Never Girl

by Ana Valen

  “I know. That’s why we should look into her injury once more. On the call, she said it was connected to her actions.”

  “Did she mention how?”

  “Nope. Because I cut her off.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s getting ready to go on the lam.”

  “Shit.”

  “Don’t worry. She’s not going anywhere until she gets this off her chest. That’s why I didn’t call you last night, and why I spent the evening looking deeper into her accident.”

  “Did you find anything useful?”

  “Yeah. She was hospitalized at Harbor-UCLA. And her doctor is still there. Should we get a warrant for his records?”

  Adams curled his lips. “No. That’ll take too long.” He leaned forward and stood. “Let’s go visit this doctor. Hopefully he’ll cooperate. If he doesn’t, use your charm.”

  “Now we’re talking.”

  Adams slipped on his jacket and they started for the exit.

  Out in the motor pool, they climbed into their cruiser. Raven fired up the engine, backed out of their parking space, and got onto the road.

  She jumped on the 405 south. Fortunately, traffic was light. That was surprising since they were passing Wilshire—a notorious congestion point. If their luck held out, the sailing would remain smooth, at least until nearing LAX, another gridlock zone.

  Thirty minutes later, she merged onto the 110. Not long after that, she exited and started for the hospital. Having reached their destination, she parked in the guest lot and shut off the engine.

  They climbed out and followed their normal ritual—open the back seat, grab their coats, and get into detective mode.

  “Where are we headed?” Adams asked as they started walking.

  “The director’s office. Claire’s doctor was Andrew Fung, a practicing physician back then. He since moved up. Now he oversees the trauma department.”

  “You think he’ll remember Claire?”

  “Not sure. But even if he doesn’t, he can at least say where the records are held.”

  They entered the building and approached a reception desk. Raven asked for Dr. Fung’s office, and the receptionist provided the directions. Raven and Adams headed off. After traversing a few corridors, they entered the corporate wing. They also came across another receptions desk.

  “Can I help you?” the female secretary asked.

  “Hi,” Raven said, “my name is Detective Stacy Raven. This is my partner, Detective David Adams. We’re here to see Dr. Andrew Fung.”

  The secretary looked to her computer. “I’m sorry. Did you have an appointment?”

  “No.”

  The secretary looked up. “I apologize once more. You need to make an appointment.”

  “Miss, we’re conducting a homicide investigation and we’re under time constraints. Dr. Fung has information that’s critical to our case. It’s imperative that we see him immediately.”

  “I understand that but—”

  An office door opened behind them. The secretary cut herself off and looked back. Raven and Adams looked in the same direction. An Asian man approached, one wearing a dark suit sans the tie.

  “Jessica,” he told the secretary, “I’m going to—” He focused on Raven and Adams. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” Raven said. “Are you Dr. Andrew Fung?”

  “Yes. How can I help you?”

  “I’m Detective Stacy Raven. This is my partner, Detective David Adams. We wanted a few minutes of your time.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. We’re conducting a homicide investigation and you might be able to help.”

  The secretary turned to him. “I told the detectives that they needed to make an appointment.”

  Dr. Fung smiled. “Then it seems like everyone’s doing their jobs.” He looked at Raven and Adams, then gestured to his office. “Please, detectives. Right this way.”

  Raven and Adams nodded their thanks and started walking.

  The trio entered the sizable office. Towards the far end, a large desk held up neat stacks of paperwork. Over to the left, an array of windows granted a lovely view of the pacific.

  “Please,” Dr. Fung continued, “have a seat.”

  She and Adams sat on guest chairs, while Dr. Fung sat behind his desk.

  “So,” he started, “how can I help you?”

  “Dr. Fung,” Adams said, “we’re investigating the homicide of Jessie Jacobson. Would you by chance recall him?”

  “Not precisely. But the name is vaguely familiar.”

  “How about Claire Jacobson?” Raven asked. “She was Jessie’s sister.”

  Dr. Fung narrowed his eyes. “Still not familiar. But that name rings even more bells.”

  “She was a patient of yours,” Adams filled in. “Probably about five years back.”

  Dr. Fung smiled. “Got it. Got it. Car accident by USC. I remember.”

  Raven and Adams exhaled relief.

  “Can you tell us what happened?” she asked.

  “If I recall correctly, Claire and Jessie were driving back from a party. Jessie fell asleep behind the wheel and his foot came down on the accelerator. Claire started screaming, but Jessie never woke up. Worse, he was driving a BMW with pretty good acceleration. He slammed into a concrete wall and the airbags went off. They didn’t suffer much injury—just moderate abrasions—but Claire was pregnant.”

  “She was?” Raven said.

  “Yeah. And the seatbelt tightened across her stomach—so much that it tore open her womb.”

  “Oh, my God,” Adams said.

  Dr. Fung nodded. “When the paramedics got there, she complained about severe intestinal pain. She also mentioned that she was pregnant. They rushed her over and we got to work.”

  “What happened then?” Raven said.

  “We determined that she was bleeding internally. After we excised, we found out why. There was a massive tear in her uterus, and fluids were pouring out. So we had a choice—save the mom or save the baby.”

  “And you saved Claire?” Raven asked, more as a statement.

  “That’s right. We could’ve rescued the baby, but we saw that it had suffered serious trauma. There was bruising along the body and head. So even if the baby pulled through, it would’ve suffered from life-long health complications. Because of that, we decided to save the mom.”

  “It sounds like the baby was largely developed,” Adams said. “How far along was it?”

  “Eight months.”

  Raven and Adams sighed.

  “Yeah,” Dr. Fung continued. “Pretty sad. The baby was a girl.”

  “Wait,” Raven said. “If Claire was eight months pregnant, why was she out partying?”

  “Oh, she wasn’t partying herself. She was with her boyfriend, who was the father of the child.”

  “James Reed?”

  “Yeah. I believe that was his name. Oh,” Dr. Fung continued, “and another thing. This happened the morning after the party when Jessie had worked out his intoxicants.”

  “So he was never charged with anything?”

  “Nope. It was chalked up as driver error.”

  Raven nodded. “Understood. And what ended up happening to Claire?”

  “She stayed here while her uterus healed. Sadly, it had suffered irreparable damage. She’ll never have another pregnancy. In fact, her whole stomach area suffered quite a lot.”

  “Her stomach area.” Raven looked to Adams. “Right where Claire shot Jessie.”

  Adams likewise looked to her. “So she was projecting.”

  “Yeah, but maybe not her stomach. Maybe she was projecting Susan’s stomach.”

  “Because Susan was pregnant with Jessie’s child. That must’ve been what set Claire off.”

  “There’s no doubt about it. Because over the phone, Claire mentioned that Susan was the reason why Jessie was dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dr. Fung said. “I’m struggling to follow.”<
br />
  Raven looked back. “No matter. Thank you for your time, Doctor Fung. You have no idea how much we appreciate this.”

  Dr. Fung smiled. “Glad I could help.”

  He did. He landed the final puzzle piece.

  Chapter 43

  Claire drove through downtown Los Angeles, her suitcases still in the backseat. She passed City Hall, made a left on North Vignes, and came across Men’s Central Jail—the LA Sheriff’s building where they processed inmates for arraignment.

  She parked by a bail bonds office and shut off the engine. After exiting, she smoothed her dark-gray skirt. She bought the skirt last night, along with a white blouse and semi-elegant dress shoes. With her clothing in place, she adjusted her wig and sunglasses. She then came around her car to the passenger side.

  She opened the passenger door and grabbed her black leather briefcase—also bought last night. Lastly, she grabbed her purse with her Jenna Gray documents inside. With the purse slung over her shoulder, she closed the door and started for the Sheriff’s facility.

  She entered the building and looked around. The interior was clean and orderly, but deeper inside, loud clangs of metal reverberated, along with shouts of guards. The noises sent shivers up her back. It certainly didn’t help that the sheriffs wore hardened expressions. And why were they so muscular?

  She approached a counter and stopped. “Good afternoon,” she told the sheriff.

  The black officer looked up from some papers. “Good afternoon. How can I help you?”

  “My name is Jenna Gray. I’m an attorney representing a client here. I need to speak with him.”

  “Did you schedule a visit or are you a walk-in?”

  “Walk-in.”

  “Very well. What’s the inmate’s name and when were they arrested?”

  “His name is James Reed. He was arrested yesterday evening.”

  “Wait one.” The sheriff accessed his computer. After some clicking, he looked up. “Okay. Your party is in the facility. Right now, he’s in general population. To see him, I need a valid form of identification. I also need you to fill out this visitation form.”

  “Yes, that’s fine.” She went into her purse, pulled her driver’s license, and extended it. “Will this suffice?”

  He took the license. “Yes, it will. I’m going to make a copy and summons your party. In the meanwhile, please fill out the visitor form.” He handed her a clipboard.

  “Thank you.”

  She took the board and started working on the document. By the time she finished, the sheriff returned. He handed back her identification, and she handed him the board.

  “Alright,” he continued. “We’re bringing your party to the visitation area. You cannot enter with cellphones, purses, briefcases, radios, recording devices, or cameras.”

  She looked down at all of her belongings. She then looked up. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  He eyed her. “Are you new?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “As an attorney. Are you new?”

  “Oh. Yes, I am.”

  He smiled some reassurance. “We have lockers. You can store your belongings there.”

  “Great. I’ll do exactly that.”

  “But they’re not free. Do you have the requisite amount of quarters?”

  “Um, no.”

  His smile weakened. “No problem. Please follow me.”

  They walked to the lockers and he fished some change from his pocket. He opened a unit, and she placed her belongings inside. After locking up, he gave her the key.

  “Please wait in that room,” he continued. “An officer will announce your party’s arrival.”

  “Thank you once more.”

  “No problem.” He turned and walked back to reception.

  She entered the waiting room and sat on the hardened wooden benches. Ten minutes later, a door opened and an officer poked out.

  “James Reed,” he said.

  “Yes,” she replied while standing. “I’m here for James Reed.”

  “Right this way, ma’am.”

  She followed him through the door.

  They entered a room with multiple booths. As expected, heavy panes of glass separated the booths from the area beyond.

  “Window thirteen,” the officer said, gesturing with his hand.

  “Thank you.”

  She walked deeper into the room, passing by teary-eyed citizens and hard-faced criminals. After reaching number thirteen, she sat on another uncomfortable seat. Nobody was on the other side. She looked beyond the glass to where inmates were coming and going. Then James entered.

  Goddamn. She had imagined him in a prison jumpsuit, but actually seeing him in the garbs took her by surprise. When he spotted her, his reaction was markedly different. He glowed red with rage.

  He slowly sat on the opposite side. Just as slowly, he picked up his receiver. She picked up hers.

  “Jenna Gray?” he asked. “That’s the name you’re going by now? The name of our dead child?”

  When he mentioned Jenna, her surprise gave way to anger.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m trying to keep her alive. I haven’t forgotten about her, like you have.”

  “How the fuck can you say that to me?”

  “Because it’s true. Every single day, she’s on my mind. You spend your days concerned with making money.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong. And you would know this if you hadn’t pushed me away. But I now know why you’ve been distant. You’ve been very busy.”

  She leaned in. “I had to do it. I couldn’t live until I did it. But you fucked me over in that regard.”

  “I fucked you over? Me? Look at where I am. Look at what I’m wearing.”

  “I gave you the opportunity to avoid this. You simply had to cooperate with the police. You simply had to give them my background.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I put that gun in your bathroom.”

  He shut his eyes. “So it was you?”

  “Yes. Because when the police found it, they would start grilling you. Then to save yourself, you would tell them everything.”

  He opened his eyes. “That wouldn’t result in me walking free.”

  “Yes, it would.”

  He likewise leaned in. “Who got that Smith and Wesson for Jessie? Who got that Beretta for you? I did. So while I never killed anyone, I’m an accessory.”

  “Alright. You have a point. But if you cooperate, I guarantee they’ll go easy on you. And there’s still time for that.”

  “No.”

  She paused. “What do you mean no?”

  “I’m not going to cooperate?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s part of your scheme.” He leaned in further. “You betrayed the shit out of me. You took everything we had and destroyed it. Because of that, I’ll gladly go to prison if that means fucking over your plans.”

  “James,” she growled, “you have to tell them.”

  “I loved you, Claire. I loved you. I would have done anything—”

  “You have to tell them,” she cut in, jabbing an angry finger.

  “We could’ve made a life together. We could’ve—”

  “You have to fucking tell them!”

  “Hey,” said a guard from behind. “Is everything okay here?”

  “But now,” James went on, “we’re through. You and I are over. You’re dead to me.”

  “No,” she growled once more. “You’re the one who’s dead.”

  She hung up the receiver and stood. After turning, she spotted the hulking male guard. He gestured towards the exit, and she started walking.

  Chapter 44

  Raven and Adams hustled through the station. They approached Samantha Brand’s office—their lieutenant and a veteran of fifteen years. They stopped outside and Adams knocked.

  “Come in,” Brand called out.

  Adams opened the door. “Lieutenant, do you have
a minute?”

  Brand looked up from her computer. “Ah. Detectives Adams and Raven. Sure, I have a minute.”

  Raven and Adams entered, and Raven closed the door.

  “What’s up?” Brand continued, leaning back in her chair. “Any updates on that case?”

  “Yes,” Adams responded. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “We have a suspect.”

  Brand narrowed her eyes. “I know. The hitman. The guy with the murder plans, an arsenal of guns, ninja attire…”

  Adams shook this off. “He was a fall guy.”

  “Really? So who’s the suspect?”

  “Claire Jacobson.”

  “The sister? She bumped off her own brother?”

  Adams nodded.

  “Jeez. What’s family for? Anyway, how did you reach this conclusion?”

  “Intuition,” Raven said, “at least at first. Things didn’t feel right from the get go. And they grew increasingly sketchy. The robbery/homicide angle, Susan as the likely suspect, the likely suspect switching to Harlan Nichols—it all seemed planned.”

  “By the sister?”

  “Right.”

  Brand focused on Adams. “You feel the same way?”

  “At first, no. But now I’m convinced.”

  “It seems like it. And you two might be onto something. After all, when do we ever come across so much evidence all in one place?”

  Adams nodded. “My sentiments exactly.”

  Brand interlaced her fingers. “But while this feels like a setup, how do you know the sister is behind this?”

  Adams relayed Claire’s background. He also described the morning conversation with Dr. Fung.

  “Holy crap,” Brand responded. “That does move Claire onto the suspect list, and to the very top.”

  “I agree,” Raven said. “I think Claire killed Jessie, because in her eyes, he killed her daughter.”

  Brand nodded. “Makes sense to me. So what’s next?”

  “Placing Claire at the crime scene.”

  “Yeah. Once you do that, you should have enough for an arrest warrant.”

  “Well,” Adams continued, “that’s why we’re here. We were hoping you could push through the arrest warrant right now.”