He handed the clerk a small form he had filled out upstairs for the file he was seeking. After waiting about ten minutes, the clerk returned with a manila file folder about two inches thick containing the records for Dr. Cavitt’s first marriage and subsequent divorce. The marriage had taken place in the summer of 1986 during his residency. Two children were born of that marriage, a son born in January of 1987 and a daughter in 1990. The son was diagnosed with Down syndrome. Eleven years later the marriage dissolved in a messy divorce. Dr. Ric was awarded the house but was ordered to pay large monthly child support payments as well as alimony. The alimony had to be paid until his ex-wife died or remarried.
JP made copies of a couple of documents, wrote some notes in his notebook, and then returned to the second floor and requested the files he needed from the clerk. Dr. Ric had been married twice. His most recent divorce took place in 2003 from his then twenty-five-year-old wife and mother of his one-year-old daughter. The marriage had only lasted a little over two years. Although Dr. Ric again retained the house in the settlement, he added five years of alimony to his monthly payments and hefty child support payments each month until his daughter reached eighteen, or nineteen if she was still in high school.
JP simultaneously tracked Rob Cavitt’s life, but his education and career took quite a different direction. However, both brothers appeared to be living locally at the present time. Rob was eleven months older than his brother Ric, but because of when their birthdays fell, they started school at the same time. JP couldn’t find any DMV records, college, or work employment records for several years after Rob’s graduation from high school. JP figured that he was probably moving from place to place, traveling abroad, or just bumming it at home. By 1980, while his brother Ric was graduating from UCLA, Rob had settled in Colorado in a little town called Florissant near Pike’s Peak. He lived there for approximately one year and then returned to the Inland Empire in southern California. In his early twenties, he enrolled in Riverside City College. Before the school year ended, Rob dropped out and started working for a small trucking company, driving eighteen-wheelers cross country. Three trucking companies and eight speeding tickets later, he found himself without a driver’s license or a job. For a couple of years there were again no employment or criminal records in existence for him. Then he reappeared in Colorado Springs, about an hour’s drive from where he lived previously. There he picked up a DUI and a marijuana possession charge. His employment in Colorado consisted primarily of construction work.
In 1999 he moved to Ramona, a suburb of San Diego, and shortly thereafter he went to work for Home Depot, where he was apparently still employed. JP hadn’t yet verified his most recent home address. His personal information was pretty sparse. There was nothing listed in the public records that showed ownership of a home. And according to the local records, Rob had no divorces or marriages—none that took place in San Diego County, at least. JP would have to search elsewhere to find out if Rob had been married or had children, which he decided may or may not be important to the issue at hand.
JP had one more thing to do before he made his evening jaunt around the park looking for Cole. He knew that was probably a waste of time, but he had nowhere else to look. The thought of that little boy out on the streets, lying somewhere dead or possibly being tortured by some sick pervert, turned his stomach. He brought his mind back to Cavitt as he pulled onto the bumpy pavement in the parking lot at the Clairemont Community Health Center, Dr. Ric’s last place of employment. He picked up his hat on the front seat and after exiting the car, placed it on his head.
The old stucco building was a faded peach color. The wood trim was cracked and flaky and in desperate need of painting. The sidewalk leading up to the front door was lined with dead plants and it appeared the gardener had long since left the premises. Once inside, it was easy to see that the budget was used more leniently there than outside. JP glanced around the room, assessing it and drawing conclusions in his mind as he did whenever he performed an investigation. The walls were freshly painted within the last few months, JP determined. A young receptionist sat behind a simple, maple-colored desk that JP was sure came from Walmart or Target. The floors needed cleaning, not because they weren’t kept up regularly but because it was the end of the day and there had been a fair amount of traffic.
Several people sat in the waiting room to his left. JP looked through the large window that led to the room. The chairs were padded as opposed to metal, but they were not so inviting that you’d want to fall asleep in them. Through the glass JP could see an Asian woman with two children, a gray-haired man in his eighties, and two pregnant women.
JP approached the receptionist and introduced himself. He spoke slowly and exaggerated his accent. “I’m looking for Dr. Richard Cavitt. He was my baby sister’s doctor for her first child. Now Idella’s gone and found herself in a family way again and she’d really like to have Dr. Cavitt for this baby as well.”
“I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have a Dr. Cavitt here,” the receptionist said.
“Dang! I know this is where he was working when my sister saw him last. I don’t know what to do now.” He rubbed his chin and furrowed his brow. “Any chance you know where he went from here?”
“No, I’m sorry I don’t.”
“Did you know Dr. Cavitt?”
“No, but I’ve only been here for a few months. He hasn’t been here since I came. The obstetrician on staff now is Dr. Kate Rutiger.”
JP leaned in a little closer but not so he would be intrusive. “Does Dr. Rutiger have a secretary or a nurse that works with her? Perhaps they could help me.”
“Mary Jo works in that department. She’s been here a really long time. Let me check with her.” The receptionist picked up the phone, spoke to someone, and then said to JP, “She’ll be right out. Her shift ended and she’s about to leave, but she said she can give you a minute.”
JP stepped back out of the way as a patient from the waiting room came up to the desk. JP walked through an archway into the little room adjacent to the lobby and looked around. He noticed that no television hung on the wall as in most waiting rooms these days, but there were plenty of magazines and a small bookshelf filled with books. On top of the bookshelf was a sign that read, Take it, Read it, Bring it Back Next Time. He saw a woman enter the lobby through the door behind the receptionist’s desk. She carried a purse and a shopping bag. JP walked back into the lobby just as the receptionist pointed toward him.
They approached each other. The woman spoke first. “I’m Mary Jo. I understand you’re looking for Dr. Cavitt.”
“Yes, my sister would like to find him.” JP lowered his voice a little. “She’s pregnant again, and would like him for her doctor.”
“I don’t know where he went from here. I’ve heard he’s involved with a teen group home, but I don’t even know which one.” She was polite but her body language indicated she was ready to go home. “Dr. Rutiger here at the clinic is a wonderful doctor.”
“My sister, Idella, really wants Dr. Ric, as she calls him. She has some problems and she doesn’t do well with strangers.” He lowered his voice again. “She doesn’t have a full attic. It ain’t her fault, mind ya. She’s the sweetest thing you ever saw but she gets real confused about some stuff.” JP watched Mary Jo’s face as it softened, so he continued with his tale. “I’m not even sure I have the right doctor to tell you the truth.” JP reached in his pocket and took out the photo his techie friend had made for him and handed it to Mary Jo. “She gave me this picture and said it was Dr. Ric. I know it’s not a very good photo, but is that him?”
When Mary Jo didn’t respond right away JP said, “I really want to do what’s right by Idella. I came here from Texas to take care of her when I heard about her condition. She can’t manage alone and she has nobody else. Our mother was taking care of her but just recently passed on.” He cleared his throat. “I tried to get Idella to move back to Texas, but she wouldn’t have it. I figure I’ll sta
y until I can convince her to go back with me.” JP stopped talking when he saw Mary Jo nod her head.
“That’s him. That’s Dr. Cavitt.” She handed the photo back to JP and before she walked away said, “You really might want to consider a different doctor for her.”
“Why?” JP asked as he followed her towards the door. “Is there something I should know about the doctor?”
Mary Jo waved her right hand in a gesture of dismissal and walked out.
32
“You said if I needed anything to call you,” Bailey said without any of the social amenities generally expected when someone calls your cell phone.
“Bailey?” Sabre asked, not entirely certain it was her.
“Yes. Hello. It’s me.”
“Are you okay?”
“I am, but I only have about ten minutes left on my phone. Can you add some minutes to my account?”
“Is it in your name?” Sabre asked.
“No. I got it from a friend.”
“I’d need the information about the account.” Bailey didn’t respond. “Bailey?”
“I don’t have it.”
“Whose name is it in?”
“I can’t tell you.” Bailey’s voice grew tougher. She sounded like the teenager she first met. “Can’t you just get me another phone then?”
“Yes, I will. It’ll take me about an hour to go to the phone store and find what you need. Where are you?”
“I’ll meet you by the canyon, same as last time. You’ll come alone, right?”
“Right.”
It was approximately 8:40 p.m. Sabre had just enough time to drive to the store and purchase a pre-paid phone before it closed. At five minutes of nine she walked into the store, and twenty minutes later walked out with a new cell phone and one hundred pre-paid minutes. She arrived at Snead and Mt. Arcadia, the entrance to the canyon, at 9:35 p.m. There were no signs of Bailey. Sabre turned her car around facing the street, just as she had done the last time. She felt a little nervous sitting there waiting but not as much as before. She found that interesting. It was no less dangerous, just more familiar.
The knock on the driver’s window startled her as Bailey tapped on the glass. Sabre rolled it down.
“Do you have the phone?” Bailey asked.
“Yes. Come sit.” Sabre nodded her head to the right toward the passenger seat.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Please,” Sabre said.
Bailey looked around and then walked around back of the car and opened the door as Sabre unlocked it. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “I don’t have much time.”
“What’s your hurry?”
“I just gotta go.”
“I need to know that you’re all right.”
“I’m good.” Bailey didn’t sit still. She kept looking around and squirming in her seat.
“Did someone follow you?”
Bailey shook her head in a negative response. “Do you have the phone?”
Sabre retrieved the phone from her front sweatshirt pocket and handed it to Bailey. “I put a sticky in there with the phone number. You only have one-hundred minutes. Please only use them to call me and to protect yourself. Be careful who you call. It’s not as easy to trace a pre-paid phone, but it’s not impossible. Be sure to save enough minutes to call me if you need more.”
Bailey tucked the phone into the front pocket of the sweatshirt Sabre had given her the last time they met. Sabre wondered if she had anything else to wear.
“Bailey, I watched the video. Do you know who the people are in it?”
“Just Scott. I don’t know who the fat guy is.”
“Have you ever seen him before?”
“I … I gotta go,” Bailey said as she reached for the door handle.
“Please wait.”
Bailey stopped and turned back toward Sabre. “What?” she asked.
“Why did you give me the disc?”
“So you could help Apollo.”
“But how can I help him? I don’t know who the man is. Did he kill Scott?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure he’s involved.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bailey, you’re not making any sense. I need more information.” Bailey shrugged her shoulders. “Where is the third disc? Maybe that’ll help us find who killed Scott and get Apollo off the hook.”
“I can’t give you that. It’s too dangerous. They’re all liars.”
“Who’s a liar?”
“All of them. And they’re mean and scary.”
“Who are they?” Bailey didn’t respond. “Bailey, I wish you’d turn yourself in. You’ll be safe.”
“It’s not safe anywhere. I gotta go.”
Before Sabre could say anything else, Bailey was out the door. It closed behind her. Sabre looked around but she seemed to have disappeared into the darkness.
Sabre drove home, made herself a cup of hot chocolate, and curled up on the sofa with the Lecy file. She read through every report again. Earlier in the day Bob had given her a copy of the detention report supporting the allegations against Apollo in the murder of Scott Jamison. She didn’t ask him how he got it. She didn’t really want to know, but since she had it she decided she may as well read it. It placed Apollo and Bailey at the scene at the time of the murder. They had fingerprints of both kids in the house, but that was to be expected since Bailey’s mom still lived there and they had visited. They didn’t seem to have any real motive, however. The report implied the murder may have been drug related, but they had no history or evidence of either Bailey or Apollo using drugs.
Sabre had glanced through the report earlier when Bob gave it to her, but this time she perused it carefully, reading every detail. Something caught her eye. She laid the report down, picked up her cell, and called JP.
“Are you okay?” JP asked when he answered the phone.
“I’m fine. Why?”
“Ah … because it’s nearly midnight.”
“I’m so sorry. Go back to sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“No. No. I wasn’t sleeping.” Sabre knew from his voice that she had woken him, but the damage was already done. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I met with Bailey again tonight. And before you reprimand me with some funny Texas saying, I’m home. I’m fine. And Bailey now has a new cell phone to replace the one she had. Her minutes had expired.” Sabre gave him the phone number in case he needed it in the future. “I asked her about the video. She wouldn’t tell me what they expected us to do with it, but I think she’s still testing me. She said she didn’t know who the fat guy was, but when I asked if she had seen him before, she changed the subject.”
“So she knows more than she’s telling you.”
“For sure. I asked for the third disc, but she said it was ‘too dangerous’ to give it to me.”
“Did she explain what she meant?”
“Nope.” Sabre paused. “But here’s something else you’ll find interesting. I was reading some information on Scott Jamison, and guess what. He’s from Fontana, just like our car collector.”
33
Fontana was at least fifteen degrees hotter than San Diego which put the temperature at about eighty-five degrees, a little too hot for JP’s taste. He pulled into the parking lot at Bucher High School, where the Cavitt brothers had attended in the mid seventies. The school had opened in 1955 to house the thousands of post-war students whose parents came to work at Kaiser Steel, the largest steel production company west of the Mississippi. It was a blue-collar school with a nationally known football team. The remnants of “Cheetah Pride” lingered within its hallowed walls. A trophy case remained behind with the evidence. It housed about a hundred trophies, but front and center stood the one from 1988 when the school football team ranked “best in the nation.”
The school seemed to have lost a lot of its pride since then as evidenced by the graffiti on the walls, th
e attire of the students, and the guards at the gates. JP showed a guard his ID and explained he had an appointment with Mr. James Williams.
“Please check in at the office. It’s straight through there and on your left.”
“Thank you.”
JP signed in at the office and then obtained directions to Mr. Williams’ room. The teacher had scheduled the appointment for 10:00 a.m., his free period. When JP reached his closed door he wasn’t sure what the protocol was for classrooms. Was he to knock or just walk in? He chose to knock, figuring it was the safest thing to do.
“Come on in,” Mr. Williams called from inside.
JP walked into the warm room. It didn’t feel as hot as it did outside, but neither was it air conditioned. A tall, physically fit man in his early sixties greeted him. His hair and tightly cut beard were gray and his face had received too much sun over the years. Other than that, he was in great shape. JP sucked in his stomach.
“Thanks for seeing me.”
“It’s my pleasure. I always love telling old tales about our school.”
“And you apparently have first-hand knowledge. They tell me you’ve been here since Moses was a pup.”
The Advocate - 03 - The Advocate's Conviction Page 17