Silenced Justice: A Josh Williams Novel (13 page)

"Let me guess, Tanya, right?"

"The girl is a wizard with the Registry computer."

Twenty minutes later, the phone rang. Putting her on speakerphone, Josh had his answer.

"Hey Josh, Tanya. I found a driver's license number for Kathleen Lakeland; still listed under the same last name. She lives in the new condos off Veteran's Memorial Parkway, Unit 145. I could not find a telephone number, probably just a cell anyway. I looked at our files and we've never had any contact with her."

"Thanks, Tanya. You're the best."

"I know that," she replied, hanging up the phone.

"Let's take a ride and go see if we can talk to Kathleen,” Josh said.

Leaving the lot, they headed onto Waterman Avenue, turning south onto Pawtucket Avenue.

"So, how do you want to approach this with her?" Tommy asked.

Josh turned east onto Warren Avenue. "I'll just lay it out for her. Let her know we are looking into this because the wrong guy got charged. See how she reacts."

Turning onto First Street, passing the Bridgeside Diner, Josh saw Chubby White coming out with a grocery-sized bag of food. Putting the window down, Josh yelled, "Hey Chubby, that part of your exercise program?"

Chubby smiled, waving with the bag in one hand, coffee in the other, and the last remains of a sandwich hanging from his mouth.

"The boy is so fat he didn't need to use the tow truck. He could've stopped that motorcycle with his ass," Josh said.

Heading south on the Parkway, they pulled into the old Getty fuel terminal. The area, once contaminated with toxic spills from years as a storage facility, was cleaned and reclaimed. A mixture of housing units turned the site into a pleasant neighborhood. Overlooking the bay, with a view of downtown Providence, it was one of the nicest locations in the city.

Driving down the hill, passing along the units closest to the water, they looked for number 145.   

"There it is," Tommy said, pointing to the last unit on the waterside of the development. "Nice. She either married right, or made some good money doing something."

Josh pulled into the driveway behind a brand new Audi with RI plates. "Let's just make sure," requesting a registration check on the plate.

A moment later, Tanya's voice came over the radio confirming the name and address. Adding, "I am never wrong," to the end of the broadcast. This caused a small eruption of bored cops, keying their radio mikes, and banging them on the dash or steering wheel. A police radio version of laughing at someone.

Josh and Tommy chuckled as they got out of the car.

Approaching the door, they saw a curtain pulled aside and a woman looking out.

"Someone's home," Tommy said, ringing the doorbell.

Several moments passed. The door opened, just a few inches. A woman looked out, the chain from the door lock blocking her face. "Yes?" she said.

"Ms. Lakeland?" holding up his badge and identification, "I am Lieutenant Josh Williams and this is Detective Tommy Moore. Could we come in and speak with you?"

The woman hesitated a moment, closed the door enough to remove the chain lock, and then opened it. "Come in, please," holding the door as Josh and Tommy entered.

The woman passed by Josh and led them into a living room with a large window overlooking the bay. Tommy walked over to the window. "Wow, this is amazing. How long have you been living here?"

"I bought this pre-construction. I was one of the first to move in. It is a beautiful view," looking out the window. "But I am sure this visit is not about admiring my view. Can I ask why you're here?"

Tommy glanced at Josh.

"Ms. Lakeland we--"Josh began.

"Kathleen, please. Call me Kathleen."

"Kathleen, I know this may be hard for you, but we're here to talk about the, ah, incident back in 1972."

"You mean the rape, of course. You can call it what it is. I've learned to live with it."

"Yes, well. We wanted to ask you a few questions, if it's okay?" Josh explained the reason they had reopened the case.

"Have you learned the truth?" Lakeland asked.

"The truth?" Josh said. "What do you mean?"

Lakeland motioned for Josh and Tommy to sit. She walked to an overstuffed chair, sitting erect on the edge of the cushion, hands folded on her lap.

"Let me explain something to you. I did not get a good look at the man who raped me. I was in shock, stunned. He hit me on the side of the head as I was getting into my car after work. He choked me so hard I was not aware of what was happening."   

Taking a deep breath, she looked at Josh. "About a week after this happened; two detectives came to my apartment. They showed me a photo of a black man and told me he was the one who raped me. They told me, mind you, they didn't ask me," studying the detectives reactions.

"Did you recognize the man in the picture?" Josh asked.

"Yes I did," she replied, causing Josh and Tommy to exchange glances.

"Was it the man who attacked you?" Josh asked.

"No it was not," Lakeland answered. "Which is what I told the detectives. I recognized him from the Shell station where I went for gas. I am from Barrington and went to Bay View Academy. I went to that gas station all the time. He wasn't the man who attacked me."

Tommy stood and walked to the window. Turning back to face Lakeland, "Did the Detectives have you sign anything or take a statement?"

"No, and I couldn't understand why. They said I was too traumatized to identify him. But I know the man in the picture was not the one who attacked me. I never heard from them again. I read the story in the Providence Journal of the suspect in the rapes being killed in prison," glancing at Tommy. "I called the detectives to find out if it was the man who attacked me, they never called back."

"Kathleen was there anything about the man who attacked you that you remember about him? Something you're sure about."

"Yes, and I told the detectives this. He had a distinctive accent. My guess would be Caribbean or some such Island dialect."

Josh glanced at Tommy who was shaking his head in disbelief. Reaching into his pocket, Josh pulled out a digital recorder.

"Kathleen, would you mind if we took a brief statement about the things you've told me? About the investigation and the incident?" Josh asked.

"No, of course not," she replied. "I've been waiting over thirty years for someone to ask me."

The statement took about twenty minutes.

Josh stood and walked over, extending his hand. "Thank you, Kathleen. I appreciate your speaking to us."

Lakeland stood and shook Josh's hand, turned to Tommy and did the same. "You're welcome. I hope it helps."

As they walked towards the front door, Josh glanced into a small side room, also overlooking the bay. There were several paintings in various stages of completion. "Are you an artist?"

"I am," Lakeland answered. "I was attending Rhode Island School of Design when it happened. I teach there now," running her hand alongside one of the paintings. "You know, I think the detectives back then thought I was some sort of hippie or something. I don't think they listened to anything I said."

Josh looked at Lakeland. "I am sorry for the way the detectives treated you, Kathleen. I hope we can find out the truth. When we do, I'll come back and tell you."

"It's not so much the way they treated me that bothers me. It was the person in the picture. He did not rape me, but those detectives decided he did. That's what haunts me, even after all this time. I should have gone to the police department and made them listen to me." Lakeland paused a bit, studying Josh's face. "Can I ask you something?"

Josh nodded, "Of course."

"Was the man in the picture they showed me, the one killed in prison?"

Josh thought a moment. "I can't be certain, but I would think it was him."

Kathleen sighed. "I knew I should have gone to them and made them listen. It was an innocent man they arrested."

"None of this is on you, Kathleen. The cops didn't do their job. If they had, we might have found out who did this. But it's not your responsibility, it was theirs and they didn't do their job."

Kathleen stood at the door as they walked out. "Thank you for coming here. I hope you do find out the truth."

Josh and Tommy returned to the car and headed out. "Can you fucking believe that? No mention of any of this in the reports. No mention of the accent, her recognizing the guy from the Shell station, none of it. They just made up their minds this was the guy and let it go. I wonder if it had been a white guy if they'd been so adamant."

"Different times on the job back then, Tommy. I'd like to think things have changed, but I wonder sometimes."

"What's with the statement?" Tommy asked. "It's not like we're going to prosecute anyone over this history shit."

"Just in case," Josh replied. "Not sure what we're dealing with here but if anything were to happen to Kathleen we'd at least have this."

"Jesus, talk about paranoia?" Tommy replied. "Brennan's gonna love this story, isn't he?"

"There is another victim we need to try and speak with before we talk to Brennan. The first rape happened over near Brown. The victim is a Mary Ellen Lyons, she's 57 now, 20 when it happened. I have an address on the East Side for her from the Providence PD file. She still lives in the same place," Josh said.

"Okay, LT. Let's go."

* * *

Heading down the Parkway onto 195 west, they took the Gano Street exit, heading over to the Wayland Square area. They drove past a large apartment building facing the Square on the corner of Wayland Avenue and South Angell Street.

Pulling into the lot of the Starbucks, Josh and Tommy headed over to the building entrance.

"Hey," a well-dressed Eastside trophy wife yelled from her SUV. "You can't park there, unless you're a customer of Starbucks."

Josh smiled, waving his badge and ID. "I buy enough coffee here to own the damn building, go park that tank somewhere else."

She was not intimidated. "I'll just leave it here, and then you'll have to wait for me to leave," blocking their car and getting out of her SUV.

Tommy smiled. "That would be one choice. Or, my preference would be to tow this thing out of here and arrest you for obstructing the State Police," dangling his handcuffs. "Your move," he added.

"Do you know who I am?" came the indignant reply, tapping her designer workout sneakers.

"Nope, don't know and don't care. But if you're having an identity crisis, I am sure a psych evaluation at Rhode Island Hospital would help you."

"Unbelievable," she said, climbing back up into the SUV and squealing out of the lot.

"The State Police?" Josh asked, arms wide apart.

"Always makes a better impression on these self-important nitwits. If she complains, we have plausible deniability," Tommy grinned.

"You have a bright future in community policing," Josh smiled.

"Why thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate your confidence."

Approaching the front door, Josh rang the bell for unit 201.

"Yes?" a voice said over the intercom.

"Lieutenant Josh Williams and Detective Tommy Moore, East Providence police. We're here to see Ms. Lyons," Josh answered.

"East Providence police? Oh, okay. I'll buzz you in." The door buzzed a moment later.

As they walked up the stairs, a door opened and a woman appeared at the top landing. She appeared younger than the one they were looking for.

"Lieutenant Williams," Josh said, extending his ID for her to see, "this is Detective Moore."

"Dakota, Dakota Jones. Mary Lyons is my mother."

Following the young woman, they walked into the apartment. "How can I help you?" she asked.

"We'd like to speak with your mother if we could. It concerns something that happened a while ago. A long time ago," Josh answered.

"Well, I'm afraid that won't be possible. My mother is unable to speak. She suffered a stroke a few years ago. She is alert and aware, but she communicates by writing. She cannot speak at all."

A wheelchair with a gaunt looking woman rolled into the room. She was smiling and gesturing to a piece of paper. Dakota took the paper, read it, and handed it to Josh.

I may not be able to speak, but I can hear, and write. Ask away Officer.

"As you've probably guessed, this is my mother, Mary Lyons."

"May I speak to you outside for a moment Dakota?"

The wheelchair bound woman reached up and grabbed Josh's hand. She gestured with her other, holding up one finger, then began writing.

The three stood watching.

If this is about what happened to me back in 1972, she knows all about it.

Josh looked at Dakota.

"My mother told me about it when I was going off to college. She wanted me to be aware of things. Believe me, other than her inability to speak, she is smart and capable."