INNOCENT BLOOD: a John Jordan Mystery Book 7 (John Jordan Mysteries)

by Michael Lister

  When we came around to the front, Frank Morgan was pulling up and Ralph was standing at his guard stand at the front gate.

  “Ralph,” Battle yelled. “What the hell you doin’?”

  “Couldn’t keep up with you two,” he said. “Didn’t realize it was a race.”

  “Did you come up with anything on the visitor for me yet?” Battle said.

  “Workin’ on it now.”

  We walked over to Frank and filled him in.

  “What can I do?” he said.

  “Help us with this fat fuck right here,” Battle said. “Your boy here thinks he might be the doer.”

  He nodded nonchalantly.

  “No . . . the doer.”

  “Oh.”

  “Tell him,” he said.

  I did.

  “Can’t believe we missed that,” he said.

  Battle radioed the other officers for updates. No one had turned up anything yet. He told them to expand the search in every direction, including the Flat Shoals Estates subdivision.

  “Which one is fat boy’s house?” Battle asked me when he was off his radio.

  “Right there.”

  He then turned and walked back over to where Ralph stood.

  “Who lives there?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “You?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “We need to search it. Makes it a lot easier being yours. I had no idea. Toss me your keys and we’ll check it out.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “What? What don’t you understand?”

  “Why you need to search my house. It’s locked. He can’t have gotten in.”

  “We’ve got to search everywhere. You know that. You used to be on the force, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you get it.”

  “Sure. Yeah. Come on. I’ll take you over.”

  Battle motioned for me and Frank, and the three of us followed Ralph over to his house.

  The small red brick house smelled of starch and mothballs and mildew. Mostly of mildew.

  It was dirty and in disrepair, cluttered and not cared for, but more in an inept bachelor than a serial killer way. It was what you’d expect from an unhygienic overweight slob, which didn’t mean he wasn’t a serial killer.

  “It’s a mess, boys,” he said. “Maid’s day off. Wasn’t expectin’ company. Been workin’ extra hours at Safe Haven.”

  “It’s fine,” Frank said. “Looks about like my place when company drops in unexpectedly.”

  We split up and searched the small house, which didn’t take long. While doing so, I asked to use the bathroom and let water run in the sink while I rifled through the medicine cabinet, drawers beneath the counter, and small linen closet.

  I found a pharmacy.

  Most pills weren’t in bottles. Most of the ones that were no longer bore a label.

  When I walked out, Battle was saying, “What about the basement?”

  “Can only be accessed from outside,” Ralph said.

  “Then let’s go outside and access it.”

  As Ralph led the way and Battle followed, Frank and I took our time.

  “Anything?” Frank asked.

  “Everything,” I said. “Never seen so many pills in one place before.”

  “If this is our guy, where’s the body?”

  “He could be the guy and have nothin’ to do with Brandon being missing,” I said. “Or he could’ve hid him somewhere other than his home.”

  By the time Frank and I reached the backyard, Ralph had a key in the padlock in the hasp on the cellar doors and was jiggling it, trying to get it open.

  The once white doors were covered in green mold and black mildew and needed painting. They were on the back right side of the house and stood about four feet high.

  “My key’s not workin’,” Ralph said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in here but I’ve never not had my key work.”

  “Got bolt cutters?” Battle said.

  “In the basement. But hell, if I can’t get in, no way a little boy did. You know?”

  “Does the daycare?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll run grab ’em,” I said. “Be right back.”

  I ran over to Safe Haven as fast as I could.

  When I opened the door, Jordan rushed over to me.

  “Find him?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Not yet. Anything here?”

  She shook her head.

  “I need bolt cutters. Ralph said there were some here.”

  She nodded. “Come with me.”

  She led me to what used to be the house’s garage. It was filled with all manner of interior and exterior tools and supplies and equipment.

  I found the bolt cutters on a shelf next to a couple of padlocks still in packages and one old one that had been cut, not far from an ax, sledgehammer, and hedge clippers.

  As we were about to leave, I eased the door shut, took Jordan in my arms and kissed her.

  “God, I needed that,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “More where that came from. Let’s reconvene as soon as we can.”

  When I turned to open the door, she swatted my ass. “Such a great ass.”

  I rushed back over to Ralph's house with the bolt cutters and, though Ralph reached out for them, gave them to Battle.

  “I’ll buy you a new lock,” he said to Ralph as the bolt cutters pinched one part of the metal lock bar in two.

  As I removed the lock, Battle tossed the bolt cutters to the ground, and then we each grabbed one of the doors and yanked, and there on the ground was the curled-up body of Brandon Wright.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Frank and I ducked down into the basement as Battle tackled Ralph to the ground and cuffed him.

  “He alive?” Battle yelled from behind us.

  I couldn’t tell yet if he was dead or just sleeping.

  “IS HE ALIVE?” Battle yelled.

  Frank felt for a pulse, moved his hand around to make sure, then shook his head.

  I began to scoop up his small body to carry him out, but Frank stopped me. “Nothing we can do for him,” he said. “It’s a crime scene now. Let’s slip out and preserve everything for the techs to process.”

  “Come on, you sick piece of shit,” Battle was saying as he jerked Ralph to his feet.

  “Why’re you doin’ this?” Ralph said. “I didn’t put him in there. I’m . . . I didn’t do anything.”

  Battle shoved him and he started stumbling back toward Safe Haven.

  “We didn’t make it in time,” I said to Frank.

  “We rarely do,” he said. “We rarely ever do.”

  Battle then radioed the other officers, two of whom rushed over and grabbed Ralph’s arms and ushered him toward their car.

  “Guys, stop. Listen to me. I swear to God I didn’t do it. I swear. I have no idea who did that, who put him in my basement, but it wasn’t me. Are you listening? LISTEN TO ME. I DIDN’T DO IT. Please, God, you’ve got to believe me.”

  “How many have there been?” Battle asked.

  “What? None.”

  “Was LaMarcus the first?”

  “What? No. God, no. I didn’t kill LaMarcus. I haven’t killed anybody. I swear. I would never. I could never. John, tell them. John? John, please.”

  As we reached Safe Haven and passed by the place where Ralph stood watch every day, something across the street caught my eye.

  There, across Flat Shoals Road, in the driveway of a house on a hill, Larry Moore, in street clothes, sat in his black Trans Am, the window down, his feathered hair waving in the wind. Or maybe this last was my imagination.

  I walked up to Ralph. “Was Larry Moore here this morning?”

  He looked confused, then nodded.

  “Why isn’t he on the list?”

  “He didn’t go inside. Was just out front for a little while. John, I didn’t do it. I swear. Please believe me. Please help me. Tell
Miss Ida and Miss Jordan I’m sorry. Tell them I could never hurt anybody.”

  As Ralph was shoved into the backseat of the patrol car by the two cops, Larry cranked up his black sports car and slowly drifted down into the traffic on Flat Shoals and disappeared.

  I rushed up the walkway toward the daycare center to tell Ida and Jordan, but before I reached it the door opened and they stepped out.

  “You found him?”

  I nodded. “In Ralph’s basement.”

  “Jesus, no,” Ida said.

  “Is he okay?” Jordan said.

  I shook my head. “We were too late.”

  Both women began to cry, shaking as they fell into each other’s arms.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “So, so sorry.”

  Chapter Forty-six

  “Still can’t believe he did it,” Ida said, tears still occasionally trickling down her dark cheeks. “Ralph.”

  It was later in the afternoon.

  All the kids were gone.

  All but a few of the workers released too.

  GBI’s crime scene division was working the entire area––Ralph’s house, the daycare, the grounds, the neighborhood.

  “All this time,” she said. “I just can’t . . .”

  We were sitting by the front windows, Ida, Jordan, and I, in the art project area, watching all the police and forensic activity outside.

  We each had coffee. None of us had touched it.

  “Thinking back on it now,” I said, “anything stand out about Ralph? Anything come to mind that didn’t seem suspicious at the time but now seems . . .”

  They both seemed to think about it for a long moment.

  Eventually, Ida shook her head and Jordan said, “Nothing. I still can’t believe he did it.”

  “Did Larry come by this morning?” I asked.

  “Here?” Jordan said. “No.”

  Ida nodded. “He did too. Saw him out back. He came to talk to you––or stalk you or whatever the . . . I told him if he didn’t leave I was calling the police.”

  “You saw him in the back?” I asked. “Just standing in the backyard?”

  She nodded. “Why?”

  “Ralph said he was in the front but didn’t come in. I wonder if he drove around and parked in Flat Shoals Estates and walked in through the wooded area.”

  “He’s done that before,” Jordan said.

  Ida shook her head. “He needs to be in custody too.”

  “Did y’all know Larry when LaMarcus was killed?”

  “Not really know,” Jordan said. “He used to come around with his dad some.”

  “His dad?”

  “Did our yard,” Ida said. “Handyman too. Helped out a lot after I lost . . . after we lost Jordan’s dad. That’s how they met. Can’t believe Larry turned out the way he has.”

  “Did either of you see Ralph with Brandon this morning?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “Were they close?”

  “Not particularly, no,” Ida said.

  “Ralph was awkward around all the kids,” Jordan said. “But he tried to interact with them. Some more than others.”

  “Did he spend time with LaMarcus? Do you remember him being around?”

  Ida shook her head.

  We all fell silent a moment.

  “Safe Haven,” Ida said to herself, shaking her head. “No one will ever send their child back here. It’s . . . over. I’ve . . . lost . . . everything.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  Jordan began to cry again.

  “Should’ve never opened it in the first place,” Ida added. “Not me. Not here. It’s cursed. I’m cursed. Can’t take care of my own child, gonna take care of other people’s.”

  A cop came to the door. “Detective Battle said you can go, ma’am. He’ll call or come by later.”

  Ida nodded absently.

  “And he’d like to see you, sir,” he said to me.

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  And then he was gone.

  “Ralph never had kids of his own, did he?” I asked.

  Ida shook her head.

  “You ready to go, Mom?” Jordan asked, reaching over and rubbing her arm.

  Ida shrugged.

  “I’ll get the car and pull up,” she said. “You’ve done it enough times for me.”

  “Can you drive with your sling?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I’m fine to drive. Thanks.”

  She then got up, gave me a kiss, and grabbed the keys from her mom’s purse.

  If Ida noticed the kiss, she gave no indication.

  “Did Ralph have any nephews or nieces? Ever have any kids over?”

  Ida shook her head.

  “I’m just wondering way back when how he got a children’s sleep aid.”

  Ida didn’t respond, just continued staring out the window.

  “Stole it?” Jordan offered with a shrug. “Black market? He was a cop back then. Could’ve gotten it anywhere. I’ll be back in a minute, Mama.”

  “I’ll walk her down when you pull up,” I said.

  “Thanks.”

  Jordan left and Ida and I were alone in the building.

  “I’m just wondering how . . . Did LaMarcus take anything to help him sleep?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “That boy never had no trouble sleepin’. Head hit the pillow, he out like a light. Now his sister on the other hand . . . that’s a different story.”

  I looked through the window and watched as Jordan walked beneath the awning toward Ida’s car, and everything suddenly fell into place.

  My stomach lurched and I had a hard time not throwing up.

  “Jordan had trouble sleeping?” I asked, wondering if Ida could hear how different my words sounded now.

  She nodded. “Child never slept. Had to take something for the little bit she did get.”

  “Do you remember what she took?”

  “Some stuff . . . Nordic or somethin’.”

  “Noctec?”

  “That’s it,” she said.

  “Yes it is,” I said.

  I helped her up and we began making our way toward the door.

  “Did you say at group the other day that LaMarcus had some health issues?”

  “Poor thing,” she said. “Struggled with his little system, his tummy and . . . Jordan took such good care of him, was such a good big sister to her new little black brother.”

  We walked out the door and started down the walkway, me finding it difficult to put one foot in front of the other.

  I felt dead inside, felt as if I couldn’t feel, felt distant, as if everything including my self was a great ways away, up out of the deep, dark well I had fallen into.

  “And her daughter . . . Savannah . . .” I said. “Jordan said she was sickly.”

  “All her little life,” she said.

  “What did she die of?”

  “SIDS. My poor, poor girl,” she said, as Jordan pulled up in the car. “She’s been through so much. Too much. She’s the sweetest, best thing God ever created and . . . she’s suffered so much.”

  "I need to ask you one more thing," I said. "I've been meaning to and just haven't gotten to it yet."

  "What is it, son?"

  "Just something I'm not clear about. When LaMarcus went missing . . . why didn't you check his hideout? I would've thought that was the first place you'd look."

  "I did. Well, I didn't. I was on the phone to the police, but it's the first place I sent Jordan. The very first."

  Chapter Forty-seven

  “Are you okay?” Jordan asked. “You’re pale as a ghost.”

  I nodded.

  I had just helped Ida into the passenger side of the car and felt like I was going to fall over.

  “You sure? You really don’t look good. All clammy and––”

  “Just tired.”

  “Come over when you finish here. We need you. We’ll take care of you too. Okay?”

  I nodded and cl
osed the door.

  I could hear her saying “I love you” as the door closed.

  After they were gone, I stepped over to Bobby Battle.

  “You got Ralph’s keys?” I asked him.

  “Yeah. Why? I was just about to head back over to his house.”

  He tossed me a plastic evidence bag with the keys in them.

  “I’ll catch up with you,” I said. “Wanna check something first.”

  On unsteady legs I walked back up to the converted house, out to the garage, and tried Ralph’s cellar door key in the lock on the shelf next to where the bolt cutters had been.

  It opened the lock.

  Jordan had cut the lock and replaced it with another when she put Brandon’s body inside Ralph’s basement.

  I collapsed to the cement floor and watched on the screen of my mind a very disturbed girl who made her little brother sick, who bribed him––probably with a Christmas gift she was wrapping––to hide in his hideout, who used her own sleeping medication on him, who moved the body and tried to make it look like he was a victim of the Atlanta Child Murderer––to garner even more sadness and sympathy, going as far as to stage strangulation and rape. A victim who married an abuser to get more sympathy. A deranged young woman who made her own child sick and then killed her. A murderer who went on to kill other children in her care, who mourned with their families and spoke at their funerals.

  I thought about how eloquently she spoke about loss and grief to the support group, how at home she was in the center of the circle of concern and care for her, this poor, poor thing who had lost so much, who had so little left, who was so brave and strong, so good and kind.

  I thought about how she had kept me away from Ida, asking to become the go-between, controlling the information, controlling everything. I wondered what secret Carlton had really told her, what else he had said that incriminated her.

  Simple Larry never knew what hit him. He was her victim. Not the other way around. She had told him about Ray and Vince, not Bobby Battle.

  And today she had set up Ralph, her readymade patsy, to take the fall. She had cut the lock, planted one of her victims to make another.

  Pushing myself up, I went back inside the daycare and called Ida’s house.

  There was no answer.