“He seemed forthright.” Carolyn stared out the front window. “He didn’t display any of the classic tells you see when a person is lying. Something bothered me, though. I’m not convinced everything he told us was the truth.”
“No one tells the complete truth. And this guy will never trust a cop again.” Mary cranked the ignition, but she left the car idling as she thought. “Did you notice how he kept his hands in his lap the whole time? He was trying not to touch anything. Stockton may look like an average, clean-cut young man, but I don’t think that’s the case. A person who’s seen and been through the kind of things Stockton has must be emotionally scarred. And he’s shrewd, just like our killer. He knew I wanted his fingerprints. The problem was he didn’t know how to get out of it without giving himself away.”
“But the clerk didn’t ID him.”
“The clerk is a pothead, remember? And he did ID Stockton eventually. The person we need to find is Haley Snodgrass. I know you have to get back to your office, so I’ll track down her address and see what her parents have to say.”
“Let’s say Stockton did rent the room,” Carolyn said, fastening her seat belt. “What motive would he have to kill Veronica?”
“If what he said about Jude being infatuated with him is true, he might have rented the motel room because he wanted to set her straight, and didn’t want anyone to see them together. Then he lost his temper and beat the shit out of her. Now if we pick up the story the way Jude tells it, substituting Stockton for Drew, she could have called her mother for help somewhere before or after the beating. With his distrust of police, Stockton might go to all kinds of extremes to stay out of jail.”
“I get it,” Carolyn said, excited. “Veronica shows up after Jude escapes, finds Stockton in the room. She demands to know where her daughter is. They struggle. Stockton gets her gun away and shoots her. You know what that means?”
“Yeah,” Mary said, looking behind her as she backed out of the parking space. “Drew may be innocent. Jude could have manufactured the sexual abuse story because she was pissed at him for throwing her out. She might also have done it to protect Stockton. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen an abused female cover for the male batterer.”
“His girlfriend dumped him,” Carolyn continued, “and by his own admission, Jude was an easy lay. He could have taken her to the motel to have sex with her. Maybe Jude tried to turn their encounter into something it wasn’t and Stockton lost it.” She placed a palm on her forehead. “God, we took Drew’s children away. I feel terrible. I should be comforting Drew, not persecuting him.”
The detective reached over and patted her hand. “Don’t feel bad, sugar. The odds are stacked that Drew is guilty. I was a victim myself, remember? Jude was telling the truth. I’d bet my life on it. It makes perfect sense for Drew to kick her out. He knew if anyone saw the bruises, they’d start asking questions and he’d end up a suspect in Veronica’s murder. The nanny did it for me. He didn’t even wait for his wife’s funeral to start priming a new victim. What other excuse would he have to move Stacy into his bedroom?”
“Then how does Stockton fit into the picture?”
“He probably has nothing to do with it,” Mary said. “All guys his age are hotheads. If a cop had killed my father, I wouldn’t want the police to have my fingerprints.”
“We forgot to ask Gary what he found out from Jude’s school records.”
“Speak for yourself,” Mary said. “I talked to him while you were busy with Hank. Jude has a extensive history of absenteeism, going all the way back to the fifth grade. Gary’s going to follow up and speak to the family doctor. As far as Stockton is concerned, all we’ve been doing is speculating. We’ve barely cracked the surface in this case. Right now, everyone is guilty.”
“Gee,” Carolyn said, smiling, “you sound like Brad Preston. He said the same exact thing to me the other day.”
“Preston is a prick. A righteously handsome prick, but nonetheless, a prick.”
“You went out with him, didn’t you?”
“What is this?” Mary said, scrunching her face up. “Are you trying to get me to reveal all my secrets in one day? Yeah, I went out with him. I hate to admit it, but I even slept with him. I was about to get in over my head when I saw him with a girl who didn’t look a day over eighteen. I broke my own rule, so I guess I deserved it.”
“What’s that?”
“Never date a man who’s got a better ass than you.”
“He’s dynamite in bed, though,” Carolyn said, remembering the times they’d spent together. “Marcus is better, of course.”
“Sure he is,” Mary said, steering the car onto the ramp for the 101 Freeway. “Brad isn’t bad. He could never keep up with the brothers, though. Have you ever been with a black man?”
“No,” Carolyn said. “I was a virgin when I met Frank. I haven’t had that many lovers since we divorced. I had a date with Earl Miller from the sheriff’s department. I liked him, but he didn’t call me back.”
“You know what they say,” Mary said with a sly smile. “Once you go black, you never go back.”
Carolyn pointed her finger at her. “Now, if I’d said that, it would be considered racist.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Mary argued. “Anyway, I’m just messing with you.”
“When’s Drew’s arraignment?”
“At one this afternoon. I thought you weren’t going.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” Carolyn said, glancing at her watch. “Step on it. I’ll have to check in with Brad, and it’s already twelve thirty.”
The detective floored the Crown Victoria, zigzagging through traffic as the needle on the speedometer shot to just under a hundred. When she skidded to a stop in front of the government center, Carolyn climbed out on shaky legs, feeling as if she’d just gotten off a roller coaster. She stuck her head in the window. “I’ll never ask you to step on it again, okay? Maybe you should reconsider Brad. You two are perfect for each other.”
“Oh, yeah,” Mary said, laughing. “Brad baby has to go to a racetrack. I can speed any time I feel like it. It’s one of the perks of being a cop.”
CHAPTER 14
Friday, October 15—12:55 P.M.
Carolyn rushed past Rachel’s desk into Brad’s office, harried and out of breath. She’d snagged her hose getting out of Mary’s car, and since she didn’t want to go to court in jeans, she was zipping up the black skirt she kept in her office. “I need to go to Drew’s arraignment. I promise I’ll work all night at home. His daughter is living in my house, for Christ’s sake. We came up with some new information. We talked to the guy Jude was—”
“Slow down,” Brad said, tossing his pen down on his desk. “I didn’t understand a word you just said.”
“Please, Brad, I have to go to Drew’s arraignment and I have to leave right now. Judge Thornton has a fit when someone comes in late.”
“If it’s that important,” he said, standing and grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair, “I guess I should go with you.”
Brad stopped and told Rachel where he was going, then jogged to catch up to Carolyn. “Thornton is in Division Thirty-two, right?”
“Thirty-six.” Not wanting to wait for the elevator, Carolyn raced down the stairs to the first floor, crossed the lobby, and darted outside to the courtyard. People were eating their lunches on the benches surrounding the fountain, while attorneys and other individuals were making their way to court for the afternoon sessions.
Brad stepped in front of her to open the door. “I think you said something about new information. Want to tell me about it?”
She quickly filled him in on what had occurred with Reggie Stockton.
“You really think Jude made up all that stuff about Drew?”
“It’s possible,” Carolyn said, smoothing down her hair before they entered the courtroom.
Only a handful of people were present, but Carolyn wanted to be close enough to see Drew’s facia
l expressions. They slid into the second row behind the prosecution table. Judge Christopher Thornton wasn’t on the bench yet, but Drew’s attorney was already seated at the adjacent table. She leaned over and whispered in Brad’s ear, “Is that Jacob Farrow?”
“You got it.”
“His fees are outrageous,” Carolyn told him. “He’s one of the best defense attorneys in the county.” She glanced over at District Attorney Kevin Thomas. At forty-five, he was a slender, wiry man with reddish blond hair and hazel eyes. “Thomas must be pissing his pants. If anyone can get Drew off, it would be Farrow.”
Two bailiffs escorted Drew Campbell to the defense table, dressed in the jail-issued orange jumpsuit, his hands cuffed and his feet shackled. Once he was seated next to his attorney, he turned around and stared straight at Carolyn. The look out of his eyes was scathing, and a corner of his lip curled in contempt.
After the bailiff called the court to order, Judge Thornton entered through the back door and climbed the stairs to the bench, his black robe swirling around him. He’d received his appointment at the age of thirty-three, and was the youngest judge in the Ventura system.
In the courtroom, Thornton looked imposing, and even top attorneys like Jacob Farrow became nervous when they had to argue a case in front of him. Carolyn had followed Thornton to his chambers one day to discuss one of her cases, having to stifle a laugh when she realized what a tiny man he was. With heels, she looked down on him, and she was only five-four. He reminded her of a twelve-year-old boy dressed in a magician’s costume. Regardless of his diminutive size, he was an attractive man. His skin was fair and unblemished, and his dark eyes flashed with intelligence. He spoke fast, and she’d heard he possessed a photographic memory. One of the DAs claimed Thornton had once recited every word spoken during a two-hour hearing. He also possessed razor-sharp hearing. Now that he was on the bench, Carolyn knew that even a whisper could draw a reprimand.
“Do you have a copy of the information, Mr. Farrow?” the judge asked, his speech crisp and articulate.
“Yes, Your Honor,” the gray-haired attorney said, standing. “I also have a discovery order I’d like to submit.” He walked over and handed it to the clerk for dispersal.
When the judge received the copy, he set it aside. To file discovery, requesting all information and evidence the other side had on the case, was routine procedure. As the case continued, more discovery orders would be filed by both parties, along with dozens of motions and petitions.
The courtroom fell silent, except for the rustling of papers by the clerk as she prepared the file. Thornton spoke, his gaze fixed on Drew. “Mr. Campbell, How do you plead to count one, a violation of section 288.5 of the California Penal Code, continuous sexual abuse of a child?”
Swallowing hard, Drew said, “Not guilty, Your Honor.”
Everything struck home for Carolyn. Now it was real. The charges were appropriate, the punishment severe—a mandatory term of up to sixteen years in prison. And this was only the beginning. Carolyn listened as the other charges were read.
“How do you plead to count two, a violation of section 261.6 of the California Penal Code, rape, where the act was accomplished by threatening to inflict extreme pain, serious bodily injury, or death?”
“Not guilty.”
Carolyn knew this count represented the most recent offense, when Jude was legally an adult. The penalty was a maximum of six years in prison, and could run consecutive to the first sixteen-year term. Drew was now looking at twenty-one years.
Judge Thornton continued, “How do you plead to a violation of section 269 of the California Penal Code, aggravated sexual assault on a child?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor.” Drew pulled his collar away from his neck.
These were serious, despicable offenses, Carolyn thought, and Drew’s attorney knew the road ahead of him would be long and arduous. He was probably questioning his judgment in taking on a case of this magnitude. If Drew ran out of money, Farrow couldn’t simply dump him and walk away. He must hold some conviction that Drew Campbell was innocent.
Even Carolyn began perspiring. Drew wasn’t a stranger off the street. How many times had she been in his home, shared meals with him, laughed with him, cried with him? The criminal justice system was like an enormous machine, with the ability to gobble up lives and spit them out in shattered pieces. The worst part was that Carolyn was responsible for setting this machine in motion.
The last count carried a sentence of sixteen years to life, making the grand total thirty-seven years to life. Certain limitations were attached to the first count, continuous sexual abuse of a child. No other count could be filed unless it represented a separate and distinct period of time, or an additional victim, many times a sibling. Hank must have gotten in touch with Kevin Thomas after she and Mary had left to speak to Reggie Stockton, advising him of Jude’s documented record of absenteeism. This was the kind of evidence a prosecutor dreamed about cases of this nature. Section 288.5 had become law to cover crimes where there was no way to establish a date and time. All the prosecutor had to prove was that three incidences of sexual abuse had occurred.
Drew’s face had turned a sickly shade of white. Carolyn saw his hands locked on the arms of his chair. He probably didn’t know that his entire life was on the line. Did he look guilty? Surely he would have known that his actions might one day come to light. Of course, his motive in murdering Veronica to ensure her silence was now firmly established.
Brad leaned over and whispered, “Thirty-seven to life, and Thomas didn’t even file murder charges yet. I’m glad I’m not in Drew’s shoes right now.”
A second later, the gavel came down and Carolyn jumped, staring straight ahead so the judge didn’t think she was the culprit.
Thornton knew exactly who was responsible. “Sir,” he said, glaring at Brad, “if you wish to talk, please exit this court.”
Brad patted Carolyn on the knee, then slipped out the side aisle.
Judge Thornton proceeded with the arraignment, selecting a date for the preliminary hearing. At this stage in the process, the prosecution only had to establish that a crime had in fact occurred and that there was probable cause to believe that the defendant had committed it. During the trial, the burden of proof would be more specific, and the prosecution would be charged with proving Drew’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.
Jacob Farrow had taken his seat and was conferring with Drew in hushed whispers. He rose to his feet again. “Could we address the issue of bail at this time, Your Honor?”
“I was just about to order the probation department to conduct a bail review, Mr. Farrow.”
“I know that’s routine procedure,” Farrow continued, “but we believe there’s a conflict of interest. The defendant’s wife was a probation officer. As you probably know, she was recently murdered. Due to the charges filed against Mr. Campbell today, it’s highly unlikely that he’ll receive an unbiased recommendation from the probation department.”
Judge Thornton braced his head with his hand. “How do you propose I remedy this problem? That is, if a problem exists.”
“The court should determine bail for my client, independent of any other considerations.”
“I object,” Kevin Thomas said. “Why should the defendant receive special consideration? The probation department is the agency charged with preparing these reports for a reason. As you know, Your Honor, they compile criminal histories, check employment records, ties to the community, weigh the risks the defendant poses to the community. Respectfully, the court isn’t prepared to make this type of recommendation. The people believe the defendant should be held without bail. The victim is terrified of him.”
Farrow shot out, “These charges are an outrage, Your Honor. Mr. Campbell is a decent, law-abiding citizen. The victim in this case is a rebellious teenager with a bone to pick with her father. She’s been incarcerated in juvenile hall on numerous occasions, once for selling narcotics. She also has a documented histor
y of lying to correction officers.”
Thornton’s brows furrowed as his voice boomed out over the courtroom. “Need I remind you, Mr. Farrow, your client is the person who must defend himself against these charges? The victim is not on trial. And if you persist in making any more disparaging remarks, I’ll hold you in contempt of court.” He stopped and took a breath. “A bail review will be prepared by the probation department. The hearing will be held in this courtroom on Monday at three o’clock. Until then, the defendant will be remanded to the custody of the Ventura County Jail.”
CHAPTER 15
Friday, October 15—2:15 P.M.
Carolyn stopped off in the cafeteria, wolfing down a rubbery cheeseburger and a Snickers bar, then went straight to Brad’s office and flopped down in a chair. “I should have warned you about Thornton. He might be heavy-handed on some issues, as you noticed, but he moves the calendar faster than any judge I’ve ever known and his decisions are always sound. After you left, Farrow argued that Thornton should decide Drew’s bail today because we would be biased. Thornton shot him down and assigned us the bail review, then blasted Farrow for assaulting Jude’s character.”
“What kind of evidence does the PD have in Veronica’s murder?”
“Not much,” Carolyn said, sighing. “Basically motive and opportunity. We found a hair on the letter I received at the morgue. The lab hasn’t had time to process it yet. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that it turns out to be the killer’s and not mine. Mary is convinced Jude is telling the truth. The things Stockton told us rattled me, though. I have to keep reminding myself that Jude is an incest victim, or I wouldn’t be able to tolerate her behavior.”
Brad leaned back in his chair. “Is she a credible witness?”
“It depends on which side of the bed she gets up on,” Carolyn told him. “She’s highly unpredictable, and when you push her, she pushes back hard. From the way things went today, it appears Farrow’s main line of defense will be to discredit her. Other than the bruises, it’s basically her word against her father’s. Her juvenile record certainly won’t help, if they’re able to get it on record. And if Farrow gets Stockton or some other kid who knows Jude to testify, which we have to assume he will, the case could go down in flames.”
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