Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller) (7 page)

The Received Calls menu showed more of the same, mostly calls from Carla. At the end of the list was a call from Kevin Compton, made Friday at 5:32 p.m., two days before Jared was murdered. Jackson made a note, curious to see if Kevin would mention the call when he questioned him tomorrow. The call seemed a little unusual. In Jackson’s world, brothers-in-law didn’t chat on the phone. They saw each other at family gatherings and made small talk three times a year.

As he slid Carla’s cell phone from its evidence bag, his own phone rang, startling him. “This is Alisha. I’m the nurse you talked to earlier. I found Lori Engall’s cell phone in the ER. You should come get it now. She’s starting to regain consciousness.”

Northwest McKenzie was still operating downtown near the University of Oregon, but construction had been completed on a new hospital at the edge of Springfield near the McKenzie River. Most of the staff would make the move later that summer. The massive new complex was in a wide river plain, not far from the newspaper’s new home on the Eugene side of the boundary. Jackson was sad to see the major institutions leave the heart of Eugene. The city was losing its core.

Because it was late, he found a space in the small parking lot next to the hospital. He tried to hurry inside but his legs felt tired and his scar hurt. The receptionist in the middle of the huge lobby told him Lori Walker was on the third floor in the critical care unit. He took the elevator and in a few minutes was pleased to see a patrol officer sitting in the waiting room outside critical care.

“Anything to report?”

“No, sir. Only her aunt has been here to see her. She’s in there now. Room 317.”

Jackson pushed through the double swinging doors, then entered the quiet corridor lined with rooms where people were trying not to die. Disinfectant hung heavy in the air. He spotted Rita Altman sleeping in a chair in a room midway down. Next to her, Lori was covered to her neck by a white blanket, her eyes closed and a tube running out of her nose. Both arms held IV lines. The pale teenager did not look as if she were regaining consciousness. Under any other circumstances, he would have walked away and let her rest. But this girl might know the identity of a homicidal maniac. Jackson eased close to her bed. “Lori, can you hear me?”

Her lips moved in the smallest response.

“Lori, I need you to wake up for a minute. I need to ask some questions.”

Her eyes stayed closed and her lips were still.

“Detective Jackson?” A nurse in yellow scrubs had come into the room behind him.

“Are you Alisha?”

She smiled and motioned with her head that he should follow. “I have her phone in a bag at the nurses’ station.”

Jackson walked with her down the hall. “Do the doctors think Lori will pull through this?”

“They’re optimistic. The knife missed her celiac artery so her blood loss was slow and steady, which is why she survived at all. There is some concern she may have suffered brain damage.”

“Has she spoken yet?”

“Not really. She mumbled a little when her eyes were open earlier. That’s when I called you.” They reached the desk, and she retrieved the cell phone from a zipped plastic bag.

“What about her clothes?”

She grimaced. “They were cut from her body in the ER, then discarded with the medical supplies used during her revival.”

Jackson hated the loss of trace evidence, but with three other victims in the morgue, he hoped he wouldn’t need anything from Lori but her testimony. “When she regains consciousness again, please have the officer in the lobby take a statement from Lori. It’s very important and I may not be able to get here quickly enough.”

“I’m going off duty soon, but I’ll let my replacement know.”

Jackson started in the direction of the swinging doors, then changed his mind. He turned and headed back to Lori’s room. He might as well try again while he was here.

Her aunt woke up when Jackson came into the room. “Hello, Ms. Altman.”

She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Lori’s still not awake, but the doctors think she’ll make it.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Has she spoken to you at all?”

“She woke up and mumbled something an hour ago. It gave my heart such a lift.”

“I’d like to ask you some questions.”

Rita braced herself. “Okay.”

“Does Carla have any other relatives in town?”

“Our parents live in Veneta.”

“Did Carla ever say anything to you about blackmail?”

“What?” Rita scowled. “Why would anyone blackmail the Walkers?”

“Was Carla having an affair?”

Rita made a scoffing noise. “Not a chance. Carla loved Jared, no matter what he did.”

Jackson heard the implication. “What did Jared do?”

“Nothing serious,” Rita said quickly. “He’s just never been good with money.”

“Had Carla seemed different or worried about anything?”

“She was worried about being evicted.” Rita started to get teary eyed. Jackson gave her a minute.

In the quiet, Lori made a moaning sound.

“Lori?”

She didn’t respond.

Jackson gently picked up the girl’s hand and stroked the back, being careful of the IV line. “Lori, can you open your eyes?”

She rolled her head as if to say no. Jackson couldn’t believe this girl was eighteen. Her blond eyelashes and pale skin with a sprinkling of freckles made her seem younger. “I need to ask you some questions. Just a few, then you can rest again.” Her eyes came open, made direct contact with him, then closed again. “Lori, I need to know who did this to you.”

Her mouth tried to form a word.

“Who did this to you, Lori?”

A small “shhh” sound came from her lips.

Jackson leaned closer. “Who did this? Say it again, please.”

“Shane.”

Tuesday, June 2, 2:08 a.m.

Jackson pulled into Kera’s driveway and cut his headlights and engine. The house was dark and he hoped everyone was sleeping. Except Kera. If she woke up when he climbed into bed it could turn out well. He was exhausted but he would find the energy for sex. For weeks after his surgery, he’d been in too much pain. With all the young people in the house, they’d had to be sneaky and look for opportunities to be alone. Their relationship was still in the honeymoon phase and he wanted her all time, but their families were always present. Sometimes he resented all of them—Katie, Danette, and little Micah—for their intrusion into his intimacy with Kera. The last few years of his marriage to Renee had been angry and mostly sexless, and he was tired of doing without.

Jackson hurried though the big house, guided by the night light in the hall. In the kitchen, he made himself half a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich and washed it down with a diet Dr. Pepper. It was Kera’s preferred soda and he’d come to like it too.

As he stood at the sink, Kera slipped into the room and into his arms. He kissed her neck and breathed in the sweet melon scent of her body wash. Now he felt like he was home. “I’ve missed you.” She responded with her lips on his. Jackson loved Kera’s tall strong body, her long copper hair, and her exotic face with its prominent cheekbones. Most of all, he loved her full generous lips.

The baby began to cry. Kera stiffened and pulled back.

“Danette will take care of him.” Jackson drew her to him again, but Kera resisted.

“Sometimes Danette’s slow to wake up.”

“Micah will be fine. Let’s go to bed.”

Neither moved. Danette was still struggling with post-partum depression and post-traumatic shock, and the prescriptions she took made her a heavy sleeper. Jackson tried to cut Danette a lot of slack. First her boyfriend had been killed in Iraq, then she’d been left pregnant and alone. While struggling with a newborn baby, Danette had been kidnapped and held captive for days. After her ordeal, Kera had taken her in and Danette was recovering, but slowly.

The crying grew louder and Kera hurried away. Jackson sighed and went to bed.

The alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. and Jackson bolted out of bed. His head pounded and his abdomen burned with pain as he rushed for the bathroom. After swallowing his prednisone, he slipped the pill bottle into his shoulder bag, deciding to keep the medication with him. In the shower, he alternated between hot and cool water, trying to clear his head after three hours sleep. By the time he dressed, strapped on his weapon, and hurried into the kitchen, Kera and Katie were already there.

“What are you doing up so early?” he said, kissing his daughter’s forehead. Still in her pajamas, Katie had one hand on the open refrigerator door. Her dark curly hair was tangled from sleep and she seemed to be losing weight again. Kera, wearing workout clothes, made coffee and smiled at him.

“We have a graduation planning session before school this morning.” Katie pulled out a carton of eggs and set it on the counter.

“Do you need a ride?” Jackson poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Emily is picking me up.”

“Emily doesn’t drive.”

“I mean Emily’s brother Jason is taking us.”

Jackson chose his words carefully. “Have I met him?”

Katie let out a sigh. “I thought we were past that.”

Last fall, Katie had been involved with a group of kids who had some very adult ideas. Two of the girls had ended up dead and one was pregnant when she died. Jackson had watched his daughter more closely ever since. “You can’t get into a car with a boy I haven’t met.”

“That’s ridiculous! I’m almost in high school.”

“All the more reason for me to know the people you hang out with.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “Come out and meet him when they get here at seven.”

“I’ll be at the department by then. Sorry.” Jackson had driven Katie to school since they’d been staying with Kera, but he needed to start work earlier today.

“I’ll take her,” Kera offered. “First I’ll make scrambled eggs. Who wants some?”

“Not me.” Katie left in a huff.

Kera gave Jackson a gentle smile. “It may be time to ease up a little. Jason is important to her and she’s earned some trust.”

“I don’t think so.” Jackson poured his coffee into a travel mug.

“Are you staying for breakfast?” In the back of the house the baby let out a wail.

He shook his head. “I have to get going. Three people are dead, and I still have no idea why.”

Kera looked a little hurt. “Good luck with your case.”

He gave her a quick kiss, grabbed his shoulder bag, and got out of there. Once he was in the car, he felt a little guilty. Kera had been wonderful to him, especially the first few weeks after his surgery. She’d also welcomed Katie with open arms. Yet they had different ideas about how to raise kids. Kera’s openness about sexuality was great for him and it suited her well as a Planned Parenthood employee, but he wasn’t sure it was good for his daughter.

Hell, he didn’t know what to think. A boy would have been so much easier.

At such an early hour, the Violent Crimes area was empty and Jackson was glad for the quiet. He sipped his coffee while he examined the contents of Carla Walker’s purse. The blue denim bag had an ink stain near the bottom and the strap was frayed on the edges. Jackson dumped out the contents and decided Carla was the kind of woman you’d like to sit next to on a long bus ride. She carried a little pack of tissues, a penlight, a notepad and three pens, a small book of crossword puzzles, aspirin, Rolaids, spearmint gum, earplugs, and reading glasses.

In a zipped compartment, he found her wallet and checkbook. Jackson opened the notebook with a small hope Carla had left him a clue. Instead he found a short grocery list, a reminder to
iron good blue blouse for interview
, and a collection of names, addresses, and phone numbers scribbled hastily on various pages.

One entry caught his eye.
Dr. Dubois
. Jackson thought he’d heard the name but couldn’t remember when or where. He keyed it into his Word file and kept going. He would look up the doctor later. He had an autopsy to attend an hour from now, then a taskforce meeting right afterward. He wanted to examine all these personal items before he met with the other detectives.

Jackson picked up Carla’s wallet. She had eighteen dollars in the cash pocket, a single credit card, and a fat stack of coupons and receipts. Jackson added a reminder at the top of his file:
Check Walkers’ bank accounts for unusual activity
. He flipped through Carla’s receipts. Nothing interesting until he came to one for Westside Buyers, a pawnshop on Highway 99. The amount was $1,700 and the date was April 25. What had Carla sold for that amount of money? Had she cashed in a piece of jewelry to get them through a tough financial spot?

Jackson added the pawnshop to his list of things to check out, packed Carla’s things back in her purse, and started on Lori’s red backpack.

At a quarter to eight, Sergeant Lammers burst into his space. “Good, you’re here. We need to talk.” She kept moving, right past his desk, a wall of muscle and political ambition that could not be ignored or denied. Jackson followed her down the hall.