The Insanity Plea (36 page)

Leaving the bathroom, she said,
“That’s it. I’ve got all I need. Now, let’s get Lou’s crew out of here.”

Within a minute they were back on the
elevator. The door closed.
 
Claudia looked
down and cried, “Dammit. Parke’s sitting at the bar. Now what do we do?”

“Calm down, Claudia,” Rita said. “Pull
the bill of that cap down over your face and follow Lou. Keep your back to the
bar. Lou’ll get us out of here.”

When the elevator stopped, Lou turned
to Claudia. “Here, you carry the tool box. Helps to complete the disguise.”

Claudia took the box and crowded next
to Lou. They turned away from the bar and made their way to the alley. They
stepped out the door and Rita realized that she hadn’t taken a breath since
they left the elevator. Inhaling deeply, she turned to Claudia. “See, what’d I
tell you? A piece of cake. Thanks, Uncle Lou.”

Lou smiled as they climbed back into
the truck. When they drove down the alley and turned onto the side street, he
said, “Okay, now where?”

 
“Head over to Ball Street, behind the courthouse.
You can drop Claudia off there. Then we’ll go back to your place to get my car.
We’ll get out of these overalls.”

Lou drove to 19th Street, turned
right and in a few blocks turned left on Ball. In the front seat Claudia
breathed a sigh of relief and crossed herself again, thanking both the Catholic
and Baptist God when they stopped in front of Sarah’s house.
 
When Claudia climbed down from the panel
truck, Rita cautioned her.

“Okay, Claudia. I’m on my way to
Houston. I’ve got to call Walt Jennet to get a DNA lab that can work fast and
on a weekend. Don’t tell Wayne and Duke what we’ve been doing. I’ve got more
work to do and I don’t want Wayne distracted until I’ve put everything
together. Hopefully, that’ll be Sunday night.”

Relieved not to have gotten caught,
Claudia nodded her understanding and walked up the sidewalk as Lou drove down
the street. When they got back to his shop, Rita hugged her uncle and said,
“Thanks, Uncle Lou. I’ll fix you dinner when this is over. You bring some of
those fish to my place and I’ll cook them Cajun-style.”

Lou nodded. “Maybe then you can tell
me exactly what the hell we were doing today.”

Rita waved as she got in her car and
reached for her cell phone. She punched in Walt Jennet’s phone number. When the
detective picked up, she said, “Walt, Rita Contreras here.”

“Rita, you doing okay? How’s the
trial going? I read about it every day.”

“Hopefully, Walt, it’s going to go
very well. Right now I need a private DNA lab that can work fast. Money’s no
object. And I need the DNA report on the blood that was under my fingernails in
my attack.”

“No problem. Tell me your email and
I’ll send the report. Give me a second. I’ll get you a lab that’ll work on a
weekend.”

Walt recommended a lab close to the
medical center and even looked up the phone number. Rita thanked him, said she
would explain what she was doing later and punched in the number. After she
negotiated a fee for results to be ready in forty-eight hours, she put down the
phone and shoved her Lexus up to eighty-five, praying cops would be more
interested in the Friday afternoon traffic flowing south from Houston on the
Gulf Freeway.

Judge Fernandez glanced at the clock,
hoping that Wayne was going to wind up soon. It was four o’clock, almost
tequila time. Turning to check his jury, he saw motion at the defense table. Dan
was violently shaking his head from side to side. At the same time he shoved
his chair back and bolted to his feet and marched over to the window, still
shaking his head.

Then he pounded on the window,
hollering, “You down there. You’re the one putting thoughts in this shrink’s
head. He’s your puppet, isn’t he? Isn’t he?”

Dan twirled to face the judge. “Your
Honor, I object. How can I get a fair trial when Satan is out there on the lawn,
telling Dr. Parke what to say?”

Judge Fernandez leaped to his feet. “Wayne,
get control of your brother. Barney, please escort the jury out of the
courtroom.”

Wayne and Duke got to their feet as
Dan climbed on a table by the window. “See, see the devil down there. He’s
dressed like a wino. He’s been on the streets for years.”

Barney got the last of the jurors into
the jury room. The judge was on the phone to Dr. Adashek, demanding that he get
to the courthouse immediately.

“Barney, get the defendant back to
the holding cell. And you might as well tell the jury to go home for the
weekend.”

Barney handcuffed Dan and led him
away.

 
“Judge, I need to make a motion,” Harry said.

“I know, Harry. You’ve got to move
for mistrial. I don’t blame you. Dictate your motion to Casey here. I’ll deny
it, but you need to preserve any error for appeal.”

After he overruled the district
attorney’s motion, the judge excused himself to his chambers. Wayne huddled in
the back of the courtroom with Duke and his mother.

“You see that coming?”

“Hell no, man,” Duke shook his head. “At
the afternoon break Dan was as rational as anyone in the courtroom. He was even
writing out questions for you to ask Dr. Parke.”

Wayne nodded. “Damn good questions,
too. I used some of them. Mom, where are Rita and Claudia?”

“Beats me. They left here a little
after lunch. I saw Rita hand Dan a note. Then she and Claudia disappeared.”

Dr. Adashek entered from the hallway.
Barney escorted him back to the holding cell before anyone else could speak to him.
Wayne looked up at the clock. It was four-thirty. Thirty minutes later, Dr.
Adashek re-appeared just as the judge’s door opened.

“What’s going on, Doc?” Felix asked
as he approached the counsel tables.

Dr. Adashek shook his head. “Pardon
me if this doesn’t sound like a medical diagnosis, Judge, but damned if I know.
He’s calm, rational. He responded to all my questions. I didn’t even give him a
sedative.”

Felix turned to Wayne with a frown on
his face. “That’s it, Wayne. I don’t like what I’m hearing. If you and your
brother are trying to manipulate this trial, there’ll be hell to pay. If he
does this again, I’m going to grant a mistrial, and we’ll start this bastard over.
That clear?”

Before Wayne could reply, Felix
continued. “We’ll pick up again Monday morning. Doc, I want you to check the
defendant Saturday and Sunday. If you spot anything strange, you call me at
home.”

Judge Fernandez whirled and went back
to his chambers, slamming the door behind him. After the judge was gone Wayne
asked Barney for permission to see Dan before he was taken back to jail. Barney
unlocked the door to the cell and locked it behind Wayne.

Dan was seated on the metal bench,
one leg crossed over the other, and was whistling softly. Wayne made no effort
to hide his anger. “Dan, what the shit were you doing out there? You okay?”

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah. I’m
fine.” Dan fished in his coat pocket and handed Wayne a piece of paper. “Here. Look
at this note Rita handed me.”

“Now I understand, at least partly. What
the hell is Rita up to?”

“Don’t ask me. I was just following
orders. Is Parke coming back on Monday?”

“Yeah.” Wayne reached for his cell
phone and punched in Rita’s number.

Rita’s cell phone rang as she was
exiting the freeway near the medical center. Of course, she had been expecting
the call. “Did Dan follow my instructions?”

“Damn right he did. Almost got me
held in contempt of court. If Felix had his gun in hand, there’d be a hole in
the ceiling of the courtroom now. What’s going on?”

Rita paused as she thought about how
to reply.

“Rita, you still there?”

“I’m here, Wayne. Look, I’m working
on something that may prove Dan’s innocent. Don’t even ask what it is. I’m not
saying a word until I know what I’ve got. That won’t be until Sunday afternoon.
Look for me around dinner time Sunday evening.”

“Come on, Rita. This is no time to be
playing games. If you’ve got something, I need to know.” Exasperation sounded in
his voice.

“I understand, sweetie. Bear with me.
If it’s good, it’ll be very, very good. If not, you just spend the weekend
working on finishing your cross of Dr. Parke and closing argument. I don’t want
you sidetracked by what I’m doing until I know if it’s what I hope. And, don’t
bother Claudia. I’ve sworn her to secrecy. Bye, sweetie. I love you.”

The phone was dead. Wayne almost
threw the phone against the wall, then thought better of defacing county
property. Instead, he repeated the conversation to his brother and buzzed for
Barney.

Rita got to the lab just before
closing and negotiated a weekend rate. While there, she forwarded the DNA report
Walt sent from her cell phone to the lab and told him to expect the DNA report
about the key as soon as she could get to her computer back at her house. Exhausted
and mentally drained from her efforts, Rita parked in the garage below her
condo and climbed the stairs to the kitchen where she poured a glass of
Chardonnay. Next, she went to her office and sent the DNA report.
I really need some exercise,
she thought.
A glance out the window revealed shadows. She knew she would never run alone in
the dark again. That could wait until tomorrow. Her next decision was easy.

She waited until the sun was down,
put on shorts and a T- shirt, took the bottle of Chardonnay and her glass and
walked next door. She let herself into Wayne’s apartment and climbed the stairs
to his bedroom where she opened the balcony doors. She set her bottle and glass
down, looked around to be sure there were no wandering eyes, removed the cover
to the hot tub and returned to the bathroom where she stripped off her T-shirt
and shorts. Next she wrapped herself in a towel and turned off the lights
before returning to the balcony where she dropped the towel and eased herself
into the one hundred and six degree water. As the heat enveloped her, she let
out a soft sigh and pushed the button to start the water jets.

Rita awakened on Saturday morning
with the sun streaming into her bedroom. She made coffee and watched CNN for a while
before deciding that there were enough people out and about that she would
never be out of sight of at least one other person. After changing into her
running clothes, she left the complex and traced her route of several months
ago. When she got to the park, she found it full of joggers and set off on the
park loop. She crossed the bridge and heard only her own footsteps. For good
measure, she stopped and listened for other footsteps. There they were, someone
crossing the bridge behind her. She turned and was relieved to see a female
jogger. Then the thoughts struck her like lightning from a summer storm. She
collapsed against the bridge rail and slowly slid to a sitting position. Everything
was coming back. Something about the bridge and the other jogger’s footsteps
brought that morning back into focus.

The jogger stopped. “You okay, hon? Need
some water?”

Rita shook her head and motioned for
the other jogger to continue her run. It all came back to her in a torrent of
memories. She remembered the whole morning now. Forget intuition. Forget
suspicion. She now knew without any question that Parke was her attacker. More
importantly, she remembered that when she was tackled, her assailant called her
a “lovely Latina lady.” It was dark. No way could a stranger could have known she
was Hispanic. There was no doubt that the voice was Frederick Parke.
 
That son of a bitch was targeting her. Why? Now
she was positive that Parke had tried to kill her and murdered Debbie Robinson.
He attacked her on a jogging trial and he was fast enough to catch her when she
was in a flat out sprint. Parke had to be The Runner!

Somehow in his sick, twisted mind he
must have figured that if he could use his forensic skills to convict Dan for
the murder, a conviction would help to cover his tracks. Then she wondered how
many other times had Parke been working with local authorities to shift the
focus away from himself and onto some innocent man.

She rose and resumed a slow jog back
to her condo. Her mind raced ahead. She now realized that she could no longer
just establish the DNA matches. That would get Dan off, but now she was
convinced that she must tie Parke to the other killings. There were too many
families all over this country and even in Mexico who needed closure. They
needed to know who had murdered their loved ones. And that he would go to the
death chamber for what he did. There had to be a way. She had a day and a half.
She hoped that would be enough.

In twenty minutes she was in her
house and under the shower. After pouring a large mug of coffee and putting
cream cheese on a bagel, she climbed back up the stairs to her office where
three computers slept, awaiting her command. She touched a button on each and
while they awoke from their slumber, she ate her bagel and thought about the most
efficient way to tackle the problem. Rita wanted to see Parke on death row. She
had to give Wayne enough evidence to prove Frederick Parke was The Runner.

Sipping her coffee she decided to
start with the easiest project. Turning to the computer on her left, she pulled
up the list she had been compiling of the murders committed by The Runner
.
In addition to the ones she already
had catalogued, other murders surfaced, one in Seattle, one in Atlanta and
three on a beach in South Florida. The authorities now attributed them to The
Runner. That made a total of thirty-one. Damn, she thought, he must be going
for the record and a place in history.

Next, she pulled up a map of North
America on a different computer and put a red flag on any city where a likely
murder had occurred. The computer clock read 12:30.

Now, she thought, what next? She had
identified all of the known locations where The Runner may have murdered. Were
there others? She knew a little about serial killers and, clearly, Parke was
different. Not content to work in one city or even one state, he traveled the
country, seemingly at will, and even into Mexico. It was no wonder that law enforcement
agencies had originally failed to put the pieces together. He had to fly
commercial, or he had his own airplane. Well, she thought, let’s see if he
flies himself. She hacked into the FAA system to check on a pilot’s license. He
didn’t have one. She drummed her fingers on the desk and stared at the three
screens while she thought. Then she googled
Frederick
Parke, M. D.
Jackpot! He had a website. It listed his itinerary for the
past twelve months, giving cities and dates of lectures, court appearances, etc.
Now, she had something. She merged his itinerary with her list of cities. Multiple
hits. She counted eighteen cities where he had been with murders purportedly by
The Runner within forty-eight hours of his stay. She was getting somewhere. Only
there were still a bunch of murders on her screen. Not surprisingly, there were
cities he visited where there were no reports of young female joggers being
killed. Still, she searched unsolved murders in those towns. Connected? No way
to know. At the very least she wanted to account for the other murders of women
on jogging trails. Now what?

Stumped, she decided to email Dan
with the hope he still had access to the jailhouse computer.

     
Sent: June 24, 2013 4:10 p. m.

To: Dan Little
               
               

From: Rita Contreras

Subject: Breakthrough!

Dan, it’s the bottom of the ninth with two outs, and we may be about to
hit a homerun. Claudia and I got DNA evidence from Dr. Parke’s room Friday
afternoon. That’s the reason I wanted to keep him at the courthouse. It’s at a
lab right now and I should have results tomorrow. I can explain more later, but
I’m now convinced it was Parke that tried to kill me. I’m almost sure he killed
Debbie and is probably The Runner.
 
I’m
on the computers, trying to tie him into the other killings by The Runner. I’ve
been to his website and can put him at the scene of a bunch of the murders, but
now I’ve hit a dead end. There are still about a dozen around the country that
I can’t connect him with. I also checked to see if he used a private plane, but
no luck. If you’re in the library, tell me if you have any ideas.

Rita

As Rita pondered her next move she
wandered out to the complex pool where a number of her neighbors were soaking
in the sun and relaxing. A couple of them had been following the trial in the
media and asked how Wayne was doing. She said things were going well, and they
anticipated a verdict this week. Then she excused herself and found a seat where
she could be alone with her thoughts. She sat quietly for an hour, enjoying the
sun and momentarily feeling the stress drain from her mind. Then she knew it
was time to re-focus on her project.

Back in her condo, she found an email
from Dan.

Sent: June 24, 2013 4:45 p.m.

To: Rita Contreras
       
               
     

From: Dan Little

Subject: Homerun!

Rita, I like this subject line better. Just happened to be in the
library. Waldo’s brother had another run-in with the cops and he got me in here
to help. As to our problem, since you’ve already committed breaking and
entering and theft in the past twenty-four hours, why not hack into the
computers of the airlines that fly out of Vail and Denver. That’s a federal
offense, but only if you get caught. Ha! Thanks for all your help.
 
Dan

All right, Rita thought, to hell with
Homeland Security. She would hack into every major airline that flew from Vail
and Denver. She started with United, next Delta, followed by a dozen others. With
each hit, she transferred the information to another computer and flagged the
cities with blue. Soon it was eight in the evening and she had every one of The
Runner’s cities covered except the three in Mexico. She even put him in New
Orleans and Nashville where she found reports of the murders of a young tour
guide in New Orleans and a couple in a park in Nashville. Plus, he was staying
at The Breakers in Florida when those three bodies were found on the beach.
 
None of them were solved.

What’s going on in Mexico? No record
of Parke flying in or out of any of those Mexican ports. Stumped, she scrolled
back through the airline flight information. And there it was. A flight to Long
Beach. She went to Parke’s website and found a lecture in Long Beach. Only, it
wasn’t really Long Beach. It was a cruise from Long Beach. A boondoggle where
psychiatrists took a cruise down the Mexican Riviera and received educational
credit for sparsely attended on-board seminars.
 
Parke was a featured speaker on a ship that
stopped at the three Mexican ports.

She surveyed her map with flags and
found that for every red flag now there was a blue one. It was circumstantial
evidence, but if he wasn’t the one, it was a hell of a coincidence. Now, if
only the DNA samples would come through tomorrow.

On Sunday morning Rita stopped at
Office Depot and had a poster made of her map with red flagged cities. Then she
ordered a transparent overlay of the same cities with blue flags. Last, it
occurred to her to get another large map of North America just in case Wayne
wanted to draw on it. At four in the afternoon, she arrived at the lab. Parking
in front, she rang the bell and then impatiently pounded on the door. Finally
it opened and she was greeted by a young man in a white coat with coke-bottle
glasses. “Relax, Ms. Contreras. I told you I’d have it done by now. Come on in.
I’ll be right back.”

The lab technician excused himself
and returned momentarily with her bags of DNA samples and three computer-printouts,
one describing the results from the blood on the key, one from the blood found
under her fingernails after her attack and the third on the hotel samples. “Here
you go. The hotel samples match the DNA results on the two reports. Ninety-nine
point nine percent accuracy,” he beamed.

Rita took the samples and sheets from
his hands and held them in silence. Tears filled her eyes as she realized what
she had accomplished.

“You okay, lady? You want to sit down
for a few minutes?”

Rita took a deep breath and replied,
“No, I’m fine. My friends and I have been living a nightmare and it’s about to
come to an end. Too complicated to explain. Thanks for your quick work. As we
discussed, if my associate is required to prove a chain of custody, you’ll be
available tomorrow on an hour’s notice.”

The tech nodded his agreement and
Rita was out the door and on her way back to Galveston.

An hour later she burst through the
front door of Sarah’s house, eyes gleaming and a smile on her face. The rest of
the team rushed to greet her, all of them speaking at once. Rita raised her
hand and called for silence. “Okay, if you will all just be quiet for five
minutes, I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing for the past two days with, I might
add, help from Claudia and Dan. Trust me on this. We’re going to get Dan off
and put Parke on death row.”

Rita outlined what she had been doing
for the past forty-eight hours and the results. As she did so, she could see
looks of astonishment turn into looks of wonder. Then confidence filled the
faces of the team. When she concluded, there was silence as everyone absorbed
all she said. Wayne broke the silence. “My God, Rita, you’ve done it. Now I
just have to finish what you started. Too bad we can’t re-convene the trial in
an hour. I damn sure won’t sleep a wink tonight.”