Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 03 - Thrilled to Death (17 page)

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Authors: L. J. Sellers

Tags: #Mystery, #Murder, #Thriller, #Eugene OR, #Detective Wade jackson

BOOK: Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 03 - Thrilled to Death
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Jackson heard footsteps and looked up as Schak approached his desk. “Fenton’s parents say he’s in class but should be home by five. You want me to handle this?”

“I’ll go with you.” Jackson grabbed his jacket, gun, and evidence bag. “The more I think about this case, the less sense it makes. I keep thinking we’re missing something big.”

Later, as they headed downstairs to the parking lot, Schak said, “Now that we know Courtney Durham arranged her own kidnapping, do we assume the other woman’s disappearance is unrelated? What’s her name again?”

“Danette Blake.” Jackson hadn’t thought about Danette all day or called Kera to see how she was doing. More guilt. “It seems very unlikely the cases are in any way related, but we’ll ask Brett Fenton if he knows Danette.”

“Eddie Lucas too? If we get him into custody?”

“Why not?”

They took separate cars, thinking if Fenton didn’t come home, they could split up for whatever came next. Jackson took the lead, heading up City View, then turned onto Panorama near the peak. The Fentons’ huge home was constructed of white stucco, a rarity in Oregon where timber was plentiful. Jackson went past the driveway, turned around, and parked on the other side of the street. Schak parked near the driveway.

Twenty minutes later, Brett’s black Nissan 370Z came up the hill. As he approached the driveway, Jackson saw the young man glance first at Schak’s blue Impala, then at Jackson’s similar car across the street. All at once, the Nissan accelerated, speeding past both of them.

Schak took off, squealing his tires and hitting his siren as a warning. Faced the wrong direction, Jackson had to crank his car around while he radioed in the pursuit. He pressed the accelerator and shot up the hill. What was Fenton thinking? Unless the kid abandoned his car and took off on foot through someone’s backyard, there was no way he would escape. Even then, they would pick him up eventually.

At the top of City View, the road looped around and turned into Shields Avenue. The street was lined with houses, and Fenton was moving too fast for a neighborhood. Heart pounding, Jackson prayed everyone would stay inside, having dinner. As he crested the hill, he saw Schak’s cruiser make an abrupt right turn on Suncrest. Fenton was heading farther up the forested hillside into the Hawkins subdivision of new homes.
Damn
. Jackson radioed in the new direction.

He made the turn, feeling slightly out of control. This street was narrower, so he eased off the accelerator. Abruptly, Schak screeched to a stop a hundred feet in front of him. Jackson slammed his brakes and skidded in behind Schak’s cruiser. As Schak bolted from his car, Jackson saw the little black sports car stopped in the street ahead of his partner’s car. A little farther up, he saw a mother and child step safely onto the sidewalk.

Their suspect had stopped for a pedestrian. So Fenton wasn’t a psychopath.
Would he take off again? Was he that guilty? Or just scared?

The young man had apparently had enough of the chase. He pulled over to the curb, got out of his car, and raised in hands in the air, looking around the upscale neighborhood to see who might be watching.

Brett Fenton burst into silent tears moments after Jackson sat down at the interrogation table. Jackson waited for him to get control. Tears were not all that unusual from suspects. Confrontation, guilt, frustration—it could all come together to make a grown man cry.

“This is a second interview with Brett Fenton. It is Thursday, April 9, and the time is 6:15 p.m. Are you ready to begin, Brett?” Jackson glanced around at the closet-sized room.
Let him confess, quickly, please
.

“I should wait for my lawyer. I know my parents called him.” Brett wiped his eyes with his sleeve and tried to look brave.

“You can if you want to. We’ll be back when he gets here.” Jackson clicked off the recorder and stood. Schak followed his cue. Before they reached the door, Brett called out, “Don’t leave me here. Please.”

Jackson was reminded that Brett was still a twenty-one-year-old kid who lived with his upper-middle-class parents and had never been in trouble. He turned and sat back down. “Do you want to talk now?”

“Yes.”

Jackson put the recorder on the table and pressed the red button. The concealed camera was also videotaping. “Why did you kill Courtney?” He’d changed his mind about starting gently.

“I didn’t!” Brett choked back a sob. “I didn’t even see her that night. She called me and wanted me to pick her up, but I refused. I wanted no part of the whole stupid kidnapping thing.”

“Why did you lie about the last time you talked to her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“I was scared. You had just told me she was dead. It freaked me out.”

“What did Courtney say when she called?”

“She bragged a little and said something like ‘I did it. I survived a day of captivity. They couldn’t break me.’”

Jackson was surprised but kept his face immobile. “What did her kidnappers do to try to break her?”

“Probably nothing. Courtney was a drama queen. She was just proud of herself for not quitting and getting dropped off early.”

“What did she say next?”

“She asked me to pick her up. I said no.” Brett covered his face. “Of course I feel horrible about it now.”

“Did she tell you where she was?”

“Yes. She used it to make me feel guilty about leaving her there in the dark by herself.”

“Did she specifically say where she was?”

“Behind the parking lot at Autzen Stadium, near the bike path.”

“Where were you when you got the call?”

“I was driving home from a friend’s.”

“Were you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you go after Courtney called?”

“I went home.”

“Did anyone see you come in?”

“My parents were in bed, but my mother probably heard me. She’s a light sleeper.”

“How did Courtney sound to you?”

“She was bragging and kind of excited at first, then she was pissed at me for saying no. Courtney had mood swings like that all the time.”

“She sounds pretty hard to get along with,” Schak said, sounding empathetic.

“She was. She was also great fun, and great–” Brett cut himself off.

“What were you going to say? Great in bed? Was Courtney sexually exciting?” Schak followed up.

“Yes. She was sexually exciting.” Brett looked down.

Schak continued with a soft tone. “She also made you angry sometimes?”

“Of course.”

Jackson picked up. “What about that night after the kidnapping when you went to get her? Did you fight about her abduction adventure?”

“I didn’t go down there!”

Jackson was determined to find a crack and worm his way in. Fenton had lied to him before. He wouldn’t let him get away with it again. “Did she ever cheat on you?”

Brett hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“But she might have?”

“With Courtney, anything is possible.”

“Did you ever hit her?”

“No.” He looked offended.

“Did you ever squeeze her neck too hard?” Jackson was thinking of the bruises.

Something flashed in Fenton’s eyes. “No.”

“What about during sex? Some people like to have their air flow restricted for orgasm. Did you ever choke Courtney during sex?”

A long silence.

“Just tell me, Brett. Help me understand what happened. Help yourself by telling the truth.”

“She wanted it. She had trouble–”

The door swung open and a desk officer stepped in and said, “I have two lawyers here to represent Brett Fenton. Mr. Adam Traynor and Mr. Roger Barnsworth.”

Damn
!

Most of the people he interrogated in this room had no one to represent them. The Fentons had money, so they’d sent their personal lawyer and the best defense attorney in town. “He only gets one lawyer,” Jackson said. “The other can wait in the lobby.”

The clerk turned back to the hallway and relayed Jackson’s message. After a murmured discussion, a large black man with a shaved head strode in to the room.

Jackson stood to shake his hand. “Mr. Barnsworth, good to see you again.” The criminal defense attorney had represented Eugene’s ex-mayor during a murder investigation last fall.

Barnsworth nodded, grabbed the extra chair by the wall, and sat down next to his client. After cursory introductions were made, Barnsworth said, “Have you charged my client with a crime?”

“Not yet.”

“What are the circumstances?”

“His girlfriend is dead, he was the last person to talk to her, and he lied to us about it.”

Barnsworth’s brow creased into a tiny scowl. “I’d like to confer with my client alone.”

“I’d like to finish this conversation. Mr. Fenton has been very forthcoming, and I believe he would like to continue.”

Brett looked back and forth between the two men.

Jackson prodded. “You were just going to tell us about how you choked Courtney during sex.”

“No you’re not.” Barnsworth grabbed his client’s arm. “Brett, I want you to stop answering questions.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t want to look guilty. The asphyxiation thing was a week ago.”

Were the bruises that old?
“Whose idea was it?”

“It was Courtney’s. She was–” Brett stopped, then slumped forward.

Jackson waited. His suspect wanted to talk about this.

“She was sexually frustrated,” Brett finally said. “Despite her enthusiasm for sex, Courtney didn’t have orgasms easily.” Brett looked away at the wall. “She tried. We tried.” He glanced back at Jackson. “I worried that’s what the whole kidnapping thing was about. That she wanted to punish herself. Or maybe get raped. Or have sex with some lowlife stranger just to see if it would make her come.”

Jackson sat back and gave himself a moment. This was not what he expected to hear.

“What kidnapping?” The defense attorney looked dumbfounded.

Jackson looked at Barnsworth. “Courtney arranged for her own kidnapping as a thrill. An adventure. When it was over, she called Brett to pick her up and died soon after that. We’re trying to find out why, and Brett is helping us understand Courtney. Please let him continue.”

“I won’t let him incriminate himself.”

Jackson met Brett’s eyes. “What do you think was going on with Courtney? What was her main problem?”

“I don’t know.” Brett rubbed his face again. “Too much money, a dead father, and not enough attention from her mother. Elle Durham is great in some ways, but I think she competed with her daughters and messed with their heads.”

“Do you think Courtney was mentally ill?”

“She had problems for sure. She’d been seeing a shrink for months.”

A tingle ran up Jackson’s neck. “Do you know her doctor’s name?”

“I think it’s Callahan.”

Now Jackson’s whole body thrummed with adrenaline. “Dr. Stella Callahan?”

“Yeah. Why? Do you know her?”

Jackson looked over at Schak, who nodded, then back at Brett. “Do you know Danette Blake?”

“No. Should I?”

“Have you ever heard her name before?”

“No.”

Jackson saw no indication Fenton was lying. “Will you excuse us?”

He stepped out of the room and Schak followed, leaving the door open. Jackson kept an eye on Barnsworth, who was warning his client about offering too much information.

“We need to talk to Callahan right away,” Jackson said, keeping his voice low. “Two young women disappeared on the same day and they were both seeing the same shrink. Now one is dead and other hasn’t been seen since her last appointment. Why didn’t I make this connection sooner?”

“None of us did.” Schak shrugged. “Because the adventure kidnapping was the big lead, and no one told us Courtney was seeing a shrink.”

“We’ll need a warrant. Callahan won’t tell us anything without one. Will you get started on the paper?”

“I’m already writing it in my head.”

Jackson went back into the interrogation room and sat. “When did Courtney start seeing Dr. Callahan?”

“She was already going to appointments when we got together. She quit for a while, then started up again.”

“How does Courtney know Dr. Callahan?”

“I don’t know. Her mother might be able to tell you.” Brett seemed more relaxed, as if he sensed the pressure was off him.

Jackson decided to relieve him of that notion. “The pathologist can lift fingerprints off neck skin. If you choked Courtney to death, we’ll know tomorrow after the autopsy. By then, you’ll have lost your chance to confess and plea bargain.”

“Don’t say anything,” his lawyer warned. Barnsworth turned to Jackson. “If you’re not prepared to charge my client, I’d like him to be released now.”

“That’s not going to happen. He’s our primary suspect and so far, he has no alibi for the timeframe of Courtney’s death.”

“Talk to my parents. I’m sure my mother heard me come in.”

“I plan to do that.” Jackson clicked off the recorder and stood to leave. “An officer will escort you to a holding cell. Mr. Barnsworth, your time here is up.”

The attorney gave Jackson a withered look, then clapped Brett on the shoulder. “I’ll go see a judge and have you out of here before nightfall.”

Jackson planned to see a judge too…and a psychiatrist.

Chapter 19

 

Jackson hung up his desk phone and swore out loud. He’d called Judge Cranston twice and couldn’t get hold of him. Walter Cranston was a sixty-year-old Republican who had worked as a prosecutor. Jackson always went to him first with any warrant that might be iffy. He’d also called Dr. Callahan and left two messages, emphasizing the urgency of his request to talk. He debated with himself about whether to call Judge Marlee Volcansek, a lifelong Democrat and member of the ACLU, who might be less inclined to force a psychiatrist to talk about her patients.

Jackson dialed Volcansek anyway. A new sense of urgency pulsed through his veins. What the hell had happened to Danette? Could her disappearance somehow be related to Courtney Durham’s? On the surface, it made no sense, yet the connection existed and he had to pursue it. What if Callahan knew about the kidnappings? What if the psychiatrist was a predator?

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