Buried Evidence (40 page)

“It…was… Henry,” Carolyn stammered, backing up until she was trapped in a corner on the opposite side of the room.

Dr. Logan hit the call button, then shouted into the microphone for a nurse. The next thing he knew, Betsy was in the throes of a violent seizure. He was reaching for the straps to keep her from harming herself when her frail body suddenly rose several inches in the air, then fell limp and lifeless onto the mattress. He started to call for a cardiac cart, but he knew it was too late. Both the machines monitoring her heart and her brain waves were flat.

“Are you happy?” Christopher Logan snarled, bending down to pick up the syringe off the floor.

“Is she—”

“Yes,” Logan said, holding up the syringe in his clenched fist. “You finally killed her. And you’re not going to blame it on your husband, not when I have the proof right here in my hand.”

B
ECAUSE RICHARD
had a mandatory court appearance that morning, he had sent his office manager, June Overland, to his home to stay with Shana until her mother returned from Santa Barbara. The girl had slept until almost noon, and Lily had only peeked in the guest bedroom to check on her before leaving.

Having retrieved her cell phone from Shana’s backpack, Lily
called Richard’s house as she was driving back to Ventura. “Is she awake?”

“Yes,” June said, “would you like to speak to her? She’s in the other room watching television.”

“How is she?”

“Quiet, you know,” June whispered, cupping her hand over her mouth. “I tried to get her to let me make her some lunch. She says she isn’t hungry.”

Sitting on a brown leather sofa in Richard’s family room, Shana was facing the television. From the distant look in her eyes, it was obvious she wasn’t paying attention. June walked in and told her that her mother wanted to speak to her.

As soon as Shana came on the phone, Lily asked her if she wanted her to pick her up and take her out for lunch.

“I’m not hungry,” Shana told her. “When can we bury Dad?”

Lily wasn’t prepared for her question. “I’m not certain, honey,” she told her, her voice quavering. “It depends on when the police release the body.”

“They’re going to cut him up, aren’t they? You know, do an autopsy.”

“Please, wait until I get to the house and we’ll talk about everything,” Lily told her, wishing she had never left her alone that morning. “I’m in the car right now.”

With the remote in her outstretched hand, Shana turned off the TV, wishing she had a button that would turn off the world just as easily. “I called Jennifer. The police went to her house and took a statement from her. They were asking her the same kind of questions they asked me last night. They wanted to know where we were over the weekend, why I didn’t stay at the house with Dad, basically the third-degree. They even asked me if Jennifer and I killed him. They said they thought I got mad because he ran over that kid and I thought they were going to blame it on me.”

Lily tried to remain silent. She told herself she would have to find out if the medical examiner had determined a time of death. Her assumption was John had been killed the same day
his body was discovered, but she now realized she could be mistaken.

“Jennifer’s mother is going nuts,” Shana continued. “She doesn’t want Jennifer to see me or talk to me. Someone killed my dad. I can’t go to school. I’m staying in a strange house, and now my best friend isn’t even allowed to talk to me. Maybe I should just go out and shoot myself.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” her mother said, a sharp edge in her voice. “I don’t care if the world comes to an end, I don’t ever want to hear you make a statement like that again.”

As soon as she disconnected, Lily punched in the numbers to her voice mail. She heard Keith O’Malley’s message, followed by Kingsley advising her of the circumstances surrounding Betsy Middleton’s death. O’Malley’s call was a blow in itself. Coupled with the news about Betsy, it almost caused Lily to drive head-on into another vehicle. She steered the Lexus to the side of the road and turned off the engine.

Lily started to call Richard, then stopped, wanting to hurl the stupid phone out the window. People shouldn’t hear this type of stuff while they were driving. No wonder Cunningham had climbed on his soapbox.

As cars whizzed past her on the freeway, Lily recalled visiting a pet store several months back, thinking she might buy a dog. She’d seen a round plastic container about the size of a basketball being propelled across the floor by the efforts of a hamster. At the time she had laughed, but she now felt as if she were inside an identical plastic ball. It was as if God had played a trick, and human beings were no different than hamsters. The scenery changed, the clock ticked, but no matter how fast she pedaled, Lily kept returning to the same exact spot.

L
ily, Shana, and Richard were seated at the round table in his kitchen by three o’clock Monday afternoon. The Ventura police were now in possession of a warrant for Lily’s arrest for the murder of Bobby Hernandez.

She had wanted to keep the news from Shana as long as possible. Richard had not agreed. They had reached a point, he told her, where there could be no more secrets between any of them. Too many of the crimes overlapped one another. If they weren’t careful, they would ensnare themselves with their own lies.

Three of the five individuals who knew the truth were seated at the table. John was now dead. Richard had told them that as of that moment, he would be officially representing Lily. Should Shana require legal representation, he would bring in his partner, Marty Schwartz. He proceeded to caution Shana about what she said, not only to the police but to everyone she came in contact with.

“How can Richard represent you, Mom?” Shana asked, tapping her fingernails on the table. “Won’t that be a problem? You just admitted that you told him the truth right before you confessed to that detective who moved to Omaha.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me representing her,” Richard told her. “No matter what I know, Shana, I’m going to do everything in my power to protect both you and your mother. No one will ever replace your father, but I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” the girl said, reaching over and touching his hand. “It’s nice to know someone cares.”

“The good thing about having me as your mother’s attorney,”
Richard continued, trying to keep his own emotions in check, “is she doesn’t have to worry about legal fees.”

A weak smile appeared on Shana’s face. “That works for me.”

“The only time the situation might become sticky is if the prosecution subpoenas me to testify as a witness,” Richard continued. “Right now, there’s no reason to believe they know I’m involved. Just because your mother and I were friends and worked in the same office doesn’t mean I can’t represent her.”

Shana walked over to the sink to get a glass of water. “Most people don’t stay in their attorney’s house, though, right?”

Richard was pleased to see the girl’s mind working. Grief was a devastating emotion. Sometimes even a distraction as disturbing as the one they were facing was better than sinking into a pit of despair. “I have a pullout sofa at the office,” he said. “You and your mother can stay here as long as you want. I’ll send someone to Santa Barbara to pick up your things, Lily. I don’t want either of you staying at the cottage. This house has a good security system, and I’ll never be more than a phone call away.”

Shana asked, “What about my stuff?”

“You’ll have to wait until the police clear the crime scene.”

“I can’t deal with this,” Lily suddenly erupted, standing and shoving her chair back to the table. “I want to plead guilty. Even Cunningham said it was time I put this behind me.”

“Why would you plead guilty?” Shana shouted angrily. “They’ll send you to prison. Then I won’t have anyone.”

“Pleading guilty doesn’t make sense, Lily,” Richard told her. “Just because the police managed to get a warrant doesn’t mean they can bring in a conviction. They could show the jury a film of you committing the crime, and I’d still place my money on an acquittal. You and Shana were raped, for God’s sake. You’re a mother, an educated professional who has devoted her life to the community. Hernandez was a monster.”

“Don’t you understand?” Lily said, slamming her fist down on the table. “I’ve lived a lie for over six years! I want to wipe the slate clean. I don’t want them to let me off just because I
killed someone to avenge my daughter’s rape, or because I happened to kill a man who turned out to be a murderer. What if Hernandez had been an innocent person who just had the misfortune of resembling the man who raped us? Would that be okay? Should they let me go then as well? Every criminal has an excuse, some way to justify his behavior. I’m ready to pay my dues.”

“No!” Shana shouted. “You don’t deserve to go to prison. The guy you killed was worse than Curazon. Richard just said a jury won’t convict you. Listen to him, Mother. Stop talking like an idiot. You shot that guy to protect me. Don’t you know how you make me feel when you say these things?”

“Richard will negotiate a settlement with the D.A.’s office,” Lily explained, walking over and putting her arm around her daughter. “The case will be resolved in a meeting, not a courtroom. That means it won’t turn into a media circus, where you and I will both be hurt.”

“I don’t care if they put us on television,” Shana said, wiping away a tear, her body shaking. “Please, Mother, promise me you won’t do this…go in there and tell them you killed him.”

“Remember, sweetheart,” Lily said softly, “we were talking the other day about how criminals don’t spend enough time in prison?” A sense of peace had settled over Lily now that she’d made her decision. “Because of how long ago the crime occurred and the mitigating circumstances Richard just mentioned, the D.A.’s office will probably let me plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter. They might even give me a suspended sentence, structure a punishment where I wouldn’t have to go to prison at all. They even have work-release programs.”

“When did you talk to Cunningham?” Richard asked, his eyes tracking Shana as she stormed out of the room.

“I’m not really certain,” Lily answered. “I haven’t had enough sleep. That’s why I want to get this resolved. Shana may be upset now, but when it’s all said and done, I believe it will be a relief for everyone.”

Richard and Lily’s ears pricked, hearing the sound of a car
engine, then tires squealing on his asphalt driveway. “What in the—”

They both raced over to the window, thinking it had to be the police, that someone had told them where Lily was staying and they had come to arrest her.

One of Richard’s prized possessions was no longer parked in the driveway. Shana had found his keys on the hall table and had taken off in his 1965 black Corvette convertible.

N
OW THAT
they had talked a judge into signing a warrant for the arrest of Lily Forrester, Fred Jameson and Keith O’Malley felt fairly certain that their suspect would surrender. When they returned from the D.A.’s office, they found Bruce Cunningham had moved all the evidence boxes into the conference room.

“It’s great having you onboard,” Jameson said, cracking his knuckles. Cunningham had started to organize the various files and evidence in neat stacks on top of the conference table. “The D.A. wants us to get him everything he’ll need to prepare the pleading by Wednesday. That only gives us two days.”

Keith O’Malley had brought along a stack of yellow notepads and tossed several onto the conference table so the three men could begin making notes. Then Jameson would be charged with the responsibility of dictating the litany of facts, evidence, witnesses, and chronological events which made up the body of the case. This document would be presented to the district attorney, who would perform an analysis of the overall crime and decide which laws should be presented to the court at the time charges were filed at Lily’s arraignment.

“Here’s what I’d like to go over first,” Jameson said, pulling down one finger at a time. “The composite drawing of the suspect, the one that looks like Lily Forrester dressed up like a man. The interview Cunningham taped with Manny Hernandez before our guys killed him when he was attempting to dispose of the gun used in the McDonald-Lopez killings, along with a current name and address of the neighbor who saw the whole thing from her window.”

“I didn’t find any tapes or recorded statements,” Cunningham said, bending down to pull some items out of another evidence box.

“What do you mean?” Jameson asked, glancing through the notes he had made several days before when he’d searched through the boxes. “I put it back in the same box. Did you check the box marked number twenty-three?”

“I checked all of them,” the former detective told him, a disappointed look on his face. “Gosh, don’t tell me something that important was lost in the merger.”

“No, I saw it the other day,” Jameson said, searching his memory. “The original of the composite disappeared. All we have is a copy from the newspaper. That makes Manny’s statement crucial. He’s the person who provided the description of the killer that we used for the composite. In addition, Manny described the car, the stocking cap the killer was wearing, his facial features. I also taped a phone call to John Forrester.” He slapped his forehead. “That tape can’t possibly be gone.”

“Maybe you left it on your desk,” Cunningham suggested, scrunching up his nose. “There aren’t any tapes in these boxes. Are you sure you brought everything up?”

Jameson stood as he flipped through a list of the evidence, too wound up to sit down. “There should be thirty-two boxes.”

Cunningham counted them to be certain. “All present and accounted for.”

“This is insane,” Jameson continued, linking eyes with the former detective. “I know I put that tape of your interview with Manny in the box. The conversation with John Forrester is even more valuable than the tape of Manny Hernandez. At least Forrester wasn’t a gangster.”

“Shit happens,” Cunningham said, taking a seat at the counsel table. “What kind of information did Forrester give you on this missing tape?”