered, didn’t she?”

Maggie’s eyes glistened with tears. “I don’t know. I fell asleep during the movie.”

“Does Jenna own a bow? Or practice archery?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Jackson sympathized. He would probably react the same way if Katie were in trouble. And the likelihood of that had never been greater. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back. We’re taking you in for questioning.” He couldn’t let Maggie call her daughter and warn her.

“This isn’t necessary.” Maggie burst into sobs, and Jackson felt like a prick. Still, he cuffed her and led her to Evans’ car.

Once the suspect was in the backseat with the door closed, Evans asked, “Should I put out an ATL?”

“Yes, and put Maggie in an interrogation room. I’ll stop by the community college and see if I can locate Jenna.”

Evans’ brows pulled together. “We knew they resented Craig Cooper, but the timing of the murder puzzles me. Why would Jenna wait six weeks after he got out of jail?”

“I don’t know.” Jackson was eager to get moving.

“I think we need to know more about Craig and Jenna’s relationship before we question the girl.” Evans headed for her driver’s seat. “I’ll make some calls.”

Lane Community College had recently completed construction of a new auxiliary campus across from the library. The building occupied most of a square block and housed students on the upper floors. For nearly a decade before that, the lot had been a deep pit where a previous developer had started to dig a foundation—an ugly blight surrounded by a chain-link fence. Slowly, the downtown area was making a comeback, but the problem
of transients and troubled teenagers had escalated. As Jackson parked across from a group of street kids, his mind turned to Katie. Was it obsessive to call again? He really wanted to hear her voice, but he sent a text instead:
I love you.

He entered the building and stopped at the information desk, where he showed his badge and asked the young man to help him locate Jenna Brennan.

The young man seemed excited by the task. “I’ll see what her schedule is.”

It only took a few seconds. “Jenna had a class this morning, but it’s over, so I don’t know if she’s still in the building. You could check the student lounge.” He pointed to the left. “And there’s more seating on every level.”

Jackson checked the lobby area, then trotted up the steps, feeling a familiar tug. Would he ever get past this pain? A twenty-minute search of the many reading nooks and computer stations proved to be a waste of time. Jenna wasn’t in the building.

Jackson grudgingly made another trip out to the trailer park and bounced across the speed humps to Maggie’s place near the back. The first thing he noticed was that the little truck was gone from the driveway. Had Jenna come home and taken the car?

Jackson called the department and added the car’s make and model to the ATL Evans had called in for Jenna. The girl wouldn’t get far. He pounded on the door and looked in the windows just to make sure Jenna wasn’t hiding inside, then got back in his car. If patrol units didn’t spot Jenna this afternoon, he’d stop by the house again later this evening.

Before driving off, he put in his earpiece and called Schak. “How’s the search warrant coming?”

“I’m entering the courthouse with it now.”

“Good. We think the killer might be Maggie’s daughter, and the sooner we search the better. I’m still at their house, and I’ll
just wait here for a while. Maybe Jenna will show up or you’ll get the warrant signed and meet me here.”

“Why the daughter?”

“Jenna is a fan of
The Hunger Games
.”

“What’s that?”

Jackson visualized Schak scratching his head.

“It’s a story about a young girl, far in the future, who kills competitors with a bow and arrow. The book was made into a movie, and it started an archery craze among teenage girls.”

“That’s wild. But what’s the motive?”

“Jenna blames Craig Cooper for her father’s death, which she witnessed.” Jackson knew it was weak, but the evidence was mounting.

“I’ll keep you posted on the search warrant,” Schak said. After a pause, he asked, “Have you heard the buzz on the EPD radio?”

“What’s happening?”

“A possible hostage situation with the perp who firebombed that factory.”

“No shit? Where?” Adrenaline surged in Jackson’s veins. He envied those involved. Despite the danger, cops lived for those high-intensity scenarios. It beat the hell out of sitting in a trailer park waiting to arrest a troubled teenager, who’d likely killed a man she once called
uncle
.

While he waited to hear about the search warrant, Jackson knocked on doors to ask about Jenna. He needed to know if anyone had seen her leave that night. Only two neighbors were home and neither had noticed cars coming or going Tuesday night, but one woman said she’d seen Jenna shooting a bow and arrow in the small space between the trailers. Jackson searched the area and found straw on the grass near the back chain-link fence. Jenna must have used a bale of hay for her target, but it was gone now. Had she tossed the bow as well?

Jackson took photos of the area and bagged some of the straw as evidence. It started to rain, so he headed for his car. His phone rang and he didn’t recognize the number. He almost didn’t answer, then changed his mind. He was just killing time anyway.

“Detective Jackson? It’s Jane Niven, Craig Cooper’s sister.”

“Hello, Jane. How are you?” Dumb question, but it was polite habit.

“I’m grieving… and wondering if I should hold a memorial service for Craig. There would only be a few of us there.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Have you made any progress in the investigation?”

“We’ll probably make an arrest today. I can’t tell you anything more.”

“Is it someone I know?”

“When we’ve made the arrest, we’ll release the name. Sorry.” Jackson was curious about which of Cooper’s acquaintances Jane knew, or if she had ever met Jenna. “Who do you think would attend Craig’s memorial?”

“I’m not sure. Probably Patrick Brennan. I think they’re still friends. And maybe Patrick’s ex-wife. Maybe even Craig’s foster brother would come if I contacted him.”

Surprised, Jackson asked, “Craig was in a foster home? You didn’t grow up with him?”

“Our family was together until I was seventeen and Craig was thirteen. Then Dad died and Craig started getting into trouble. Mom couldn’t handle him and he went to Skipworth.” Jane choked up and started to cry. “While Craig was incarcerated, our mother moved back east. I stayed here with a friend, but Craig ended up in a foster home. He did okay for a while, but then he started using drugs and stealing to support his habit. He was in and out of treatment and jail for years. Then he committed the robbery.”

All Jackson could think was:
How could a mother abandon her children?
Yet it was a familiar story. Jackson was glad Jane didn’t blame herself. “What do you know about Craig’s relationship with Danny Brennan’s daughter?”

“Jenna? He loved that girl and used to babysit her so Danny and Maggie could go out drinking. And when Danny was in jail for a stint, Craig was like a father to her.”