The Advocate's Homicides

by Teresa Burrell

"I just saw Barlowe," Roberto said.

  "Just a second, I'm here with Bob. Let me put you on the speaker." She hit the speaker button and held her phone between them. "Go ahead."

  "I tried to pressure Barlowe a little, telling him we had fingerprints and his handwriting and he needed to tell the truth. But he didn't admit to anything either. He doesn't know anything about the murder. He has never been to the fort with Oscar, and he doesn't know anything about the notebook."

  "That seems to be the party line," Sabre said. "Thanks, we'll just keep looking." She hung up.

  "Do you find it odd that none of them has admitted to any part of this disaster?" Bob asked.

  "That bothers me a lot. They deny being places we know they've been. They deny writing the word GOOF anywhere, yet their handwriting tells us otherwise. And they all do it with such conviction."

  "You mean like it's true? Or like they've all sworn to stick to the same story?"

  "I haven't totally discounted that it's true, but it's more than sticking to the same story. It's almost like they’re brainwashed or something."

  "You mean like aliens have invaded their brains? I think you might have something here."

  "You tease, but there is something not quite 'normal' about it."

  "Sobs, they’re teenagers. They think and act like aliens have invaded their brains. That is normal teenage behavior."

  "You make fun, but I know who might be able to help me."

  Chapter 53

  "Thanks for coming by my office," Sabre said to Dr. Bell. "I would’ve gladly come to you."

  "It's my pleasure. I had to pass right by here, so it worked out fine."

  "It's really nice to see you again." Sabre escorted him to a seat. "Come sit, and tell me about your latest trip to Africa."

  "I just got back about a week ago. I'm so lucky to be able to go so often. It gives me a great deal of pleasure to be able to help those youngsters. Over the years, I've gotten to know so many of them and watched them grow up into fine adults."

  "How long have you been making these trips?"

  "About ten years now. At first I was only able to go once a year, but now I manage to get there about every four months."

  "Well, welcome back, and thank you for all you do for those kids and for the others here. I know how much Tray liked you. He felt so comfortable talking to you." Sabre was genuinely impressed with the work the doctor was doing with the albinos.

  "Thanks."

  "Have you heard about the latest Goof-Killing, as the media has labeled it?"

  "I did. Apparently, the last one happened a few days after I left, so I didn't know anything about it until I returned. I saw it on the news, and of course the police contacted me since I've worked with Wilson Group Home. I really hate that these boys are entangled in this mess. They don't deserve to have to deal with this on top of everything else. I only wish there were something I could do to help."

  "Maybe there is, but you can start by clarifying a few things for me."

  "Of course, whatever you need."

  "I know you've worked with Oscar, but have you worked with Barlowe as well?" Sabre asked.

  "I've worked with every kid who's been through Wilson. As you know, there are three therapists who handle the caseload there. We each meet with every child and spend some quality time with them until we decide who the best fit is. It started out as a temporary system, but it worked so well we’ve continued with it. It helps when one of us has to fill in because we're not strangers to any of the boys."

  "I know you are the primary therapist on Oscar's case. How about Barlowe?"

  "No, we thought I might be at first, but he turned out to relate better to Debbie."

  "Of course you know Jacob and Mario, right?"

  "The old-timers. For sure. Jacob has been there the longest. In fact, Jesse, Callum, and I were talking just yesterday about how these boys have been in our lives for so long. They are our family—all of them." He paused as if to reflect on times past. He shook his head. "Mario has done so well. He's not mine, but I've certainly gotten to know him. I'm pleased with all the progress he's made. Even though he's Deb's patient, he'll stop by and see me sometimes just to chat after I’ve had a session with one of the other boys. He usually wants to talk about his life's decisions. Lately, it's been mostly about his military career choice. He knows that I served, so I can relate. I think the military will be good for him. He has talked to me a few times about his concern for Jacob when he leaves for the service. As for anything else about Jacob, you'd have to talk to Debbie about him. He's been on her caseload almost from the beginning."

  "What can you tell me about Debbie?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "We have a theory that someone besides these boys, or in conjunction with them, has committed these crimes. Do you think she could be involved?"

  He shook his head. "I don't think so. She's never given me any indication of any kind of bizarre behavior. She's not a fanatic about anything that I know of. She's one of the most organized people I've ever met, and if you need a job done, she's the one. She knows my clients well because she is usually the one who covers for me when I’m traveling. I don't know her outside of work, but in her profession she is extremely efficient and a caring and compassionate person. In my opinion, she's a very unlikely suspect."

  Sabre shrugged. "You had mentioned her twice in connection with these boys, so I just thought I would ask. JP is doing a little investigating. I'm sure if there's anything unusual it will turn up."

  "That's your PI, right?"

  "Yes, you met him on Tray's case."

  "Nice fellow."

  "What I really wanted to ask you about was the denial of all these boys. There are things that we know have happened that they simply deny. I thought with Tray that he had blocked it out, but why would they all exhibit the same behavior?"

  "You know, Sabre, these boys have all had very traumatic experiences and that does happen. It's a coping mechanism. I don't know if Tray blocked out being at the store with Irving, or if he denied it out of shame."

  "It's hard for me to believe he was there with him and I saw the footage," Sabre said.

  "I know. Me too. Can you imagine how hard it was for Tray?"

  "But why was he there in the first place?"

  "I doubt if we'll ever know that. Let me help you make sense of what we do know. You said the boys are all in denial. What other things are they denying?"

  "We have a notebook with both Oscar’s and Barlow's handwriting in it, but they both claim they never wrote in it. And, of course, they all deny any part in the murder itself or of having any contact with their molesters."

  "You're right about one thing. It's highly unlikely that they have all blocked out whatever they've done in connection with the murders." He looked at Sabre and gave her a knowing smile. "Maybe it's because they're telling the truth—at least as they remember it."

  "Oh, Doc, you don't know how much I want to believe that they’re telling the actual truth. Most of the time I do believe it, but proving it is another matter."

  "What else can I do to help?"

  "I was thinking that maybe these boys had some help losing their memories."

  "You mean like threats of some sort?"

  "That's a possibility too, but I was thinking more like maybe they were hypnotized or something. I know I’m all over the place with possible scenarios, but I’m at my wit’s end trying to figure this out. Could hypnotism be possible?"

  "I'm sure you know that you can't be hypnotized to do something you wouldn't ordinarily do.”

  "I know, but these are teenagers who have been molested. Do you think maybe down deep they wanted to kill their offenders?"

  "There are a lot of problems with that theory. First, someone would have to be incredibly good at mind control, like they are in spy movies, and I don't know anyone who’s that good. Second, that person would have to have access to the boys for long periods of time. And third, and most importantly, I know
all these boys and most of their fears and hates and I don't think any one of them is a killer. Whoever is doing this wouldn't be able to make them commit that kind of crime." Dr. Bell steepled his fingers and pointed them at Sabre. "I think they're denying everything because they didn't do anything. Maybe that's hopeful thinking on my part, but I'd like to think it’s based on my years of training and my time with these boys."

  "What if I were to have Oscar hypnotized. Do you think if he has blocked something out, he would tell us?"

  "I'm no hypnotist, but we all had to study it as part of our degrees to understand the effects of hypnotism. To use it as a means of recovering information isn't usually very effective or reliable. And it's risky. As Oscar's therapist, I wouldn't advise it because you take the risk of someone planting the information that you’re trying to summon forth. Then the memories get all mixed up, and you still don't know what's true and what's not."

  "What if you did it?"

  "As I said, I studied it in school. We actually had hands-on training, but I wasn't very good at it. I'm really not qualified, but more importantly, I think hypnosis could set Oscar back in his treatment."

  Chapter 54

  As JP waited in Detective Nelson's office, he hashed out his investigation in his mind. He couldn't remember a case quite as frustrating as this one. There were too many suspects and none of them was solid. Each piece of the puzzle made it more confusing.

  Nelson walked in. "Sorry, I had to deal with an idiot rookie. Where were we?"

  "Have you identified the body you found when you discovered Roy Harris?" JP asked.

  "No," Nelson said, as he took his seat behind his desk.

  "Do you have an estimated time of death for the second body?"

  "Somewhere in the neighborhood of four or five years." Nelson removed a file from a wire basket on his desk.

  "Was there any writing on him like the others?"

  "Where are you going with this, Torn? Do you think this guy is a victim of the goof-killers?"

  "Just humor me for a second. Was there any writing?"

  "There wasn't enough of him left to see anything. The bugs and the animals did a number on him. He couldn't have been buried very deep."

  "Could they test DNA?"

  "They don't have anything to compare it to."

  "What if they did?"

  "Do you know something I don't?" Greg Nelson said.

  “I've got a hunch."

  "What is it?"

  “It may be nothing.”

  “I’ll make that decision. Tell me what it is.”

  "It may be about as useless as a screen door on a submarine."

  "So tell me already, Torn."

  "I think the body might belong to a guy name Carl Murray. He's been missing about four years. He has a brother who works for an upholstery fabric place in National City."

  Nelson made a note on his notepad of the name. "Did he report him missing?"

  "No, because Carl disappeared a lot, just never for this long. By the time he realized he wasn't showing up, time had just slipped away."

  "Real close family, huh?"

  "They didn't get along too well, but I think he'd be willing to give you a DNA sample just to find out if his brother is dead."

  "Do you think the brother killed him?"

  "No."

  Nelson cocked his head to the side, and said, "But you know who did."

  "Not exactly, but if Carl is the dead guy, I'll tell you everything I know."

  "Torn, it doesn't work that way."

  "This time it kinda does," JP said.

  "You can be a real jerk sometimes, you know?"

  "Only when the wind's blowin' in Dodge."

  ***

  Surveillance was JP's least favorite part of the job, but Sabre had asked him to do it, so he did. JP was parked on a one-way street across from an office building. The parking for the office was a small lot adjacent to the building. Whoever left that lot had to pull out onto that street, so JP would be able to follow him or her. He waited until he saw a woman about five-foot-ten with shoulder-length brown hair. She was wearing a white blouse, a blue tailored suit, and blue pumps, and she was exiting the front door. He looked at the photo he had of Dr. Debra Clark. It was her.

  JP tailed the 2009 burgundy Toyota Sienna minivan as it headed east on I-8 and exited on Greenfield Drive. He followed the car onto La Cresta Drive and to Mountain View Road, where she turned into the driveway that led to Wilson Group Home. JP passed the driveway and made a U-turn. He came back to a spot where he was hidden by trees but could see if the van left. Sixty-five minutes later, the van left Wilson’s parking lot and turned right onto Mountain View Road. JP followed her into Alpine, where she stopped at the Alpine Tavern and Grill. He followed her inside. She sat at the bar next to a man in a baseball cap, had a glass of water, spoke briefly with the man, and then left with a to-go order. From there she drove the two miles to her house. JP watched her residence for about an hour but saw no activity in or around the house, so he left.

  He drove back to the bar on the outside chance that the man in the baseball cap was still there. The bar was more crowded than it had been earlier, but the man remained seated at the bar. JP approached him, sat down, ordered a beer, and struck up a conversation.

  "You lived here long?" JP asked.

  "About ten years. I used to live in Lakeside, but it got too crowded there. I had to find some country, and this is as close as I could get and still be able to make a living."

  "I was in here about an hour ago and I saw this beautiful woman sitting next to you at the bar. Do you mind my asking if that was your wife?"

  "Oh no, that was Dr. Deb, but she's married, pal. Her husband travels a lot and her sons have moved away, so she stops here and gets food most evenings on her way home from work. She's a beauty, that one." He looked up and down at JP. "I'm afraid she's out of our league, pal. She's a classy lady. I don't mean snooty or anything. She's real nice and friendly, but classy."

  "You had me at married,” JP said. “I don't play in another rooster's hen house."

  JP took another sip of his beer and decided to leave. Spending any more time watching Dr. Deb seemed like a waste of time and resources unless they had some idea if, or how, she may be implicated in the case.

  ***

  Back at his home, JP spent the next few hours gathering information on the therapists that worked with Wilson Group Home. His research uncovered very little of consequence. Deb Clark had no criminal record, not so much as a traffic ticket. She was married to Bill Clark and had two sons named Adam and Alex, both of whom had completed college and moved away. Alex was teaching in Colorado, and Adam was successfully pursuing an acting career in Los Angeles. According to Entertainment Tonight, Adam Clark was the newest Hollywood rage. Dr. Deb's husband was also a psychologist and worked with a ministry. Dr. Deb was a member of the American Psychological Association and the Society for the Scientific Study of Sexuality. She was a board member of Soroptimist International, San Diego, and belonged to several organizations dealing with the fight against child abuse. There was nothing there that fit a serial killer profile.

  Dr. Prasad Bopardikar was also an unlikely candidate. He was younger, divorced, had no children, and was not as active in the community. Just about the same time as Tray had become a resident of Wilson, Dr. Prasad started working with some of the boys. Consequently, he had only been there for about three years. He had spent very little time in therapy with Tray, Oscar, or Barlowe. Although JP didn't delete him from his list of suspects, he decided to make him a low priority.

  Dr. Bell was already low on the suspect list, but it was JP’s position that “everyone was a suspect” so he did a little more background check on him. He couldn’t find any marriages or children of Dr. Bell, which he already knew. He verified each entry on the doctor’s dossier. Everything was as he stated. Next, he looked into his trips to Tanzania. There was a lot of information and photos of the doctor on his quest to help t
he albino children. He had received several awards and recognition from various humanitarian groups for his efforts.

  JP failed to uncover anything suspicious or helpful to his investigation on any of the therapists. He would talk to Sabre about taking another tack.

  Chapter 55

  JP's flight to Sacramento was uneventful. He rented a car and drove to Northern Youth-to-Adult Conservation Camp, where he expected a decent reception from Tray. Since the boy’s family was so far away, he assumed there had been few visitors. As far as he knew, no one had been to see him since he left DJJ in San Bernardino, a facility that had since closed. JP didn't know what he hoped to gain from talking to Tray, but Sabre thought it was worth the trip. If nothing else, Tray deserved to know that they were working on his case.

  With the directions from the website, the camp was not too difficult to find. It was only a few miles off Highway 88 east of Sacramento and about twenty miles west of the Sierra Nevada mountain range.

  A muscular man about five-foot-eleven walked up to the table where JP was waiting. It took a second before JP realized it was Tray. He was not the same little boy who was sent to DJJ three years ago.

  JP stood up and shook his hand. "Hi, Tray. Remember me?"

  "Yes, sir, you're the PI who worked with my attorney. Why are you here?" There was a slight edge in his voice. JP hoped his incarceration hadn't made him too bitter.

  “There have been some new developments in your case."

  Tray's face suddenly radiated hope. "Did they find who did it?"

  "No, not yet, but we're working on it." JP sat down. "Let's sit and talk."

  Tray followed suit. "So, what's going on?"

  "Two more bodies have been found that have a similar M.O. to yours. They're both pedophiles and were involved in juvenile dependency cases. And the boys are, or were, at Wilson. I need to ask you a few questions about the residents and employees at the group home."

  "Do you think someone there did it?"

  "We're sure it's someone connected to the group home. We just don't know how." JP thought about how different it was talking to Tray now, like he was a different person—and in a way he was.