Justice (22 page)

“You were affected by it?”

“Of course. I liked him a lot. I wanted to remain friends. Obviously, he didn’t.” She laughed nervously. “Maybe he liked seeing me suffer.”

She turned bright red.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I was just trying to be funny. Chris was wonderful when I taught him. You know, Sergeant, I’ve never been attracted to dangerous boys. Lots of girls are, but not me.”

“What do you mean by dangerous?”

“You know, the white gang wannabes who shave their heads and brandish weapons to impress the girls.” Terry rolled her golden eyes. “Even a tame school like
Central West Valley has a group of those kinds of guys. They think it’s cool to terrorize, you know. They have contests who can be the first to make this girl or that girl. Once one of them came to me for tutoring. Yeah,
right
! I made up an excuse, told him I was booked. But he kept pestering me. Giving me creepy looks. Then he showed up at my
house
! That really
freaked
me out.”

“What happened?”

“Luckily, he happened to come on one of the days I was with Chris. This was very early on…maybe I’d been tutoring Chris for a week. He stepped outside and talked to the guy. I don’t know
what
he said—I never asked, Chris never said—but neither the guy nor any of his little friends ever bothered me again.” She studied her nails. “I was very relieved and very grateful.”

Bet you were
, Decker thought.
And didn’t he know it
.

“Even when Chris was mad at me, I knew he was hurting.” She shrugged. “I just didn’t know how to rectify it.”

Decker picked up the crucifix and let it drop on her vest. “Obviously he stopped being mad at you. How did it come about?”

“It happened real suddenly.” Terry thought a moment. “One minute we weren’t speaking; then the next, we talked about running away together.”

Decker wrote as he spoke. “When did this take place?”

“Prom night, if you can imagine that. Then this terrible thing with Cheryl happened….”

There was silence.

Decker locked eyes with the girl. “Terry, did Chris call you the morning of Cheryl’s murder? Answer me honestly.”

Terry shook her head no. “No, he never called me. But he did come to my house yesterday afternoon.”

“What went on?” Decker asked.

“We talked. He told me he was going in for questioning, and a lie-detector test. He also told me he had
come to say good-bye. He said he couldn’t see me again.”

“He came to your house just to tell you good-bye?”

“Apparently.”

“And he didn’t say anything about Cheryl?”

“Yes, he talked about Cheryl. He was distraught over what had happened. His pain was like spilling over. After he left, I felt so drained. Empty. I know I should have stayed away from him last night…but I wanted to find out what happened at the police station. I still…cared for him.”

She covered her face, then looked up.

“I told my stepmom I was sleeping over at a friend’s house. Instead, I went to his apartment. I’ve never done anything like that before. But it was something that I just had to do.”

Decker regarded her face. Her frank sincerity reminded him of Rina. “When did you leave for Whitman’s apartment?”

“Around five in the afternoon. I walked over…took my books and studied while I waited.”

“He came home late.”

“Around one in the morning. He wanted me to go back home…but after I explained the situation, he had no choice but to put me up. So I spent the night at his place.” She fingered the cross. “He gave me his crucifix. He said it was his mother’s.”

“Did you do more than just
talk
to him, Terry?”

The girl blushed.

“Did you have sex with him?”

“No,” she said, quickly. “No, I didn’t…we didn’t. Honestly. It’s true.”

Decker regarded her face. “I think you’re skirting the truth again. Terry, it’s important for me to know the extent of your relationship.”

“Why? Do you want to know if Chris has ever been violent with me? The answer is a resounding no. Never
even a…a
hint
of it. He’s always been wonderful with me…gentle, considerate, sweet.”

She looked up.

“You know, it was totally my fault that he stopped talking to me. He was hurting and I didn’t want to hear it.”

Decker kept his face flat, but felt weary inside. Another girl willing to die on the cross for the jerk she loved. Though the teen was articulate, she was still adolescent, her grasp of reality still a mite out of her reach. He said, “Terry—”

“No, really. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have broken it off right then. I should have
known
better. Because I know what it’s like to hurt. To reach out and be rejected…over and over.”

“Yes, rejection is painful, but—”

“All those times I’ve tried to reach out to my father. But you can’t talk to walls. You know, I’ve worked
real
hard to nurture Melissa. Last thing I’d ever want is for her to grow up warped like me.”

“You’re not warped—”

“Oh, yes, I am. Chris could see it first time we ever talked. He knew damaged goods because he’d been there himself. Do you
know
what he did for me?”

Decker knew he was going to find out. “What?”

“He gave me my grandparents.” Tears were streaming down the girl’s cheeks. “He called up my maternal grandparents—my late mom’s parents.
I
was too scared to approach them. Absolutely petrified. But he could read my heart. One day, I came to his place, expecting to tutor him. Instead, I wound up talking to my grandparents for almost an hour. He found out their number in Chicago and called them up cold. Can you imagine any boy doing that for a girl without expecting anything in return?”

The question was rhetorical so Decker didn’t answer.

“My God, it was the
first
time in history anybody had ever done something for me,” Terry said. “At that point,
I knew I
loved
Chris more than anyone in the world.”

“I understand—”

“I never knew that adults could actually be
proud
of their children’s accomplishments,” she went on. “You know, when I won the National Merit Scholarship, my dad didn’t even come to the awards ceremony. He was sick, he was tired, he had a job interview, he was drunk, I don’t remember. I was too young to drive, so I walked to school by myself…and walked home by myself afterward. I lied and told everyone my parents were meeting me later to take me out to dinner. Yeah, right! All I had waiting for me was a sink filled with dirty dishes. Which I washed, I might add.”

Abruptly, she stopped speaking and wiped her cheeks. “So you can understand why I have a special feeling for Chris.”

“Of course.”

“He did
not
murder Cheryl Diggs. He didn’t even care about her. Why would he kill her?”

Decker rolled his tongue in his cheek.

Terry sighed. “Yes, I know she was pregnant. It wasn’t his. He was sure of that.”

Decker paused. “When did Chris tell you all this?”

“Yesterday.”

Decker started writing in his pad. “And you honestly believe everything he tells you, Terry?”

Terry stared at him. “He told me he passed his lie-detector test. Is that true?”

Decker paused, then nodded.

“So that says a lot, doesn’t it?”

“It could be he’s telling the truth.” Decker looked the girl square in the eye. “Or it could be that Chris, unlike you, is an excellent liar.”

“Why don’t you believe what you see?”

“Trouble is, Terry, I do believe what I see,” Decker said. “And I don’t see Chris the same way you do.”

Terry bit her lip and looked down.

Decker studied her for a moment. “Or maybe I do. You have some doubts, don’t you?”

“He didn’t kill Cheryl Diggs,” she said, firmly.

Decker thought a moment. He hated doing it, but there was no easy way to drop a bomb. “So Chris never got physical with you?”

“Never. When we were working together, he never even uttered a cross word to me.”

“So you’ve never seen him violent…or deviant maybe?”

The girl was taken aback. “
Deviant
?”

“Terry, I believe you when you say you didn’t have sex with him. But you two were physical last night, weren’t you?”

She blushed and nodded.

Decker kept his face devoid of emotion. “And it wasn’t the first time you two have ever been physical, was it?”

Red-faced, Terry looked down. “No. Last night was the first time we ever did anything.”

“Terry, please don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Then you’re hiding something from me.”

“No, I swear I’m not.” The girl grew agitated. “Why don’t you believe me?”

Decker shifted gears. “Last night, when you were with him, did he show any sexual deviance to you?”

“Of course not!”

“Didn’t turn him on to get rough—”

“Boy, are you off base!” She looked repulsed. “I told you I don’t like dangerous guys. I would never allow anything like that.”

“Not even for Chris?”

“Not even for Chris!” She was adamant.

“How about if he asked a special favor from you, Terry? And he swore he wouldn’t hurt you.”

Panic had crept into her eyes. Decker felt terrible, but a girl had been murdered and he was determined to find
her killer. He kept his voice even. “Did Chris ever talk to you about his sexual fantasies? Maybe fantasies about bondage?”

Her eyes darted from him, to the staircase, then to the front door. She was terrified as well as confused. Maybe those pictures had come from Whitman’s imagination.

Decker spoke soothingly. “Terry, did Chris ever talk about tying women up?”

Her eyes suddenly got wide.

Bingo!

In a whisper, Decker said, “He tied you up, didn’t he?”

Terry turned ashen. “Oh, my God, the
sketches
!” She broke out in a cold sweat. “I’m…I feel a little dizzy. Excuse…”

She stood up. Decker caught her before she hit the floor.

Still pale
,
but at least she was conscious, trembling with raw, hard shakes. Decker had dug up an old sweater from the coat closet, had placed it over Terry’s shoulders. Sitting at the dining-room table, he waited while the girl sipped tea, her shoulders hunched as she gripped the mug to get warm. Not that it would help much. The house wasn’t cold. Her chill was internal.

She raised her eyes from her teacup, the color as clear and gold as filtered cider. Her voice was very soft. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You can ask anything you’d like.”

“Did you actually see the sketches?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“I don’t know,” Decker said. “I saw sketches of you nude, I saw sketches of you tied up and secured on his bed. Are there more?”

“No…that’s about…” She returned her eyes to her drink. “Do you have children?”

“Yes.”

“What would you have done if…” Her eyes lifted and met his. “If your daughter posed like I did?”

He sat back in his chair. “First thing I’d want to find out is why she did it. That’s what I’d like to discuss with you, Terry.”

“Would you be mad at her?”

“It depends.”

“What if she told you it was art. Nothing sordid or dirty…or shame—…it was just art. Would you accept that? Or would you still be mad at her? Think that she’s a whore or something?”

“Terry, I don’t think you’re a whore. No one does.”

She lowered her head. “Thanks. But it’s not something you’d want your daughter to do, right?”

Decker considered the question. “If this was an honest interpretation of what she considered art…if her posing wasn’t coerced either physically or
psychologically
…and if she had considered the consequences, I wouldn’t be mad at her. But as a father, I’d feel real squeamish about it. Even though my daughter is of legal age.”

“Which I’m not.” She covered her face. “I’m very embarrassed you had to see them.”

Decker didn’t know what to say. When in doubt, be a professional. He took out his notebook. “When are you going to be eighteen, Terry?”

“I’ll be seventeen in a month.”

“You skipped?”

She nodded. “What are you going to do with the pictures?”

“They’ve been filed and entered as evidence in Cheryl Diggs’s murder case.”

“So a lot of people are going to see them, right?”

“Some people might.”

“Am I going to have to appear in a trial or anything?”

“I can’t tell you any specifics, Terry, because I don’t know them.”

“Can you give me an educated guess?”

“It’s likely the State will present the drawings to a grand jury in order to obtain an indictment.”

“Will the sketches be in the papers?”

“No,” Decker said.

“Not even in the tabloids?”

Decker rubbed his hand over his face. “You’re a minor. They shouldn’t touch you.”

“Ah…the recklessness of youth,” Terry muttered.

“Your parents will probably find out, Terry. You should talk to them about it.”

“I’ll pass, thank you. Let them find out. Deal with it one step at a time.”

Decker said, “Tell me about the sketches, Terry.”

“They were art. Chris’s interpretation of Jesus dying on the cross. We’re both…influenced by Catholicism. Him even more than me.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

She nodded.

“You were just his model?”

“Yes.”

Decker studied the girl’s face. She was telling him half-truths. “After he tied you up, you two didn’t become physical?”

“No. It was all very polite.”

“He never touched you?”

She shook her head no. “I was his model…that’s all.”

“You told me you and Chris weren’t talking for a long period of time.”

She nodded.

“So how long ago did you pose for him?”

“About five months ago.”

“While you were still tutoring him?”

“Yes.”

Decker looked up. “How’d he get you to pose so explicitly?”

Her eyes moistened. She didn’t speak.

“He told you he loved you,” Decker stated.

“You think I’m an idiot.”

“Not at all,” Decker said. “A mistake doesn’t make anyone an idiot. Not if you learn from it.”

“And what’s the lesson, Sergeant? Not to trust men? I already learned that from my father.”

Decker kept his expression neutral. So jaded, so
young. Or maybe that was just teenage hyperbole talking.

Terry said, “Yes, he told me he loved me. He also said he didn’t want to sleep with me because he was engaged to someone else. He said this was a way we could be intimate without having sex. Maybe that was a line, also. But he sounded sincere. First time I posed for him, he didn’t do anything weird.”

Decker raised a brow. “Did he do something weird the second time, Terry?”

“No, not at all,” Terry said, quickly. “I just meant that the first time, he posed me in a very normal way. You saw the pictures, right?”

“The ones with you hunched over?”

She nodded.

“Yes, I saw them.”

“He had acted very respectful. So, the second time, when he asked if he could…tie me up for his vision of Christ…I did feel squeamish. But then I figured, why not?”

She took off her hair clip and shook out long strands of red-tinged mocha.

“You know, I asked him for the sketches when I stopped tutoring him. He wouldn’t give them to me.”

“I’m sure now he wishes he had.”

Terry suddenly slumped. “That’s true. The sketches are certainly more harmful to Chris than to me.”

Decker said, “How many times did you pose in binds for him?”

“Just one time. That’s all.”

“He never asked you to do it again?”

Terry’s eyes went to the ceiling. Decker regarded her face. “Or was it because of the modeling that you suggested he get another tutor?”

“One of the reasons, I guess.”

“You showed very good judgment.”

“I modeled willingly,” she said, softly. “There was no coercion.”

Decker said, “A boy as savvy and as good-looking as Chris gets you alone. He tells you he loves you. He tells you this is a way to get intimate without sex. He probably tells you to trust him, that if you really love him, you’ll do this for him. Something like that, right?”

Tears flowed down her cheeks.

“Don’t waste your tears on him,” Decker said. “Whitman’s not a nice boy. He’s been arrested for murder. Consider yourself lucky.”

Terry shook her head. “He didn’t kill Cheryl, Sergeant.”

“Terry, it’s time to drop the party line,” Decker said. “There is a very strong likelihood that you will be called to testify before a grand jury. I want you to tell the truth. I want you to tell how Chris manipulated you, how he used your vulnerability and emotions to get you to do what he wanted—”

“That wouldn’t be the truth!”

Decker paused. “You
wanted
to be posed like that?”

“No, but…” Her eyes watered. “I love him—”

“Terry, you’re too smart for that.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Decker stopped himself. “Sorry. Go on.”

“I love Chris, Sergeant. But I’ve got a fierce sense of justice. If I truly…
believed
that he killed Cheryl, I might still love him, but I’d want to see him punished.”

She looked pained.

“If you put me before a grand jury, I will tell the truth. But it won’t be your interpretation of the truth…which is a legitimate interpretation but…”

Decker waited. When she didn’t continue, he filled in the blanks. “Terry, if Chris really loved you, he wouldn’t have compromised you like that.”

“He didn’t compromise me. Those sketches were just between the two of us. They were very
personal
!”

“If they were so personal, why did I find them doing a simple, routine search around his apartment?”

She paused. “They were just lying around?”

“I had no trouble finding them,” Decker said breezily.

“But that doesn’t make sense. That he’d leave them out in the open. They’re incriminating if nothing else.” She glared at him. “I thought you were honest. Now I see you’re lying. All you care about is getting Chris indicted.”

“Hell, yeah, I want to get him indicted!” Decker said, forcefully. “You said you don’t like dangerous boys. Terry, Chris is a real
bad
egg. Do you know who his father is?”

“Joseph Donatti.”

Well, so much for the element of shock
.

Terry went on, “So
what
if Joseph Donatti is Chris’s adopted father? So what if Chris is
from
mob? It doesn’t make
him
mob. You know what Chris is?”

“A saint?” Decker said.

“Very funny!” she said defiantly. “He’s a
pawn
, Sergeant! A trapped and manipulated pawn used by vicious men. And now you’re manipulating me to testify against him. Look elsewhere. I won’t bring him down.”

“I’d try elsewhere except Cheryl Diggs is dead.”

“He
didn’t
kill her!”

“Terry, while Chris was proclaiming his love for you, he was sexually involved with Cheryl Diggs. The guy is not a poor little frog prince. He’s a toad!”

She spoke each word with precise enunciation. “He…didn’t…kill…Cheryl…Diggs…period.”

Decker sat back in his chair. Confrontation wasn’t working. The more he attacked Whitman, the more the girl dug in her heels. Because above all, there were emotions between the two of them.

He thought for a moment.

The girl had told him she had a fierce sense of justice. For her, fear and anger weren’t powerful motivators. Perhaps he should be stressing kindness…
fairness
. He softened his expression, folded his hands, and looked her in the eye. “Would you like to know where I actually
found
the sketches?”

Terry didn’t answer.

“In Chris’s hall closet was this tiny locked slot that blended in nicely with the paneling in the wall. Way up high…” Decker stretched his arms to emphasize the point. “At the very tip-top of his closet. I almost missed it.” He smiled. “But I didn’t because I’m a real pro. Chris just about fainted when I found them.”

Terry looked up.

“Man, I almost felt sorry for him,” Decker said. “I think he would have accepted cigarette burns on his butt rather than give out your name. But I backed him against the wall. I told him if
he
didn’t give it to me, I’d pass the pictures around your school until I found someone who recognized you.”

Her face froze with fear. “You didn’t…”

Decker shook his head. “No, it obviously didn’t come to that.” He gave her a sad smile. “Yes, he gave me your name. But he was miserable about it. He told me to tell you he was sorry.”

Tears formed in her eyes.

Decker said, “You know what, Terry? I truly felt bad for him. I feel bad for you, too. But my real sympathies are with someone else. Do you know who I really feel bad for?”

Terry was silent.

“Cheryl Diggs. She died so ignominiously. Young girl tied up like a beast to be slaughtered. That’s no way to die.”

Wet tracks ran down her cheeks.

Decker said, “Cheryl never got a chance to tell me her side of the story. Corpses can’t talk. So I have to talk for them. You understand what I’m saying, Terry?”

She wiped her cheeks and nodded.

“I took one look at that young face…staring at me with dead eyes…” Decker paused. “I swore I would talk for her…avenge her. Because someone viciously killed her, without regard for her feelings, for her life.
And I’m sorry to tell you, I do believe it was Christopher Whitman. What do you think, Terry?”

In a whisper, she said, “Does it matter?”

“It matters to me. It’ll matter to Chris. And it’ll matter a great deal to a grand jury. Most important, it’ll matter to
you
. It will determine how you can live with yourself after this whole mess is over.”

She looked up with dry eyes. “Chris didn’t do it.”

Decker kept his frustration in check. He studied her face. No longer defiant. Very sincere. Calmly, he asked, “And why do you think that, Terry?”

She didn’t answer.

Decker waited a beat. “Do you think Chris is capable of murder, Terry?”

Slowly, she nodded her head yes.

“So why don’t
you
think he killed Cheryl?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I used to go to the rages…the parties. I wasn’t an active participant…I sat around. But I used to go to see Chris. Moon over him. It was pretty pathetic.”

Decker waited.

“Chris drank like a fish! It wasn’t unusual to see him polishing off an entire fifth by the end of the evening. Yet, when he left, he was always perma-pressed…perfectly coherent and alert.”

She spoke in a soft monotone.

“Christopher Whitman is
the
most…controlled…compulsive…obsessively neat person I’ve ever met. And that’s saying something. Because I’m not exactly freewheeling and spontaneous. He makes me look like a hippie. I’ve seen him drunk, I’ve seen him stressed, I’ve seen him angry, I’ve seen him…aroused, I’ve seen him happy, I’ve seen him miserable. I’ve seen him in many different emotional states. But I’ve never seen him
sloppy
.”

She met Decker’s eyes.

“Cheryl’s murder was…
messy
. If Chris had killed her, he would have been neat about it.”

Decker didn’t speak. Was she serious? “Terry, even compulsives freak out—”

“Not Chris.” She shook her head. “
Uh-uh, no way, not him
! For him, sloppiness is the ultimate abomination. If Chris were a killer, he’d be a ninja.”

“Terry—”

“And if he
didn’t
do it, Sergeant, it means someone else
did
! And if you’re not going to look for him,
I
will.”

Decker didn’t speak right away, feeling a rise of acid in his gut. He was angered by the kid’s audacity, but also forced to admit to himself that he was worried. Whitman was probably guilty—the kid had killer eyes. But Decker had never fully suppressed that nagging tug in his brain.

The African-American pubic hairs found on a routine pubic comb. The semen inside of Cheryl.