by BJ Bourg
Dawn and I traded looks and I picked up the phone, said hello.
“Doctor Peter Wainwright and his wife were found murdered—beaten to death—in their home. Get to Payneville as quick as you can. Melvin’s applying for the search warrant. It should be signed by the time y’all get there.”
“Holy shit!” I felt my mouth fall open.
Dawn mouthed the words, “What’s going on?”
CHAPTER 34
I rushed out the office and Dawn followed. “You’re driving,” I said.
I began making phone calls as she drove—first touching base with Captain Theriot and then calling the coroner’s office. The secretary answered and I could tell she’d been crying. I asked her to patch me through to Doctor Fitch.
After some beeps and a ring, Doctor Fitch’s shaky voice finally came on the line. “Dear Lord, Detective, is my family in danger? Do we need to go into hiding?”
“You know the guy you autopsied earlier?”
“Yes...Martin Harrison.”
“Right. Well, we have reason to believe he killed Bill and Janice Prince. Doctor Wainwright autopsied Bill Prince, but he didn’t seem to recognize him.” I took a deep breath, exhaled. “Have you ever known of Peter to do anything outside of the law? Anything questionable, or hang around with people of questionable character?”
“I...I mean, I have no way of knowing. We weren’t close, or anything.”
I pursed my lips, thoughtful. Finally, I asked Doctor Fitch if there was a relative she could stay with. “You know, just in case the killer is still out there. We don’t know who he is or what he wants, but I want to err on the side of being smart and cautious.”
“My sister lives in New Orleans. I guess we could spend the night with her.”
“Good—get your family over there until we figure this out.”
“What about Peter and Malloy? Who’ll autopsy them?”
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll take good care of them.” I grabbed the roof as Dawn swerved around a line of slow-moving cars, and strained to stay on my side of the seat. When Dawn had returned to her lane of traffic, I turned my focus back to Doctor Fitch. “Doc, earlier you said Peter didn’t answer his phone when they called him to do Martin’s autopsy. Was he supposed to be working?”
“Yeah, he was supposed to come back to work today, but he never showed.”
“What do you mean by come back to work?”
“He left town Sunday night to take care of some business and was supposed to get home yesterday evening.”
“What kind of business?”
“I don’t know,” Doctor Fitch said. “Something personal, that’s all I know.”
“Doctor Wainwright did the autopsy on the first victim, Bill Prince. Did y’all talk about it?”
“A little. Why?”
“Did he say if there was anything peculiar about the autopsy?”
“Not really. At the time all he knew was a man was found beaten to death on the side of the road.” Doctor Fitch muffled the phone and hollered at someone to start packing, then said, “Peter didn’t know about the baby being missing. In fact, when he left for his trip our office still didn’t know the man’s identity. He was tagged as Mr. Doe and we didn’t find out different until your office called. To my knowledge, Doctor Wainwright never found out the victim’s real name.”
I drummed my ballpoint pen on my notebook. “Has he or his wife had any problems with anyone? Enemies? Affairs? Anything that might give someone motive to want them dead?”
“Not that I know of,” Fitch said. “Like I said, it’s not like we hung out. We worked together and discussed cases—period. He was a bit of a flirt, so I stayed away from him.”
I grunted. “Yeah, I know that about him.”
“Do you think it was a jealous boyfriend or husband? Something personal toward him, or should our whole office be worried?”
“I’m not sure, so until we know more, I think it’s best for you to take your family out of town and have your staff shut down for the day.”
“Okay, my husband’s packing now and I’ll send everyone home from the office.”
I got her cell number in case I needed her later, ended the call.
I didn’t need to tell Dawn the address to Doctor Wainwright’s house. Aside from it being the largest house in Payneville and located off of the main highway, it was surrounded by a dozen cop cars with bright, flashing lights.
She parked in some neighbor’s front yard and we hurried through a crowd of reporters and onlookers to dip under the crime scene tape. A deputy I’d never seen—he must’ve been from the north area of the parish—started to challenge us, but saw our badges and waved us through. Lieutenant Jim Marshall stood in front of the large wooden doors that made up the main entrance. He shook his head when he saw me.
“I told you you’re bad luck! Thank God we’re off this weekend. I might finally be able to get some rest from you and your curse.”
I only nodded, indicated toward the house with my head. “What’s it look like inside?”
Jim shrugged. “Not much different than the Princes, except the doc and his wife had their clothes on.”
“Beaten to death?”
“Yeah, it’s gruesome.” Jim spat a stream of spray in the grass. “I don’t know how many more of these scenes I can take.”
“Hopefully this is the last,” I muttered, pushed my way through the front door.
Dawn began snapping pictures the moment we stepped inside. We didn’t have to go far to locate the bodies. They were sprawled out on the hardwood floor of the living room. Peter was a few feet from Malloy and they both looked like they’d simply dropped where they’d been standing—as though someone had pulled the rug of life right out from under them. Other than the area immediately surrounding their bodies, there were no signs of a struggle or robbery.
It took Dawn about twenty minutes to finish photographing the bodies. Once she was done, she gently tried to bend Peter’s pinky finger. It was stiff. “Rigor’s fixed...and he’s cold. What do you think—about twelve hours dead?”
I nodded. “Give or take a few hours.”
“They died before Marty.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yep,” Dawn said. “Marty could’ve killed them before killing himself.”
“That would be nice and tidy—too nice and tidy.” I squatted beside the Wainwrights, rested my forearms on my knees. “What’s the common denominator between our victims and Marty? I mean, if it was him, what in the hell’s his motive?”
“It could be robbery,” Dawn guessed. “With all the money we found...”
“I don’t know.” I stood to my feet. “I don’t like not knowing why he did it. If we had a clear motive, it might help us make sense out of everything.”
“The smartest man I know once told me we only have to prove a person committed each element of a crime—not why he did it.”
I grunted. “Either you’re giving me way too much credit or I’m the only person you know.”
Next, we measured the room and the positions of the bodies before Dawn began inspecting their wounds. She checked Peter first, pulled her gloved hands from his face and shook her head. “Just like Bill Prince, his bone structure is destroyed.” She changed gloves, moved to Malloy and winced. “Her bones are shattered, too. She’s much worse than Janice. Marty—if he’s the culprit—really meant to kill them both.”
“I guess he learned his lesson and didn’t want to leave a witness behind this time.”
Dawn stood, carefully removed the bloody gloves from her hands, tucking one inside the other. “They suffered a cruel and painful death, Brandon. Marty’s one evil bastard.”
I scanned the otherwise neat room, mulled it over. After a moment, I nodded. “We need their DNA to compare against Marty’s T-shirt and the brass knuckles.”
“I’m on it.”
I squinted as I surveyed the scene. There was no forced entry, which meant th
e killer was invited in. The struggle was confined to the visiting room, which suggested they were talking when the attack took place. And the victims were incapacitated rather quickly, which told me they trusted the killer enough to let him get close to them. I pointed to the Wainwrights. “They knew their attacker.”
Dawn nodded her agreement.
A thought occurred to me. “What if Doctor Wainwright was the other man in Shelby’s room? What if he was in on the plot to kidnap Shelby and he paid Marty to help him? That would explain all the money.”
“But why would he want to kidnap a kid?”
“If I had all the answers we’d be home by now.” I checked the time on my phone. Almost eight o’clock. “I want to talk to Janice Prince first thing tomorrow morning. She might be able to provide some pieces to the puzzle.” I turned away from Dawn, called over my shoulder. “I’ll search the rest of the house while you wrap things up in here.”
Nothing was out of place in the immaculate home and the only odd thing I found was a room with an examination table inside and some operating equipment. When I’d mentioned it to Dawn, she waved me off. “He’s a doctor—of course he has a practice room in his house. Would you think it strange if a boxer had a room filled with punching bags and weight lifting equipment to practice his trade?”
“Most boxers don’t weight lift,” was all I said in response and we continued processing the scene.
After the coroner’s investigator from the neighboring parish had removed the bodies and we’d finished processing the scene, we headed for the door when Dawn stopped in her tracks. “Did you check the garage?”
“Yeah. There were two cars inside. A BMW and an antique pickup. I searched both of them, but they’re clean.”
“Where are the keys to the BMW?” she asked. “I have an idea.”
I pointed to the kitchen counter. Dawn snatched them up and hurried through the kitchen doorway that led into the garage. Once inside the garage, she opened the BMW and slipped into the driver’s seat. It took her a second to figure out how to get it started, but once she did she activated the automotive navigation system. I watched as she studied it, asked what she was doing.
“Doctor Fitch said Peter left town Sunday,” she said slowly, scrolling through the screens until she came to Recent Destinations and selected it. “I want to know where he went.”
My mouth dropped open. “Damn, Dawn, you’re good.”
She waited several seconds for the destination to appear on the screen, clapped in triumph. “Here it is!”
I stared at the address, shook my head in disbelief.
“We need to find out what they were doing in Kinder, Mississippi.” Dawn photographed the screen and then jotted the address in her notebook.
CHAPTER 35
Friday, June 22
717 True Pine Drive, Kinder, MS
Dawn’s head was pressed against the glass of the passenger window, her jaw slacked open and her eyes shut. It had been a long night. We’d driven nearly six hours through the thick pine forests of Mississippi. The rocking motion of the rolling hills at eighty miles per hour and the low hum of the car’s engine had taken its toll on Dawn and rocked her to sleep two hours earlier. From time to time as she slept, I thought I detected the hint of a snore, but I couldn’t be sure.
We’d been parked for twenty minutes and the sun was finally peeking over the tops of the trees behind us. I was ready to make a move. I glanced at Dawn, hesitated. She looked too peaceful to disturb, but we couldn’t waste any time. I gently pushed against her shoulder and she stirred. Her mouth smacked a few times and her eyes fluttered. Finally, she pried her eyelids open, bolted upright, squinted against the bright light. She ran a hand through her hair, looked confused.
“What day is it? How long have I slept?” She glanced around. “Where are we?”
I nodded toward the large house across the street from where we were parked, with its curved concrete driveway and manicured landscape, with the shiny Corvette and Escalade parked out front. “We’re here.”
Dawn shaded her face with her hand. “This is where Peter came?”
I nodded, pointed to the driveway. “The Corvette is registered to Derrick Abernathy and the Escalade is registered to Chastity Abernathy. I got Jules to run a criminal history check. This Derrick fellow—he’s a convicted felon.”
Dawn yawned, wiped her face. “What’s he done wrong?”
“He’s got two drug convictions and one domestic abuse battery.”
“Hmm, now we’re getting somewhere,” she said. “This could all be drug-related, just like the good captain said.”
I grunted, started my Crown Vic and put the car in Drive. “Let’s go pay these people a visit.”
“Wait!” She pulled the sun visor down and checked herself in the mirror, stretching her skin here, tossing a tuft of hair back there. She finally nodded, snapped the visor back in place. “Okay, let’s go.”
I parked behind the Corvette and we made our way up the brick steps to the concrete porch. Dawn pressed the doorbell and we stood to either side of the opening, waited. It was warm out, but definitely not as humid in northern Mississippi as it was in southern Louisiana.
A fit woman with flowing blonde hair answered the door carrying a baby in one arm and a phone in the other. She wore a thin bath robe that was open at the neck, revealing a bony chest. She fit the description Julie had provided of Chastity Abernathy.
“Hold on, Mom,” Chastity said into the phone. “I have some cops at the door. I don’t know. Let me call you back.”
When she disconnected the call, I held out my hand and introduced us.
A puzzled look fell over her face. “Louisiana? Why are you guys here?”
I reached in my folder and pulled out a picture of Peter Wainwright, turned it so she could see. “Do you know this man?”
Her eyes grew wide. She turned her head, hollered, “Derrick! Derrick, come here quick! Some cops are here about Doctor Peter.”
A man appeared almost instantly in the hallway behind her, walked briskly to where we stood. He had what looked like toothpaste on his chin and he was wearing boxers, a T-shirt and bath slippers. “What’s going on?” he asked.
I started to ask what was going on with the bath slippers, but decided against it. I made the introduction again and showed him the same picture. “I take it y’all know this man?”
Derrick studied the picture, looked from Dawn to me, his face blank. He’d played poker before—his wife had not. “What’s this about?”
I tucked the picture into my folder, looked up. “The man in the picture is Doctor Peter Wainwright, the coroner for Magnolia Parish.” I indicated toward Chastity. “You obviously know him.”
“What is this about?” Derrick demanded.
“Someone murdered Doctor Wainwright and his wife yesterday,” Dawn blurted. “Beat them to death.”
Chastity gasped, clutched her baby.
Dawn stepped closer to Chastity, rubbed the baby’s red hair. “Hey little one, what’s your name?”
Chastity rocked the baby—not because the baby needed it, but because she was nervous. “Angel. Her name is Angel.”
Dawn looked up at Chastity. “Ma’am, we just need to know why Doctor Wainwright came to Kinder. Once you tell us that, we’ll be out of your lives forever.”
Chastity cast an uncertain glance in Derrick’s direction, wrapped her arm a little tighter around Angel. As though someone had said something funny, Angel wriggled in Chastity’s arms and threw her head back in innocent laughter.
I nearly choked on my tongue when I saw it.
CHAPTER 36
With my eyes and mouth wide and feeling as though I’d seen a ghost, I moved slowly toward Chastity, leaned close to Angel. I pointed to the red dot on Angel’s neck—the same type of red dot in the same location I’d seen on Janice Prince’s baby picture. “What...what’s that?”
Chastity glanced down, shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just a birthmark, I’m sure
.”
“Where’d y’all get this baby?” I asked. “Did Doctor Peter Wainwright bring her to you?”
Derrick moved beside Chastity and wrapped an arm around her shoulder and put a protective hand on Angel. “You’re upsetting my wife. I want you guys to leave.”
Dawn raised a hand. “Look, we’re not here to cause trouble for y’all. We’re just trying to find out what happened to the good doctor. In order to do that, we need to recreate his last steps.”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t help you guys.” Derrick turned to Chastity. “Get inside, honey.”
“This isn’t your baby. She’s a kidnap victim and her dad was murdered.” I turned to Dawn—it was time to bluff. “Contact the local police and tell them we’ve got two murder suspects in custody and we need backup.”
“Wait just a minute,” Derrick said. “We don’t know anything about a murder and we didn’t kidnap Angel. She’s legally our baby.”
“Unless Chastity gave birth to this baby herself, she’s not legally yours.” I pointed a finger at Derrick. “And I know y’all didn’t adopt her, because you’re a convicted felon.”
Derrick shot a thumb toward the door. “Chastity, take Angel inside.”
“I didn’t want it to come to this, but you’re leaving us no choice.” I glanced at Dawn. “Can you call the local police and tell them we need a search warrant to seize this child for DNA testing?”
Dawn picked up her phone, but Chastity moved forward and grabbed her arm. “Please don’t. We’ve been trying for so long to have a baby, but couldn’t. We posted on a forum that we were looking for a surrogate mother and someone said she knew a person who could help us. She wouldn’t talk on the forum and made us meet in person. After she knew she could trust us, she introduced us to Doctor Peter Wainwright. He said he’s helped dozens of other couples who couldn’t go through the normal adoption procedures, but that we had to sign a confidentiality agreement and he would sue us if we violated it.”