Out For Justice (2 page)

Susan flipped back a few pages in her notepad. “Male, age four, appears to be asphyxiated by strangulation. Scratches on the skin appear to be from local vegetation; no other visible signs of stress.”

Without looking at her, Sam motioned for Karen to take out her notepad and start writing. Karen waved the pad that was already in her hand, in front of his face. He gave her the thumbs up sign and went back to asking questions.

“Where were the parents?”

Susan checked her notes. “According to the officers first on the scene, the father claims he was fishing, the mother says she was at the campsite. The parents reported the boy missing late last night, somewhere around midnight. Search and Rescue covered the area, then ZCI brought in Jake and they started again. Jake found the body this morning approximately three miles from the parent’s campsite, just on the other side of that trail, mostly hidden by leaves and brush.”

Karen sent a questioning look to her partner. He explained about Jake. “Jake is a Bloodhound from the Zephyrhills Correctional Institution’s tracking unit. They offer a free community service when searching for missing kids. He’s got a great success rate.”

“The way the body was hidden, we might not have found it so quickly and could have lost valuable evidence,” Mike said with a look to Karen that said volumes. Karen felt small and insignificant under his stare. Did he think her incompetent because she didn’t know about the search dog, Jake?

Sam clapped his hands together. “Well, let’s get over there and take a look at the scene.”

“We haven’t removed anything yet, wanted to wait for you to check it out first,” Susan said.

Karen walked with the others down the trail through big oaks and tall pine trees. Dried pine needles and small, brown, oval oak leaves from last season crunched beneath their feet.

The air was cooler here; the sun not as intense, but the humidity was the same—stifling. She tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach. This was her job. This was what she trained the last two years for. She knew she could do it. She just needed to convince her stomach. Willing the queasiness to settle down, she lengthened her stride to keep up with the others.

Bright yellow and black tape wrapped around several trees surrounding the crime scene. Mike lifted a section and they all ducked under it. He gave Karen a long searching look before she took her turn. If he was wondering whether she could do her job, she would show him.

For some reason, Karen felt that Mike disliked her and she didn’t know why. Maybe because she was a woman or she was new, but she got the overall impression that he didn’t approve of her. He judged her abilities before she could prove herself. That irked her. Besides, she was a likable person. Damn it. 

Susan drew on a fresh pair of gloves then pointed out to Karen how she was putting the boy’s hands in paper bags and securing them. “We want to preserve as much evidence as possible. If the kid put up any kind of fight, he could have skin, fibers, or hair under his nails.”

Karen smiled politely, not sure if she should explain to Susan that she knew this from her classes. Looking at the boy’s body lying on the ground, she fought against another image floating up from the recesses of her memory.
This isn’t the same thing
, she told herself.
Get a grip
. Although able to quiet her mind, she couldn’t ignore the tug at her heart. Such a little boy. So young.

Susan moved on to the second hand. “We’ll scrape the fingers at the medical examiner’s office, then take any evidence we find back to the lab with us.”

Karen looked down as she moved to the side and saw a small section of rope laid out around what appeared to be a footprint. Making sure to step away from the rope, she looked around for a safe place to stand out of the way.

“Hey,” Mike called out. “Watch where you’re stepping. We have a good footprint there and we don’t want to lose it.”

Fire burned in Karen’s cheeks. She clenched her teeth and choked back a curt reply. She wouldn’t embarrass Sam and say anything.

She wasn’t going to step on the footprint. She wasn’t that stupid; she paid attention. If Mike asked, she even knew how to make a plaster mold of the print to protect it. Although Karen doubted he’d be asking her to do anything involved with this case. Apparently, she wasn’t good enough.

Looking back over her shoulder, she studied Mike Connelly. What was it about her that rubbed him the wrong way? Or was he always this charming? Why did she even care? She shouldn’t. A small voice inside vowed to prove she could handle the job despite the tiny spark of curiosity that piqued her interest about Mike Connelly.

Having taken all the notes she could think of and not sure what else to do at the moment, Karen watched Parker and Connelly help the medical examiner. They laid out a white sheet and gently lifted the boy’s body onto it. The bit of sun that did make it through the trees glinted off the shiny metal snap of his overalls.

“Wait,” Karen said thinking aloud. “Those snaps on his overalls. Has anyone checked them for prints?” Just as quickly as she spoke, she wondered if she should have voiced her thought, but it was too late to take it back now.

“It’s a long shot, Sykes,” said Connelly.

“Well, I was thinking that if the killer picked him up at any time to carry him, then he might have left a print. I mean, this place is what? Three miles from the boy’s camp, right? Do you think he walked the whole way?” Karen pointed out. “It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

Susan must have thought so too because she hurried to get out her fingerprinting kit and kneeled down next to the boy’s body, making sure not to touch any other part.

“She’s right,” Susan said after dusting the snap. “I found a print.”

“Yes,” Karen whispered to herself.

“We’ll see what kind of a match we get,” said Connelly looking at Karen as if he just swallowed something bitter. “It’s more than likely the mother’s print from dressing him.”

“Have you printed the parents yet?” Sam asked moving closer to Karen. “Nice catch, Sykes,” he whispered for her ears only.

“Thanks, Sam.” Karen’s face flushed with pride. She’d saved valuable evidence. Even the high and mighty Mike Connelly couldn’t deprive her of that fact.

“We’re printing the parents after we finish up here.” Susan stood up to stretch while backing away from the body. “By the way, Karen, nice save on the snaps.” She packed up her crime scene case. “I’m sure we would have caught it and printed it back in the lab, but by then, it could have been smudged. Out here we got a clean print.” She looked over at her partner. “Mike might be right, it could be one of the parent’s print. But we have to cover all our bases. We could get lucky on this one. We’ll compare it to the parents’ prints, then we’ll run it through our local database and then with the FBI’s AFIS if we have to. We’ll let you know if we come up with anything.”

Karen lowered her voice and closed the gap between Susan and her. “So, what’s up with Mike? Is he always this pleasant?”

“That’s Mike. Straightforward and ready to doubt at the drop of a hat. I wouldn’t put much stock in his growls, he doesn’t usually make a good first impression,” whispered Susan. “He doesn’t like anyone telling him how to do his job.”

“Or even making suggestions. What about you?”

“Me? I just go with the flow, girlfriend. Just go with the flow.” Susan smiled. “Mike and I have a good working relationship. I respect him and he respects me. But, it wasn’t always like that. We had our moments.”

“He sure isn’t shy about his feelings.”

“Sure he is. He definitely doesn’t like mixing business with pleasure.”

“What do you mean?”

“Honey. Mike has just come across a new puzzle. You.”

“Me?”

“Yup. You, darlin’, are going to cause Mr. Connelly a few sleepless nights. I can guarantee it.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Mike, interested in her? He didn’t even like her. Besides, he wasn’t her type. Too sure of himself. But, something deep inside stirred.

“Nope. Not a bit. If I know anything, I know my partner. He’s intrigued.” Susan laughed quickly then motioned to where Mike folded a white sheet carefully over the body.

“See how he keeps everything turned in, toward the body? That’s so any evidence on the body that falls off will catch in the sheet.”

Karen smiled at Susan. “Yeah, they taught us that in class too.”

“Sorry, it’s the teacher in me.”

They watched Mike zip the little body into a black bag and help the medical examiner lift it and carry it across the leaf covered ground to place it onto the gurney for the bumpy ride over the trail to the waiting van.

“Where does the body go from here?”

“Mike goes with the body to the medical examiner’s office. I’ll finish up here.”

“Got it.” Karen was glad the boy’s body wouldn’t be alone.

“Hey,” Susan called after Karen as she and Sam headed toward the first group of witnesses and the parents of the murdered little boy.

“Yeah?”

“Want to get together sometime for a cup of coffee or something?”

“That’d be great.” Karen smiled. It would be nice to have a new friend in the business. “I have your card. I’ll call you.” Susan might even be able to shed some more light on the complicated Mike Connelly. Curiosity simmered. He wasn’t the only one intrigued about their encounter.

Chapter Two

Karen and Sam had pulled the grieving parents aside to a remote picnic table to hold their inquiry. “If we could just get back to the question at hand, please.” Karen tried to turn the discussion back into a calm interview session, instead of resembling the chaotic stage of the Jerry Springer show.

The young man with long hair hovered over his slouched wife. Her hair hung in her dirty face and she picked at her nails. They’d been arguing for ten minutes and had yet to agree on anything pertaining to the disappearance of their son. Karen tried to get them to focus, but the husband spoke up again.

“I told you I was going fishin’ and that was that.”

“Well, you also promised Logan you’d take him with you, didn’t ya?” The wife mumbled, barely speaking above a whisper, but loud enough for Karen to hear. Karen took the opportunity to ask her a question.

“Ma’am, please. Where were you exactly when you discovered your son missing?” A pen, poised over her notebook, Karen softly pursed her lips, then forcefully let out the breath she’d been holding. She waited for the young woman who sat with rounded shoulders at the metal picnic table to answer her question. These arguments were obviously not the first for this couple, nor would they be the last.

“Like I told that other policeman, I was getting supper ready for the kids. I called to Amber and Ashley to find their little brother and bring him to the table. We were having Logan’s favorite, hot dogs.” Her voice caught as she gasped once again for air and held her grimy fist to her mouth. The nails chewed down to the quick; blood seeped from the edge around one torn thumbnail.

“Mrs. Hunt, how long did your daughters search for your son?”

“I don’t know. Maybe ten minutes or so. They looked in all his favorite spots to play. On the beach, behind the truck, inside the tent.” She swiped an eye with the back of her hand in an attempt to stave off the falling tears. It merely smeared the dirt.

“If you couldn’t have been watching him, you should have had the girls watching him.” Mr. Hunt once again interrupted the interview. “Someone should have been watching him, dammit.” He stopped his pacing to look accusingly at his wife. His eyes flashed with anger, his dirty face streaked with dried tears.

Karen looked at Sam who nodded slightly. “Mr. Hunt, could you please tell me where you were, exactly, when you found out your son was missing?”

“I don’t know how many times I gotta tell this to you people, but I was fishing. Right off the south point. In about three or four feet of water. Damn near up to my chest.” He pushed dirty hands through even dirtier hair. Bits of dried leaves still clung to some of the long strands. “I had a good lead on and was just ready to set the hook when I heard them girls screaming their fool heads off at me to come in. Nothin’ makes a fish swim away faster than a bunch of screaming.”

“Mr. Hunt, how long did you and your wife look for your son before you notified the police?” Karen noticed Mr. Hunt’s hands shook when he brushed back his long hair. Was he nervous because of the questioning? He could be upset about his son, but she sensed it went deeper than that.

“I don’t know. It seemed like hours. We looked all around, even got some of the neighbor campers to help look. After finding his shoes on the beach, we all looked ’til way past sundown. We crawled through bushes and briars, even under other people’s trailers.” He held out his hands. “Man, just look at the dirt on my hands. You can’t say we weren’t looking for my son.”

“No one is accusing you of not looking for you son, sir.” Karen kept her voice level.

“Ya’ll better not. We looked for hours you know. Hours.” Mr. Hunt patted his shirt pocket as if looking for something. He checked his pants pockets as well and still came up empty.

“Mr. Hunt, whose decision was it to call the police?”

“Well, some of the folks kept saying ‘call the police,’ ‘call the police,’ but Kelly and me, we said we’d keep looking on our own and we’d wait. Little Logan couldn’t have gotten far and we felt for sure we’d find him lost in someone else’s camp.” Mr. Hunt looked at his wife for a long moment.

Karen made some notes on her pad, then looked up at the man who again began pacing back and forth behind his wife. “Mr. Hunt, can you explain why you waited nearly eight hours before you called the police?”

“We didn’t want no trouble.” He nodded at his wife. “Kelly and me, we figured if Logan was just playing, then we’d get the police involved for nothin’, so we waited until we were real sure. We checked with all the campers first. Looked everywhere we could, then we called.”

Karen knew he was hiding something. She took a deep breath and asked, “Mr. Hunt, have you ever been arrested?”

The man stopped pacing and stared at Karen as if he’d just seen her for the first time. “What’s that got to do with anything?” His eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed. He was coiled to spring.

“Honey, I’m sure they don’t mean nothin’ by it.” Kelly Hunt tugged at her husband’s arm and turned a pleading look toward Karen. “It’s just routine questions, right?”

Checking her notes, Karen flipped back a few pages to where she recorded the information she received from dispatch after running Mark Hunt through their system and then asked, “Weren’t you arrested a year ago on a domestic disturbance?”

“They just run me into the station. It wasn’t like Kelly pressed charges or anything.” He looked around quickly then said, “It was those damn cops that pressed the charges. Ain’t none of their business what goes on between a man and his woman.”

“We just had a misunderstanding, me and Mark. Sometimes we argue.” Kelly tucked a wayward strand of hair behind one ear, saw her dirty hand then tried to hide it in her lap. “Sometimes we get loud when we argue. Seems like someone’s always calling the police or something.” A hesitant smile found its way to her chapped and chewed lips. “Mark, he don’t mean nothin’ by it when he makes me see where I’d done wrong. It’s mostly me that messes up. And Mark, he promised to quit. He ain’t done nothin’ in months. Honest. Not since that last time.” Her eyes widened as she stared at Karen.

Karen carefully watched the young woman’s face. She was protecting the man who stood next to her, his hand gripping her shoulder. “Mrs. Hunt, if you’d like we can continue our questions over there, separate from your husband.” Karen paused then reiterated, “If you’d like.”

“You ain’t taking her away from me. She’s staying right here!” Mr. Hunt tightened his grip on his wife’s shoulder.

“Please, no. I’d much rather stay right here, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well.” Karen cleared her throat, wishing she’d remembered to grab a bottle of water from the cooler in the back of their car. “Mr. Hunt, do you hit your children?”

“What? What kind of questions are these? Just what are you trying to say?” Mark shrugged away his wife’s attempt at soothing him and pushed back away from her. He turned as if he were going to walk away from the picnic table.

“Mr. Hunt, please sit down. We’re not finished.” Sam took a few steps closer and looked the angry man in the eye. The men stood toe to toe for a few long seconds before Mark Hunt must have realized that Sam wasn’t going to back down.

“Mark, please sit. Don’t give them no cause to take you in. We don’t need that on top of this too. I don’t think I can handle much more of this.” Kelly buried her face into her hands. Her slumped shoulders shook. “Where’s my girls? I want to see my girls.”

Sam answered. “They’re being looked after while we ask you a few more questions. Don’t worry. They’re in good hands.”

Looking up with tears streaking dirty paths down her cheeks, Kelly pleaded with Karen. “Please, we never hurt no one, ’specially our kids. Please, find the man who did this to my little boy.”

Karen looked deep into Kelly Hunt’s eyes. She was younger than Karen, but she looked older. Tired. Faded. Karen felt a familiar rush of sympathy for this young mother. She wanted to tell her everything was going to be all right, but she couldn’t. For Kelly Hunt, nothing was ever going to be all right in her world ever again.

Karen turned to Kelly’s husband. She sighed. If this man didn’t like the direction of their questions so far, he sure as hell wasn’t going to like being fingerprinted. She made a motion to Sam who understood she was finished with her questions. He turned and whistled. Susan’s head swung up. Signaling that she got the message, she started toward their table.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hunt, we’re going to finish up here in a few minutes. We have one more procedure for you.” Sam cleared his throat. His voice deepened. “We’ll have to take your fingerprints.”

“What for?” Now, it was Kelly’s turn to act suspicious of their motives.

Karen answered. “Ma’am, we may find fingerprints on the body. If we do, we’ll need to differentiate between your fingerprints and someone else’s. This will help us to get that much closer to finding the person who did this.”

Mark Hunt shifted restlessly in his seat. He stood, turned then sat again. “Fingerprints? What kind of shit is this, taking our fingerprints.”

“Mark, hush. It’ll be all right.” Kelly Hunt looked up with trusting eyes. “Right, detective?”

“We don’t anticipate any trouble.” Karen rested one hand over Kelly’s shaking one. “All we need to do is compare your fingerprints to any we find on the body. It’ll just help us do our job, ma’am.”

“I don’t know why you need my fingerprints, anyway,” Mark Hunt argued. “It’s not like I haven’t touched my boy. We’re always messing around. You know? I mean, how long do fingerprints last anyway?”

Susan stood quietly to one side of the table and listened intently to the conversation. Hearing the question about fingerprints, she stepped in to answer. “The best time to lift fingerprints from the skin is within the first twelve hours. After that the image deteriorates.”

“Oh. Deteriorates? Does that mean go away?” Mark Hunt looked visibly relieved. “Well, anyway, I don’t see why—”

“Yeah, we know,” Sam spoke up. “Look, you’re either gonna sit here and piss and moan about getting your fingerprints taken, or you can shut up and deal with it.” Sam pushed one hand through his short cropped graying hair. “We’ve got a job to do. Find out who murdered your little boy. And you’re gonna help us do our job. Now sit down.”

Karen looked at Sam, her mouth opened slightly, jaw dropped. She looked at Susan and saw a bemused expression on Susan’s face. Karen figured Susan had seen this kind of outburst from Sam before.

Motioning to Susan, Sam said, “Now let’s take those fingerprints and move on.”

Mark and Kelly Hunt both sat quietly at the metal picnic table and watched as Susan opened her case and arranged white cards with printed squares, an inkpad, and other items along the table in front of her.