Wild Justice (16 page)

40 The weather front that had bedeviled Oregon for the past week was attacking again. Sheet after sheet of heavy rain bombarded Amanda s car. Even with the wipers on full, the visibility was so poor that Amanda counted herself lucky when she spotted the gap in the fence that bordered the farm. As soon as she turned onto the driveway the car started hitting puddles and potholes. Rain pounded the roof. Amanda s high beams raked the darkness, illuminating trees and shrubs before spotlighting the yellow crime scene tape that stretched across the door to the farmhouse. Amanda shut off the engine and sat listening to the rain. She had convinced herself that she would know if Cardoni had created both chambers of horror simply by walking through the farmhouse. Now that she was here, the idea sounded ridiculous. Amanda turned on the interior light and took another look at the pictures that Mike Greene had given her. One showed the graveyard surrounded by trees and far from the boundaries of the property: a place that would be hard to find accidentally. She flipped to the next shot. Three bodies, all showing marks of torture, lay stretched out on a ground sheet. A tarp had been erected over them to keep the corpses as dry as possible. A close-up of a female victim showed the abuse the frail body had taken in the days before she died. Another set of photographs showed the interior of the farmhouse. Amanda shuffled quickly past the close-ups of the body in the basement. One long look when she first saw the photos had been enough. She reviewed the other pictures before realizing that she was stalling. Amanda grabbed a flashlight and ran through the rain until she reached the overhang that covered the front door. She ripped away the bright yellow tape and walked inside. Amanda played the beam of her flashlight over the entryway and the living room. They were as bare and sparsely furnished as the house in Milton County had been. Amanda found the bedroom. The police had left the furniture after dusting it for prints and scouring it for trace evidence, but they had taken the books and the journal from the bookcase. Amanda tried to imagine the killer sitting in the armchair and thumbing through the manuals in preparation for the next torture session. What type of monster could coldly plan the ritual degradation of another human being? Amanda walked back through the living room to the kitchen. Outside, the wind gusted, rattling the shutters and skittering across the roof. Amanda felt a flutter in her stomach when she turned the knob of the basement door and looked into the dark space below. She flicked a light switch, and a bare bulb lit the lower part of the basement stairs. An oil-burning furnace stood in one corner. In another corner a rectangular patch of floor, cleaner than the area surrounding it, told her where the mattress had lain before forensics had removed it. She saw holes in the wall where the manacles had been secured; these too had been moved to the crime lab. Then she noticed the crudely mortared concrete wall that divided the basement in half. The wall looked as if it had been constructed by a do-it-yourselfer from a how-to book. Amanda descended the stairs and peered through an opening that led into a dark space where the light from the 40-watt bulb barely reached. Amanda turned on her flashlight and shone it through the doorway. The operating table was there. Above it was another bulb. Amanda pulled the string attached to it, and the light illuminated a space bare except for the operating table. Everything else from the room had gone to the crime lab. Suddenly she flashed on an image of Mary Sandowski s tearstained face, and a wave of nausea surged through her. She shut her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. There was no way that she could prove it, but there was absolutely no doubt. The person who had turned the mountain cabin into a place of horror had been at work here. Amanda circled the table. Fingerprint powder darkened the steel legs. She knelt down and saw a dark brown fleck. Was that blood? She stared at it for a moment, then stood up. A man was standing in the doorway.

41 The man stepped out of the shadows, blocking the only way out. He was wearing a rain-drenched trench coat. Amanda raised the flashlight and retreated. I m not here to hurt you, the man said, raising an empty hand, palm outstretched. I m Bobby Vasquez. It took a moment, then Amanda recognized the intruder. Vasquez s face was fleshy. Rain dripped from his long, unkempt black hair; a bushy mustache covered his upper lip. Under the open raincoat Amanda could see faded jeans, a flannel shirt and a threadbare sports jacket. I didn t mean to scare you, Vasquez told her. I tried to talk to you at the Justice Center, but I couldn t get close with all the reporters. Vasquez paused. He saw that Amanda was frightened and wary. Do you remember me? he asked. The motion to suppress. Not exactly my shining hour, Vasquez said grimly. But I was right about Cardoni. He killed those people in Milton County and he killed these people, too. You know it, don t you? That s why you re here. Amanda forgot her fear. What makes you think he s alive? Look at this place. When I read about the graveyard and the operating room, I knew. What about the hand? Cardoni was a surgeon. He wouldn t cut off his hand. Cardoni counted on everyone buying into that notion, that a surgeon would never amputate his own hand. But most surgeons aren t being hunted by a maniac like Martin Breach. Or facing a death sentence. That too. Plus, this guy is flat-out insane. Amanda shook her head. I want to believe Cardoni did this. The crime scenes are so alike. But I always come back to the hand. How could he do it? How could he cut off his own hand? It s not as difficult as you might think. Not for a doctor, anyway. I asked around. All Cardoni had to do was tie a tourniquet around his biceps and run an IV filled with anesthetic into his forearm. That would put his arm to sleep. He could amputate the hand without feeling a thing. After the hand was off he would have covered the stump with a sterile cloth until the bleeding stopped, then bandaged it and used more anesthetic to block the pain. Amanda digested what Vasquez had said, then made a decision. Okay, Mr. Vasquez, I ll level with you. I am here because of Cardoni. I knew it! So tell me, what else was in the police reports? You re not just here on a hunch. Amanda hesitated. Look, Miss Jaffe, I can help you. Who knows more about Cardoni than I do? I never believed that he was dead. I still have my file on him. I know Cardoni s life story; I can tell you what the police knew four years ago. You ll need an investigator. Our firm has an investigator. This will just be another case for him. It s my chance at redemption. Cardoni ruined my life. You ruined your own life, Amanda answered curtly. Vasquez looked down. You re right. I have to take the blame for what I did. It took me a while to figure that out. Vasquez swung his arm across the operating room. I take the blame for this, too. If I hadn t screwed up, Cardoni would be in prison and these people would be alive. I ve got to make this right. He paused. Besides, if we prove that Cardoni killed these people, your client goes free. Vasquez sounded desperate and sincere. Amanda took a final look around the operating room. Let s get out of here, she said. We ll talk upstairs. Amanda pulled the cord attached to the lightbulb and plunged the makeshift operating room into darkness. What can you tell me? Vasquez asked as they climbed the stairs. Are there other similarities between the crime scenes? I don t think I should get into that. You re right. Sorry. I m just anxious. You have no idea how I felt when I saw Dr. Castle s name in the paper this morning and read about the operating room. All of a sudden there was hope that this nightmare might finally end. Amanda turned off the basement light and shut the door behind her. Look, Mr. Vasquez, let s be straight here, okay? I heard rumors about you after you were fired. My father heard them, too. If I ask my father to let you work with us on this case, he s going to want to know if you re reliable. Vasquez looked as though he had been down this road before. What do you want to know? He sighed. What did you do after you were kicked off the force? I drank. That s what you re after, right? Being a cop was my whole life. One moment I was and the next I wasn t. I couldn t cope. There s a year and a half in there that s still very blurry. But I came out of it and I stopped drinking on my own. I don t drink anymore, not even a beer. Tell your father that I m a licensed investigator. It s how I ve been earning my living. I m good at it, and believe it or not, there are still some people on the job who ll talk to me. We ll have to see. When you re thinking about hiring me, think about this. I ve already got a jump on the cops. What do you mean? Four years ago I figured I d nail Cardoni by tying him to the Milton County house. You know, get the deed, show he owned it. Only I couldn t. He was very clever. The property was owned by a corporation, and the corporation was set up by a shady attorney named Walter Stoops, who was hired by someone he never met and paid in cashier s checks. The whole thing turned out to be a dead end, because we couldn t identify the person who purchased the cashier s checks. But it did establish an MO. This morning, as soon as I read about the farmhouse, I went through the records for this property. Guess what I found? The land is owned by a corporation and was purchased by a lawyer. Bingo. The sale went through two years ago, which would give Cardoni enough time to set up a new identity and prepare for his return to Portland. Is the purchaser the same corporation that bought the land in Milton County? No. And the lawyer s different. But the MO s the same. What makes you think you ll be able to prove who purchased the property this time? I don t know that I can, but Cardoni screwed up four years ago and we almost got him. I m hoping he ll screw up again.

42 That night Amanda slept like the dead and through her alarm. It was too late for her morning calisthenics or breakfast, so she took a fast shower and picked up a latte and a piece of coffee cake to go. When she walked into her office at eight-thirty her father was sitting behind her desk reading through the file on Justine Castle. He looked up and smiled. Amanda froze in the doorway. Good morning, Amanda. You re supposed to be on vacation. What are you doing here? she asked, fighting to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Didn t you think I d be interested in your latest case? I was sure you would be. That s why I left strict instructions that no one was to tell you about it if you called in. No one did. Then how did you find out? It s in the California papers. Somebody figured out the connection to the Cardoni case and, presto, we ve got another sensation on our hands. Did you check your phone messages? Not yet. I glanced through them. If you want to be a media celebrity, 20/20, 60 Minutes, Larry King and Geraldo are all standing by. You re kidding. Amanda set her attachase, the latte and the bag with the coffee cake on the edge of her desk and sat in one of her client chairs. Isn t Elsie pissed that you ve ruined her vacation? Elsie is a wonderful woman. She ordered me to come back and help you. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Amanda answered sarcastically. I was perfectly able to save Dooling s ass all by myself. What makes you think I m not competent to represent Justine Castle? Hold on, Frank said, raising a hand defensively. No one s saying you re incompetent, and don t get huffy on me. You know damn well that it takes two lawyers to handle something this complex. Are you going to be lead counsel? Amanda asked, bracing for the worst. I wouldn t think of it. Amanda tried to hide her surprise, but she must have failed, because Frank s lips twitched as if he was suppressing a grin. Justine might want you to be, Amanda said warily. She asked for you when she was arrested. Is she satisfied with you calling the shots? I think so. Then let s see how things go. Right now it s your case. Why don t you bring me up to speed? Between sips of her latte and bites of her coffee cake, Amanda laid out the details, starting with Justine s late-night phone call. When she told Frank about her visit to the farmhouse she didn t mention her encounter with Vasquez. I wish you hadn t gone inside, Amanda, Frank said when she was finished. It was a sealed crime scene. I know, but the forensic experts had gone through it already, and I had to see the place before it changed too much. Frank leaned back. What was your impression? It s either the same killer or someone who knows an awful lot about the Cardoni case. I m sure of it. Amanda paused a moment to think of how to broach the subject of Vasquez. She decided to plunge in. When I was looking over the basement at the farmhouse, Bobby Vasquez showed up. The cop who lied at Cardoni s motion? Amanda nodded. He wants to work with us on the case. He s convinced that Cardoni faked his death four years ago and is responsible for the new murders. Did you know that Vasquez was one of the leading suspects in Cardoni s disappearance? He was obsessed with Cardoni. The theory is that he went vigilante when the court set him free. Amanda tried to picture Vasquez as Cardoni s killer. It makes no sense for Vasquez to tell me that Cardoni killed the people at the farm if he knows that Cardoni is dead. Why would he follow me to the farmhouse? Why would he offer to work on the case? I don t know and I don t care, Frank snapped. You have every right to be angry about what Vasquez did in Cardoni s case. But you shouldn t let that stop you from thinking about what he can do in this one. He s dishonest, Amanda. He s a drunk. He says that he s not drinking anymore, and he looked sober. I think you should remember why Vasquez lied under oath. He did it because he thought it was the only way to put a very bad person in prison. That doesn t excuse what he did. I m not saying it does. I just think you should look at this with an open mind. Vasquez knows everything the police knew about Cardoni, and he s already uncovered some useful information. Such as? Amanda told Frank about Vasquez s investigation into the ownership of the farm. That s nothing Herb or the cops wouldn t have discovered, Frank said dismissively. I don t know why Vasquez wants to work this case, but I m not going to associate with a perjurer and a drunk. Amanda gathered herself. Then she looked directly at her father. Either I m lead counsel or I m not. If I am, then I choose my team. Frank wasn t used to being told what to do, and Amanda could see that he didn t like it. I m not sure about Vasquez myself, Amanda added quickly while she had the edge, but I want the right to decide if he s in or out. Frank let out the breath he d been holding. Let s talk about this later. I want it decided now. Do you think I m competent to run this defense? Frank hesitated. Do you, Dad? We ve worked together for five years. You ve had a lifetime to evaluate my abilities. If you don t think I can hack it, I ll resign from the firm today. Frank put his head back and roared with laughter. You make me long for the good old days when little girls were courteous to their fathers and studied home economics. Screw you, Amanda said, fighting hard but failing to suppress a triumphant grin. Where did you learn such language? From you, you old bastard. Now let s get back to Justine s case. I d better before you try to get a raise, too. Amanda lifted an eyebrow. Not a bad idea. Quit while you re ahead, you ingrate. Amanda laughed. Then she grew serious. Were there other suspects in Cardoni s disappearance? Frank nodded. Martin Breach s enforcer, Art Prochaska, the guy you thought you saw driving away from the cabin. Of course. Breach had a reputation for dismembering people he didn t like, and he had a contract out on Cardoni because he thought Vincent had double-crossed him in a deal involving the black-market sale of organs. The rest of Cardoni may have been in the trunk of Prochaska s car when he passed you. That s a pleasant thought. You asked. Do you know Prochaska well enough so he would talk to you? Why? I d like to know what he was doing at the cabin on the night I found the hand. If he didn t kill Cardoni, he might tell us. Prochaska claimed that he wasn t at the cabin. He had an alibi. He s lying, Dad. I couldn t swear in court that it was Prochaska I saw, but he was in that car. Frank thought for a moment. Martin always trusted me. I m certain he told Art to be a witness for Cardoni. Let me see what I can do. I ll let you know what Martin says as soon as I talk to him. Frank left to work his way through the mail that had piled up while he was away. Amanda wandered out to the front desk, picked up a thick stack of phone messages and returned to her office. Frank hadn t lied about the calls from Geraldo and company, but the message that made her pause wasn t from New York or LA. Amanda tapped the slip against her palm, uncertain whether to call the number or not. She swiveled her chair and stared out the window. The name on the slip aroused mixed emotions. Suddenly Amanda said, Why not? and dialed St. Francis Medical Center. She told the operator her caller s name and was put on hold. After a moment the voice of Tony Fiori came on the line. Amanda? he asked hesitantly. Long time, Tony, Amanda said evenly. I didn t know you were in town. Yeah. I m back at St. Francis. How was New York? Good. Actually, I was so busy most of the time that I didn t take as much advantage of being there as I should have. So, what s up? Amanda asked, dying to know why he had called but unwilling to ask. I was in New Orleans since last Friday and didn t see a paper until this morning. I read about Justine being charged with those killings. Amanda flashed on a vision of Justine and Tony standing side by side in Fiori s doorway four years ago. So that s why you called, because of Justine? she asked, fighting to mask her disappointment. Your name was in the paper, too, Amanda. He paused. Look, I ve got to be in surgery in three minutes, so I don t have much time. I d like to see you. Could we have dinner? Amanda s pulse gave an unexpected flutter. I don t know. If you don t want to, I ll understand. No, it s not that. She did want to see Tony. I ll be up to my neck in Justine s case for the next few days. How about this weekend? Okay. I ll make a dinner reservation at the Fish Hatchery for Friday night. Is that okay? Sure. See you then. Amanda hung up the phone. Tony Fiori. Wow! Now here was a blast from the past. Amanda laughed. She d really acted like a schoolgirl when she found out he d been sleeping with Justine, but that was years ago and she was a lot tougher now. And she had enjoyed the time they d spent together. Amanda stared out the window for a moment. Then she smiled. It would be interesting to see how well Tony had aged in four years.