Revenge of Innocents (19 page)

“That works,” Carolyn said aloud.

Bobby Kirsh was manning the counter while he chatted with another bailiff. He used a muscular arm to move the officer aside. “Everything go okay? Your inmate didn’t get out of hand, did he? I didn’t get a chance to work out today. I’d be happy to straighten out his attitude for you.”

“I’m sure you would, Bobby,” Carolyn said, glancing up at the security camera. “I just realized my fiancé was right.”

“You did, huh? In what way?”

“It’s time I get out of this business.”

“Only if you take me with you,” the sergeant said, buzzing her through the security doors.

Friday, October 15
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8:30
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H
ank and Mary were strangely silent as they sped over the dark residential streets. She had pulled out her red murder shirt, then tossed it back in her duffel bag. Veronica Campbell had been a member of the law enforcement family. Now it appeared the killer had moved down a generation. Having lost her father in the line of duty, Mary was trying to assimilate the horror of a young girl’s death, as well as compute all the possibilities. Seeing the lights and police cars up ahead, she said, “I’m not feeling very good about this thing right now. How about you?”

Hank didn’t answer, braking hard and steering the car toward the dirt road adjoining the orchard. Most of this section of Ventura had been parceled out to developers. The land was considered prime real estate since it was high enough to provide views of the ocean. Only a few remaining residents had maintained the original orchards. This grove was planted in orange trees. Mary could smell them as soon as they parked and stepped out of the car. They didn’t need to display their badges, one of the benefits of working for a fairly small department like Ventura.

“Olsen,” Hank barked to a uniformed officer. “Who do those cars over there belong to? If they’re media, get rid of them. They can’t park this close to the scene. If they refuse to move, tow them.”

Mary had long legs, and had learned to keep up with Hank’s quick stride. The officers stepped out of their way. She spotted Gary Conrad in a circle of light approximately twenty feet away. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. As hard as they tried to preserve evidence, they had to get to the grave. She imagined vital evidence crunching underneath their feet.

Gary was forty-five, had shaggy brown hair, a physique gone to pot, and a round face that was prematurely wrinkled from his years as a surfer. “The path you came down is where the old man walks every night,” he told them. “He’s the caretaker. The owners have a second home in the Virgin Islands, and won’t be back for three months. I’ve tried to keep everyone confined to this one area. Follow me. I’ll take you to the body. I asked for Charley Young. I figured that’s who you’d want on this one. Am I right?” Young was the county’s chief forensic pathologist.

Hank walked with his head down, his flashlight pointed at the ground. “Was Charley available?”

“Yeah, we got lucky,” Gary said, turning up the collar on his jacket. Now that the sun was down, it was damp and chilly. “He’s not here yet, neither is CSI. All I’ve got right now are six guys from patrol, along with a couple of narcs who were in the area. Since it’s Friday night, most of the people who live around here must be out on the town. The media’s already snooping around, though.” He stopped walking several feet before the grave. Portable spotlights had been set up. “She could be the Campbell girl, Lieutenant, but I’m not certain. The features on the body are distorted.”

Mary dropped down on her knees, brushing off more dirt and leaves from the corpse’s face. She’d been involved in the exhumation of numerous bodies. Seeing a face staring up at you from the ground never lost its shock value, and this was obviously a young person, which made it even more tragic. The mouth was open wide, the eyes clenched shut, her face frozen in a death mask of horror. “It’s not Jude Campbell,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “This girl’s been in the ground for longer than a few hours.”

To her left, Mary noticed a steep embankment. “The killer probably parked on the service road like we did, then rolled her down that embankment. I doubt if he used a shovel. The grave is shallow and the ground is soft enough that he could have scooped it out with his hands.”

The detective carefully removed more soil from the torso. She saw what looked like a breast implant, then realized it was a rotting orange. Something was protruding from the ground on the right side of the body. At first, she thought it was a plant of some kind, but then she realized it was a hand. The fingernails were painted pink and the fingers shaped into a claw. She scooted over to the left side and uncovered the other hand, finding it in the same position. “Christ, he buried her alive! She was trying to claw her way out.”

“Let’s hope the bastard didn’t wear gloves,” Hank said. “He may have cut himself on a rock.”

Something blue flickered on the victim’s right ring finger. “Put the spot on this, Gary,” Mary said, trying to get a better look at it. She reached into her jacket pocket and removed a small brush she carried, taking it from the plastic case and using it to dust the dirt off. “My God, Hank, it’s a Ventura High graduation ring from last year. That means she was a classmate of Jude’s.”

“I’ll wait here for Charley and crime scene,” he told her. “Go back to the station and check missing persons. And call Carolyn, see if she’s heard anything regarding Jude yet. These cases have to be connected.”

“You don’t believe Drew Campbell did this, do you? Its so brutal.”

“And what he did to his daughter wasn’t brutal?” Hank responded, his shoulder twitching with nervous energy. “We may have been coming at this from the wrong direction. The incest threw us off. Drew could be a sadist who decided to start acting out his fantasies by killing young girls. He enjoyed beating and degrading his daughter, but he might not have had the balls to actually kill her. So he went shopping for victims among her friends. That nanny he hired…what was her name?”

“Crystal Truesdale.”

“Maybe it wasn’t the younger daughter he was setting up for his next victim. Get her down to the station and see what she can tell you.”

Friday, October 15
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9:15
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“C
an I legally enter the house?” Carolyn asked after Mary told her about the new homicide. She’d just pulled out of the government center parking lot after leaving the jail, and was stopped at the light on Victoria. “What were the terms of the original search warrant?”

“We didn’t have a warrant,” the detective said. “We submitted a request for one today, but the judge hasn’t signed it yet. In any case of suspected child abuse, Protective Services has the right to remove the children from the home without the benefit of a court order. We arrested Drew on probable cause. This gave them another reason to take the kids, since they couldn’t very well leave them to fend for themselves. You still have a key, right? Didn’t you tell me that you and Veronica always kept keys to each other’s homes in case of an emergency?”

“Yes, but that’s not what I’m concerned about.” Carolyn made a left turn on Victoria, then pulled off on the shoulder so she could concentrate on their conversation. She’d planned on driving by Tyler Bell’s painting company on the chance that the address she’d come up with was his residence. A lot of independent contractors worked out of their home. “What if I do find some kind of incriminating evidence against Drew? Won’t it be inadmissible without a warrant?”

“Only if you go in there specifically to look for evidence. You’re going to box up the kids’ clothes and toys to send to Emily. Isn’t that right, Carolyn?”

“I think you should run it by Kevin Thomas first, Mary. Too many cases have fallen apart because of illegal searches. The courts can see through these types of things.”

“Fine,” Mary said, perturbed. “Just remember that if Jude doesn’t turn up by Monday, Thomas will have no choice but to withdraw the charges. Stressful situations cause killers to act. Killing is their release. You don’t think Drew has been under extraordinary pressure since his arrest? Once he’s back on the street, there’s no telling what he’ll do.” Her voice elevated. “Jesus Christ, woman, this girl was buried alive! Can you imagine what a terrible way that is to die?”

Carolyn felt the hairs prick on the back of her neck. “Are you certain she was buried alive?”

“Cause of death isn’t official yet, of course, but that’s what it looked like to me. I didn’t see any gunshot wounds or ligature marks around her neck. I think he beat her to the brink of death, then buried her. The lazy bastard didn’t even dig that deep of a hole. She almost clawed her way out, poor thing.”

“Okay, I’ll go to Veronica’s house,” Carolyn said, taking the car out of park and making a U-turn. “What should I look for?”

“Phone numbers, pictures, weapons, souvenirs like hair or jewelry, anything that doesn’t look right. Concentrate on the garage. If he has anything, that’s where he probably stashed it. Just take some paper with you and write down what you find. Try not to touch it, but don’t panic if you do. You’ve been in the house on numerous occasions, so we’d expect to find a shitload of your prints. What I don’t want is for you to contaminate any evidence that might belong to one of the victims.”

“My God,” Carolyn exclaimed. “You’re making it sound like Drew’s a serial killer.”

“He could be a serial killer in his infancy.”

“I’m sorry, Mary. I’m not convinced he’s guilty of anything, let alone this girl you think was buried alive. I spoke to him tonight at the jail.”

“So you went on a fishing expedition?”

Mary knew her well, Carolyn decided. “Drew thinks I’m in his corner now, so make sure no one says or does anything to the contrary. We can use this to our advantage, depending on how things play out.” She paused to collect her thoughts, then continued, “He was remarkably relaxed and confident for someone in his position. You know, no hesitations, no searching around for the right words, no awkward pauses. Everything just flowed out of him.”

“Would you classify him as cocky?”

“Not necessarily,” Carolyn answered. “Why?”

“Because you might exude confidence, too, if you thought you were going to get away with multiple murders. Drew knows his daughter’s accusations may not hold up in court. And you, of all people, should know that violent predators seldom look the part. Ted Bundy was sophisticated, intelligent, and charming.”

“I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

Carolyn parked the Infiniti across the street, not wanting to stir up the neighbors’ curiosity. Even if Drew was innocent, his reputation was forever tarnished. When people were accused of crimes of this nature, the taint of scandal stuck with them for life. All the people on this block, where Drew and Veronica had lived for almost twenty years, would only remember the night he was led away in handcuffs.

The small stucco house looked so dark and forlorn, Carolyn had to force herself to go inside. The grass was already too high. She’d have to get someone to come over and mow it, or people would realize the house was vacant and vandalize it.

When she reached the porch, she fumbled for the key in her purse, then inserted it into the lock. When she stepped inside, she flipped the light switch by the door, but nothing happened. Why would the electricity be turned off? Surely, Veronica had paid the bill. Drew had never been good with money matters. It just dawned on her why the motel room where Veronica’s body had been found might have been rented with a stolen credit card. Drew couldn’t very well have something like that turn up on their MasterCard. Veronica would have spotted it immediately. She’d suspected Drew of seeing other women for years.

Carolyn went over to the lamp on the end table beside the sofa, thinking the overhead light fixture must have burned out. It didn’t work, either. She’d seen this phenomena before, where numerous lightbulbs in a house went out at the same time. It was more common in newer homes, but it could occur anywhere. In a new home, the bulbs were generally inserted at the same time, creating a cycle of burnouts and replacements. She felt inside the lamp and couldn’t find the bulb. Strange, she thought, continuing toward the hall.

Odors she associated with children lingered in the stale air: souring milk, urine, Johnson’s baby shampoo. She could almost hear their laughter and feel their youthful presence, as if it had imprinted itself into the walls. Would Veronica’s children ever live in this house again? Why did tragedy have to strike their young lives?

Carolyn suddenly felt a chill. Was there a window open somewhere? The police wouldn’t have left without making certain the house was secure. Her pulse quickened. She thought of horror movies, where people felt a gust of cold air when a ghost walked past them. If there was anyone who had a reason to linger in a spirit form, it was Veronica.

Not paying attention to where she was walking, Carolyn tripped over a large object. Getting up and dusting herself off, she decided to go to the car for her flashlight when her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she made out the shape of a body on the floor.

She dropped to her knees, picking up a frigid hand. She felt for a pulse and didn’t find one. Certain the person was dead, she stood to run out of the house, terrified the killer was hiding in the darkness.

She moved a few feet, then stopped, smelling something familiar. A second later, she realized it was the conditioner Rebecca used on her hair. It was only sold at beauty supply stores, and her daughter purchased it with her own money.

Carolyn’s stomach’s came up in her throat. She spotted something else of Rebecca’s, her brown leather ankle boots trimmed in fur. “God in heaven, help me!”

Her hands were shaking so bad, she had to dial 911 twice. As soon as the dispatcher answered, she screamed into the phone, “Send the police and an ambulance! My daughter…Hurry, she might still be alive.”

Carolyn leaned down and opened Rebecca’s mouth, breathing into it. “Baby…oh God…it’s Mom.” She ran her fingers up to her sternum, finding the right place to begin the compressions. How long had she been here like this? Her skin was so cold.

She continued ventilating and compressing even when she heard the sirens approaching. Thank God, she’d left the front door partially open. Even a few seconds could cost her daughter her life. She leaned down to check for a heartbeat when the paramedics came barreling through the door. She looked up, her face streaked with tears, her eyes wild with fright. “I think I heard a heartbeat. It was so weak, I can’t be sure.”

An overweight middle-aged paramedic pointed a flashlight on the girl’s face, while a younger blond man placed a stethoscope on her chest. “Is this your daughter, ma’am? Did she OD on pills?”

Carolyn was so relieved, she couldn’t think. She made the sign of the cross. “Thank you, God,” she said, looking up at the ceiling.

“We need to know what she took.”

“I don’t know. I thought she was my daughter, but she’s not. Her name is Jude Campbell. Is she going to make it?”

“The kid was mainlining,” the older paramedic said, finding a needle and a spoon a few inches away on the floor. “Looks like heroin.”

Carolyn moved out of the men’s way. She tried the light switch in the hallway, and it worked. Jude had overdosed in the living room, so she must have wanted it dark. Carolyn went to the kitchen, turned on the light, then saw the back window was smashed out. Since Drew had taken her key away, Jude must have broken it to get into the house. Carolyn felt like an idiot. This was the first place she should have checked when Jude disappeared. She’d driven by on the way to the jail, but when she didn’t see Marcus’s Jeep or any lights on inside the house, she’d assumed Jude wasn’t there.

Returning to the living room, she wrapped her arms around her chest, wincing when the older paramedic stabbed Jude in the chest with a huge needle filled with adrenaline.

Jude shrieked and opened her eyes, her arms flopping at her side. “Where the fuck am I?”

“Just lie still,” the paramedic said, gesturing for his partner to bring in the gurney. “You just about killed yourself, little lady. How long have you been shooting heroin?”

Jude turned her head away. “I wanted to die. Why didn’t you let me die? I was sure I took enough to kill me.” While they started an IV, she saw Carolyn. “Bitch,” she snarled, saliva rolling down her chin. “Can’t you leave me alone? First, you lock me in your stupid mansion. What were you going to do, keep me as a pet for you and your rich boyfriend?”

The older paramedic glanced up at Carolyn. “A real sweetheart, this one. I saw some evidence tape outside. Is this a crime scene? Where are the police?”

Hank appeared in the doorway, opening his jacket so the paramedics could see his gold detective shield clipped on his belt. “Looks like you found our victim,” he told Carolyn. “What happened here?”

“This girl isn’t a victim, Detective,” the blond paramedic said. “She didn’t have any visible tracks, but she admitted she shot herself up with heroin. I bagged the syringe and spoon.” He reached into his pocket and handed them to Hank. “We’ll be taking her to Community Memorial. Have your lab confirm there was nothing in there other than heroin and give them a call. They’ll probably keep her for a few hours for observation, then send her home. I checked her wallet and her driver’s license says she an adult.”

“We’ll meet you at the ER,” Hank told him, a stern look on his face. “When she leaves the hospital, she’s going to jail.”

“You’re going to officially charge her?” Carolyn asked, reminding herself of everything Jude had gone through. “If you do, Hank, she’ll have even less credibility as a witness than she already has. Most of her record is juvenile. We could have gotten around that. What are you going to charge her with? Possession of heroin? A junkie witness isn’t worth crap.”

The detective pulled out a toothpick, twirling the small sliver of wood in his fingers. “You think I’m going to let her skip out on us again? We identified the victim we found in the orchard. Her name was Haley Snodgrass. According to her parents, she didn’t come home from school Tuesday. They thought she’d run off with Stocton, so they didn’t report her missing.”

Jude struggled against the restraints on the gurney. “You sadistic bastards,” she shouted. “Why did you bring me back? Just so you could send me to jail? I hope you both rot in hell.”