Wrong Turn (19 page)

R
eturning to the Justice Center, Lucinda went straight to the sixth floor, carrying the recorder as gently as if it were a fragile antiquity. She leaned against the door trim of DA Reed’s office waiting for him to look up and notice her.

‘What do you want, now, Pierce?’ he snarled.

‘I come bearing good news.’

‘Forgive me for being dubious about your definition of good.’

‘On this tape, I have an interview with Trevor Phillips, done in the presence of his psychologist and with the permission of his legal guardians.’

Reed’s eyes squinted as he stared at her. ‘More proof of prosecutorial misconduct, Pierce?’

‘No, sir. Not at all. It’s a confirmation that you did the right thing when you prosecuted his father. He distinctly remembers his first stepmother’s so-called accident and his second stepmother’s murder. He witnessed both.’

‘Are you shitting me?’ he said rising from his chair.

‘No, sir. It’s all here along with a good reason to have Phillips’ bail revoked.’

‘Really? Come in. Sit down,’ he said, gesturing to the comfortable sitting area off to the side, away from his desk. He stuck his head out in the hallway and shouted, ‘Cindy, could you get us some coffee?’

Lucinda remained a bit wary. She knew he’d be happy after listening to the tape but how long would it take to remember that he was still supremely pissed at her about the Sherman situation?

They listened to the tape together. Reed sat at the edge of the chair, the smile on his face broadening every minute. He pressed the pause button after Trevor finished his recollection of Gloria’s plunge down the stairway. ‘You know we can’t charge him in that case – he’s already been acquitted.’

‘Yes sir, I know that.’

‘OK,’ he said with a nod. ‘Just wanted to make sure that was clear.’ He pressed the play button. When Dr Craig’s voice came out of the speaker praising Trevor for the good job he’d done, Reed reached for the stop button.

‘No sir, keep listening. There’s more.’

Reed listened to Trevor talk about the text message and bounced to his feet. ‘Is that it?’

‘Yes, I think that’s enough.’

Reed jammed his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked on his heels. ‘Yes, indeed. Yes, indeed.’

‘Sir, we need to rearrest him to protect Trevor.’

‘It’s past business hours on a Friday, Pierce. The judges have all gone home for the weekend.’

‘Say that it’s an emergency.’

‘Can’t do it, Pierce. He has not made a direct threat. And he hasn’t said that they’re leaving this weekend. I’d just tick a judge off for bothering him with something that could wait till Monday.’

Lucinda jumped up from the chair. ‘Reed, there is no knowing what Phillips will do. There’s no way to know that he won’t act this weekend.’

‘If he did that, we’d lose a witness.’

The man’s priorities exasperated Lucinda. ‘For God’s sake, Reed, the fact that an innocent boy’s life is at risk is the important issue here.’

‘Oh, chill, Pierce. I know that. I’ll call the chief and tell him that we’re about to take action and need eyes on Phillips round the clock. If he goes anywhere near the boy, they’ll stop him in his tracks.’

‘Fine. But if it even looks like he might be thinking about going near him, I want a call. Immediately.’

Reed nodded. ‘I’ll let the chief know.’

‘Are you going to want me to testify at the revocation hearing on Monday?’

‘No, Pierce. I’ve got the tape. I can handle it.’ A coldness filled Reed’s eyes and his facial features hardened. ‘I don’t want you anywhere near a courtroom on Monday.’ He jabbed his finger in her direction. ‘Is that clear?’

Lucinda’s jaw clenched tight. She forced it apart and said, ‘I understand what you want, sir. You’ve been very clear.’ She turned and walked towards the door.

‘You’d best not play any games with me, lieutenant.’

Lucinda turned around and faced him, enunciating each word distinctly. ‘I do not play games, sir. Not with anyone.’ She spun back around and walked away, knowing if she stayed a second longer, she might say something she’d regret.

J
ake went over to Mack Rogers’ former home to check up on the progress of the evidence search and collection. All the human remains discovered had been removed but the stench of rotting flesh still filled the interior. It made him wonder if there might be more bodies yet to be found.

The upstairs of the home bore little resemblance to its appearance when he’d entered the first time. Some of the drywall had been torn down, exposing the bare framing, and the section of the original wood flooring above the crawl space, piled up in a stack on the side of the room, revealed the floor joists and the underground space beneath. Here and there he saw yellow flags sticking up from the dirt.

‘Agent Lovett, how are you?’ a woman’s voice called out.

‘Spellman?’ he asked. ‘Marguerite Spellman?’

‘Sure is, sir.’

‘Are you working for us now?’

‘No sir, I haven’t gone over to the dark side yet.’

‘The dark side, Spellman? C’mon, give us a break.’

‘I have worked with Lieutenant Pierce on many cases – certainly things are bound to rub off,’ she said with a smile. ‘You’ve got to admit, she’s a strong personality.’

‘No doubt about that,’ he said. ‘So, why are you here?’

‘The lieutenant wanted me to keep an eye on everything you all do. I was afraid I’d just be standing around watching the dig, which moves so slowly, it’s about as stimulating as watching a carrot grow. Fortunately, the forensic anthropologists and the lead forensic tech both decided they could use another pair of hands. So I’ve been pretty busy helping out wherever I was needed.’

‘I’d guess that means you have a pretty good overall view of the progress here.’

‘Pretty much,’ Marguerite agreed.

‘Get me caught up – like what’s the deal with the walls and the floors?’

‘We started tearing that up today after an evidence tech pulled on a loose piece of baseboard molding. Behind it, he found a box filled with newspaper clippings from Martha Sherman’s trial.’

‘That’s a good find.’

‘Yes,’ Marguerite said with a smile. ‘And I had one myself as well. I stepped on a spot in the floor and it didn’t quite feel right – sort of loose and not quite as secure as it should be. I pulled it up and found another box. It was filled with candlelight vigil announcements and missing posters. There were more different missing women in that collection than we’ve found victims.’

‘More bodies in the basement?’

‘The anthropologist doesn’t think so. The dirt’s packed too hard below what they’ve already excavated. They’re still finding little bits of jewelry, scraps of paper and things like that but she doesn’t think we’ll find anything of any size. So they decided to bring in the ground-penetrating radar equipment and check the back yard, see if he planted anyone out there, particularly in the garden patch that the landlady said he’d used for years.’

Marguerite crumpled up her face and said, ‘And she told me he grew the biggest and best tomatoes and really spectacular watermelons. Thinking about what might have fertilized those crops made me swear off fruits and vegetables for a while.’

‘Yuck. Not an appetizing thought. Well, thanks, Spellman. Appreciate the update. I’m going to muck about downstairs a bit.’

‘Be careful, the anthropologist is a bear about the integrity of her dig – don’t take a step without her approval or she’ll bite your head off.’

‘Thanks for the warning.’ Jake descended the stairs and stood in the landing looking through the doorway to the crawl space. The small brushes and trowels used to remove every bit of dirt with slow deliberation made it all appear so tedious. He knew he didn’t possess the patience for that kind of work.

He walked down the three remaining steps and over to the sifting area where three people stood over fine screens combing carefully through each small bucket that emerged from the hole. With a magnifying glass they studied each and every solid thing that remained on top – from teensy pieces of rock to even tinier bits of bone. He gave one last look at the hive of busy workers in the crawl space and went up the stairs.

Outside, he went out in the back, looking over the terrain, trying to guess where they might dig outside of the garden space. He wondered if the yard would yield resolution for any other families with missing loved ones. He wondered if any other people were sitting in prison for a crime they hadn’t committed.

Lost in thought, he kicked at clods of dirt in the tilled garden area without any awareness of what he was doing until his cellphone rang. He looked down at his feet, and then pulled out his cell. ‘Lovett,’ he said.

‘Jake, it’s Lucinda.’

‘Hey, how did it go with the DA?’

‘He was quite excited and it wasn’t until the end that he remembered that he was still pissed at me.’

‘You never got around to telling me about that. What’s the problem?’

She explained her run-in with him over the prosecutorial misconduct she’d uncovered in the Sherman case.

‘But he didn’t even prosecute that case. He wasn’t even District Attorney then. What’s his problem?’

‘The former DA was his mentor. He feels he owes the man for where he is today. On top of that, Andrew Sherman is a major contributor to his campaign and old Andrew does not want Martha released from prison.’

‘But he has to know she didn’t kill his daughter.’

‘Jake, I think he knew that all along. I think he pushed the investigation in her direction simply because he wanted to be rid of her at a minimum loss of assets that a typical divorce would have gotten him. But with her in prison for killing his daughter, she got next to nothing out of the marriage. And once she was gone, he was free to marry the wealthy Dora Canterbury, who, by the way, he was already involved with before the death of his daughter.’

‘Oh, dear, a high society scandal.’

‘Yeah, and he’s willing to sacrifice Martha’s life to keep the dirt away from his door.’

‘Nice guy.’

‘I wish I could think of some way to charge him with something. But he looks as if he went up to the line of obstructing justice but never crossed it.’

‘Too bad.’

‘Yeah. It’s been a hell of a week – for both of us. Why don’t we have a little down time without talking about any of the cases? I could pick up carry-out from that nice Italian place up the street – shoot, I’ll even grab a couple of bottles of Chianti to set the mood. And after dinner, you could spend the night.’

‘You mean, like, tonight?’ Jake asked, the dread of the bad timing rising like gorge in his throat. He’d been waiting for an invitation; it had been a while. Why did she ask tonight?’

‘Sure. What? Have you got other plans?’

‘I just can’t tonight. You see—’

‘Oh, well, whoever she is, I don’t want to hear about it. See you next week.’

‘Wait, Lucinda. No, it’s not like that. You see Jeanne Jacobs called—’

‘Damn it, Jake. I told you I didn’t want to know her name.’

‘Wait, wait, no! She’s a television producer, Lucy. I’m going to be live on her show tonight.’

‘Oh, that’s a good one, Jake.’

‘You can watch me. It’s tonight after the eleven o’clock news,
Virginia’s Most Wanted
. And after the show, I’ll be taking calls on the hotline they’ve set up. I’m hoping to get some leads to Mack Rogers’ whereabouts.’

‘OK, sarcasm jettisoned. That is a good one. I’ll be watching. And good luck.’

‘I’ll need the luck – if something good doesn’t come in the wicked witch will have my head.’

‘You didn’t clear it with her?’

‘She’d only say no, so why bother?’

Lucinda laughed hard. ‘Oh, my influence is sooo bad for you.’

‘Can I blame you then?’

‘Oh sure. Sic the wicked witch on me – she’ll never know what hit her.’

L
ucinda went back to her apartment alone. At least Chester was there to greet her. He raced around, bounced off walls and meowed non-stop until she’d filled his bowl. She checked her phone for messages, speeding through the call from Dr Burns’ office wanting to set up the next surgery in her facial reconstruction series and one from the veterinarian reminding her of Chester’s appointment for his annual check-up next week. The third and final message broke her heart.

‘Hi, Lucy,’ Charley said. ‘I know you can’t talk to me. I think it’s stupid but I don’t want to get you in trouble. If you’re there, do not pick up. I just wanted to tell you I love you and I miss you and I like that Mr Waller and he said you were a good cop and I told him I know that and he laughed. But, anyway, I’m not worried. Everything’s going to be OK. And I love you and miss you and bye, Lucy.’

Lucinda wanted to call her despite her orders but she knew that would only drag Charley into her now rather messy professional life. She sighed. She had time to kill before Jake’s television appearance but had no idea of what to do. She was too restless to sit down and read. She wasn’t hungry; when Jake turned down her invitation she’d lost her appetite. She sure didn’t want to open a bottle of wine; with the week she’d had, she’d fall asleep before Jake was on the air. She finally decided to take a walk on the river to see if that would settle her nerves.

Unfortunately, the walk was also a good time to think and Lucinda’s thoughts were haunted. First by her sister Maggie and her latest interview; what had she done to turn her sister on her like that? Maybe it was all Maggie, maybe it’s just the kind of person she is. That’s a cop-out, Lucinda. There has been something I could have done differently or better or something. There has to be some way to set things right. But I have no idea of what that could be, she told herself.

Part of her said that Maggie would have to find that on her own and until Maggie accepted responsibility for the pain she’d inflicted on her sister and sincerely apologized for it, there would be no resolution. Still, Lucinda felt that as the oldest child, she should fix the problem but she had no idea how – everything that ever came to mind would make her more vulnerable to renewed attacks and magnified pain.