Vile (14 page)

“Your point is valid, Chief.” Thornton turned his hands up as if her warnings were of little consequence to him. “Get a court order and I’ll be happy to assist.” He tapped the thick folder on his desk. “I do not intend to have my reputation come into question or to lose my license because the police cannot solve their case. Do your job and I’ll do mine. That’s my motto.”

Now he’d just plain old pissed her off. “I certainly would hate to see Clements’ mother sue you if her son is murdered. I feel confident that kind of litigation wouldn’t help your reputation, Doctor. If we find her son murdered, I won’t have any choice but to tell her about this conversation.” Jess frowned with feigned regret. “I hear lawsuits can really jack up those malpractice insurance rates.”

Thornton stared at her for a minute, his agitation palpable. “I really don’t have time to debate judicial proceedings with you, Chief Harris. I worked you in between patients. Now.” He stood. “If you’ll forgive me, I have a patient waiting.” He opened the folder on his desk. “I’m sure your time is limited as well, I suggest you see yourselves out.”

When the door had closed behind him, Jess turned to Lori. “I believe that was an invitation to have a look at the file.”

“Sounded like one to me,” Lori agreed.

Jess went around the left side of the doctor’s desk while Lori skirted the right. Amanda Brownfield’s case file was open to the beginning. They quickly skimmed the doctor’s reports from his most recent sessions with Amanda.

Several items jumped out at Jess. Delusions of grandeur. Violent episodes. Self-harm. Endless talk of killing. Sexual fantasies about serial killers.

Lori tapped the latest report. “He started her on a stronger drug.”

“She must not have responded to the other antipsychotics he tried,” Jess noted. The one listed was a powerful medication with potentially lethal side effects. “There’s always the possibility she isn’t taking them at all.” The file contained photos of Amanda’s self-imposed injuries, mostly cutting.

Considering this woman was little Maddie’s mother, there was no telling what the child had seen and suffered already. The grandmother had probably taken care of the child more than the mother had. Problem was the grandmother was dead. That didn’t leave Maddie with a lot of options

Jess closed the file. “We need to find Amanda Brownfield before anyone else dies.” And before she decided she wanted her kid back.

“The boyfriend could be dead already.”

“Since we’ve had no hits on either of their vehicles and no one has seen them since Saturday, you could be right.” In Jess’s opinion, the odds were against the boyfriend.

“If he knows she killed her mother, he may be looking for a way out.”

“Maybe we can help him find it,” Jess offered. “If he’s still alive.” She headed for the door. “Before we move on to the next name on that list the sheriff gave us, let’s pay a visit to Clements’ mother. Maybe she can shed some light on where the two might be hiding out.”

Jess knew one thing: Brock Clements was either a murderer or he’d been murdered.

Woods Cove Road, 2:22 p.m.

Donna Sue Clements lived in a small two-bedroom cottage in a Scottsboro Housing Authority neighborhood near the Jackson County Hospital. Her home was neat and clean and smelled of the pot roast slow cooking in the crockpot for supper. Jess’s stomach reminded her that she had skipped lunch. Not a smart thing for a pregnant woman to do. Maybe after this meeting, they could grab a burger.

“He hasn’t been home since Saturday,” Mrs. Clements said in answer to Jess’s question about when she’d last seen her son. “He don’t usually go this long without coming home or calling. That’s why I went over there looking for him.” Perched on the edge of the sofa, she wrung her hands. “You don’t think that crazy woman has done something to him, do you? I can’t believe she killed her own mother. It’s awful, just awful.”

“We don’t have any evidence to suggest your son has been harmed.” Jess saw no reason to mention it was a strong possibility. “We’re hoping to find Brock so we can ask him a few questions about Amanda. He’s not in any trouble right now.”

“I told him she was crazy. Her own momma told me she’d killed ever’ cat and dog they’d ever owned. Got’em buried all over the backyard.” She shook a finger at Jess. “It was a sad day when Amanda Brownfield had that little girl. Poor child, to have a crazy momma like that. It’s just terrible. I hope the law can do something to protect her now that Margaret’s gone.”

“We’ll see that Maddie is well cared for. No need for you to worry about that, Mrs. Clements,” Jess assured her. “When you say, Amanda killed all those dogs and cats, was this something she did on purpose or did she just forget to feed them or something like that?”

Clements moved her head from side to side, her expression grave. “Margaret found cats hanging in the barn. Dogs buried alive. After about the fourth time Margaret refused to allow any more pets. The others she killed were strays that had the bad luck of wandering onto the Brownfield farm. We all want to believe the best about our kids, but Margaret knew Amanda was the devil’s spawn. She was afraid of her. Run her off years ago but when she come back with that little girl in tow, Margaret couldn’t turn her away.”

“Do you know what happened to Amanda’s father?” Jess’s instincts were warning her that the car hidden in the barn was evidence of some sort of foul play.

The older woman harrumphed. “Probably got scared off by Margaret’s daddy. Carlton Brownfield was a mean old bastard. He’s the reason Margaret didn’t have a man in her life until she was past thirty. He scared off any man who dared look at his daughter, much less come calling.” Clements nodded knowingly. “For some reason or another he liked Lawrence.”

“So Brownfield was Margaret’s maiden name?” The Caddy in the barn was registered to a Lawrence Howard. “She never took her husband’s name?”

“She and Lawrence never married.” Clements shrugged. “I figured her daddy wouldn’t allow it even if he did seem to like Lawrence. I always wondered if it was because of Amanda. Margaret and Lawrence kept their relationship secret until she couldn’t hide the pregnancy any longer. It was a real strange situation.”

“Do you remember when Lawrence disappeared?” The car was at least three decades old. The question was, if he left of his own volition, why didn’t he take it with him? Did he have a second car? Margaret Brownfield’s home suggested she lived frugally. Why not sell the car?

“Years and years ago,” Clements said. “I guess Amanda was about six. It was real hard on her. She worshipped her daddy. I think that’s when she started going crazy. Seemed like his walking out on them done something to her. She wasn’t the same after he left.”

Abandonment would certainly change a child, though Jess wasn’t ready to extend any sympathy to Amanda Brownfield yet. “Did Margaret ever mention hearing from him after that?”

Clements shook her head. “Nope. She wouldn’t talk about him at all after he left. Best I can recall, she never mentioned his name again.”

“It sounds as if you and Margaret were very good friends, is that correct?”

“When the kids were little. They played all the time. Just like brother and sister but when Amanda got about thirteen, she was always doing something mean to Brock so we stopped going over there. I’d see them in church once in a while but that was a long time ago. When he got mixed up with her again, I reminded him of all them times she hurt him as a kid. He says I don’t understand Amanda.”

“What sort of things did she do?” Thornton had stated in one of his reports that Amanda Brownfield showed the classic traits of a psychopath. She was likely far more dangerous than this woman knew.

“She pushed him out of the hayloft of that old barn for one thing. Broke his arm. She swore it was an accident, but I knew better even if Brock wouldn’t say. She’d take him way out in the woods, tie him up, and then swear she didn’t know where he was. God must’ve been looking out for my boy since he always managed to get loose. Once she tried to bury him. She told him they were playing graveyard. She tried to cover his face with dirt and when he bucked up about it, she hit him in the head with the shovel. He did tell on her for that one. I put my foot down then. Poor Margaret was really upset, but I had to do what was right for my boy.” She sighed a weary sound. “But there’s only so much a mother can do to protect her child.

Those words weighed heavily on Jess’s shoulders. How would she protect her child? “I appreciate your help, Mrs. Clements.” Jess passed her a card. “Please call me if you hear from your son.”

“I hope you find that crazy gal,” Clements said as she followed Jess and Lori to the door. “She should’ve been locked up a long time ago.”

Brownfield Farm, 4:00 p.m.

Gina Coleman and her cameraman had headed back to Birmingham by the time Jess and Lori returned to the farm. Jess didn’t blame her, it had been a long day. The search of the barn and the house hadn’t turned up any new evidence. Jackson County’s evidence tech had worked alongside the two from Birmingham all day. Sylvia had called to tell Jess she’d had a look at Margaret Brownfield’s body and concurred with asphyxiation as cause of death. She had suggested further tests to ensure the woman hadn’t been drugged which would explain why there was no indication of a struggle. Even the heaviest sleeper typically awakened if they couldn’t breathe.

Harper walked Jess and Lori through all the ground he’d covered. Cook was going over the interior of the barn one last time. The yard only went a hundred or so feet all the way around the house before giving way to a pasture on one side, the road on another, and woods on the remaining two.

Jess stopped. “Where’s Hayes?” He was supposed to be with Harper and Cook. Had he returned to Birmingham already?

Harper shrugged. “Cook and I had this covered. Hayes wanted to talk to some of the neighbors. He felt hanging around here was a waste of assets.”

“He didn’t
feel
the need to check with me first?” Ire started to build. Jess liked Hayes, but he needed to understand who was in charge. He might outrank Harper, but as far as Jess was concerned, Harper was senior on this team. When she would have said as much, Hayes appeared around the corner of the house. “Thank you, Sergeant. You and Detective Wells carry on. I need to have a word with the lieutenant.”

Tamping down her anger, Jess marched up to Hayes. “We need to take a walk, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Since Jess hadn’t been beyond the clearing, she chose one of the numerous trails that went off into the woods. No need for anyone else to hear what she was about to say. When they were deep enough into the woods, she turned on Hayes. “Why did you disobey my orders?” This was not going to fly. The man had a hell of a cocky attitude. It was time she yanked him down a notch or two.

“Harper and Cook had things under control.” He executed one of those male, I-don’t-know-why-you’re-nagging shrugs. “I felt my time could be better utilized checking in with neighbors.”

“Did you learn anything useful to this investigation?”

He shook his head. “Afraid not.”

After silently counting to five, Jess attempted to speak without shouting. “Moving forward, if you want to remain a member of this team, under no circumstances are you to disobey my orders. Are we clear on that, Lieutenant, or do I need to write it down for you?”

“Crystal clear, Chief.”

The rage drained away as abruptly as it had come. Jess suddenly felt more tired than she had in her whole life. She was starving and the M&Ms she carried were gone. That skimpy burger hadn’t done anything but make her hungrier. What she needed was a long hot bath and a big of bowl of something hearty and comforting like chicken soup.

“Just don’t let it happen again.” She dropped her hands to her side. “We’re a team. We work together.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Whether it was a drop in her blood sugar level or exhaustion, Jess stumbled as she turned to head back to the house. She caught herself, but not before staggering a step or two off the path into the underbrush. Hayes reached for her but it was too late. She went down on her butt. Her bag flew off her shoulder and the contents went flying in every direction.

“Dammit,” she snapped.

“You okay, Chief?” Hayes parted the bushes and crouched down next to her.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” After dressing him down, she’d intended to make an impressive exit and look how well that turned out. “My glasses and my phone are in the bushes somewhere.” She moved onto her hands and knees and started searching through the undergrowth.

Hayes found her phone and passed it to her.

She spotted her eyeglass case and reached for it. Her fingers grazed something that felt stiff and definitely out of place. She parted the brush, most of which appeared to be dying branches and piles of leaves. The brush scratched at her face but she didn’t retreat. The ground felt softer beneath what she now realized was nothing more than a pile of discarded limbs and bush trimmings.

Then she saw what didn’t belong.

Fingers… sticking up from the ground.

5:01 p.m.

Brock Clements was dead. It had taken only a few minutes for Harper and the lieutenant to uncover his body. His body had been too close to the surface to use shovels. Digging by hand, the detectives had worn out three pairs of gloves each.

The Jackson County coroner had arrived. Jess didn’t need a coroner or a forensic expert to tell her what happened. Clements had a gash on the back of his head that suggested he’d been temporarily disabled, and then buried in this shallow grave. Before he suffocated, he’d awakened but he’d been too far gone and disoriented to dig his way out from under the shallow blanket of dirt.

Jess had called Sheriff Foster so he could make the notification. She regretted this was the news Mrs. Clement would receive. The loss of a child, no matter the age, went against the nature of things. Mrs. Clements had been right to be worried about her son’s involvement with Amanda Brownfield.

Brownfield or her accomplice—not that Jess thought she had one—had done a stellar job of camouflaging the grave. She’d basically replanted some of the brush she dug up right on top of her boyfriend. The recent rain had prevented the leaves from wilting as quickly as they normally would have this time of year. All the shade from the trees had helped as well. The time the killer had spent doing the deed was also marked by the number of cigarette butts left behind.