Vengeance is Mine - A Benjamin Tucker Mystery (16 page)

I ruffled Amanda Jane’s hair. “Come on, sweetheart, you can keep me company.” The two of us headed over to the guesthouse and went inside. There was a small box, about one cubic foot in size, on my desk.

“Maybe we can find a movie to watch,” I said. “But first, I want to open this package.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“Books … about the minds of people who do very bad things.” I didn’t say anymore, but Amanda Jane knew I was referring to the man who killed her mother.

I took a pocket knife from the desk drawer and slit the sloppy tape job across the top of the box. I made a face at my daughter. “Look at the way they packaged this. You’d think they could do better than that for five hundred and fifty bucks.”

Amanda Jane smiled.

I flipped open the flaps and peered inside. I recoiled and screamed. “Oh Jesus Christ!” I bent over, gagged, and vomited.

Alarmed, Amanda Jane ran over quickly. “Daddy?”

My voice was shaking. “Go to the house, baby! Go right now!” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood between her and the box. I vomited again.

She began to panic. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

“I screamed at her. “Get out of here right now! Go to the house!” She ran out the door crying, and I doubled over, my entire body shaking uncontrollably. I brought my hands up to my face, covering my mouth and nose, and I turned my head and looked at the box containing the severed head of Jennifer Jane Tucker.

CHAPTER 24

When Holly Springs police officers entered the guesthouse, I was sitting on the sofa, incapable of saying anything. I pointed to the box on my desk.

Everyone inside the main house now knew what was happening—including Maggie’s guests. Obviously, their meeting ended abruptly. Murdock and LeGrenierre left, but Marcus stayed. He was sitting with Roberta at the breakfast table. Maggie was upstairs with Amanda Jane and Julie, and Nora was still at the club, mindless of the events unfolding.

Paramedics arrived at two forty-five—ten minutes after my frantic 911 call. Cox, Netter, and Agent MacKenzie arrived minutes later. They entered the guesthouse, and a brief discussion ensued with responding officers about jurisdictional responsibility. Netter called Lieutenant Larson at the Holly Springs Police Department and asserted that the incident was part of the Jennifer Tucker murder investigation. Larson relinquished reluctantly, but he insisted on being kept informed. Netter agreed and invited him to join the Jack Plum investigative task force.

I spent the next few minutes describing my discovery of the grisly contents of the box. When I had finished, Netter asked the paramedics to check me out.

“I think I’m okay,” I said.

Netter insisted. “I don’t give a fuck what you think. You’re gonna let these guys check you out!”

He left with Detective Cox and went to the main house to question Roberta. Lainie stayed and sat next to me on the sofa. She watched me closely as the paramedics finished the examination and gave me a clean bill of health.

I phoned Amanda Jane’s therapist. She understood the situation and would stay in her office for us as long as it took. I thanked her and hung up.

The M.E. arrived and secured the scene. He immediately began his processing of the box containing the head, which had been placed inside facing up, carefully resting in a crude handmade cradle. The head would be looking at the poor, unsuspecting bastard who opened the box—namely me. The eyes were open and milky in color with evidence of petechial hemorrhage.

A half hour later, Netter came back. Cox had stayed to help Roberta give a written statement.

“Well, she doesn’t know much,” Netter said. “The doorbell rang around twelve thirty. The guy said he had a delivery for Benjamin Tucker.” Netter sat in the armchair across from me. “She says you were expecting a package.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “reference books I ordered on the internet. This has got to be some kind of sick coincidence. No one knew about the books coming except me, Roberta, and CRC Press.”

Netter looked around. “Where’s that package?”

“It’s not here yet.”

“Did she get a good look at him?” Lainie asked.

“A look, but not a good look,” Netter said. “She said he was tall … over six feet … and a white guy. He was wearing blue jeans and a black hoodie. He had on sunglasses and a baseball cap under the hood. He carried the box on his shoulder between his face and her, so she didn’t get a good look. She also said there was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.”

A uniformed officer entered and stood waiting for Netter.

“Did she say anything else?” I asked.

He grinned. “Yeah, she tipped him ten bucks.”

Netter turned to the officer. “What’s up?”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. The media’s here … lookin’ for somebody to say something.”

“Tell the vultures I’ll give them a statement at …” He looked at his watch. “Three thirty.”

“Also, we’ve spoken with the neighbors,” the officer added. “A couple of them remember a light-colored sedan parked in front of the Tucker residence. They noticed only that it was light in color—no specifics. No make, model, or year, and no tag numbers. There’s also a UPS delivery man here that says he has a package for Mr. Tucker.” Netter and I looked at each other.

“Bring it in here,” he said, “and put it in the hall.” Then he jumped up. “No, wait! I wanna check this son of a bitch out personally.” He walked out with the officer.

A few minutes later, he returned and set the box on the entryway console table. “It’s legit,” he said. “Coincidence! I hate fucking coincidence!”

“Do you think it might be something else?”

Netter thought for a moment. “No. I don’t think so. My gut tells me this is one of those times when coincidence pops up and bites you in the balls.”

Cox walked in. “Just finished with the housekeeper,” he said. He turned to me. “I also got word from Skelnik. Your computer shows hours of continuous use the afternoon of the ninth. It also shows continuous use from 3:45 p.m. to 9:10 p.m. on April 3, the date of the Knudsen murder. So unless somebody else hacked in, you’re in the clear on both. Sorry, Tucker … about before.”

“Don’t worry about it,
Sir
. No hard feelings,
Detective Buttface
.” The three of them laughed. “Does this mean I’m back on the task force?”

“No,” Netter said sternly. “You’re still too close.”

I was disappointed but totally expected it.

I said to Cox, “So have you seen Skelnik?”

He grinned, “Yeah, he’s somethin’ else, isn’t he?”

“What about him?” Netter asked.

Cox replied. “This guy is about the biggest nerd you can imagine. I especially like the black basketball shoes. I think they’re Converse All Stars.”

I laughed. “And he wears one of those plastic pocket protectors. Can you believe it?” Cox and Lainie stopped laughing as Netter slid open the left side of his jacket exposing his plastic pocket protector with three pens in it.

I leaned over and examined it. “Wow, that thing’s pretty grungy lookin’. Next time I’m out I’ll stop at an antique shop and get you a new one.”

The front door opened, and a gurney was rolled in by two men wearing navy blue jackets. On their backs it read ‘Wake County Medical Examiner’ in white block letters. They began to unfold a black body bag. Dr. Huffman was ready to remove the remains.

I looked the other way as Huffman’s team gently removed the head from the box and placed it in the body bag. The box was then placed in a large evidence bag, sealed, and labeled. Fifteen minutes later, Huffman released the scene to Netter and left with his team.

“Like I said before, this guy Plum works with his hands,” Lainie said. “I’m betting he has an eight-to-five job just like most people. He came here at twelve thirty. That would be his lunch hour. Which means he probably works within a thirty-minute radius of here.”

“Makes sense,” Netter nodded, “but there are a hell of a lot of places to work within a half-hour of here.”

He left, and Lainie stayed with me while Detective Cox took my statement. There was not much I could say. I didn’t see anyone or anything—other than opening that god-awful box.

When we finished, I took my shopping list from the drawer of my desk and stuck it in my pocket. It was getting late, and I needed to get Amanda Jane to her therapy session with the grief counselor. It was even more important now.

I offered Lainie a ride back to her car at the Cary Police Department, and she accepted. We went to the main house and entered the kitchen area, where Marcus and Roberta were still sitting at the table. Roberta was pale and visibly shaken, her head lowered, staring at the table and not saying a word. I squeezed her shoulder gently and handed my list to Marcus.

“I think it’s time to go shopping,” I said.

He scanned the list. “A few of these items will need purchase permits,” he said.

“I’ve got the permits. I just need the goods.”

Marcus nodded. “You got it. I’ll let you know when you can pick it up. We’ll handle this through Harry’s. Bring the permits with you. Also, Charles Brackus from Brackus Security Systems will be stopping by tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. I told him to give you whatever you want and send the bill to me.”

“Thanks.”

I went upstairs and gave Maggie the sketchy description of Plum, and asked her to tell Julie and Nora to be on the lookout for anyone even remotely matching that description. Everyone was to carry their cell phones at all times and call me or 911 if they saw or sensed anything wrong at all. We would ask questions later. I came back down with a very somber Amanda Jane. Minutes later, we were on our way, with Agent MacKenzie in the back seat.

Lainie had generously offered to stay with us until after my daughter’s appointment. She also felt it was important for Amanda Jane to talk with the therapist as soon as possible.

We arrived at Dr. Whitley’s office in Raleigh shortly before five thirty. After introducing Lainie to the doctor, Amanda Jane and I entered Dr. Whitley’s office and sat next to one another on a sofa across from the doctor’s armchair. Lainie stayed in the waiting room.

I spent the next half hour discreetly describing the events of the previous week. Amanda Jane broke into tears several times as we discussed the edited details pertaining to her mother’s death.

Dr. Whitley finally asked to speak privately with Amanda Jane, and I joined Lainie in the waiting room.

“How’s she doing?” Lainie asked.

I shook my head. “She’s pretty messed up. Me too.”

An uneasy forty minutes later, the door opened, and Dr. Whitley asked both me and Agent MacKenzie to join her. We sat on each side of Amanda Jane.

Dr. Whitley sat down and sighed. “Mr. Tucker, your daughter has experienced a series of psychologically traumatizing events. She didn’t even have a chance to begin to deal with the loss of her mother before being thrust into another staggering and untenable shocking situation.”

“I know,” I said softly. I gently put my arm around my daughter.

Dr. Whitley continued. “It appears to me that this situation is extremely dangerous and, frankly, still deteriorating. I believe it is in the best interest of your daughter that she be removed from your home immediately and temporarily placed with her Aunt Patty. I have taken the liberty of calling her, and she will be here momentarily.”

I was stunned. “No way! You’re not taking my daughter!”

“Mr. Tucker … Ben, you’re taking this personally.”

I looked from Amanda Jane to Dr. Whitley and raised my voice. “You better believe I’m taking it personally. This is my daughter. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone take her away from me!”

Dr. Whitley leaned forward. “Ben, it’s best if you agree to this. I don’t want to bring Child Protective Services into this, but I will if I have to. I truly believe her present situation is unacceptable.”

I jumped up, enraged, and pointed my finger at Whitley, “You can’t do this! You can’t take my daughter! I’m a good father!” Amanda Jane began to cry.

Lainie stood and pulled me away. She made me look at her. “Ben, she can do what she says. Her obligation is the well-being of Amanda Jane. It will be bad for you if you fight this.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “I need to protect her.” I looked over at my daughter with tears in my eyes.

“It’s okay, Daddy. I’ll be all right at Aunt Patty’s. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” She stood, and I held her tightly.

I looked painfully at Dr. Whitley for what seemed like an eternity. I couldn’t say anything. I just shook my head in disbelief.

After Patty arrived, Lainie and I left Dr. Whitley’s office and sat alone in the waiting room in silence. My heart was aching, and I was confused. How could this be happening? Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and Dr. Whitley came out followed by Patty and Amanda Jane.

“They’re ready to leave now, Ben. But would you and Agent MacKenzie stay for a few minutes.”

Lainie interrupted. “Dr. Whitley, the perpetrator of this crime believes Amanda Jane is staying with her father. I would like him to continue believing that for the safety of the child. He may be watching Jennifer’s memorial taking place on Thursday. I recommend that Ben pick his daughter up at Ms. Reardon’s home that morning and take her back there afterward. This will give the appearance to anyone observing the memorial that Amanda Jane is still living with him.”

Dr. Whitley thought for a second. “I agree,” she said.

“Don’t worry, Ben. I’ll take care of her.” Patty had sincere kindness in her voice.

“I know.”

I leaned down and hugged my daughter so tightly it must have hurt her, but she didn’t complain. When they left, I stared out the window as the two of them walked across the parking lot, got into Patty’s SUV, and drove off.

“My daughter’s gone,” I said softly. I lowered my face into my hands and wept.

 “Take as long as you need, Ben,” Dr. Whitley said. “You’ve also been through a lot over the last several days. If not dealt with, the emotional upheaval you’ve experienced could build. It could eventually release in the form of uncharacteristic behavior, including dangerous, self-destructive behavior, or even violence. I recommend that you also seek therapy. I specialize in children and adolescents, but I’ll give you a few names. She left momentarily and returned with three names scratched on a sheet torn from her desk calendar.”