Dying for Justice (23 page)

Chapter 29

Thursday, September 9, 5:35 p.m.

“Are you serious?” Katie acted like he’d just asked her to shave her head.

“My aunt is dying and she wants to see both of us. This is important.”

“Just like that, we’re supposed to drop everything and drive to Canyonville?” Katie shoved her backpack to the floor of the car. “I don’t even know your aunt and uncle. I haven’t seen them since they visited us way back, like when I was in the second grade.”

Jackson put the car in gear and merged into the traffic leaving the school’s parking lot. He wanted to give Katie a minute to process her fate. He also wanted to get moving so she couldn’t bail out on him. “I know this is not what you had in mind for this evening, but please make the best of it. We’ll buy our favorite snacks and bring some music we both like. A road trip with Dad.”

“Can we take the GTO?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, but I want Salsa Verde Doritos and peanut butter M&Ms.”

When they were on Amazon Parkway, Katie turned to him and asked. “How did you find out your aunt was dying?”

“I called and Uncle David told me.” He knew where she was going with this, but he wouldn’t lie to her.

“Why did you call them?”

“There’s something in one of my mother’s letters I want to ask Irene about.”

“I knew it.” Katie poked his shoulder. “This is work. You’re investigating your parents’ murders and need to question Irene about something.”

“You got me.” He reached over and tousled her hair. “Still, we’re going to make a dying woman happy.”

“You owe me.”

“You can miss your first class tomorrow morning.”

She rolled her eyes, pulled out her cell, and started texting.

He hoped she wouldn’t spend the whole drive south in that mode, but he’d wait to mention it.

While Katie changed her clothes and got ready to leave, Jackson called Derrick again. His brother, as usual, didn’t answer. Jackson left an impatient message: “Aunt Irene is dying, and Katie and I are driving down to see her tonight. You should come with us. Either way, call me. I have something important I want to talk about.”

Katie came into the living room as he was hanging up. “You sound mad at your brother.”

“He knows I’m investigating this case, yet he never answers his phone.”

“Maybe it’s hard for him to talk about your parents.”

“Maybe. Are you ready?”

“As I’m ever gonna be.”

Canyonville was ninety-five miles south on I-5. Forests bordered the highway for most of the route, so the drive was easy and beautiful. The sun had started to slide down the horizon, but they still had fading pink daylight for most of the trip.

Katie wanted to know what it had been like growing up with his parents, and Jackson was content to talk about it. He remembered his childhood as mostly happy, with a lot of time spent riding his bike with his friends and playing baseball with Derrick at the nearby ball fields. His mother had been loving, but not particularly talkative, and his father had been quick to laugh. The four of them had sat around the table, playing Monopoly, Uno, or Yahtzee on weekend nights. The only real conflict he recalled had been over homework and poor grades. He hadn’t been a good student until junior high. Yet Jackson knew memory was selective, and he wondered if Derrick would have the same perceptions.

After an hour, Katie got bored with his stories and started texting her friends. Jackson put on his earphones and listened to Led Zepplin and Van Halen on his new iPod shuffle.

They arrived in Canyonville around seven-thirty. Katie commented on the giant casino overshadowing the just-off-the-freeway town. Jackson mumbled something about tribal land and tried to remember the directions. He hadn’t been to his aunt and uncle’s home since he was in his early twenties and he felt nervous about seeing them. He’d driven by on the freeway a few times over the years, but had never stopped.

His Uncle David came out on the porch and gave them both a long hug. His big belly pressed into Jackson and the old man smelled of corned beef and beer. “Come in the house. Relax a bit. Would you like a brew?”

“No thanks.” Jackson never drank around Katie. “I’ll take a diet soda if you have one.” He wasn’t thirsty, just trying to be polite.

“I’ll see what we’ve got.” Uncle David went to the kitchen, while Jackson and Katie took a seat on the couch.

“This house smells weird,” Katie whispered.

“I know.” It smelled like sickness and death, Jackson thought. “We won’t stay long.” He was already feeling jumpy. He told himself he was working a case and that helped get him into a zone.

His uncle came into the room and handed them both a can of diet crème soda. “Irene is sleeping, but I’ll see if I can wake her.” He winked and left the room again.

Please let Irene be coherent enough to talk to me,
Jackson pleaded with the universe
.
He wondered if he would have made the trip just as a family obligation. He was ashamed to admit he probably wouldn’t have. Dragging Katie along had been selfish. He held her hand for moment. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Her sweet face frowned. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Jackson barely recognized his aunt. Her skin was yellow and puffy from retaining water and her hair had gone silver-white. She sat up against a stack of pillows, but it was obvious she hadn’t left the bed in a long time.

“Little Wade,” she called out in weak voice.

Jackson willed himself forward and sat in one of the chairs his uncle had brought in. His daughter hung back.

“And Katie. You’re so tall and pretty.”

“Thanks.” Katie slipped up next to Jackson’s chair. “I remembered you liked peppermint patties when you visited us, so I brought some.” Katie held out a small bag of the candies.

Irene took the bag and laughed out loud. “I haven’t had these in years. My doctor made me quit sugar. I guess it doesn’t matter now.” She held out a blue-veined hand to Katie. “Thanks, sweetie.”

Katie gave her a quick squeeze and stepped back. Jackson was proud of his daughter for making this effort.

After ten minutes of catching up on family news, Irene started to sound weary. Jackson turned to Katie. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

“Of course.” Katie was on the move before the words were out of her mouth.

Jackson didn’t know what his aunt would say, but he wanted her to speak freely and Katie’s presence might have inhibited her. “Irene, I need to ask what you meant in a letter you sent my mother. The letter is dated a week before they were killed.”

“David told me what you called about. I don’t think your mother would want you to know.”

“The man who went to jail is not the killer. I’m trying find the real murderer and get justice for my parents after all these years.”

“Evelyn swore me to secrecy.”

Jackson grabbed his aunt’s hand. “She’s dead. And a murderer is going free. You have to tell me what you know,” he pleaded.

Irene closed her eyes. After a moment, she said, “Your mother had written me a letter asking my advice. She wanted to know if I thought she should finally contact her daughter.”

The words hit Jackson like a blow to the chest. “Her daughter?”

“Evelyn had a baby girl when she was eighteen. Our family lawyer arranged an adoption with a young married couple.” Irene stopped to cough. She held a tissue to her mouth and spit. Jackson was too stunned to be bothered by it. Irene continued. “Evelyn didn’t know the couple personally, but she insisted on knowing who they were. She also stipulated that the baby be named Gina.”

Another shock wave pummeled him. Gina Stahl was his sister. She’d been murdered just like his parents had been. He’d never even met her. Evans had handled the case and he’d never spoken to his sister. A rush of emotions overwhelmed him. Loss, rage, confusion. It hurt to breathe.

Jackson stood and pulled in long gulps of air.

“Your mother was a good woman. She kept track of Gina but never contacted her.” Irene struggled to speak, drawing in weak breaths between sentences. “She said if her daughter wanted to find her she could. She left it up to Gina. Until that fateful year. I don’t know what made her change her mind.”

“Who is the father?” That was all that mattered now. Because as heinous as it seemed, he was likely the killer. He had murdered them all for his own selfish gain, whatever the hell it was.

“I don’t know. Evelyn wouldn’t tell me.”

The news was too crushing to believe. “You can’t protect your sister any longer. You’re only protecting her killer. Tell me.”

“I don’t know.” Irene tried to be forceful, but ended up with a coughing spasm.

“Who was she dating at the time?”

“No one. Our parents were very religious and strict. Neither of us dated until we left home. They kicked Evelyn out when they realized she was pregnant.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell you who the father was?” Jackson could hear the anguish in his voice and was powerless to control it.

“Evie was ashamed. She told me she’d been raped and that it was her own fault. That’s why she never reported it.”

“She was raped?” Jackson had to sit again. “How could that be her fault?”

“I don’t know.” A tear rolled down Irene’s face.

He felt guilty for pressing the old woman so hard, but he couldn’t stop. “Do you have any idea who the father could be?”

“I thought it might be someone where she worked.”

“Where was that?”

“Emerson Oats, only it’s not called that anymore.”

Jackson had never heard of it. No surprise. His mother had worked there forty-six years earlier. It had probably gone out of business by now. “Is there anyone else who might know who the father is?”

Irene shook her head. “Your mother and I were best friends. She came to live with me after she was kicked out. If she didn’t tell me, she didn’t tell anyone.”

Except possibly the father.
Jackson had learned all he could from Irene. “Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“It feels good to get that off my chest. I wanted Evie to tell you boys long ago, but she said it had to wait until Gina was ready.”

But his half-sister had never been ready to know her other family. She’d been raised by wonderful people and had never sought out her biological mother. Yet Evelyn had finally contacted her. Why?

Chapter 30

Friday, September 10, 5:30 a.m.

After another short night of sleep, Jackson woke from a bizarre dream in which his mother gave birth to twins and turned them over to him to raise. In the dream, he was twelve and Derrick was not around.

Shaking off the weird images and feelings, Jackson dragged himself out of bed and stood in the shower until his brain kicked in. He and Katie had arrived home from their trip south around one that morning. Katie had slept most of the way and he’d kept the window wide open to help stay awake.

Still groggy, he grabbed the newspaper from the front porch, poured a cup of coffee, and sat at the table. More engrossed in the coffee than the paper, Jackson flipped mindlessly through the pages. He reached the City section and stared. A photo of the Stahls’ home took up a good chunk of the page, while the sketch artist’s image of the perpetrator was only three inches wide. The story that went with the photos had Sophie Speranza’s byline.

Jackson skimmed through it, then stopped short when he read:
A police department official familiar with the two attacks on Stahl says her murder “is more complex than a domestic grudge.” Another source says some of the evidence indicates the crime could have links to the past.

What the hell? Who was Sophie quoting? He didn’t believe Schak or Evans would tell the reporter something so sensitive.
Crap.
This was exactly the kind of information they didn’t want a suspect to know.

Pissed off and physically stiff from days of inactivity, Jackson went out for a run. He tried to focus on the details of the case, but his thoughts kept coming back to his mother and the secret she’d kept from him all these years. Had his father known about his wife’s first child? How painful it must have been for her to give up her baby girl. Jackson was disappointed his mother had never told him about Gina, even after he became a parent. Yet he was proud of his mother for insisting she know who the adoptive parents were. He assumed she had kept track on Gina as she grew up to make sure she was in a good home, and she had been. He hadn’t met the Stahls, but Evans had commented on how sweet they were and how they’d taken such good care of Gina while she was in a coma. Jackson was grateful his sister’s life had been good…up to a point. He wished he’d had the chance to know her.

The warmth of the early morning sun made him take off his windbreaker as he turned up 23rd Avenue. His legs felt heavy and sore from inactivity and his lower abdomen ached. Jackson’s mind came back around to the case. How could he figure out who Gina’s father was? The rape and conception had occurred forty-six years ago. His only real hope was that someone would recognize the man in the sketch. He also had to keep an open mind. Gina’s biological father might not be the killer. A whole other element to this case might surface yet.

After a few minutes, Jackson looked up to realize he was on Emerald Street and coming up on his parents’ house. His subconscious had brought him here to confront Derrick.

He jogged up to the door and pounded loudly. Derrick would not appreciate the early wake up, but he’d get over it. Jackson didn’t have time to circle back here today. He pounded again, and Derrick yanked open the door.

“What the hell is your problem? It’s not even seven yet.” Derrick wore a bathrobe and had the puffy-eyed look of someone not yet awake.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was out running and decided to stop and ask you something. It’s important.”

Derrick groaned. “Of course it is. Come in so I can make coffee.”

Jackson followed him into the house. “This won’t take long.” In the kitchen, Jackson blurted out, “Did you know Mom had a baby girl when she was eighteen and gave her up for adoption?”

Derrick turned slowly to face him. “How did you find out?”

Jealousy burned like a hot flame around his heart. “I went to see Aunt Irene, but that’s not what’s important here. When did you find out?”

“When I was nineteen.”

“Why did Mom tell you and not me? I don’t understand.”

Derrick sighed. “Don’t be upset, Wade. Mom didn’t plan to tell me. I walked in on her crying one day. She was holding a picture of a baby, so I asked her about it. She tried to make up some cover story, but I knew her too well, and I finally got the truth out of her.”

“Why didn’t
you
tell me? We were still close then.”

“Mom made me promise to never tell anyone.”

Jackson was too hurt to think straight. His family had kept a secret from him his whole life. “Did she tell you the baby’s name?”

Derrick pushed his coffee cup away. “Of course not.”

“I think you just lied to me. Why?”

“I didn’t, Wade. You’re just worked up.”

“Do you know who the father is?”

“No. She wouldn’t tell me.” Derrick’s brow creased. “Why did you go see Aunt Irene? What’s going on that this is coming up now?”

Under typical circumstances, Jackson wouldn’t give details about a case he was working, but the victims were Derrick’s family too and Sophie’s news story this morning had already hinted at the connection. “Aunt Irene is dying, which is why I went to see her. I’ve also learned that the person who killed our parents likely killed our sister, Gina Stahl.”

“Good god.” Derrick looked stunned.

Jackson was still struggling with the idea that his mother had bonded with Derrick in a way that she’d never bonded with him. “I have to go.” He bolted for the door.

“I got that job I interviewed for,” Derrick called after him. Jackson turned, gave a silent thumbs up, and went out the front door.

Driving to the department, Jackson called Evans and Schak and asked them to meet him in the conference room at eight-thirty. They had to stop wasting time looking for the adoption lawyer and start brainstorming Gina’s biological father. First, he would find out which one of them talked to Sophie Speranza.

Evans was already in the conference room when Jackson walked in. She looked bright-eyed and pretty in a turquoise jacket, and the abrasion near her hairline was healing quickly.

“Good morning. I have a major piece of information, but we’ll wait for Schak.”

“I’m glad you’ve got something because the Walburgs were a dead end.” Evans made a face. “The old man was in a nursing home when he died and his files were tossed long before.”

Jackson caught himself staring at Evans. Why was he suddenly noticing that she was pretty? Was it simply because they were spending more time together? He hoped that was all it amounted to. “Did you talk to Sophie Speranza yesterday?” he asked, wanting to get the unpleasantness out of the way.

“I did. I asked her to look for Michael Walburg in the newspaper archives.”

“Did you tell her Gina’s murder was more complex than a domestic grudge?” Jackson laid the newspaper on the table and pointed to the second phrase. “Or that the evidence indicated the crime had links to the past?”

Evans blanched. “I gave her that first piece about the complexity, but I did not mention crimes of the past.”

Jackson scrutinized her face and saw no duplicity.

“I needed her help so I gave Sophie a small vague quote. I thought it would be okay.”

Jackson had never heard Evans sound chastised before. It made him feel guilty, which also pissed him off. “The second piece of information is more damaging than the one you offered, but you still should have cleared it with me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Schak burst in, jacket open and coffee in hand. “I know I’m not late, but you two always make me feel late. Do you ever sleep in? Or have a bad morning?”

“We just fake it better,” Evans said, with a pained smile.

“I have to get this question out of the way,” Jackson said, pointing to the newspaper. “Did you talk to Sophie Speranza?”

“Hell, no. Never have, never will.”

“Then it had to be someone in the lab.” Jackson still didn’t understand who or why.

“Do you think it was Parker?” Schak looked skeptical.

“No. She’s the last person I’d suspect. She’s like a vault.”

Schak plopped down and spilled a little coffee. Evans handed him a tissue but didn’t make one of her amusing comments.

“I drove to Canyonville last night to see my mother’s sister.”

Both his partners snapped to attention.

Jackson continued, “I discovered my mother had a baby girl in 1965 that she gave up for adoption. She named her Gina.”

“Gina’s your sister?” Evans’ mouth hung open.

“Presumably. Now we need to figure out who the father is.” Jackson wanted to avoid as much personal discussion as possible.

“You know what?” Evans said. “Gina looks like you. I thought I recognized her the first time I saw her.”

Jackson refused to be pulled in. “Gina was born in 1965. The first murders were committed in 2000.”

“1965?” Schak interrupted, doing the math in his head. “The perp must be at least sixty. Probably older.”

“Do you think the dates are important?” Evans asked.

“It’s all we have to work with.” He abruptly realized that wasn’t true. Jackson bolted out of his chair. “I’ll be right back.”

He ran to his desk and looked for the stack of newspaper clippings Sophie had faxed him. He’d shoved them aside when Lammers made him put the case on hold. He found the stories in his file holder and hurried back to the conference room.

“What have you got?” Schak asked.

“Newspaper stories from September, 2000. My mother was upset about something in the news right before her death. Something she didn’t want to happen again.”

He handed half of the clippings to Schak, then turned to Evans. “Let’s get a timeline on the board, starting with Gina’s birth and including all the crimes.”

While Evans mapped out the events, he and Schak skimmed through the news of 2000. He set aside the Longo murders and the couple who’d won the lottery. Neither story seemed like it would have affected his mother personally, unless she’d known the people.

Jackson read through the next clipping, holding his breath. Roger Norquist, a candidate for the Senate, had been accused of rape. One of his young female staff members claimed Norquist had sexually assaulted her after a staff party when they’d both been drinking. Norquist had held a news conference and, in return, accused the woman of being a political saboteur, a drug addict, and a liar. The district attorney had asked Lisa Caldwell to submit to a lie detector test and a urine analysis. She’d refused both and the DA failed to file charges. Norquist claimed his political opponent had paid Caldwell to sabotage his campaign. Jackson remembered that Norquist had gone on to win and serve in the Senate, then lost his bid for re-election.

He looked up at the timeline, and a surge of adrenaline ran through his chest. “I think we’ve got him. My aunt said my mother was raped, but she never reported it.” He stood, unable to stay in his chair. “In 2000, Roger Norquist was accused of rape during his campaign for the Senate. What if Norquist is the father? What if my mother saw this news story about the rape and contacted him?”

Schak added, “If she threatened to expose his earlier rape, it would have ruined his career.”

“She must have contacted Gina then too,” Evans speculated. “Maybe she told her everything.”

“Why did Norquist wait nine years to go after Gina?” Schak was still trying to get caught up on the developments.

“Gina got into financial trouble and contacted him,” Jackson theorized. “She offered to keep his secret in exchange for twenty thousand. By then, he was planning another run for the Senate and had even more to lose.”

“Doesn’t Norquist own Valley Fresh Bakery?” Evans asked.

Jackson spun toward her. “Did it used to be called Emerson Oats?”

“I don’t know, but Valley Fresh is five blocks from where the shooter bought the Explorer.”

“Emerson Oats is where my mother was working when she was raped, and someone from Valley Fresh called my parents the day of the murders.” Jackson grabbed his notes and shoved them into his folder. “We need a subpoena for Norquist’s DNA.” Jackson started to tell Evans to go see the judge, then realized it wouldn’t be fair to her. This was her case as much as it was his. “Schak, I need you to get the subpoena. Don’t take no for answer. Evans, we’re going out to find this bastard.”