Revenge of Innocents (14 page)

Hank pulled out a toothpick, sticking it between his front teeth, then moving it to the side of his mouth. “For starters, you don’t have any bruises on you.”

“I swear, I’ve never touched that kid,” Drew said, his voice shaking. “Jude would have slugged me if I did. That black thug she’s been hanging out with must have beaten her up again. That’s one of the reasons I insisted she move out of the house. Both Veronica and I tried to keep her from seeing him. I have three young children, Hank. The guy’s a gangster. I was afraid people would start shooting out our windows and kill one of the kids. How would you like to have that kind of element around your family?”

“Do you know this boy’s name?”

“Reggie.” Drew rubbed his chin. “I think his last name is Stockton, but I’m not certain. He might be Jude’s pimp. She’s been prostituting herself for years. When she told you all these lies about me, did she tell you how many abortions she’s had?”

“Yes, she did,” Hank said, watching the surprise register on his face. “Your daughter believes you murdered your wife, Drew. The district attorney’s office is considering filing homicide charges in addition to the sex crimes. You’re in deep trouble.”

His panic intensified. “Now you think I killed Veronica! I loved my wife. I would never have done anything to hurt her. Talk to Carolyn. She’ll think you’re out of your mind. We had a beautiful family, a good marriage. Anyone who knows us will confirm what I’m telling you.”

“We don’t give a shit what other people think,” the detective told him. “Any man who could hide the fact that he was having sex with his daughter for eight years could hide anything. You took a day off from work on a Tuesday, the same day Veronica was murdered. You can’t account for your time, outside of claiming you went shopping for shelving, which you didn’t buy.” He paused and leaned over the table. “Jude says you took her to the Motor Inn to have sex with her. That’s where we found your wife’s body. She also said she threatened to expose you, which gives you motive. So now you’ve got both motive and opportunity. Sounds like a pretty good case, doesn’t it?”

The blood drained from Drew’s face. His hands locked on the arms of his chair.

Hank stood, kicking the chair out of his way. “And that doesn’t take into account the million-dollar life insurance policy you carried on your wife. Since she didn’t die of natural causes, you get twice that amount. Do you know what constitutes first-degree murder, Drew?” He paced, then spun around. “Of course you do. Veronica was a probation officer. Let me tell you how this went down. You knew that one day Jude might tell her mother what you’d been doing to her, so you made provisions. You bought the life insurance last year.”

“I took out the same amount of insurance on myself,” he argued. “I was trying to make sure my family would have money to live on if something happened to one of us. How can you fault me for that?”

“It was my understanding that you were having financial problems,” Hank countered. “How could you afford the premiums?”

“I worked overtime.”

The detective brought his fist down on the table, causing Drew to jump. “I told you not to waste my time with lies. It wasn’t enough that you destroyed your daughter’s life, you were prepared to kill your wife to protect yourself. You’re such an evil man, you even wanted to profit from the woman you murdered.”

“It’s not true,” Drew said, his face flushing. “I don’t have to listen to this. I—I want an attorney.”

Hank ignored him, too fired up to stop. “You rented a room at the Motor Inn to have sex with your daughter a day or two before the murder. Whether you realize it or not, the poor girl was trying to starve herself to death. That’s how miserable you made her life. Then when she realized you were priming her sister, Stacy, to be your next victim, she threatened to expose you, believing you’d become enraged enough to kill her. Do you know what kind of courage it takes to incite someone to kill you? And she almost did it, didn’t she?” Hank reached over and grabbed Drew’s hands, flattening them out on the table so he could look at them. “Where did you get that cut on your knuckle?”

“I—I’m a technician at Boeing,” Drew stammered. “I build things with my hands.”

Hank shifted his jacket on his shoulders, trying to keep from beating him senseless. The more he talked, the more convinced he was that Drew Campbell was a murderer. “Something went wrong, didn’t it? Jude escaped when you fell asleep. When you weren’t able to track her down, you lured Veronica to the same motel on Tuesday. By now, someone else had rented the room. They left early that morning. But you’d kept the key so you had no trouble getting in. Besides, you didn’t rent the room the first time. You paid someone else to do it for you. You think that guy is going to take a murder rap for you? He’s a low-level criminal who deals in stolen credit cards. He’d roll over on his own mother.”

The armpits of Drew’s jumpsuit were soaked in perspiration. “I want an attorney. I refuse to answer any more questions without an attorney present.”

“You’ll get your damn attorney,” Hank barked, whipping a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his face. “You don’t have to answer any questions, Drew. We don’t need you to answer any questions. You know why? Because we have all the answers. Your wife had no reason to fear you. That made it easy for you to get your hands on the gun you knew she carried in her purse. You called and asked Veronica to pick Jude up at the motel. We know the girl wasn’t allowed to drive her car, that she sometimes disappeared for days and then called her mother to come and get her. You told Carolyn that yourself. And we know why Jude had to stay away during those times. You didn’t want her mother to see the bruises from where you’d beaten her. You’re one of the most sadistic son of a bitches I’ve ever seen. You ordered your wife to get in the bathtub before you shot her. You thought you could contain things that way. Then you looked the mother of your children in the eye and blew her brains out.”

Drew’s eyes flooded with tears. “Stop, please. You can’t…”

The detective ignored him. “The next thing you did was soak the body in a tubful of water, thinking you could get rid of any evidence that would link back to you. But you didn’t get rid of all the evidence, and you weren’t able to kill the person whose testimony will convict you, the daughter you tortured.” He leveled a finger at him. “You’re going to get the death penalty, fucker, and I’m going to be there to watch you die. Think about that because I’m going to be looking forward to it.”

Drew sat in shocked silence as Hank walked over and depressed the buzzer for the jailer. When the same officer appeared, he said, “Get this asshole a phone so he can call his attorney.”

Friday, October 15
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7:30
A
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M
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M
arcus left for work early, leaving Carolyn in the house with Jude. Since it was Josephine’s day off, she woke Jude and cooked her a cheese omelet.

“Your father’s in jail,” Carolyn told her, pouring herself a cup of coffee and carrying it to the kitchen table. “I can drive you to school if you feel up to it. There’s no reason you can’t get your diploma. You may have to miss a few days for the court proceedings, but I’m sure I can make arrangements with your teachers so you can keep up with your work.”

Jude picked at her food, then set her fork down, staring out over the room. “I was doing it for my mother. She’s dead. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

She seemed so lost, Carolyn thought. How could she not be? Her family was destroyed. Peter, Michael, and Stacy were in San Francisco with an aunt who had never shown any interest in them. They must also be suffering. At a time like this, Jude and her siblings should be in familiar surroundings with people who loved them. Being the older sister herself, she knew Jude was probably worrying about the kids along with everything else. Tonight, she would make certain to call Emily so Jude could speak to them. “Getting your diploma matters even more now, honey,” she told her. “If you quit, your father will have stolen that from you, along with everything else. Your mother would have wanted you to succeed. Like I told you, if your father is convicted, the life insurance money will be divided among the children. You could go to college. Even if you don’t get the insurance money, Marcus and I could help with your tuition. He’s a generous man, Jude, and he’s deeply concerned about you. He told me you could stay here as long as you want.”

“Everyone at school will know Mom was murdered,” Jude said, finishing her omelet and shoving her plate aside. “Detective Stevens said people may find out what my father was doing to me. The kids look down on me already because I didn’t graduate with my class. How do you think they’ll treat me when they find out I’ve been giving blow jobs to my father?”

“You can’t stay in the house all day, Jude. I have to work. Going back to school will keep your mind occupied. You’re a strong girl. I think you can handle it. No one’s going to ridicule you about your mother’s death, and if anything comes out about the situation with your father, it’ll be a long time from now. Why don’t you give it a try? If you don’t feel comfortable, I’ll come and get you.”

The area around the girl’s mouth turned white. She placed her hand over her mouth, rushing over and vomiting in the sink. Carolyn ran cold water on a dishrag and pressed it against her forehead. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Since you haven’t been eating, I should have given you something bland until your system gets back to normal. You didn’t vomit intentionally, I hope.”

“Did you see me with my fingers down my throat?”

“I have some soda water,” Carolyn told her. “Let me get you some to rinse your mouth out.” She removed the bottle from the refrigerator and poured it into a glass, then handed it to her.

“Thanks,” Jude said, taking a swallow, then spitting it out. When she looked over at Carolyn, her eyes were damp with tears. “I miss my mother. And I miss Stacy, Peter, and Michael. They might have pestered me to death, but I loved them. Now I don’t have anyone.”

Carolyn embraced her. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll forget about school for today. Just stay home and rest. I’ll call Josephine and see if she can come in. That way, you won’t be here by yourself.”

“No, please, I’ll be fine,” Jude insisted. “With all the coffee, I didn’t get much sleep yesterday. Will those men still be watching the house?”

“Not today, Jude. They work for Marcus’s company. They’re only here when Marcus is here. That is, unless there’s a reason.” Carolyn remembered the threatening letter. She wasn’t really concerned now. She felt fairly certain Drew had written it, hoping to either throw the police off track or to intimidate her from investigating Veronica’s murder. He should know her well enough to know that wouldn’t happen. “I might be wrong about the security. I’ll call and check. You go back to bed. Before I leave, I’ll bring you the bottle of soda water and some saltine crackers. Then if your stomach settles down later, you can try to eat some chicken soup. Josephine made some yesterday. It’s in the refrigerator. All you have to do is heat it up in the microwave.”

After Jude left, Carolyn pushed a speed-dial button, hearing the husky voice of Francis Menlo, the man they called Bear. “Are you at the house, or in LA with Marcus?”

“Mr. Wright instructed me to watch the house today.”

“Good,” she said. “Our houseguest, Jude, is going to be here by herself. If anything comes up, get in touch with me right away.”

She disconnected and went to the bedroom to get dressed. Standing inside the enormous closet, she felt as lost as Veronica’s daughter. The room resembled a finely appointed library. The walls and shelves were covered in cherry wood, then finished with lacquer. There were slots for shoes, special brass fixtures for ties, and a large cabinet with drawers. Her modest wardrobe looked out of place next to the rows of Marcus’s suits and the stacks of perfectly folded shirts with the cardboard from the cleaner’s still inside.

Carolyn selected a pair of black slacks and a pink turtleneck, and was reaching for the matching jacket when she changed her mind. She wasn’t in the mood to wear her professional clothing. Returning to the bedroom, she put on a pair of jeans, a white shirt, and a burgundy vest.

Before she left the house, she took the soda and crackers to the guest room, then remembered that Jude had spent the night upstairs. She’d have to let Rebecca know before she came home today. The room had only one bed, so they’d have to sort out the sleeping arrangements later. There was another bedroom directly across from Rebecca’s. Hopefully, she could talk Jude into moving in there. It wasn’t right to take her daughter’s room away from her, particularly since she’d just gotten settled. But then again, under the circumstances, it wouldn’t hurt Rebecca to sleep in the other room for a few days.

Seeing Jude under the covers with her eyes closed, Carolyn left the soda and crackers on the end table and crept out of the room.

Carolyn called Brad Preston from the car, updating him on the events of the night before. “If you think you can get by without me until this afternoon,” she said, “I’d like to go straight to the police station. Mary’s going to try to track down Jude’s boyfriend, a guy named Reggie Stockton. I just got off the phone with Hank. He talked to Drew last night at the jail. He claims Jude is lying, and that Stockton is a gangbanger who beat her. He also said Stockton might be her pimp. Working at Circuit City doesn’t sound like a job for a pimp. What do you think?”

“Sounds like Drew is dumber than I thought he was,” Brad told her. “The least he could do is come up with a credible story. I don’t know, though. I’m having trouble getting my mind around this thing. Drew just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would have sex with his daughter, let alone murder his wife.”

“They never do,” Carolyn reminded him.

“Try to show up over here after lunch. I know you’ve got a mess on your hands, but we’re getting more behind every day. None of the new transfers have experience in investigations. I’m personally handling a shooting, a robbery, and a homicide.”

Carolyn disconnected, turning down Dee Drive. She had to get in touch with Tyler Bell. If Veronica had tried to flush the truth out of him about the Abernathy and McAllen killings, Bell would have to be considered as a suspect, and Carolyn would be forced to bring this to the attention of the task force.

What they needed to determine was if Jude was telling the truth about her father taking her to the Motor Inn two days before the crime. Why would she lie at this juncture? Maybe she was merely confused about how things had gone down. The girl hadn’t been eating properly, and she’d been physically assaulted, both conditions that could impair memory.

Parking and collecting her computer from the backseat, Carolyn entered the police department and signed in with the desk officer. She assumed the task force was still working out of the conference room, so she headed that direction. The only one seated at the long table was Keith Edwards, the young officer they’d borrowed from patrol.

“Oh,” Edwards said, standing. “I guess you’re wondering where everyone went. The clerk from the motel came in on his way to work. Detectives Sawyer and Stevens are showing him a photo lineup with the black guy in it.”

“I would assume if they’re trying to determine if he can identify Reggie Stockton, everyone in the lineup would be black. You’re from Atlanta, right?”

“Yes,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

“You’re not in the South anymore, Keith,” Carolyn said. “It might be better if you used his name instead of referring to Stockton as the black guy.”

He sat back down. “I hear you loud and clear. It won’t happen again. They’re in Hank’s office. Detective Conrad is picking up Jude Campbell’s school records. I don’t have much to do right now. I guess no one trusts me. All they do is send me for coffee and food.”

She set her computer down on the table and pulled out a chair. “I’m sure they trust you, Keith. Give them time and you’ll have more than you can handle. Did you get word from the lab on the letter I received?”

He perked up. “They didn’t find any prints other than yours, but they found a hair. They want you to come by the lab so they can get a DNA sample from you. Maybe we’ll get lucky. The hair might belong to the perpetrator.”

Carolyn reached up and yanked several hairs from her head, placing them on a piece of paper, then folding it into a small square. “I don’t have time to go to the lab today. I’d appreciate it if you’d take this over there for me.”

“Right away,” Edwards said, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. He picked up the envelope, then stopped. “You’re not my commanding officer. I’ll have to wait and run it by Detectives Sawyer and Stevens.”

“Just do it, Keith. I’ll tell them I sent you.” Carolyn looked at his face. He didn’t look much older than John. Once you turned forty, she’d discovered, everyone looked like a kid. The worst was the doctors. It took a long time to become a physician.

Turning on her computer, Carolyn accessed Veronica’s contacts, finding a telephone number for Tyler Bell. The situation was tragic. His eight-year-old son, Billy, had been kidnapped, sexually assaulted, then dismembered by Lester McAllen. The boy was an only child, and the wife had been so anguished she’d committed suicide. Bell had owned a successful painting company, and prior to their son’s death, the couple were living the American dream. Having lost both his son and his wife, Tyler Bell had fallen on hard times. His company had gone bankrupt, and his home went into foreclosure. At his lowest moment, Veronica had called and informed him that his son’s killer might go free because of Robert Abernathy. After Abernathy was murdered by an unknown assailant a few days later at his home in Oxnard, Veronica suspected Bell might be responsible. She had not, however, shared this information with the Oxnard PD.

A month or so later, Lester McAllen’s conviction was overturned. He was shot and killed in Camarillo, a town not far from Ventura. Oxnard had been unable to match prints found on the fence leading to Abernathy’s home as the killer had an oily substance on his hands. Veronica finally confided in Carolyn, telling her that Tyler Bell had mentioned an identical substance he used to remove paint at the end of the day. Veronica had noticed it when she’d shaken hands with him during the original investigation, and Bell had apologized, telling her he had sensitive skin.

Since McAllen and Abernathy had scores of enemies, even within the criminal justice system, and Veronica had nothing more than speculation that Bell had killed them, Carolyn had advised her to wait and see if anything else developed. McAllen had been a monster who deserved to die. Abernathy, though, had turned out to be somewhat pathetic, regardless of the havoc he’d wreaked on individuals like Tyler Bell. When the autopsy was performed, they discovered the forensic scientist had been suffering from retinitis pigmentosa, and had almost completely lost his eyesight.

Instead of resigning his position as any responsible person would have done, Abernathy had covered his disability by falsifying evidence and perjuring his testimony in the courtroom. In the cases involving DNA, Abernathy would have an assistant test the sample drawn from the defendant and then pass it off as the DNA collected from the crime scene.

The morning Veronica was murdered, she’d made a veiled reference to Tyler Bell by stating that she’d developed more sympathy for people who made mistakes. Had she been on her way to meet Bell that day? Race was now significant as Bell was black.

Carolyn pulled her cell phone out to dial his number when Hank and Mary walked into the room. “What happened?”

Mary headed toward the section of the table she’d turned into her temporary office. Papers and files were strewn everywhere. “The clerk, Benny Gonzales, is an idiot,” she blurted out, furious. “Not only that, he’s a habitual marijuana user, a fact he failed to mention until today. He was probably stoned the day of the murder.”

“So, he didn’t recognize Stockton?”

“I guess you could say that,” the detective answered. “The first person he identified was Eddie Shaker from patrol. We showed him another photo lineup with Stockton in it, and he identified a guy who’s serving nine years for armed robbery at Chino. Against my better judgment, I try again. This time, he fingers Stockton. Think that’s gonna fly in a courtroom?”