Presumed Guilty (20 page)

At Cara’s apartment, Dallas almost fell asleep sitting on the sofa. But thoughts of meeting Vic Lu face-to-face kept her awake. There was something about him, beyond his slick persona and filthy industry, that needled her.

“You looked good on TV, Mom,” Cara said, coming in with hot tea. She set the tray on the coffee table. “Very cool and collected.”
“Thanks. My nerves were like a cat after an earthquake.”
“You came across fine.”
“Thanks for the tea.” Dallas picked her cup up and waited for Cara to do the same.
Instead, Cara slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans. It was a gesture from her childhood. The preparation for uncomfortable words.
“What is it, Cara?”
“Are you really going to divorce Dad?”
So there it was. The elephant in the room, the thing Dallas had tried to ignore.
Cara kept her hands in her pockets. Her arms looked rigid. “It’s kind of harsh, don’t you think?”
Dallas sat back on the sofa. “Divorce is always harsh.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“You know why.”
“Just because some other stuff has turned up?”
“Other
stuff
? Cara, I don’t know if you realize what’s been coming out, things your father . . .” She paused. “I don’t want to say things that will hurt you.”
“What things?”
“About your father.”
“What about him? Aren’t you hurting him?”
“He’s brought this on himself.”
Cara took her hands from her pockets dramatically and slapped her sides, just like she used to do when she was little. “Oh, that’s a fine thing to say.”
“You don’t think it’s true?” Dallas tried to keep her voice low, but it rose anyway.
“Can’t you just forget about what’s in the past and go on?”
“Maybe once I thought I could do that. But the lies — ”
“Now he’s a liar?”
Yes, Cara, he is.
“I know it’s hard on you, really.”
“No, you don’t. What makes you think you really know what’s going on, anyway?”
“Cara — ”
Her daughter shook her head and, without another word, left the room. Dallas didn’t have the energy to pursue her. Spent, she put her head back on the sofa and closed her eyes.
God, what is it you want me to do? Keep me from sinning against you —
Her phone chimed. She didn’t recognize the number. Maybe it was Jared again.
“Hello?”
“I’m real disappointed in you, Dallas.”
Chad.
She couldn’t speak.
“You know what my nose looks like now? I’m not going to be pretty for a long time. We’re going to have to get together soon and — ”
She clapped the phone closed, trembling. It was as if Chad were in the room. Had he found out where Cara lived? Followed her? Could he circumvent the security?
What could she do? Take Cara and run? No. If she did, she’d never stop, because Chad wouldn’t.
“Cara!”
A moment later her daughter appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”
Dallas stood up. “Help me use the Internet. I want to find somebody.”
“Who?”
“Chad McKenzie. The guy who attacked me.”
“Mom, don’t get yourself into — ”
“Cara, please. He’s out there. I . . .” She hesitated, studying the concern on Cara’s face. “I never told you about my involvement with him, did I?”
“Only that you did some things in your past that you really regretted.”
“I felt so ashamed, and I didn’t want you and Jared to know.”
“Does Dad know?”
“Yes. I told him everything before we were married. And now I better tell you.”
She did, holding nothing back. The confessions felt like scabs flaking off her soul. But once gone, there was a warm relief.
When she was finished, Cara said nothing.
“You don’t think less of me, do you?” Dallas asked.
Cara took her hand. “No, Mom. No way.”
Through sudden tears, Dallas enfolded Cara in her arms and held her.
“Now,” Dallas said, “help me.”
She had Cara use her laptop to connect to the Internet. Using the same website Lisa had shown her, Dallas typed in the number Chad McKenzie had used to call. She paid for the search and got an address on Cherokee in Hollywood.
Just like that.
“Now what?” Cara said.
“Now I give the address to the police.”
“This better work.”
“You’re oh so right.”

“I’m hungry,” Jamaal said.
“I figured,” Jared said. “I got it covered.”
It was a cool, crisp morning up in the hills. Jared already had the

little Coleman going. Tiana was still asleep in the tent. Jamaal sat down next to the little blue flame.
“Time you learned about Spam,” Jared said.
“Spam?”
“I’m not talking computers, either. I’m talking this.” He held up

the can so Jamaal could look at it.
“What is it?” Jamaal said.
“People been trying to figure that one out for years. But let me

tell you, on a cold morning, when you fry it up . . . baby!” Jared popped open the can, then slopped the brick onto the cold pan. Using his buck knife, Jared sliced up the army delicacy, thick and nice, then set the pan over the flame.

“You’re gonna love this,” Jared said.
“Love what?” Tiana was out of the tent, rubbing her eyes. “Breakfast,” Jared said.
Tiana gazed at the pan. “What is it?”
“Sam!” Jamaal said.
“Spam,” Jared corrected.
“Spam! You can eat it.”
“I never had it,” Tiana said.
“Hey, I’m no famous chef from Paris and all,” Jared said, “but I

know my Spam. We’ll eat and then hit the road.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere. Camping here is technically illegal.

And then they were sitting, the three of them, eating Spam slices on crackers and sharing water from a gallon container Jared kept behind the driver’s seat.

That’s when a strange feeling hit him. Jared nearly shook his head at it, as if to rid himself of the unfamiliar. Was it happiness? No, that was a little too much. More a cessation of pain. A lifting, momentarily, of all the dark weight he’d been carrying around.

He wondered, too, for the briefest moment — wondered and even found himself hoping — that they, the three of them, would remain together, somehow, some way.

And then, as quickly as it had come, the thought was gone, chased out by his inner voice.
Stop it. You can’t be with people anymore, you jerk. This is stupid. Get away from them before you hurt somebody.
“It’s good,” Jamaal said. “Spam is good.”
“Yeah, real good,” Jared said. “Now finish up and let’s get out of here.”

A computer seized from the office of accused murderer Ron Hamilton contains several hundred pornographic images, sources close to the case revealed.
Police took possession of the computer, found in Hamilton’s office at Hillside Community Church, pursuant to a search warrant. Hamilton is awaiting trial for the murder of adult-entertainment star Melinda Perry, aka Melinda Chance.
Legal experts were divided on the significance of the evidence.
“It’s highly prejudicial,” said Los Angeles criminal defense lawyer Dave Danilov. “There’s no way a judge is going to allow it in. If he does, he risks a reversal on appeal.”
But Loyola Law School professor Levi Josephson disagreed. “If it’s possible to show a connection between the images and anything having to do with the victim, then the evidence could come in. And that would be devastating to the defense.”
Calls to Hamilton’s attorney, Jefferson Waite, were not returned.
Trial is set to begin August 1.

Dallas put the morning paper down and closed her eyes, her insides twisted like spaghetti on a fork. Here was another level of distress. What would this publicity do to the witness of Hillside Community Church? The church at large? Every time an evangelical leader fell to scandal, the papers were all over it.

They hardly ever reported the good stuff. The daily sacrifices Chris tians made every day to help
the least of these
went unnoticed.

“I’m a little jumpy, huh?” Dallas put the paper down, hiding the story.
“Coffee?”
“Thanks.”
Her daughter paused. “Mom, I’m sorry about last night. I think I was kind of out of line.”
“No, you weren’t.” Dallas took her hand. “You spoke up for your family, which includes all of us. You want it back the way it was.”
“I want it even better. I want Jared back too. I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“I know.”
“I pray for him, but sometimes it feels useless.”
“Cara, remember the parable Jesus told about the unjust judge?”
Cara nodded. “The persistent widow.”
“We think about how worn out the judge got. But what about that widow? She must have been worn out too, without even a hint of hope. Yet she kept coming back. That’s how it is sometimes, isn’t it? We just have to keep coming back. We have to storm the throne.”
“Storm the throne. I like that.”
The phone on the kitchen wall rang. Cara answered, then turned to her mother. “It’s for you.”
“Who?”
“Police, he said.”
Jared
. Dallas practically jumped to get it.
“Mrs. Hamilton?”
“Yes?”
“This is detective William Lacy of the LAPD. You called in an address on Cherokee last night and left this number.”
“I did, yes.”
“I’m at the location now. I wonder if you’d mind coming down here. I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“About what? ”
“About the guy we found at this address.”
“Is he in custody?”
“No, ma’am. He’s dead.”
A rush of disbelief coursed through her. “Dead?”
“If you could come down, I’d really appreciate it.”

Detective Lacy was in his forties and lanky. Dallas met him outside the beat-up clapboard house on Cherokee. The house, maybe twenty years ago, was once sharp and homey. Time and the city had worn it down. A couple of uniformed policemen stood just outside the open front door, which had yellow police tape across it.

“Thanks for coming down,” Detective Lacy said.
“What is this place?”
“Halfway house. Place for guys on diversion drug programs or

She noticed a few men sitting off to the side, smoking and looking lost.
“I know this is a tough time for you,” Lacy said. “Your husband’s case is all over the place.”
Dallas nodded. “Part of the deal these days, I guess.”
“Right. I’m just old enough to remember when you had to go to the
Times
or the
Examiner
to get your news about a high-profile case. Now you can’t turn on the radio or TV without something being piped in.”
He reached to his inside coat pocket and pulled out a small tape recorder. “I need to ask you some questions about the deceased. We found a couple of items in his possession that you might be able to explain.”
“That’s fine.”
“First, what was your connection to Mr. Bryan?”
“Excuse me?”
“The deceased.”
She shook her head. “No, I called in about a man named McKenzie, Chad McKenzie. I thought that’s who — ”
“Mr. McKenzie isn’t here, although he was. No, the deceased is a man named Raphael Bryan.”
“But I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“He seems to have known you.”
“I’m sorry, Detective, but I’m really confused.”
He nodded as if this news did not surprise him. “Apparently he was also known as Rafe.”

“You’re not ever going to think of going back to him, got it?” Jared said. The three were heading up the 5, past Sylmar now, heading for an undetermined destination.

“What about him?” Jared looked at Jamaal, who was sleeping on Tiana’s lap.
“Never.”
“Good.”
“But now what?”
Jared thought about it. “You find another place to live. You get a job and you raise your boy. Simple as that.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” Jared said. “I’ve gotta find a place too.”
“You going back to L.A.?”
“People are better off if I don’t. I’m pretty screwed up. Who needs it?”
“Maybe we could work together.”
He looked at her. “What’s that mean?”
“You know, figure things out together. Jamaal likes you. So do I.” “That’s a mistake,” Jared said, looking at the highway construction, at the attempt to put a new surface on a worn-out road.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“Then don’t think.” Sensing his words had stung more than he intended, Jared said, “I’m not one to get involved with. I’m not anybody who can have anything permanent, okay? I might end up doing the same thing to you as Rafe.”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just do.”
“You don’t know anything. Your choice in men, that proves it.”
“I think you’re just feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Maybe I am. I don’t really care.”
“That’s your problem.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“What is then?”
“Just let me drive,” he said.

Alarms went off in Dallas’s head. “I know of a Rafe, an abusive boyfriend of a woman I was counseling.”
“Tell me more,” Lacy said.
“I never met him. I just remember the name. But what’s he doing here?”
“That’s what we’re hoping to find out. There seems to be a connection that runs through you.”
“How?”
“You filed a complaint about this guy McKenzie, who attacked you in your home.”
“Yes.”
“Then you phone in an address where you think he is. Turns out you were right. The pay phone is the one right over there.” He pointed to a unit affixed to the house, near the northeast corner.
“But what does Rafe have to do with it?”
“He turns up dead in the backyard, and our boy McKenzie is gone. We found an item in the victim’s wallet, has your name on it, and the name of a Jared Hamilton.”
Fear gripped her. “That’s my son. Where is he?”
“I don’t know anything about that. Just want to know why your names should be in his possession.”
“I can’t tell you that. I have no idea. Unless Chad had something to do with it.”
“What might he have had to do with it?”
“I don’t know, except that he was out to get me and my family. Could he have given our names to Rafe?”
“That’s what we want to find out,” Lacy said.
“But that doesn’t make sense.”
“Things usually don’t at the beginning.” He paused and looked briefly at the notebook in his hand. “Does Gentri Land mean anything to you?”
Dallas shook her head. “What is it?”
“Something written on the back of the same paper that had you and your son’s names on it. Just thought I’d throw that out.”
“Do you have any idea what it means?”
“Not right now. If anything occurs to you, I want you to give me a call.” He handed Dallas his card. “Now what can you tell me about this guy’s girlfriend, the one you were counseling?”
“Tiana Williams. I didn’t know her real well, even though she stayed in my house for a few days.”
“When was that?”
“The end of March. Right after Ron was arrested.”
“You brought her to your house to stay?”
“Her and her little boy, Jamaal. We do that once in a while.”
“And the reason for that was?”
“I didn’t want her to go back to her boyfriend, and she had nowhere else to go. I thought she could stay with me and sort things out.”
“So you brought her home with you?”
“Actually, Jared picked them up.”
Lacy registered a look, the kind that shows the gears meshing. “So there’s a connection here to Jared, through this woman.” “Connection?”
“This work is all about connections, and you just hope some of them make sense.”
Another alarm, this one intensely personal, sounded in the back of her brain. “You don’t think Jared had anything to do with this.” She tried not to sound too adamant, but her voice was firm.
“We have this guy, McKenzie, and the vic, Bryan, and you and your son, all coming together here. I don’t know what it means, but I have a feeling it’s going to mean a lot of shoe leather and coffee.”
“I should tell you,” Dallas said, “that my son is an ex-Marine and was in Iraq and has had some troubles back here. But he is not capable of killing . . .”
She stopped, suddenly aware of the harsh, unremitting pattern. The words were the same she used about Ron at one time, words she was less sure she could use about him now.
Lacy said, “Do you happen to know where he was last night?”
“No, he’s not been at home.”
“Know where I can reach him?”
“I can’t reach him either.”
Why did this sound so sinister all of a sudden?
Don’t be Jared. Please, don’t be Jared.
As if reading her every thought, Lacy put a hand on her arm. “Well, if you think of anything, you have my card. I appreciate your coming down here. I’ll be in touch.”
As she walked back to her car, in the grasp of new uncertainties, she was aware that the men of the halfway house were watching her go and making some comments. One of them laughed, clearly at her.
It felt like the mockery of demons.