Revenge of Innocents (13 page)

Marcus interrupted. “You can’t let Drew go free. He’s a murderer, for Christ’s sake. Look what he did to his own daughter.”

“He won’t go free,” Carolyn told him, pouring out four cups of coffee, then placing them on a silver tray next to the containers for sugar and creamer. “The penalties for sex crimes are stiffer than murder. Even if they do prosecute Drew for Veronica’s death, they’ll have trouble proving premeditation. The sentence for second-degree murder is twelve years to life. With good time and work time credits, Drew could be out in seven. Each time he forced Jude to engage in a sex act constitutes a separate crime. Start stacking up the counts, and he could end up serving the rest of his life in prison. Also, the majority of sex offenses committed against children are written so they have to be served consecutively.” She told Marcus and Hank what Jude had told them about her father making her feign illness on the days he wanted to have sex with her. “Are you going to check her attendance records, Mary, or do you want me to handle it?”

“You’ve got the girl,” the detective said, spooning sugar into her cup. “I’d much rather handle the investigation. If she’s telling the truth, the school records will substantiate her story and help us establish a timeline.”

“The poor kid,” Marcus said. “Her father should be taken out and shot.”

“You mean like her mother?” Mary said, arching her eyebrows. “Although it’s not a pleasant thought, Veronica may have known what was going on. If your child was sick all the time, you’d be concerned enough to take her to the doctor. Of course, we have to verify that what Jude told us is true.”

“Veronica didn’t know,” Carolyn argued. “She abhorred child abusers. What pushed her over the edge was the Bell…” She clamped her mouth shut, staring at the two detectives. It was too late. Hank had already put it together.

“I remember that case,” he said, setting his empty coffee cup on the counter. “Lester McAllen killed and dismembered the Bell boy. The bastard got his, though, regardless of Robert Abernathy.”

“Abernathy was chief over forensics, wasn’t he?” Marcus asked. “He was falsifying DNA evidence so he didn’t have to go to the trouble of testing it. When they caught him, every case he’d handled went down the toilet. What did you mean when you said McAllen got his, Hank?”

“The son of a bitch was murdered,” he said, shoving the bowl of jelly beans to the other side of the counter. “I hate people who keep candy sitting around. I think they do it purposely so their visitors will get fat.”

“You were telling me what happened to McAllen,” Marcus reminded him.

“Someone gunned him down in Camarillo only a few days after he was released from prison.”

“Did you ever found out who did it?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Hank said. “It happened in Camarillo, so it wasn’t our jurisdiction. To be honest, I don’t think anyone gave a rat’s ass who killed him.”

“What happened to Abernathy?”

“Same thing. He was shot on the porch of his house in Oxnard. I don’t remember the time sequence, just that the Abernathy homicide took place prior to McAllen’s conviction being overturned.”

“Sounds like a vigilante,” Marcus said. “The chances of both these men being killed without their deaths being connected is slim, wouldn’t you say?” He turned to Carolyn. “Wasn’t McAllen your case? I remember us talking about it.”

Beads of perspiration formed on Carolyn’s forehead and upper lip. If anything could muddy the waters, it was Tyler Bell. She had to find a way to shut Marcus up. “I promised Jude her father wouldn’t get out of jail,” she said. “What do you think, Mary?”

“You know more about bail reviews than I do,” she said, giving Carolyn a puzzled look. When an offender was considered for bail, a probation officer was assigned to write a report and make a recommendation. “I don’t know why you’d make a promise like that at this stage of the proceedings.”

“That’s the only way she would agree to talk to you.” Carolyn picked up Marcus’s and Hank’s coffee cups. She was so nervous, she dropped one on the way to the sink. “I don’t generally drink coffee this late in the day. It makes me jittery. Why don’t you sit down at the table until I clean this up?”

Carolyn went to the utility closet and returned with a broom and a dustpan. The two detectives and Marcus took seats at the table.

“So,” Hank said, “what’s the criterion for making bail these days, Carolyn?”

“Criminal history,” she said, feeling more relaxed now that she’d shifted the conversation away from the Bell case. “I’m sure Drew doesn’t have a record. His established ties in the community will fall in his favor. The court also has to consider the risk he poses to the community. If they don’t file murder charges, Jude will be the only victim. The court can make certain she’s not in danger by placing her in protective custody inside a detention facility. That means they won’t have a valid reason for not setting bail.”

“A detention facility,” Marcus said. “Isn’t that a jail?”

“More or less,” Carolyn told him, sweeping the glass into the dustpan, then depositing it in the trash. “Even though Jude’s eighteen, they might let her stay at juvenile hall.”

“Wait a minute,” Marcus said, scowling. “You’re telling me they’re going to let her father do whatever he wants while they lock Jude up like a criminal? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“That’s just the way things are. It always seems like the victims are being punished in child abuse cases. Sometimes the mother even turns against the child if the father is sent to prison, particularly if he’s the primary breadwinner. In the long run, though, the victims are better off than if no one intervened.”

Marcus cracked his knuckles. “How much money can Drew get his hands on?”

“I’m not sure,” Carolyn told him. “If they didn’t refinance recently, he may have substantial equity in the house. All he has to come up with is ten percent of the bail amount.”

“He can’t sell the house overnight,” Marcus said. “You said they were hard up.”

“A bail bondsman will put up the money. All Drew has to do is sign a piece of paper. If he fails to appear, they can take the house and sell it.”

“No one’s going to lock this girl up in a detention facility,” Marcus said, his face flushed in anger. “We’ll go to the damn bail hearing and talk to the judge. I’ll hire five guys to protect her if her father gets out. If he so much as steps a foot on this property, they’ll shoot his perverted ass. Jude is staying with us, understand?”

Mary glanced at her watch. “When does Emily’s flight get in?”

“Nine fifteen,” Carolyn related. “Are we going to be able to get the kids out of the house and to the airport in time? Emily wants to take them back to San Francisco with her tonight. She’s booked tickets for them on the eleven-thirty flight. Her secretary’s coming with her to help out.”

Hank and Mary had decided it was better if Carolyn wasn’t present when they arrested Drew and removed the children. She refused to leave Jude, anyway.

“We’ve got three units on their way over there now,” Hank said. “Kim Masterson of Protective Services is meeting them at the house. Two of the patrol officers are female, so that should make things move more smoothly. It’s still going to be tight, Carolyn. Once they arrest Drew, the other officers will help Masterson pack up the kids’ belongings.”

“That’s not necessary,” Marcus said, his jaw set. “Carolyn and I have a cashier’s check made out to the sister. She can buy them new things in San Francisco. Call your people and tell them to grab the kids and split. I’ve already arranged to meet Emily at the airport.”

Hank stepped aside to place the call on his cell phone.

“We’ll have to bring the children back when we prepare for the trial,” Mary said. “I’m not sure what they saw, but I know the DA will want to talk to them. There may be other charges if Drew molested Stacy.”

Marcus stood to leave, walking over and kissing Carolyn. “I’ll call you from the airport. As soon as I give Emily the check, I’ll head home. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

Carolyn had never loved him more than she did at that moment. He’d done so much, he was practically carrying her. Most people would be reluctant to get involved. Marcus had jumped in without hesitation, offering his time, contacts, and financial resources.

Once he left, Mary said she needed to go back to the station to start putting together her report. Carolyn walked her to the door, then returned to the kitchen, finding Hank back at the center island tossing jelly beans in his mouth. “I thought you didn’t want to eat those.”

“Once I get started, it’s hard to stop.” He glanced down at the few remaining candies. “They look so lonely there, I might as well finish them.”

“Who do you think sent me the threatening letter? It’s got to be the same person who attacked me in the parking lot.”

“My guess is Drew,” he said, flicking a piece of lint off his jacket. “The day of the murder, he left the house right after you. He told Linda Cartwright he was going out to look for his daughter, but he could have gone to the morgue instead. He specifically asked you to identify the body, didn’t he?”

“Do you think he killed Veronica?”

“It’s certainly stacking up that way. The biggest hurdle we have to overcome is the guy who rented the room. Drew could have hired someone off the street to do it. Then you’ve got to get past the fact that the credit card was stolen. Maybe Drew picked a black guy believing it would eliminate him as a suspect. He knew we’d assume whoever rented the room was the killer.”

“My God,” Carolyn exclaimed, “the man is maniacal. He knows the system because of Veronica. This wasn’t an impulsive act, Hank. It was premeditated murder.”

Hank rolled his neck around to release the tension. “Even if you’re right, how are we going to prove it?”

“Okay,” she said, excited. “Drew beat Jude because she threatened to tell her mother. Not only that, Jude knows he’s targeted Stacy as his next victim. He’s beaten Jude before. This time he really hurt her. She disappears. Now he’s got this ticking bomb walking around. He takes off from work the day of the murder. When people take a vacation day, they usually take it on a Monday or Friday so they can have a three-day weekend, not on a Tuesday.”

“Makes sense,” Hank said. “Keep talking.”

“Drew said he went to Home Depot to find out what it would cost to put up some shelves in the boys’ room. He claims he didn’t buy anything, so there’s no way to substantiate his story. He could have gone to Home Depot after work one night or during the weekend.” Carolyn held up a finger. “Now, even before he knows his wife’s been murdered, he hires a nanny to take care of the children. He hired this girl Crystal because he needed someone fast and she lives in the area. He also knew she wasn’t that smart, and wouldn’t figure out that he was molesting Stacy.”

“Let’s talk about the stolen credit card,” Hank said. “The Spectrum Health Club doesn’t provide keys to the lockers. This guy Tate used a combination lock.”

“How did Drew get into his locker, then?”

“Tate says he may have forgotten to check if the locking mechanism was engaged. It was locked when he got back, which is why he didn’t notice the missing credit card.”

“Veronica’s purse was found at the scene,” Carolyn said. “Mary’s report said she had almost a hundred dollars in cash, as well as her credit cards. That rules out a drug addict like Phillip Bramson, and probably anyone else Veronica ever handled on the job. The only person who wouldn’t be interested in taking her money is Drew.” She started to tell him about Stuart Greenly, but after what she’d learned from Jude, it didn’t seem plausible that he was their killer.

The detective pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll run this by Kevin Thomas tomorrow morning. I’m going to stop by the jail and see what I can squeeze out of Drew. Will you be at the arraignment?”

“No,” she said, a determined look in her eyes. “But when the bail review comes in, you know what the recommendation will be.”

Hank laughed. “You’re going to crush this guy and he won’t even know what hit him.”

“That’s the plan,” Carolyn said, walking him to the door.

Thursday, October 14
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11:15
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A
fter Marcus returned from the airport, he tiptoed into the bedroom. Not wanting to wake Carolyn, he went to the bathroom down the hall and took a shower, then slid into bed beside her.

“I can’t sleep,” she said, rolling over. “Make love to me.”

“We’ve got the rest of our lives, sweetheart,” he said. “Sleep is more important than sex right now. Just relax. I’m here now. Everything went fine at the airport. Emily’s a little frenetic, but under the circumstances, who wouldn’t be?”

“Please, I want you,” Carolyn insisted. “I need to feel you inside me. I keep seeing Veronica’s body at the morgue. Make me feel alive again, Marcus.”

He kicked the covers off, kissing her on the mouth and then working his way down to the place between her legs. Carolyn cried out in pleasure. The feeling was so exquisite, her mind was washed clean of thought. She laced her fingers through his thick hair.

He stopped and looked up at her. “Did you hear something?”

Carolyn raised her head, seeing a shadowy figure standing at the back of the room. “It’s just the wind,” she lied, lying back down. She kept her gun in the top drawer of the nightstand. How had the intruder got past the security guard? Why hadn’t the alarm gone off? Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She had to get her gun before he realized she’d seen him.

She adjusted the pillow under her head so it reached the edge of the mattress. Tossing her hands over her head, she moaned and bowed her body upward so the intruder couldn’t see what she was doing with her hands. She slipped her right hand underneath the pillow, extending her fingers until she reached the pull on the drawer. Seizing her 9mm, she took aim over Marcus’s head. “If you move, you’re a dead man.”

“Will you stop pointing that stupid gun at me?” Jude said, stepping into the light from the bathroom. “Man, you’re good. Mom would never have been able to do what you just did. She didn’t have the reflexes.”

Carolyn dropped her outstretched hands. Marcus had already rolled off her, and now crawled up beside her on the bed. He covered their exposed bodies with a sheet.

Carolyn asked, “How long have you been standing there?”

“I’m not sure,” the girl said. “I just wanted to talk to you. I didn’t know you guys would be going at it. I’m not into watching, if that’s what you think.” She laughed. “Once I came in here, I kind of got stuck. I thought about sneaking out through the patio door, but I was afraid the alarm would go off.”

“You could have tried knocking,” Carolyn said, snatching her robe off the end of the bed and shoving her arms into it.

“The door was open. That’s why I thought it was okay to come in. I had a nightmare. I dreamed my dad got out of jail and killed me.”

“This is my fault, Carolyn,” Marcus said. “I must have left the door open by mistake. It was late and I didn’t think.”

“Fine,” she said, although she didn’t feel fine. “Why don’t you go back to your room, Jude? I’ll come and talk to you in a few minutes.”

“It’s okay,” she said, “I’m not scared anymore. You looked like you were having a good time, so I’ll just go back to bed. Then you can…well, you know.”

Jude left, closing the door behind her. Marcus laughed. Carolyn gave him a dirty look. “It’s not funny,” she said, walking over to the dresser. “Jesus, I could have shot her. Once she saw us, she should have left. She just stood there and watched. It’s creepy. I mean, she didn’t even act embarrassed.”

“Lighten up, baby,” Marcus said. “Jude’s an adult. Between DVDs and cable TV, kids these days see people having sex all the time.” He cracked up again. “The look on your face was priceless. This is one of your hang-ups, isn’t it? That one of your kids would walk in while we were making love. At least it was Jude instead of Rebecca.”

Carolyn threw on a pair of jeans and a tank top, the same surly expression on her face.

“Aren’t you coming back to bed?” Marcus asked. “Why did you put your clothes on?” When she didn’t answer, he walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’re not going to let this ruin our sex life, are you? It was too dark to really see anything.”

“Look,” she said, spinning around to face him, “I’ll get over it, just not tonight. If Jude’s asleep, I’ll try to get some work done. First, tell me more about Emily. Do you think she can handle the Veronica’s children?”

“In due time,” Marcus said, shuffling back to the bed. “I feel sorry for her. From what she said, she’s built up a lucrative law practice. She doesn’t plan to come back to LA right away. Veronica wanted to be cremated, and it would be too difficult for her to make the trip with the children. Surprisingly, she wasn’t that shocked about Drew. She always thought there was something wrong with him.”

Carolyn kissed Marcus good night and went to the guest room to speak to Jude. When she found the room empty, she decided she must be in the kitchen getting a late-night snack. When she didn’t find her there, she called the guard. “Did anyone leave the house, Randy?”

“No,” he said. “Hold on while I check with Sean. He’s covering the back.” A few moments later, he came back on the line. “Everything’s secure, Mrs. Wright.”

“I’m not Mrs. Wright yet,” Carolyn corrected him. “Forget it, it doesn’t matter. Call me anything you want. Just make sure you let me know if our houseguest tries to leave, or if anything else goes on that appears even remotely suspicious.”

Carolyn went upstairs, finding Jude in Rebecca’s room. She had on one of Rebecca’s sweatshirts and was stretched out on her stomach on the floor, watching television and munching on a bag of potato chips. Seeing Carolyn in the doorway, she looked up. “I feel better in here. I have a problem sleeping. It started when I was a kid…well, you know.”

“I’m sure Rebecca won’t mind,” Carolyn told her, thinking it was understandable that she would feel more comfortable in another teenager’s room. The drawers to her daughter’s chest were open, though, and clothes were tossed on the bed, the chair, and the floor. She bent over and picked up a wet towel draped over Rebecca’s desk chair. Glancing into the adjoining bathroom, she saw the tub was still filled with water, and the counter was littered with hair products and cosmetics. She felt fairly certain Rebecca hadn’t left her room this way. Since they’d moved in with Marcus, she’d become a neat freak. Not only that, Josephine had come in today, and she would never leave a room in this state. So, she thought, dumping the towel in the hamper, Jude was messy. This might be the only normal trait the girl possessed.

“Are you hungry?” Carolyn asked. “You’re far too thin, Jude. You need to gain some weight. Did the doctor talk to you about that this afternoon?”

“I’ve been eating everything in sight since I got here. This is such a cool place, Carolyn. It’s got great energy. And I love having a maid to cook and clean for me.”

“Josephine is a housekeeper, Marcus’s housekeeper. Rebecca takes care of her own room. Until we get married, I’m as much a guest in this house as you are, Jude.”

“Whatever,” the girl said, noting Carolyn’s displeasure and changing the subject. “Marcus looked like he was good in bed. All most guys think about is their dicks. Him being rich makes the deal even sweater. You got yourself a real catch.”

Carolyn sat down on the edge of the bed. Her skin felt hot and clammy. “It’s not appropriate for you to make comments about my sex life, Jude. And it wasn’t right for you to come into our bedroom, even if the door was open. Please, don’t do that again.”

“No problem, boss,” Jude said, smirking. “You can go back to lover boy now. I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’ll clean up the room.”

Carolyn left, a disturbing sensation in the pit of her stomach. Jude’s mood swings were maddening. One minute she was angry and belligerent, the next pathetically sobbing, making a person want to risk everything to protect her. Now she was acting as if she owned the world and everyone in it. Her behavior was typical of sexual abuse victims, Carolyn reminded herself, particularly incest. At a very young age, Jude had been handed the key to not just her father’s, but her entire family’s future. All she had to do was blow the whistle and their world would have come crashing down. No matter how a person achieved it, that type of power was intoxicating. The price she’d paid was tremendous, but Jude was now resourceful, manipulative, clever, and resilient.

Carolyn would have to keep a close eye on her.

Hank stepped up to the window at the Ventura County Jail. “Hey, Cutty,” he said to a young dark-haired officer. “I’m here to see one of your esteemed guests, Drew Campbell. Get someone to pull his ass out of the presidential suite and throw him in an interview room.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me Cutty, Lieutenant,” the officer said, stiff-jawed. “My name is Zan. Everyone’s forgotten about what happened but you. Don’t you think I’ve taken enough flake?”

“No, I don’t,” the detective said, serious. “Anyone dumb enough to drink a fifth of Cutty Sark in an hour, then have to be rushed to the hospital to get it pumped out of his belly, has a serious problem. You need to be in AA, my friend. I told you I’d sponsor you.”

Zan threw his hands in the air. “Fine, you win. I’ll call you next week. I’m not an alcoholic, though. I only drink on my days off.”

“You’re still an alcoholic,” Hank stated, staring at his nameplate. “What kind of crazy name is Zan, by the way? Was your mother playing a computer game when you were born? Forget it. Get my man. I don’t have all night here.”

Once he was buzzed through the security doors, the detective removed his gun and placed it in a locker. He’d been sober for almost ten years, but he still attended AA meetings on a regular basis. Weekend drinkers like Zan never thought they had a problem. Hank hated to see a guy flush his life down the toilet.

The jail was actually a pretrial detention facility, and as a result of housing over a thousand inmates with a rated capacity of 412, the fairly new facility had the infrastructure of a thirty-year-old building. About twelve years ago, the county had erected another detention center, the Todd Road Jail, in the city of Santa Paula. Todd Road was designed to hold over 750 sentenced male inmates.

Overcrowding was a major problem, both at the local and the state level. The city of Ventura had a population of just over a hundred thousand. The county, however, had close to eight hundred thousand. Although the PD only serviced the city, the probation, sheriff’s, and DA’s office had jurisdiction over the entire county.

Drew Campbell wasn’t accustomed to luxury, but he was in for a rude awakening. A jail in a county like Ventura, though, couldn’t compare to the conditions inside one of the Los Angeles facilities, where riots were commonplace events. And prison was twice as bad. Even hardened cons refused to tolerate child abusers. Many of them left in body bags. Unless he was acquitted, Campbell had bought himself a one-way ticket to hell.

Another officer escorted Hank through the quad on the second floor, stopping and unlocking the door to a small room. When he stepped inside, Drew Campbell peered up at him with desperate eyes. This was the part of the process the detective enjoyed the most, his first glimpse of a predator encased in the jaws of justice. He liked seeing them in their orange jumpsuits, amazed at how such a simple piece of clothing could humble the most confident of men.

Technically, he should advise the jail to place Drew in protective custody. Discounting the nature of the charges, he was what Hank considered a pretty boy, with his shiny silver hair, pale blue eyes, clear, smooth skin, and refined features. Since the inmates didn’t have jobs like they did at a prison facility, their contact with men outside their quads was limited. This made the chances of a violent assault by a group of prisoners less likely. But there were always ways to get to someone. There were the men inside the quads, the tunnel where prisoners were transported to court, and the one with the least consequences, a guard willing to look the other way. Some guards did it for money, but the majority did it because they thought the inmate deserved whatever punishment his fellow prisoners wanted to administer. Hank had no intention of bringing up the issue of protective custody, not for a man who had repeatedly raped and beaten his daughter.

“God, I’m so glad you’re here,” Drew said. “They took my children. This is a mistake, a horrible mistake. Veronica was murdered. I don’t understand what’s going on. It’s like the world is coming to an end. I tried to talk to the officers who came to arrest me, as well as that woman from Social Services. No one would tell me anything.”

Hank pulled out a chair and took a seat, reading Drew his rights.

“I don’t mind talking to you without an attorney,” he said. “I don’t have anything to hide. Just get me out of this place. I’m terrified. I’ve never been arrested in my life. I need to take care of my kids, figure out what to do about Veronica’s funeral.”

“Jude told us what you’ve been doing to her,” Hank told him. “She says you’ve been forcing her to have sex with you since she was eleven, that you beat her whenever she resisted. Her injuries have been documented, Drew, so don’t waste my time denying it.”

“I didn’t do anything to Jude,” Drew protested. “Don’t you understand? She must be getting back at me because I made her move out of the house. You have no idea what my daughter is like. Christ, check her arrest record. She’s been in and out of juvenile hall a dozen times. Shit, she was even caught dealing drugs at school. How could you possibly take her word over mine?”