Dead Memories (Carol Ann Baker Crime Book 2)

by Lissa Pelzer

  Chad put his hand over his eyes. He couldn’t help it. The image was terrible but there it was, his baseball cap, and the same shit-eating grin he’d given the cops after he’d crossed the barrier into reception.

  ‘Bukowski has just confirmed that you are the man that he saw.’

  ‘So what?’

  Caffey tapped a printed line on the bottom. ‘See here. Time and date. Bukowski gave this the same night he was brought in. Bukowski was the one who called the cops and the ambulance.’ He turned to Tanner. ‘What else?’

  ‘His ride... Simon Snell’s ‘95 Blue Camaro was found in an abandoned strip mall lot a good twenty miles from the Snell family trailer park. That’s a considerable hike back to call the police and an ambulance, but it turns out. It’s not that far from your mom’s place.’

  Chad looked at his lawyer and his lawyer was just shaking his head.

  ‘So, what we’re going to do is, we’re going to give you a few minutes alone with Mr. Schmidt and then we’re going to come back in. We’re going to turn the tape on and we’re going to discuss this in a friendly and civilized manner. Okay?’

  And they left and Schmidt stayed, and Chad’s head was spinning so fast, he wished Arnie Schmidt would just get up and leave too so he could think. But the guy didn’t and he was babbling into his ear, talking about how Chad should be prepared for the fact that they would instruct forensics to sweep the trailer and the Camaro for his prints. And if he had ever been in either of those locations, now was the time to own up.

  Chad waved him away and tried to block out his winey voice.

  He saw himself in that trailer, his hair would be on the back of the chair. There was no point denying that. But he had wiped the steering wheel of the Camaro clean. There was nothing to connect him to the car except where it was parked, and he hadn’t chosen that spot, that girl Janine had chosen it.

  He thought of her again. The night he picked her up, she’d been a wise-ass with a gun in her hand. By the time he saw her in that hospital chair, she looked completely different, fragile, and wholesome almost, and with that doe-eyed look. No one who ever met her now would believe she had shot Simon Snell. And she was untouchable because she was ill, injured and she had no memory of it.

  He could tell them straight out that she had done it, but they wouldn’t believe him. There was no evidence. There was probably none of her DNA in the trailer either. It was all just really fucked up.

  Bryan

  Janine Kenny wasn’t the only troubled soul on his books but at night, back in his single-guy duplex, she was the only one who crossed his mind.

  At first, when Janine had point blank not recognized a single soul from her care home photos, he’d wondered if she was just totally compos mentis and spinning this whole amnesia thing to get out of going back. But she was an adult. She didn’t have to go back.

  Then he thought, maybe she was afraid of this new status, adulthood. He’d had kids who had been completely institutionalized or come from homes with no food security and once they were of age, pretty much started breaking into homes and stores just to try to get a residential place again. But that didn’t seem like Janine’s thing either. After all, she had this scholarship and she was keen to go to California to take it up.

  He put his feet up on the plastic crate that had followed him from apartment to apartment his whole life and took out the blue folder again. On the front, only the initials J.K were visible for anonymity reasons, but every time he looked at them, he though what ugly, masculine letters they were. They just didn’t suit her. Then again, there were plenty of things that didn’t add up in this case.

  Today, she had spoken of Miami Beach as if she were a snowbird who wintered there regularly and her ears had gone up when he mentioned the Snells. And he didn’t want to think about the Cassandra Stephenson angle at all.

  He cringed to think that he had asked her agent to pass on the message. They must deal with weirdos like him, people coming up with any excuse, every single day. Bryan got up and accidentally kicked over the crate as he went.

  Something was missing. Something so obvious!

  What if Janine had known Cassandra Stephenson but Cassandra hadn’t known her? That was possible. He remembered, there were kids in his high school, cool kids whose birthdays and star signs he still remembered to this day, who wouldn’t know his name, who had never known his name. What if he could get Janine’s picture in front of Cassandra Stephenson, then would she remember her? Would she tell them where she’d known Janine?

  He pulled his laptop down off the side and went into his work email. He found the standard answer from her agent and hit reply. He replaced the subject with the sentence, “New Information, Police Issue” clicked and dragged a recent picture of Janine from her folder and clicked into the body of the message.

  He rubbed his eyes and thought hard. He had to convince this intermediate that they needed to show this picture of Janine to Cassandra, not just get them to answer in the negative. He blinked as he constructed the text.

  ‘Regarding our recent communication, I thank you for your timely response…’

  He needed to manipulate the truth. What reason could he give for Cassandra Stephenson not recognizing the name, but possibly recognizing the face?

  He bit down as he typed.

  ‘The young woman’s name you were given was not the correct name. We do not have a name for her, but her identity is very important to us. We still have reason to believe she is an acquaintance of your client Cassandra Stephenson and would ask you again to ask Ms. Stephenson if she knows this person. Both myself and the Terre Haute Police Department would be very thankful for your cooperation…’

  That should do it. If she said she did know her, a whole new chapter in this case would open up. He checked the attachment, clicked send, stood up and walked across the room. He felt the rush of having done something that might generate a lead, but what exactly did he expect to happen? If Cassandra Stephenson recognized Janine from a photo when she hadn’t recognized her name, what would that mean? What if she knew her by a different name, a nickname? He’d be back at the beginning, asking around about a different girl.

  Bryan pulled at the bracelet around his wrist as theories and possibilities began to form.

  Davis

  The woman on the other end mumbled the name of the company quickly down the phone.

  ‘Hey, is this Sonya?’ Davis asked, her finger hovering over the photo of the booking clerk on her laptop.

  The familiarity didn’t improve the woman’s mood. ‘Who is this please?

  ‘This is Marcy Adams. Ralph Adam’s wife.’

  ‘Hey there... Marcy. What can I do for you?’

  Davis smiled. She’d guessed the name and didn’t believe for one second that she’d guessed correctly. ‘I’ve been trying to organize a party down here for Saturday and I can’t get through to Ralph. Do you guys have any idea when he’ll be back?’

  Now there was a pause. ‘Do you mean, Red?’

  Davis dug her short nails into her palm but responded quickly. ‘Red? Yes, Red. How crazy do I sound? I was just on the line to his doctor, canceling an appointment.’

  The woman laughed, didn’t sound convinced, but didn’t sound like she cared either.

  ‘I tried his cell, but there’s no connection. I just wanted to see if you guys knew anything.’

  There was another pause. Davis hoped Sonya was checking the schedule and she hoped this guy was on the road right now too. The last thing she wanted was for Sonya to get suspicious, call Ralph Adams – Red, and let him know someone was pretending to be his wife to find out where he was.

  Sonya came back. ‘He’s on the Ontario route, but you know Marcy, I’ve got a note here from Bob about it. And we’re not too sure what he’s playing at.’

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘He should have dropped his cargo off today, but the tracking shows he didn’t. The tracker shows he’s still in western Indiana, that same place he bro
ke down last week.’

  Davis stood up so fast that her head spun. ‘He is? Where exactly?’

  ‘Honey, I’m not sure I should be telling you this. I know you’re his wife but...’

  ‘It’s okay Sonya. It’s okay.’ Davis thought fast. She didn’t want Sonya thinking she was a jealous wife either. ‘He’s got family up there,’ she said, peddling out the old excuse. ‘A friend passed away recently.’

  ‘Oh, he does? They did? Oh, I’m sorry. Okay then. That might explain the invoice from the repair guys out there for a perfectly good working Freightliner.’

  Davis leaned into the phone. She wanted to confirm what the woman had just told her, but couldn’t, not logically. ‘That’s right!’ she sang. ‘So, he’s there right now. Okay then. I’ll just...hey, just a minute. Do you know where exactly?’ she tried again.

  Now Sonya shied. ‘I had him in a truck stop in Brazil yesterday. The tracker only updates every three hours or so, but that’s probably where he’s parked up. But Marcy, I’m sorry. I’ve got another call...’

  ‘You’ve been very helpful,’ Davis managed to get out, just before the phone went dead.

  Chad

  At the initial arraignment, the judge had set his bail at $50,000. It was a meaningless amount. It could have been a million dollars for all he cared. No one he knew had that kind of money sitting around. He didn’t even know anyone who could put up the deposit with a bond agent.

  But now that he had nothing else to do, nowhere else to go and nothing else to think about, his mind had become clear. He knew he needed to tell the detectives pretty much exactly what had happened, how he had gone around there, about Janine, how she had snuck into the back of his truck and how she had ridden along with him back to the trailer park. They didn’t need to know about the pills. He’d just say that Janine knew Chad or something like that, and he’d only say it if they asked first.

  The only thing he couldn’t quite see himself explaining was why she had done it. But there would be a reason for that too, wouldn’t there? Once he told them what had happened, they’d look at her past record. There was probably something in there if they really looked hard enough.

  ‘Hey!’ Chad banged on the back of the painted metal door. ‘I want to make a statement,’ he called out.

  He waited with his head tilted downwards on the cold surface and about three minutes later, someone replied.

  Davis

  Marquez had called again while she was in the shower. Davis picked up the phone, saw the message and pressed the return call button.

  ‘You home?’ he asked curtly.

  ‘Almost,’ she gave back. ‘I’m driving down. Doc said I shouldn’t fly.’

  There was the sound of a busy street behind Marquez and Davis figured he’d be driving. He’d bought a convertible about a year back. She’d yet to see it with the top down, but the fabric roof let noise in and this was amplified when he was on the speakerphone.

  ‘When should we expect you?’

  ‘Give me a week.’

  ‘A week, to drive down here? Where are you now?’

  She could have lied but didn’t want to. Evading the correct answer would be easier.

  ‘I stopped for a few days to see someone.’

  She heard the uncertainties in his breath and jumped in.

  ‘Any news on my little shooter?’

  ‘She has not been apprehended, if that’s your question.’

  ‘So where is she? And what about Bobby Alvin? What’s he saying these days.’

  ‘How about I tell you when I see you?’

  Davis turned in place. ‘What happened?’

  ‘There’s been a development, but not in the case.’

  ‘Go on,’ she urged him.

  ‘I guess Alvin has deeper pockets than we figured. He’s hired himself one of the best defense lawyers in the state.’

  Davis reached for her towel as it began to slip.

  ‘Right now, they’re talking about a missing murder weapon for Gary Madison and a missing Carol Ann too. You know, putting the two together. And by the way, Kriegbaum would like to know you’re back down here with us, that you got home safe.’

  ‘Nice of him,’ Davis said as she grappled with the news. ‘But wait now. Where did Bobby Alvin get the cash? Doesn’t that ring alarm bells with you?’

  ‘Sure does, but who the hell knows? Maybe one of his clients really needs him to carry on doing what he’s been doing.’

  The line broke up and Davis changed ears.

  ‘So what are you doing touring around the mid-west?’

  ‘As I’m already suspended, I’ll tell you.’ She paused. ‘I want to bring Carol Ann Baker in myself. I want her to come down to Florida and hand herself in there, and I think she will do it, if I ask her.’

  A noise like hard braking and car horns interrupted their call before Marquez responded.

  ‘I can’t stress thoroughly enough, how much I recommend that you do not do that.’

  ‘I hear you.’

  ‘You want to locate a wanted suspect and encourage her to travel across state lines instead of handing herself in? You want to single-handedly apprehend a dangerous woman who has shot you once already? Davis, listen to what you’re saying. We shouldn’t be having this conversation. You know that, right?’

  ‘We have a special relationship, Baker and I.’

  ‘Your judgment is compromised.’

  ‘Marquez, I can make this work. If she testifies, we get Alvin on the pedophilia and trafficking charges and Ohio can have Baker after that.’

  ‘You’ve got it all figured out. And where does Georgia come into this? Even if you did pull this off, it would mean your permanent dismissal. Is seeing Alvin done for sex crimes in your own state really worth losing your career for?’ The phone broke up again. ‘Davis. It’s just an old man who appreciates younger girls? It’s a technicality. Why are you so hung up on this?’

  ‘It’s not a technicality… It’s abuse. It’s abuse which wrecks lives.’

  ‘Sure. I understand. You have a past. I know.’

  Davis gripped the phone tightly.

  ‘I know you’re still pissed that Cochrane got away.’ A rush of air drowned out his voice. ‘And I know, if I was in your position with him still out there. I’d be going crazy too, wondering if one day he’s going to show up at your door.’

  ‘You calling me crazy?’

  ‘But look at it this way. You were in that cult with Cochrane, and now you’re a well-respected detective. So, was your life really so wrecked by him?’

  When Davis breathed out, her breath was wet and hot.

  ‘I survived…’ she said.

  ‘Yes you did, because you chose to, and Baker could have chosen to as well, but she didn’t.’

  ‘I got help. Someone made me get out. They got me a place to stay and food for my kids.’

  ‘Don’t make excuses for her, Davis. That’s classic Stockholm syndrome.’ Marquez’s voice was rising. ‘I’m worried about you. I really am. I need you to return to Florida. I mean it now. Don’t make me put in that call!’

  Davis could have punched a wall. ‘For God’s sake, Marquez. Stop playing games.’

  ‘Whose playing? Look, I’m out to lunch, but this is serious as hell. I’ll give you a day to get on the road. You hear me? I’m going to call you tomorrow and if you’re not further south than Tennessee, I'm calling it in!’

  ‘Listen Marquez, the trucker, the one who picked up Carol Ann, he’s right here in town...right now. Why is he here? What has he come back for? I need to find out!’ she yelled, but Marquez had already hung up.

  Caffey

  He listened with one ear open to Chad Purcell’s story because that’s all it was, a story. Yesterday afternoon, they’d charged him with Snell’s murder and now he was talking, making up tales to try to pin the blame on Janine Kenny.

  ‘I’m telling you, if you guys just look into her, I guarantee you’ll find she has a record or some cautions or
something.’

  ‘And you don’t?’

  Tanner let out a laugh, playing his wingman role and Purcell lowered his head.

  Caffey held up a hand. It was none of his business, but they had checked Janine Kenny out and the girl had come up clean. She’d been a good kid until she decided to walk out of her residential home a couple of months ago. Besides, there was nothing connecting her to Snell and she wasn’t even from around here.

  But while Purcell was in a talkative mood, Caffey hoped some other information might slip out.

  ‘What did the gun she used to shoot Snell look like?’

  ‘It looked like a gun.’

  ‘Big gun, little gun?’

  Purcell’s shoulders lowered by a fraction of an inch. ‘A tiny gun, like, a toy.’

  ‘Caliber?’

  ‘How the hell should I know?’ he said, deflecting the intonation that they were talking about his gun. ‘I don’t do guns.’

  ‘Can you at least describe it?’

  Purcell paused. He looked up without moving his chin and his eyes traveled up and to the left. During his interview training, Caffey had seen videos showing the behaviors of suspects who were lying versus remembering. Liars always looked up and right. This didn’t mean he was telling the truth, that it was Kenny’s gun, but that the gun he was recalling was the did exist.

  ‘I guess it was a silver color…with a brownish handle.’

  ‘Any designs on the handle?’

  ‘I didn’t see.’

  ‘Just a tiny, silver and brown gun?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Not exactly a manly gun.’

  ‘She’s not that manly...’

  ‘Well, not that it’s important,’ Tanner said, pulling up a trouser leg to place his foot on the chair. ‘I think the hospital would have let us know if she’d been brought in with a gun in her purse, don’t you? But they didn’t, because she didn’t. So why don’t we give that idea up?’

  ‘Are you guys for real? I’ve just told you exactly what happened and you’re acting like I’m lying. Aren’t you meant to be detectives? You couldn’t detect an erection in your own pants!’