Mary Jane's Grave (20 page)

With a promise to Simone to keep in touch more frequently, I left Cincinnati and headed home. Michael drove, and as soon as we crossed the Richland County line, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Per our union contract, I was automatically granted ten days off, with pay, as stress leave since I was involved in a shooting.

Five days after the incident, Simone called to inform me that we had been officially cleared and the case had been closed. There were no complaints or outcries from any of the watchdog groups either. The mayor had seen to that. My own department had cleared me from any wrongdoing within twenty- four hours.

The days I was off I more than once found myself almost relishing the fact that I’d shot and killed Meghan Dearth. As much as I hated to admit it, she did nothing but prove she was guilty and save the taxpayers the expense of a trial. I don’t care how deranged she was at the time of the shooting, she was perfectly sane when she killed Melissa Drake. As far as I was concerned, she got the punishment she deserved.

On my first day back to work, I was more than anxious to dive into the cases at Mary Jane’s Grave. I had been fielding phone calls in my office for an hour when the Communications Center called me.

“Sergeant Gallagher? We heard what happened in Cincy and we’re glad you’re okay,” the male voice said.

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Most of the calls I’d gotten since I arrived had been like this.

“There’s another reason I called. I’ve been waiting for you to get back because I found that information you were looking for.”

“What information is that?”

“Daniel Griffin. We’ve located him.” I held my breath. “He was using a different name, but we tracked him through his Social Security number. He was living at the Koogle Road apartments here until recently.”

“When did he move?”

“The day after your shooting. He left a forwarding address with the apartment manager so the guy could mail his deposit to him, though.”

“Where did he move to?” I asked, feeling my pulse quicken.

“Savannah, Georgia.”

I closed my eyes and let out a not-so-quiet groan. I had been crossing my fingers that Daniel Griffin would make things easy for me and still be in the area. At least he was dumb enough to leave his new address.

“Sergeant? Do you want the forwarding address?”

“Go ahead with it, and give me the number for the local police down there.”

I called the Savannah Police Department and requested they check the address discreetly for anything matching Daniel Griffin’s name or Social Security number. I was waiting for them to call me back when Naomi walked into my office, holding a bouquet of roses.

“These are for you.” She set them on my desk.

“Who are they from?” I looked for a card.

“I have no idea, there’s no card. Maybe they’re from Michael since it’s your first day back.”

“No, he would have sent a card, but I guess I can check.”

I set them aside just as my phone rang. After obtaining the information I was waiting for, I hung up and looked at Naomi.

“What?” she inquired.

“I think I’m taking another road trip.”

I quickly explained the phone call before Naomi flew off the handle. I also gave the strong circumstantial evidence that pointed to Daniel Griffin.

“Naomi, look at the facts. The skinned dog was almost identical to the one Daniel was convicted of killing. He was in Mansfield during the murder and the attack, and he left the day after the news broadcast of the Meghan Dearth shooting. That leads me to believe that he thought I was onto to him and getting close, so he took off.”

“But what’s the point? I mean, why would he kill again after all these years?”

“How do you know he ever stopped? According to his NCIC check, he’d only been back in Mansfield for six weeks. He’d been in Virginia Beach before that. You don’t think that’s a coincidence, do you? Maybe he’s been killing this entire time and just hasn’t been caught yet.”

“Still, what are you going to do down there if you find him?”

“There’s no if. He’s been found. Savannah PD just confirmed he’s living at the forwarding address. I feel strongly enough that once I get the opportunity to interrogate him, I’ll get him to confess. If all else fails, maybe there’s enough for a search warrant to search his new residence.”

Naomi looked hesitant. She was contemplating my request, but also weighing my last experience against another one. Eventually, she let out a loud sigh.

“All right, you can go, but I’m going with you this time.”

“Fine by me.” I could use the company.

“I’ll go ahead and make the flight and hotel reservations, you get a hold of Savannah again and make arrangements.”

“That sounds great but I’m not
flying
anywhere,” I boldly announced.

Naomi looked irritated. “Oh, c’mon CeeCee! You need to get over that, for crying out loud. That’s like a thirteen- to fourteen- hour drive!”

“Just look at it this way, it’ll give us plenty of time to catch up, and the scenery is beautiful on I-77.”

I wasn’t going to budge and Naomi knew it. I hated to fly and only did it if it was absolutely necessary. The last time I had been on a plane was after the Carl James Malone case when Michael took me to Jamaica. I was so drunk by the time the plane landed, Michael almost had to carry me. Finally, Naomi shook her head and grumbled that she would drive.

“Just meet me here about five in the morning. That’ll put us in Georgia around dinner time so we can eat, get our hotel rooms and relax before we get with Savannah PD the next day,” I said.

“Five it is.”

After Naomi left, I began to mull over the best way to tell Michael about my impending trip to Georgia. Then I looked again at the flowers Naomi had brought in. They had to be from Michael. I couldn’t imagine who else would have sent them. I called his cell phone, miraculously reached him and asked him.

“Sorry, Cee, I didn’t send them. Are you sure it wasn’t Eric trying to cause a problem again?”

“I don’t think so. We’re done. There’s no going back, so he wouldn’t even try.” I thought for a minute. “Michael, I know you’re probably gonna flip but I have to go to Savannah, Georgia, tomorrow. I think I’ve found a solid suspect.”

He groaned. “Why is it every time you find a suspect you have to go out of town? My nerves can’t take this.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but I have to. Naomi said she’d go with me.” I sighed. “How about if we talk about this when I get home? Are you going to be on time?”

“Should be.”

After I hung up with Michael I again stared at the roses.

I decided to make my day a brief one so I could go home and pack my things for the trip. I was completely packed and had take-out dinner ready for Michael when he came home. He still wasn’t thrilled that I was leaving.

“Every time my phone rings when you’re gone, I cringe. This time I’ll expect a phone call that you
had
been taken hostage before eventually killing the suspect and saving Naomi.”

“Very funny.”

“I want you to check in with me at the very minimum twice a day.”

I went to bed early. Since most of the day would be spent driving, I didn’t take too much care in my appearance when I got ready to leave. I merely whipped my hair up into a ponytail and threw on casual, comfortable clothes. When I met her at the department, Naomi was dressed the same. According to her, Coop had his own concerns about our trip.

“He said every time we’re together on something like this it worries him.”

“That sounds familiar. He and Michael must’ve had a powwow. I’ll keep my eye out for a car following us the entire way down. It’ll probably be those two.”

After stopping for a light breakfast, Naomi and I were on our way to Georgia. As promised, she drove. Once we were on the interstate, she wanted me to refresh her memory regarding all the facts of the case.

“Essentially, we have our current murder, which produced diddlysquat of evidence. We find out later there was a murder twenty years ago that also involved a young girl, Melissa Drake. One of the suspects, a psychopathic devil- worshipper, likes to skin animals. Lo and behold, we find a skinned dog that has distinct similarities to one of the psycho’s earlier projects. The other suspect, a sociopath and narcissistic bitch, is no longer in the picture as she was killed by yours truly. The psycho, Daniel Griffin, was in the area until the day after the news broadcast of the Meghan Dearth shooting and had only been here for several weeks before the current murder. I am now on my way, with my glorious captain, to interview this psycho and beat him into a confession. Any questions?”

Naomi laughed. “Yes. Where does the witch fit in?”

“Ah, the witch. I forgot to add the part about the numerous tales of the supernatural from various witnesses during the murders. We have in no particular order: a crying baby, smell of smoke, loss of cell phone service, rocks hurling through the air by themselves, a bleeding tree, curses and last but not least, an old woman in white.” I proceeded to bellow out my best witch cackle.

Naomi laughed again. “Copy that. What’s with all the history, though? I think at one point you thought it might have something to do with this current murder.”

“I did up until Daniel Griffin fell into my lap. There are a lot of unanswered questions to Mary Jane Hendrickson’s death, no doubt about it.” The tone in my voice turned more serious. “She allegedly had a baby that there is no death record of, and her age at death was changed for unknown reasons. I followed her ancestors down to Maryanne Hendrickson, who eyewitness accounts say had a child. That’s where I hit a dead end. There’s no record of a child born to her anywhere. There’s also no mention of fathers anywhere. And supposedly this is all connected to Ceely Rose, a murderess who wiped out her family with arsenic and was survived by a brother that no one talked about.”

“Whew.”

“No kidding. When this is all said and done, I’d like to try to look into that more, on my own time of course.”

“Of course.”

After driving for six straight hours, Naomi gave up the driver’s seat. She slept off and on for a little while. Then we stopped just outside of High Point, North Carolina, to grab lunch. I checked in with Michael, mainly to assure him we hadn’t been kidnapped by terrorists or shot by a highway sniper. We pulled into our hotel parking lot in Savannah a little over three hours later.

“Thank God,” Naomi muttered after I nudged her to let her know we had reached our destination. “To think this could’ve been a lovely three-hour flight, with a drink in my hand no less. I can’t believe I let you talk me into driving, CeeCee.”

“Actually, it took us about an hour or so less than I thought. C’mon, let’s get settled into our rooms, chill out for a while, and go grab a drink. There’s a pub over there by the lobby.”

We did just that, having two drinks at the pub before calling it a night. We were meeting the detective lieutenant at the Savannah Police Department first thing in the morning, so we went to bed early.

We had somewhat of an audience waiting for us when we walked through the doors of the police department. Detective Lieutenant John Cahill introduced himself first, surrounded by twenty to thirty other officers, some in uniform, some in plainclothes.

“We don’t normally have a welcoming party, Sergeant, but some of the guys here wanted to meet you and your captain. They’ve seen y’all both on TV about those high- profile murder cases. Most of ‘em have read your book, Sergeant. Consider yourselves a little like celebrities around here.” He extended his hand with a wide grin. “We’re more than happy to help y’all.”

Naomi and I spent the next half an hour meeting and greeting. Some of them had even brought my book in for me to sign. A couple took pictures. Naomi and I kept giving each other secret glances that said
can you believe this?
We’ve had other law enforcement show enthusiasm in meeting us, but nothing like here in Savannah. They were some of the kindest people we had ever met. Even the chief of police came out to meet us.

Finally, Lt. Cahill clapped his hands loudly and said in his slow, Southern drawl, “All right, fellas. We gotta get goin’ now. I’m sure Captain Cooper and Sergeant Gallagher appreciate y’all fawnin’ all over ‘em but we got work to do.”

We followed Lt. Cahill down several brightly lit corridors and through two large double doors. Walking into the first office to our right, Lt. Cahill asked us to have aseat.

“Can I git y’all some coffee or tea?”

Naomi and I declined, taking our seats in front of an old steel desk completely cluttered with papers, notes, trinkets and several ashtrays.

“Well, now…I know y’all are anxious to get going. I’ve had an unmarked car sittin’ on this fella’s trailer since ya called yesterday, and there hasn’t been any movement. His car’s still there, so he hasn’t left. I figure I’ll have some uniformed officers park down the road in case things get outta hand. For the most part, we can jist keep it quiet and go up and knock on the door. Sound okay?”

“That’s fine, Lieutenant,” I replied. “How far is it to Daniel Griffin’s trailer from here?”

“ ‘Bout twenty- five minutes. Before we leave, I wanted to show you this.” He shuffled through the piles of paperwork on his desk and handed me a thin green file. “I checked with the owner of the trailer that Daniel Griffin is renting to see if he could give me any information. Apparently, he rented the trailer under the name Roger Jacox. I decided to run the name through NCIC and that was what it hit on.” He nodded at the file I was holding.

I opened it and looked, not surprised in the least. According to the National Crime Information Center, Roger Jacox was wanted for questioning in the disappearance of two women in Virginia three years ago. I handed the file to Naomi, who shook her head when she read it.

“I guess you were right on the money, CeeCee.”

“Maybe. Nothing’s concrete yet.”

I handed the file back to Lt. Cahill, who suggested we get started.

Naomi and I rode with him since we hadn’t a clue where we were going. We were out of Savannah quickly and began to travel down desolate back roads. I admired the scenery and remembered how much I loved the South. The Spanish moss hanging from the thick, over-grown trees that lined the roads was beautiful.

We turned onto a narrow dirt lane, which had thick crabgrass running up the middle and went toward the small blue, run-down trailer that sat at the end of it. A small black hatchback car with Ohio license plates was parked in front of it.

“Here we are, ladies…Southern paradise.”

We hadn’t even stopped before I could see the front door to the trailer was slightly ajar.

“Looks like he might be expecting us,” I mumbled as I got out of the car.

Lt. Cahill nodded toward the back of the trailer and started walking that way in case there was a back door that Daniel could try to escape through. Naomi stepped off to the side, out of sight, while I approached the door with my gun drawn. I could see partially inside the trailer through the crack in the door, and it looked completely empty.

I knocked on the door hard enough that it swung open while I shouted, “Daniel Griffin? Police!”

Now with a full view of the inside, I could see what little contents were in the trailer, none of which was Daniel Griffin. There was only one large room with a soiled, bare mattress off to the side and a small kitchenette against the farthest wall. However, the contents troubled me.

Before I went in, I told Naomi it was clear. While she yelled out to Lt. Cahill, I walked directly to the old mattress and the papers that lay next to it. There were Mansfield newspapers focusing on Meghan Dearth’s death, her obituary and stories of the murders. Next to them were the remnants of melted black candles and freehand sketches of the pine tree at Mary Jane’s Grave. Daniel Griffin was plainly gone, and I didn’t think he would be coming back.

“I guess he knew we were coming,” Naomi said softly from behind me, looking over the papers as well. “I’ll call the prosecutor’s and have a warrant issued immediately.”

“Wait, Naomi.” I continued to look over the scene in front of me. “This is too obvious.”

“What do you mean?”

Lt. Cahill came in behind me. “I mean exactly what I said. If Daniel Griffin knew we were coming, why would he leave this shit? He wouldn’t. This is all laid out too perfectly, I’m afraid. I agree that you need to issue the warrant—we still have to question him—but something doesn’t seem right here.”

“You might be right, Sergeant,” Cahill said. “That car out there came back stolen. Wasn’t entered as of yesterday when we ran a check on it, but it was today. Whoever took it only took it within the last twenty- four hours or so. According to our information, Daniel Griffin, or Roger Jacox, has been here for over two weeks now, and he was driving a silver pickup truck.”

“Who’s the owner of the stolen vehicle?” I asked.

“The owner lives in Mansfield. I think they said Kagle or Koogle Road.”

Naomi and I looked at each other. This didn’t make sense. Daniel Griffin drove his own truck down here and somehow got back to Mansfield to steal a car? Maybe it was possible, but the odds were very slim. If Daniel wanted a different vehicle, he would’ve stolen one here in Georgia, or in a surrounding state. If he thought we were looking for him, stealing a car from his former apartment complex in Ohio would do nothing but make it easier for the cops to find him. I was mystified.

Naomi was already on the phone with Coop, sending him over to the apartments to reinterview the owner of the stolen car, specifically to see if there was any connection to Daniel Griffin. I had already checked to see if Daniel had any living family members, but it appeared there were none. Then I directed my attention to Lt. Cahill.

“I need to find some direct evidence to the murders. This stuff is great and it’s probably pointing us in the right direction, but as of right now it’s just circumstantial.” I gestured to the papers and drawings. “Do you guys have a crime scene investigation unit or lab that I can use to process this trailer?”

“I’ll get ‘em out here in about thirty minutes,” Lt. Cahill said as he dialed his phone.

At the very least, I could get Daniel’s fingerprints and DNA on file in case we needed them for a possible match. Of course, there was nothing found at any of the crime scenes to match them to, but if there were any further crimes at the grave, we could be certain.

After Lt. Cahill called his crime lab, the Evidence Collection Unit, he called his Communications Center to put other local agencies on the alert for Daniel Griffin and his silver truck. There wasn’t a warrant issued yet, but he could still be stopped and held for a reasonable amount of time for questioning.

I couldn’t help feeling uneasy about our findings. Unfortunately, I had found out the hard way in the past that when things appear simple, they are usually Anything but.

I stood by while the Savannah Police processed the trailer and car for evidence. When they were almost finished, I called Michael. He agreed with me.

“Definitely not your norm, Cee. This killer has been a step ahead of law enforcement the entire time. Daniel Griffin didn’t go through the trouble of covering up all of these murders, twenty years apart no less, to allow himself to get caught by leaving such blatant items for you to see. I’d say you need to find him. And quickly.”

“Why?”

Before Michael could answer, I heard someone calling his name in the background. He hung up with a promise of calling me back as soon as he could.

By the time we were getting ready to leave, Naomi had heard back from Coop, who had spoken with the owner of the stolen vehicle.

She looked dismayed. “Nothing. The gal who owned the car said she parked it there at ten P.M. before going in her apartment. When she went to leave for work at six

I tried to figure out the drive time. “So that would mean the car was most likely taken before three A.M., since Savannah had an undercover car watching this place by three P.M., and the car was here. Did the girl sound on the up and up?”

Naomi nodded. “Single mother, full- time job, no record. Coop said he had no reason to believe she wasn’t telling the truth. And before you ask, she doesn’t know Daniel Griffin. She lives two buildings behind his former one.”

I sighed. “I feel like this trip was a waste of time.”

“We’re covering all potential suspects in a murder case. Nothing can ever be considered wasted.” She paused. “I know you didn’t want me to do this now, but, considering what we have, I called the prosecutor’s office and they’re getting a warrant issued for Daniel Griffin.”

“No, you’re right. Everything’s pointing to him, and we need to get him picked up. I just can’t shake this feeling I have about those newspapers and crap in there. It’s just too perfect.”

Naomi was silent for a few moments. “Look, there’s nothing more we can do here. Savannah will forward all the evidence to our lab. Let’s go check out of our hotel and get the hell out of here. They’ll let us know if they find him.”

I was in total agreement. It had been only two days but I missed Michael terribly. We went back to the police department with Lt. Cahill and wrapped things up, mainly for their paperwork. Then we gave them our sincere gratitude and said our good- byes.

As the sun began to set, Naomi and I set forth on our long trip home with a strong feeling of disappointment, not knowing what awaited us there.