Crimes of Memory (A Detective Jackson Mystery) (35 page)

CHAPTER 39

Late that afternoon, Jackson and his boss walked over to the federal building. He’d briefed Sergeant Lammers earlier, but now they had a meeting with Agent River. Charlotte Diebold was in federal custody, and River wanted Jackson to have a chance to question her.

“Where is Jenna Brennan?” Lammers asked.

“She’s at the Serbu campus. I convinced the DA to keep her in juvie lockup until he decides what charges to file. Slonecker wants to meet with forensic psychiatrists and hear what Charlotte Diebold has to say.”

“I hope the DA and the feds both go after that quack. Yet I suspect Diebold will only do time for criminal negligence or maybe manslaughter.”

“You’re probably right.” Jackson couldn’t bring himself to admit he’d taken Katie to see Diebold. “The therapist has already expressed public remorse. Plus her foster care childhood and history of sexual abuse will make jurists sympathetic to her.”

“Not me. She’s a predator as far as I’m concerned.”

Jackson had mixed feelings. So many criminals had once been victims.

They went through federal security, got on the elevator, and rode up to the FBI’s headquarters on the third floor. After identifying themselves through a speaker, Agent River came to the door and let them in.

“Quite the day we’ve had.” She led them to the conference room. “I’m sorry to report that Charlotte Diebold is refusing to answer questions. I finally let her call a lawyer, then had federal marshals pick her up. They’re taking her to the county jail, so you can try to question her again later.”

Jackson was glad Diebold was being booked in by a marshal. Federal prisoners weren’t released because the feds paid for those jail beds, no matter how crowded the jail was. “What about Rockman?” he asked.

“We debriefed him and sent him home. It’s up to the DA whether he wants to file rape charges.”

“I don’t think he will.” Jackson didn’t know what to believe. It was a case of he-said-she-said from thirty years ago. Considering how screwed up Diebold was, Jackson was inclined to think the therapist was confused and maybe mentally ill.

They sat down at the conference table. River, Fouts, and Dallas were already there. Jackson admired the young undercover agent for her coolheaded bravery.

“We’re still expecting Bruckner and Quince, but we can get started.” River smiled at the group and sat down next to Dallas.

“What happens with your Downdraft case now?” Lammers asked.

“We think we can make a case against Adam Greene for the JB Pharma sabotage,” River said. “But essentially, the investigation
is over. Dallas will head back to Phoenix, and we expect Love the Earth to go back to circulating petitions.”

“Too much federal and media scrutiny for them,” Fouts added. “But we’ll still keep an eye on them.”

Quince came in, took a seat, and asked, “Do we know how Russell Crowder got into the bottled water factory?”

River shook her head. “My best guess is that he watched Candy Morrison type the code a few times. There’s a place to hide in that smokers’ shelter right next to the door.”

“Was it a real bomb on his chest?” Lammers asked.

“Oh yes.” River patted Dallas’ hand. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save him, but we had no civilian casualties, and everyone on the team was excellent today.”

Jackson’s phone beeped and he looked at the ID:
Katie
. His chest tightened and he quickly opened her message:
I love u. Happy Birthday!

His heart burst with joy. Katie still loved him. He had to believe their relationship was salvageable.

Jackson texted back:
Thanks. Want to have dinner?

Katie responded:
OK. I signed up for a treatment program today.

Thank God. He texted again, keeping it casual:
Happy to hear that
.

Katie got in the last word:
I saw the news. That counselor you took me to: what the hell?

Jackson laughed. Humor was the first step. His daughter was on her way back.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

L.J. Sellers is a native of Eugene, Oregon, the setting of her thrillers. She’s an award-winning journalist and best-selling novelist, as well as a cyclist, social networker, and thrill-seeking fanatic. A long-standing fan of police procedurals, she counts John Sandford, Michael Connelly, Ridley Pearson, and Lawrence Sanders among her favorites. Her own novels, featuring Detective Jackson, include
The Sex Club
;
Secrets to Die For
;
Thrilled to Death
;
Passions of the Dead
;
Dying for Justice
;
Liars, Cheaters & Thieves
;
Rules of Crime
; and
Crimes of Memory
. In addition, she’s penned three stand-alone thrillers:
The Baby Thief
,
The Gauntlet Assassin
, and
The Lethal Effect
. When not plotting crime, she’s also been known to perform stand-up comedy and occasionally jump out of airplanes.