Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller) (10 page)

“A cousin with a drug problem,” Evans responded. “I knew it.”

“Hold on,” Schak said. “Let me catch up.” His writing had started out messy and was getting nearly illegible.

“I assume that’s who she meant. Did any of you ask about Shane? Do we have any clue where he is?”

Quince leaned forward. “I spoke with Jared’s sister Tracy last night. She’s Shane’s mother and she hasn’t seen him for days. She says it’s typical though. He often stays with his friends and only crashes with them when he has to.”

“Did you get the friends’ names?”

“I asked but Tracy wasn’t forthcoming. I sensed she was protecting her son.” Quince scowled. “I also asked about his drug problem and she said it was all in the past. Then she promptly hung up on me.”

“Did you run a background?”

“Of course. He had two known associates from previous arrests. Tyler Gorlock and Doug McIntyre. McIntyre is in the state prison in Salem, but Gorlock lives in a trailer in Springfield. I was out there this morning and no one was home. Or they were hiding.”

“Get a search warrant,” Jackson said. “Now that Lori has named Shane as the killer, we should be able to search any home he’s known to reside in.”

“I’ll have an assistant write it up,” Slonecker offered. “Maybe Trang will even get it signed for you if he has time.”

McCray spoke up for the first time. “You said Lori was only partially conscious. If she doesn’t pull through to testify, a defense attorney will shred her statement.”

“True enough, but it gives us leverage with a judge for now.” Jackson took a long drink of his lukewarm coffee. “What did you find out about Jared?”

“I’ve talked with two of his co-workers so far. They said he was always upbeat and friendly.” McCray glanced at his notes. “When I asked about Jared blackmailing their boss, they seemed stunned by the idea.”

“What do they think of Roy Engall?”

“They like him too. One complained about working for the same wages for three years, but neither mentioned any problems.”

“They want to stay employed,” Evans commented, making a face.

“Have you talked to Jared’s sister?” Jackson turned to McCray.

“She’s not answering her phone.”

“Find Tracy wherever she is. Ask her about Jared’s blackmail and about the attack on her husband last month. Pressure her if you have to. I think Tracy Compton has key information.” Jackson stuffed his notes into his bag. “I’ll track down Kevin Compton and see what he has to say. Our other priority is finding their son Shane. If he’s using meth and it caused him to lash out violently at his family, then he’s an extreme danger to others as well.” Jackson stood, ready to get moving.

“You think it was Shane who attacked his father in the parking lot?” McCray got up too. “That would explain why Kevin Compton didn’t want to press charges.”

“It’s a working theory. Nothing else about this case makes sense.”

As they headed out Slonecker asked, “What about Roy Engall?”

“We have detectives from vice watching him round the clock. That reminds me. Evans, will you take this warrant to a judge? Let’s bring in every pair of shoes Engall owns and get the crime lab to compare them to the bloody footprints in the foyer.”

“I’m on it.”

On his way to the underground parking lot, Jackson called Katie, knowing she would soon be out of class, and left a message: “Want to have lunch with Dad today? I’ll buy waffles and bring them to the school. We’ll eat in my car. Call me.”

Katie called back while he was pulling up to a little restaurant called Off the Waffle, where two afro-sporting Israeli brothers made the best waffles he’d ever eaten. Jackson doubled his order and added bacon, as recommended by the young owner, then headed south. Seeing his daughter would set him back thirty minutes, but it was worth it. Now that she was a teenager and feeling more independent, it seemed critical to stay present in her life, even for short periods of time when he was working homicides.

He eased into his usual place at the end of the parking lot and saw Katie waiting for him under the oak tree. She wore shorts and a tank top, which seemed inappropriate for school, but it was June and Jackson had learned to pick his battles. As long as she didn’t dress like a hooker, he didn’t comment on her clothes. She was a little too short and thick to get away with the bare-midriff look and he was glad.

Katie hopped in the car. “Hey, Dad. Thanks for bringing waffles.” She peeked in the bag. “Bacon. Thank you. I’m so tired of eating healthy.”

It was a backhanded complaint against Kera, but Jackson sympathized. He was just glad Katie wasn’t dieting. Those were not good times. “I only bought these because I’m on a complex homicide and don’t have time for anything else.”

Katie laughed. “Yeah, I buy that.” She pulled out the bacon-and-cheese-stuffed waffles and handed him one. “It’s nice to have some time with just us.”

“I agree.” Jackson reached over and gently touched her dark curly hair. “You got my message yesterday, right? You knew I was working late?”

“Of course.” Katie put down her waffle. “I have to ask you something important.”

Jackson tensed.

“Mom wants me to spend the summer with her. I was supposed to let her talk to you about it first, but this seemed like a good time to bring it up.”

Jackson felt blindsided. “I don’t think so.” Katie started to argue, but he cut her off. “Hear me out. I think it’s reasonable to spend some extended periods of time with her while you’re out of school. I’m just not committing to the whole summer.”

“What’s the big deal? Other kids with divorced parents do this.”

“Your mother is still struggling to stay sober. That’s why she’s taking the anti-anxiety medication. I don’t think she’s ready for the full-time responsibility.”

“I’m not a little kid. I take care of myself.” Katie tried to sound offended.

“You’re an amazingly self-reliant young woman.” Jackson smiled softly. It was true. Katie was a mini-adult because her mother was an unreliable alcoholic and he was a workaholic. Feeling guilty, he said, “Renee and I will talk about it and work something out.”

“Can I go stay with her while you work this case? Tomorrow’s my last day of school anyway.”

Jackson finished his waffle. “Okay, but let me talk to Renee first.”

Pacific Pool & Patio sat on an ugly stretch of Highway 99, halfway between Eugene and Junction City. Jackson arrived at the low-slung stucco building just before one o’clock and hoped the owner would not be at lunch.

A salesman led him through a crowded showroom filled with hot tubs and pool accessories to a small office in the back. Kevin Compton sat at a cluttered desk and was slow to look up when they entered the room. His lean muscular body said forty-something, but his thick gray hair made him look older.

“Kevin, a police detective is here to see you.”

The man looked up, revealing hazel eyes and a tanned face with no expression. No surprise or concern. “What can I help you with?”

Jackson took a seat on a plastic chair. The salesman shifted on his feet. “I need to be out in the showroom until Ray comes back from lunch.”

Kevin nodded. “Go. I’ll be fine.” The salesman left, looking uncomfortable.

Jackson was confused by their dynamic but he plunged right in. “I’d like to know where you were Sunday night between nine and midnight.”

“When my brother-in-law’s family was killed?”

“Yes.”

“I was home with my wife.”

“What about Shane? Do you know where he was?”

“We haven’t seen Shane for a few days.” Kevin spoke slowly, carefully.

“Do you have any idea where we can find him?”

“Sometimes he stays with Tyler or Damon.” Still no expression.

Did he use Botox?
“What is Damon’s last name?”

Kevin shook his head.

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No.

“How about where Damon works?”

“I think he’s at Golden Temple where they make cereal.”

“Who else would Shane stay with? Especially if he was worried?”

Kevin blinked and gave a small shake of his head.

Who was he protecting? Family, of course. “You have an older daughter, correct? Is Shane staying with her?”

“Unlikely.”

“Tell me where to find her.”

Kevin pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket, located Lisa’s phone number, and read it to Jackson. “She lives on Pleasant Street in Springfield. I don’t know the exact address.” Kevin’s expression never changed, his voice was eerily flat, and his speech was slow.

Jackson realized Kevin had some kind of neurological problem. “Tell me about the assault on you last month at the Time Out Tavern.”

“I got drunk and fell down. I hit my head on my SUV. End of story.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Kevin didn’t even shrug.

“What did the emergency doctor say about your head injury?”

“He said to take it easy for a few days.” Discomfort flickered in Kevin’s eyes.

Jackson struggled for a diplomatic way to ask if the “fall” had caused brain damage. “Did you recover fully from the injury?” he finally said.

“Not really. What does this have to do with the murders?”

“You tell me.”

“What are you getting at?”

“We have an arrest warrant for Shane. If you know where he is and don’t tell me, I can arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

Kevin’s eyes blazed but the rest of his face was immobile. “Shane didn’t kill anybody. Just because he has a history of drug use—” His voice trailed off.

Jackson suspected he’d lost his train of thought. Jesus. The poor man. “Do you have any idea who would kill the Walker family?”

“No. The whole thing is too bizarre.” Kevin’s eyes started to water. “My wife is devastated and Shane must be too. His cousins were like siblings to him.”

“I know this is a painful time for you and your family, but I’m trying to find the perpetrators and I have a few more questions.”

Kevin took a long slow breath and stared straight at him.

“Was Jared capable of blackmail?”

“I don’t think so. He’s not too bright but he’s a good man.”

“What do you know about his ex-boss, Roy Engall?”

“Not much, except he pays his employees under the table.” Every sentence was a struggle for Kevin.

Jackson felt bad for the man but he had to continue. “How did Jared feel about Roy Engall?”

“Like any boss. He liked him but he got irritated about some things.”

“Ever hear of any violence from Roy?”

“No, but he’s quite a drinker.”

Jackson glanced at his notes. “You called Jared on Friday at 5:32 p.m. What did you talk about?”

Kevin hesitated. “We were planning a family get together for Lori’s graduation. A barbeque.”

Jackson didn’t believe him. “What else did you talk about?”

“Nothing.”

“Does Shane know Roy Engall?

“They’ve met, but that’s it.”

Jackson shifted on the hard chair. Why couldn’t he make solid connections here? He knew Kevin was covering for his son but his face was impossible to read. “If you hear from Shane, please call me.” Jackson handed him a business card. “The sooner we talk to him and verify his alibi, the sooner we can clear him.”

Back in the car, Jackson called Lisa Compton and left her a message asking her to call right away. As he started to dial McCray, his phone rang.
Sophie Speranza
.

Jackson closed his eyes and weighed his options. She would just keep calling and leaving messages if he didn’t talk to her now. The TV reporters had long ago given up trying to interview him directly. They called the department’s spokesperson and settled for whatever canned statement she made, but they were only looking for a sound bite. Sophie was always after
the story
. As she much as she annoyed him, Jackson had come to respect her tenacity. She pursued her newspaper job with the same diligence he pursued his investigations. Sometimes, he grudgingly admitted, she even managed to help him.

He picked up. “Hello, Sophie.”

“Hey, Jackson. I’m glad you’re back at work. Kera says you’re recovering nicely.”

Jackson cringed. Sophie had met his girlfriend a few months ago when Kera was looking for her missing daughter-in-law. Now Kera and the reporter were friends. It still made him uncomfortable. “I’m fine. What can I do for you?”

“I assume you’re working the mass murder. Do you have suspects?”

“We do.”

“Is anyone in custody? Anyone you want to name?”

“Not yet.”

“What’s your theory? Home invasion gone horribly wrong? Or was it someone who knew the family?”

“It’s too early to say, but when I do have information I’ll call you.” Jackson started to say goodbye but Sophie broke in.

“I heard the mother had one of her hands chopped off. Will you confirm?”