Revenge of Innocents (18 page)

“I admit I screwed up,” Mary told him. “But didn’t you tell me a few minutes ago that you were certain Drew killed Veronica? Except for the fact that Reggie is black and went to the same school as Jude Campbell, we had nothing to substantiate an arrest. It took three attempts for Benny to pick him out of the lineup. Christ, Hank, we only showed him eighteen guys. We were nowhere near a positive ID, and at the time, everything was leaning toward Drew. Reggie comes across as a clean-cut young man. Maybe he came here and cleaned up his act. He could have got in with the wrong crowd in New Orleans while he was in high school, and saw this as a second chance. When he realized I was going to run his prints, he fled. That doesn’t mean he’s a killer. All it means is he doesn’t want to go to jail.”

“Let me tell you something,” Hank said. “Guys like that don’t wake up one morning and decide to walk the straight and narrow. There’s no telling what kind of criminal activity this man was involved in. He was probably dealing drugs at the high school.”

The phone rang and Hank hit the button for the speaker. “We’ve got a body, Lieutenant,” Gary Conrad said, out of breath. “A man was walking his dog in an orchard near Foothill Road. The dog dug up what he thought were human remains. When patrol called me, I thought it was probably some kind of critter. I’m out here now and it’s definitely human. The grave is pretty shallow. Stand by, I’m going to try to get a look at the face.”

A cloak of tension fell over the room. Mary stared at the floor, while Hank’s skin tone faded from red to white.

“It appears to be a female in her late teens or early twenties. I don’t want to disturb the crime scene any more than I already have, so that’s about all I can tell you.”

Mary asked, “Is it Jude Campbell?”

“Not sure,” Conrad told her. “I asked the dispatcher to notify CSI and the coroner. I’ve got more patrol units rolling. We’ll secure the perimeter until you get here.”

Before Mary made it to her feet, Hank had grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and raced out of his office. “We’re on our way,” she told Conrad, rushing to catch up.

Friday, October 15
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7::30
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arolyn pulled the Infiniti into a parking space in front of the jail, turned on the dome light, and opened her briefcase. On her way home, she’d called the number for Tyler Bell. A machine had come on, but it was a voice-generated announcement, so she wasn’t certain if the number was still Bell’s. It was visiting hours at the jail. She could use her badge and see Drew any time she wanted, but she knew she’d draw heat if she went now when it was so busy.

She pulled out her computer and went online, searching for painting contractors to see if anything came up under Bell’s name. Just because he’d fallen on hard times after his son’s death didn’t mean he wasn’t working. When that failed, she entered the county’s database and searched for business licenses. “Got you,” she said, punching the phone number into her cell.

“You have reached Bell Industrial and Residential Painting,” the recording said. “Our office hours are—”

Carolyn hung up. It was a man’s voice, though. She knew what Tyler Bell looked like, but she’d never seen or spoken to him in person. If she left a message, he might panic and disappear. She would get up early tomorrow morning and drive by the address to see if she could catch him. She had to eliminate Bell as a suspect. She’d already sat on it far too long.

Carolyn stared at the clock on the dashboard. She started to review some of the cases Brad had given her, but changed her mind. Even though she might inconvenience the staff at the jail, she needed to speak to Drew now.

She walked into a sea of humanity. There had to be sixty people crowded in the waiting room. She was assaulted by the smell of stale milk, dirty diapers, alcohol, and body odor. She’d never seen so many tattoos in her life. A reed-thin girl with dirty, stringy blond hair fidgeted in her seat. Her left arm was completely covered with tattoos, as well as the upper portion of her chest. Tattoos were a good way to hide tracks, and this girl was obviously a user.

Pushing and shoving her way to the front of the line, Carolyn tossed her badge into the metal bin. “I need to see Drew Campbell,” she told the bailiff, a young dark-haired man.

“Hey, Kirsh,” he called out, swiveling around on his stool. “I got a PO that wants us to pull a prisoner during visiting hours.”

Sergeant Bobby Kirsh’s bald head filled up the window. “Come back in an hour, Carolyn. These people must think we’re dispensing free crack or something. There’s no way we can take care of you right now.”

“Ah, come on, Bobby,” Carolyn cooed, smiling to show off her dimples. She’d never possessed the kind of bold, take-your-breath-away beauty that Mary Stevens had, but she had a few years left of cute and sexy. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Everything’s important.” He pointed across the room at a Hispanic woman sitting spread-eagle with a grimace on her face and her hand pressed over her swollen abdomen. “That lady is gonna give birth any minute. She refuses to leave until she sees her husband. I’m not in the mood to deliver a baby. You know what kind of mess that makes? Give it up and come back later.”

Carolyn fell serious. “Don’t you know who Drew Campbell is, Bobby? He killed Veronica Campbell. She was one of my probation officers. She was also my best friend.”

“Humph,” he said, brushing his hand over his head as glanced at the prisoner’s record on the computer. “I don’t see any homicide charges, just a shitload of sex crimes.”

“Would I lie to you?”

“Probably,” Kirsh said, nudging the bailiff. “Have someone pull Campbell and put him in a room. She won’t leave until we give her what she wants. She’s holding up the line.” He glanced at the pregnant woman who was now panting. “And call an ambulance. No kid should take his first breath inside a jail.”

When a bailiff unlocked the room where Drew had been deposited, Carolyn rushed over to embrace him. “This is so awful,” she said. “I’ve been arguing with Hank and the DA all afternoon, trying to convince them that the charges are unfounded. How could they put you through this?”

A look of relief appeared on his face. “Thank God someone believes me. When I saw you in the courtroom today, I didn’t know what to think. I’m getting paranoid, Carolyn. Where are my kids?”

“They’re staying with a nice family until this is cleared up,” she lied, not wanting him to know that the children were with Emily in San Francisco. “Let’s sit down, okay? Do you need anything?”

“Not really,” he said. “I swear on a stack of Bibles that the things Jude told the police aren’t true. You know the problems we’ve had with her. Veronica’s death must have pushed her over the edge. Jude needs to be in a mental hospital or some kind of in-patient drug rehab.”

“I agree,” Carolyn told him, keeping her voice low and measured. “You hired a good lawyer, Drew. Maybe that’s something he can take care of for you.”

“Farrow charges a fortune,” Drew said, cracking his knuckles. “As soon as they let me out of this place, I’ll find the lying little brat myself. Can you imagine a kid, any kid, doing this to her father?”

“Why don’t you let me help you?” Carolyn said. “The police won’t tell me where Jude’s staying. Since she’s an adult now, they may have let her stay with friends. If you give me the name of the people she hangs out with, I’ll start checking around. At least she knows me. I might be able to talk some sense into her.”

“Do you have some paper?” Drew asked, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “This place is turning me into an animal. The other day I ran out of toilet paper and had to wipe my ass with my pillow. My neck is killing me now since I’ve been sleeping without anything supporting my head.”

Carolyn had brought along a small notepad and pen. She placed it on the table to let him know she was ready.

“Let me give you some background first,” Drew said, adjusting his position in the chair. “Jude’s closest friend used to be a girl named Haley Snodgrass. They were into the same things. You know, hanging out, partying, getting high. Sometime last year, Haley started dating a black guy named Reggie Stockton. She brought him by the house a few times and he didn’t seem like such a bad egg. To be honest, I asked myself what he was doing with Haley and Jude. Then there was a big fight. Haley caught Jude making out with Reggie one night and came unglued. She used to camp out at our place all the time. Last week, Haley came over while Jude was out and picked up all her things. She claimed Jude had stolen something from her, but she wouldn’t tell us what it was. Veronica and I were relieved in a way. The last thing we needed was another teenager lying around the house and eating our food.”

“So you think Stockton was beating Jude?”

“Yeah,” Drew said, pausing to clear his throat. “I certainly wasn’t beating her. Knowing Jude, though, the injuries could have been self-inflicted. That’s why Veronica and I didn’t report it to the police. I’m not sure if Jude is a hypochondriac, or if she’s simply a lazy kid who craves attention. Ever since she was in grade school, she’s been concocting one reason or another to stay home from school. One day I caught her holding the thermometer against a lightbulb to trick me into believing she had a fever. In the beginning, we’d run her back and forth to the doctor. After a while, we ignored her. Later, I thought the stints in juvenile hall might bring her around, but for Jude it was just another adventure. Veronica called her a drama queen. Jude reminded her of her sister, Emily.”

“Interesting,” Carolyn said. “Was Jude anorexic?”

He laughed. “God, no. I think Haley went through a stage like that before she and Jude broke up. I used to tease Jude and tell her she had her mother’s ass. Boy, did she hate that!”

“Veronica mentioned that Jude had lost a lot of weight recently.

Was she dieting?”

“All the girls diet. Look at the way they’re dressing today. You have to be a rail to show your belly and wear skirts up to your ass. I personally think it’s disgusting. What can I tell you? Once a kid turns eighteen, you don’t have any control over her. All you can do is tell her to shape up or get out. Jude refused to shape up, so I kicked her out. We should have tried tough love on her years ago.”

“Don’t you think you picked the wrong time to take such a stance?”

“No,” Drew said. “My wife was murdered. I’m stuck with three kids and no mother. I have to work to feed them and put clothes on their back. Crystal isn’t that bright, but she knows how to take care of children. I can’t rely on Jude. She’d take off and leave the kids alone.”

“But why did you move Crystal into the house?” Carolyn asked. Didn’t you realize it didn’t look right to move a young woman in only days after your wife was killed?”

“I don’t care how it looked,” he tossed back. He reflected a few moments, then added, “I guess I made a mistake there. Is that what got everyone up in arms?”

“It may have played a part,” Carolyn told him, twisting sideways to stretch her back. She studied his body language. He right arm was resting on the table. His face appeared relaxed. She’d hit all the hot spots, and Drew hadn’t so much as flinched. He was either a pathological liar, or a wrongly accused man whose faith in the system made him believe he would eventually prevail. When she worked in such close proximity to criminals, particularly those prone to violent offenses, a kinetic form of energy seemed to fill the air. When he spoke about his wife and daughter, Drew didn’t blink, tap his feet, or fidget. His father had been born in England. He’d inherited not only his father’s fair skin and refined features, but his detached demeanor. She decided to shake the tree harder. “Veronica thought you were having an affair. Are you involved with another woman, Drew?”

“Of course not,” he said, taken aback. “When would I have the time for such nonsense? I have to get up at four every morning. I work in LA, for Christ’s sake. Half my life is spent stuck in traffic.”

“Did you ever have sex with Veronica in the backseat of her Ford Explorer in the parking lot at the government center?”

“Shit, Carolyn,” Drew said, grimacing. “Are you on acid or something? These are the most ridiculous questions anyone has ever asked me. Veronica have sex in a public place? You’ve got to be kidding me. Since Michael was born, she wouldn’t even let me see her with her clothes off. She never lost the extra weight. I mean, it wasn’t as if I didn’t know.”

“Are you attracted to children, Drew? Do you fantasize about having sex with them?”

Drew stood and threw his hands in the air. “Get the hell out of here,” he shouted. “I thought you were my friend. Did that mealy-mouthed DA send you in here to trick me into saying something he could use against me? I should have known better than to trust you.”

“Calm down, Drew,” Carolyn said. “I promise no one sent me to extract information from you. I’m only trying to prepare you. These are the kinds of inflammatory questions you can expect during the trial.”

“Farrow doesn’t want me to testify. I can see why now.”

Carolyn waited until he collected himself, then said softly, “How are you handling Veronica’s death?”

“I’m not, actually. I guess all this”—he gestured with his hand—“is serving some useful purpose. I’m so terrified they’re going to send me to prison, I don’t have time to think about anything else. My biggest regret is that Veronica and I didn’t spend more time together. I loved her, you know.”

“I’m sure you did,” she said, reaching over and touching his arm. “Can you give me those names and addresses now? It’s getting late, and if I’m going to make a stab at finding Jude, I need to get going.”

By the time Carolyn reached the locker area, she was a hundred degrees past exhaustion. She took a seat on the bench as she sorted through her thoughts. She possessed a seemingly endless capacity for work. Her father had been a brilliant, but mentally tortured, mathematician, who used to go days at a time without sleep. She recalled running into him in the middle of the night in the kitchen.

“Why are you worried about sleeping?” he’d asked. “Are you tired the next day? Are you unable to focus on your schoolwork?”

“No,” Carolyn had told him, pouring herself a glass of milk and taking a seat at the table.

“There you go,” her father had said. “Stop trying to make yourself into a lesser mortal. Instead, use your energy for what it is, a gift.”

Sleep must have been more important than her father realized as he had killed himself. As she removed her gun and purse from the locker, she realized what was wrong with her. She wasn’t physically depleted. She was conflicted. Was it because she had the ability to see things from the perspective of the person she was with? This was her secret, the underlying reason she’d established a reputation as an outstanding interrogator. When the offenders she questioned looked in her eyes, they saw a reflection of themselves staring back. But once the contact was severed, she reverted to herself. This hadn’t happened with Drew. Was Veronica’s husband truly innocent? If so, the killer was at large, and that was something to fear. Not only had she distracted the police with her belief that Jude’s story was true, but she’d defied the killer’s order that she not get involved.

One of her weaknesses was a tendency to unnecessarily complicate things. Maybe Jude was a first-class liar, Drew was a decent husband and father, Tyler Bell hadn’t been involved in either Abernathy’s or McAllen’s death, and whoever killed Veronica had simply decided to make it open season on probation officers.