by BJ Bourg
“You didn’t think it sounded shady?” I asked.
Chastity’s eyes moistened over. “We were desperate, sir. No one else would touch us because of Derrick’s record. No one cared that he did those things when he was young and stupid. They didn’t even consider the last eight years of his life, how he changed his ways and worked hard to become the owner of his own company.” She shook her head, tears flowing free. “Dr. Peter was our only hope at raising a family. He was the only one who would help us.”
“Even if what you’re saying is true,” Dawn explained, “this baby is still the victim of a kidnapping.”
“My sperm was used to make this child,” Derrick said. “She’s our baby.”
I shook my head. “Unfortunately for you, surrogacy agreements are not enforceable in Louisiana. Regardless of your arrangement with the surrogate mother, if she decides to keep the baby, there’s nothing you can do.”
“But we signed a contract,” Derrick said. “They can’t just sign a contract and then violate the agreement. That’s breach of contract. Just like he threatened to sue us, we’ll sue him if they try to screw us—”
“I already told you,” I interjected. “That contract is not enforceable. If she wants the baby, she gets her.”
If it was even possible, Chastity held Angel closer to her. “I’m not giving up our baby.”
“Then we’ll have to take her.” Dawn’s voice was cold. She continued, “If y’all had anything to do with killing Bill Prince and kidnapping Shelby, this baby won’t be able to go where y’all are going.”
“Where’s that?” Derrick asked.
“You’ll both be tried and convicted of first degree murder and held in prison until y’all are put to death.”
“Death?” Derrick’s face was so pale I could almost see through him. “I swear to Christ, we didn’t murder anyone and we didn’t kidnap Angel. We never even left Mississippi. You can check with our neighbors and my employees or anyone else you like. Doctor Wainwright and his wife brought Angel to us. They were fine when they left. They even gave us the car seat they used to transport her.”
“They did give us the car seat.” Chastity nodded. “You can look in the Escalade. We’re using it. Please, don’t take our baby! We had to wait over a year to get her and now she’s finally here...please don’t do this to us.”
“Did y’all ever meet the surrogate mother?” I asked.
Derrick shook his head. “We went through Doctor Wainwright for everything. He said it was best that we didn’t meet her. Something about an anonymity clause.”
“Give us a minute.” I pulled Dawn out of earshot of the couple. “I believe their story. Every word of it.”
“I do, too, but why didn’t Janice tell us about being a surrogate mother?”
“Maybe she isn’t.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“What if Doctor Wainwright took the money, but never performed the medical service—what if he simply kidnapped a baby and claimed it was the product of the surrogacy agreement?”
Her eyes widened. “Holy shit! That’s scandalous!” She chewed on her lower lip, studied Derrick and Chastity from the distance. They both stood at the center of the porch with their arms wrapped around Angel, who was completely unaware that whatever happened next would change the course of her little life forever. Finally, she said, “Let’s see if they’ll cooperate with us. If we can get them to follow us home—to our jurisdiction—it’ll be easier for us to run the maternity and paternity tests and determine if Janice is the mother and Derrick the father.”
“And if Shelby is Janice and Bill’s child, it’ll be easier for us to give her back to Janice if they’re physically in Magnolia.”
Dawn nodded. “At the same time, they’ll get to stay with Shelby, or Angel, while we wait for the test results.”
“We’ll have to get approval from the sheriff to put them up in a hotel.”
“I’ll take care of that part,” Dawn said. “I can smooth-talk him into anything.”
“Okay, let’s see if they’ll go for it.” I started to walk away, but stopped when Dawn called me.
“Brandon, if what they’re saying is true, it means that Doctor Peter Wainwright—the coroner of Magnolia Parish—was possibly involved in murder and kidnap.”
CHAPTER 37
I glanced in my rearview mirror. The Escalade was still behind us. I’d contacted the district attorney’s office and they’d agreed not to pursue charges against Derrick and Chastity if they cooperated fully with the investigation. When I’d relayed that information to the Abernathys, they said all they wanted was to keep Angel. Dawn and I had explained we couldn’t promise them anything, but we assured them their best chance of keeping her was to follow us to Magnolia and cooperate. They had talked it over and finally agreed to make the trip.
It had taken them a little over an hour to pack, get dressed, and make arrangements with their family and employees. We had been about to drive off when Chastity’s mother and father had arrived and bombarded us with questions, demanded to see proof of our identities. They had contacted the local sheriff’s department and a patrol car showed up to see what was going on. After a brief conversation with him, we finally hit the road.
I glanced at the time on the dash. We’d only been on the road for a couple of hours, but I was already tired. I said as much to Dawn, who was playing on her phone.
She frowned. “You’ve got four more hours to go. I could drive, if you like—give you a chance to close your eyes.”
I turned down her offer, pushed on. “I’ll sleep when we get back.”
“And while you sleep, I’ll work up the DNA samples and get them to the lab, put a rush on it.”
“Good. Can you call Captain Theriot and tell him to have a patrol cop meet us at the Payneville Hotel?” I shot a thumb behind me. “I want someone keeping an eye on those two until we know who the baby belongs to.”
Dawn pulled out her phone and started making calls, first to Captain Theriot and then to Detective Clark.
I kept my eyes on the traffic as we drove through a populated area. The highway was lined with small businesses and fast food joints. I longed for a burger—any burger. The greasier the better. My mind drifted to Janice Prince as I drove, wondering what she would say when I confronted her with our findings. Dawn’s voice faded into the background of my subconscious, a low drone, as my thoughts turned to Samantha. I’d been so caught up in the murder case that I couldn’t even remember when I’d spoken with her last. Guilt stabbed my chest, brought a sting to my eyes.
I grunted and snatched up my phone to call Debbie. I needed to talk to Samantha—to hear her voice. I held the phone up in front of me so I could dial while keeping an eye on the road, then pulled it to my ear. It rang several times and then went to voicemail. I sighed, left a message asking Debbie to have Samantha call me back. I dropped the phone on the console with Dawn’s, gripped the steering wheel with both hands and pushed on.
A second later my phone rang and I nearly jerked the wheel trying to snatch it as quick as I could. “Samantha?” I asked once it was to my ear.
“No, Brandon, this is Nelly.”
Assistant District Attorney Nelly Wainwright’s voice choked and my heart sank when I made the connection. “Doctor Wainwright—was he your brother?”
“Yeah. What happened?”
I told her what happened, our suspicions about Marty, and the claim from the Abernathys.
“I told him to stop doing that,” Nelly said in a quiet voice.
“You knew about it?”
“My mom told me he was doing procedures from out of his house for extra money. At first, it was to cover Malloy’s gambling problem, but then it got to be really profitable.” Nelly sighed audibly. “I guess he didn’t stop like he promised. I threatened to turn him in. Maybe I should have. It might have saved his life.”
We spoke as I drove and I tried to console her as much as I could, but it didn’t seem to
help.
“This’ll ruin his name and could damage every murder case he ever touched,” she said. “No matter how we slice this, it’s bad, Brandon...really bad.”
CHAPTER 38
Monday, June 25
Magnolia General Hospital
I dashed through the rivulets of rain and stopped under the emergency room overhang to shake off like a wet dog. First thing that morning, I’d called Dawn to let her know I wanted to visit Janice, and she’d decided it was too early on a Monday morning to be getting out in the rain. I’d also tried to call Debbie to ask if I could pick up Samantha in the evening, but she hadn’t answered.
I stomped my feet and wiped my arms off with my hands. When I wasn’t dripping as much, I hurried through the emergency room doors, shivered when the cold air hit my wet frame. I showed my badge to the nurse at the front desk and asked for Janice Prince’s room. She directed me to the second floor, where Janice had been upgraded. I paused briefly to ask the nurse if she was well enough to answer some tough questions.
“If, by tough, you mean you’ll ask some things she might not like, she’ll be fine,” the nurse explained. “But if you plan on water-boarding her, she’ll probably end up back in the ICU.”
I smiled, turned and made my way to the second floor. Janice looked up from a tray of scrambled eggs and grits when I walked in her room, her forkful of food suspended in the air. Her eyes widened. “Did you find Shelby?”
I closed the door behind me and I settled into a swivel chair, pulled out my notebook and pen. She dropped her fork, repeated the question.
“We need to talk, Mrs. Prince.” I paused, measured my words. I needed her to talk to me, so I had to be careful not to upset her or sound accusing when I questioned her about the surrogacy. “Do you know a doctor by the name of Peter Wainwright?”
She blushed slightly, shook her head. “Never heard of him.”
“What about Martin Harrison? Marty?”
She shook her head again. “What’s this got to do with my baby?”
I pulled pictures of Derrick and Chastity Abernathy from my folder, handed them over. “Have you ever seen this couple?”
“No. Who are they?”
“Derrick and Chastity Abernathy. They’re from Mississippi.”
“Never heard of them.” She tossed the pictures on the bed beside her legs, crossed her arms high on her chest. “What’s this got to do with Shelby?”
I pulled two more pictures from my folder, held them so she could see. “Have you ever seen either of these men?”
She glanced at the photographs, grunted. “I already told you, I don’t know Peter Wainwright or Marty Harrison.”
I looked at the pictures, then back at Janice. “If you don’t know them, how’d you know these pictures were of them?”
She blushed, but quickly recovered. “You said it was their pictures.”
“No, I didn’t.” I set my folder and notebook on the table next to the bed, leaned closer to Janice. “Ma’am, I know about the surrogacy. We’re in the process of doing DNA testing right now, and we’ll know real soon if Derrick Abernathy is Shelby’s—”
“Wait—you found Shelby?” Janice’s eyes misted over, her chin trembled.
“We did.”
“But...but where? Where has she been? How...how’d you find her?”
“Before I divulge any more information,” I said slowly, “you need to tell me what really happened.”
Janice squeezed her eyes shut, turned her face away from me. As the tears fell free, she covered her face in her hands and wept. I waited for a few minutes, then put my hand on her arm. “The sooner you tell me what happened, the sooner we can move this investigation forward.”
She dropped her hands and nodded, took a deep breath and exhaled. Tears sprayed from her lips. Embarrassed, she quickly grabbed the blanket and wiped her face. After a minute or two, she turned her red face toward me and nodded. “Okay. I’m ready to talk.”
I snatched up my pad and pen and gave her a nod.
“Okay. Here goes...Bill couldn’t have kids. Low sperm count, or something. He never could. He didn’t tell me this until later on in our marriage. Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be a mom, so, as you can imagine, the news was devastating. We went to a counselor, we talked about divorce, but it was too late at that point—I already loved Bill and that love was greater than my desire to have children.
“Years went by and everything was fine. He had a good job—great pay and lots of flexibility. We pretty much did whatever we wanted and we never had to worry about having babysitters or not being able to go on vacation during school months. I realized Bill’s curse was actually a blessing for us as a couple.”
Janice stopped to wipe a tear, continued. “And then the disaster happened. People were getting laid off. Bill had to take a drastic cut in pay just to keep his job. We could barely make ends meet and were in danger of losing our house. Bill was working longer hours for a lot less money and it was starting to take a toll on our marriage. Sometimes he wouldn’t even bother coming home. He’d sleep in his office.
“I tried to find a job to help take the strain off of him, but no one was hiring. Everything looked hopeless until...”
I raised an eyebrow. “Until?”
“I was flipping through the classifieds one day looking for work, and I came across this ad looking for a surrogate mother. The ad said they were willing to pay and it was a local number, so I called it.” Janice looked at me, frowned. “That’s how I met Doctor Wainwright.”
“So, you do know him?”
“He’s the one who did the procedure.” She shook her head. “I never met that other fellow, though—that Martin Harrison. Never seen him before.”
“Where’d the procedures take place?” I asked.
“At his house. He told me I’d have to sign a confidentiality agreement and that I would get in trouble if I ever talked about it, so I kept my mouth shut.”
“Did you tell Bill?”
Janice’s head bobbed up and down. “Oh yeah, Bill knew. He signed the agreement, too. Doctor Wainwright paid us twenty thousand dollars up front and said we would get twenty thousand more after we turned the baby over to him.”
“How’d Bill feel about all of this?”
Janice shrugged. “He was desperate. He fought it at first, but when he found out how much money we could make, he agreed to go along with it.”
“So, y’all did get the initial twenty grand, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir. We had wanted to move back to Arkansas even before the surrogacy agreement, but we couldn’t afford it. We felt like we were stuck here. When we got that money, it was like a miracle had happened. Like our prayers had been answered. We went ahead and put a down payment on a house in Arkansas. For the first time since the disaster, we were finally happy again. All we had to do was wait nine months for the baby to come and then we’d be home free, but...” Janice turned her face and started crying again.
I didn’t wait for her to stop. “Why would they kidnap Shelby if you were giving her up anyway? And why kill Bill and attempt to kill you?”
Janice coughed away the tears. “I—we—refused to give her up.”
I scowled. That explained the kidnapping. The Princes wouldn’t give up the baby, so Peter Wainwright and Martin Harrison decided to take her themselves. When the kidnapping was interrupted, things got out of hand. But why would Martin then kill Peter and his wife? “Why’d you refuse to give her up?”
Janice turned her sorrowful face in my direction. “You’re not capable of carrying a child, so you wouldn’t get it.”
“Help me understand.” I scooted my chair closer.
She studied my face, her own a mess of tears and streaked in red. “When a baby lives inside of you”—she pressed her hands to her belly—“for nine months, you grow attached to it. You two form a bond—a bond that can never be broken.” She frowned as tears flowed free once again. “I couldn’t give her up. I just
couldn’t. We had bonded.”
I nodded my understanding, pulled out a photo Dawn had taken of Angel. “Is this Shelby?”
Janice snatched the picture from my hand and held it to her chest, began wailing uncontrollably.
The duty nurse rushed in to see if everything was okay. She looked concerned. I gathered my things—except the picture of Shelby—and nodded my goodbye to her and Janice. The nurse nodded in response, but Janice didn’t notice. She had rolled herself into a ball and was sobbing out loud.
I drove to the substation and found Dawn hunched over her desk combing through the DNA results. She explained that the lab had nearly shut down to work nonstop on our case, considering a baby’s life might be in danger. She scanned the report, calling out the results as she went. The lab had located the DNA of all of our victims—Bill, Janice, Peter and Malloy—on the face of the brass knuckles. In the finger holes of the weapon, they located two profiles, Marty and an unknown person.
“The unknown could be from anyone,” I suggested. “Even the person who sold the piece.”
Dawn nodded absently. Something had captured her attention. She flipped to the next page in the report, eyebrows furrowed. “This is weird.”
“What’s that?”
“The blood on the keys in Marty’s pocket...”
I waited, but she just turned back to the previous page, read through the results again.
“What is it?” I asked. “Whose DNA is on the keys?”
“Marty’s.”
“Yeah, so—” My mouth dropped open, my mind raced. “Shit!”
CHAPTER 39
“Slow down, Brandon,” Sheriff Burke said. “I thought I heard you say Martin Harrison didn’t commit suicide.”
“He didn’t. He was murdered.”
“No, no,” I could hear the frustration in Burke’s voice. “Martin Harrison killed the Wainwrights and the Princes and then he committed suicide. That’s what you said the evidence showed and that’s what we told the media and the district attorney’s—”