Revenge of Innocents

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  Once they were on the road, Carolyn pulled out her cell phone. “Do you want to call the children now?”

  “I’ll wait until tomorrow. I’m too emotional tonight. Veronica and I tried so hard with Jude. She was the most adorable little girl. You remember. She loved people. Most kids that age are shy around strangers, but not Jude. She talked a mile a minute, hugged everyone, constantly asked questions. What’s that, Daddy? How does the TV work, Daddy? How far away is the moon? Where are we going? When are you coming home?”

  “She took after her mother,” Carolyn said, fond memories passing through her mind. “Veronica could say more in five minutes than most people could in an hour. The only problem was figuring out what in the world she was talking about. When we used to share an office, I had trouble getting any work done.”

  Drew smiled, but a moment later, the smile disappeared. “Things started going wrong when Jude was in the third grade. She started stealing, lying, refusing to do the things we asked her, getting in trouble at school. I mean, you expect that kind of behavior from a teenager. Did Veronica ever tell you about the time Jude slapped her? The little snot was still in elementary school and she was already hitting her mother. We sent her to a child psychologist for a few weeks. What a waste of money that was. The doctor said she sat there for the whole hour without saying a single word.”

  “That was around the time I was going through the divorce from Frank,” Carolyn said. “I recall Veronica thinking Jude’s behavior problems were the result of being an only child. She thought if she had a brother or sister, things might change.”

  “That was a mistake,” Drew answered. “I told her we’d waited too long. Jude was eight when Stacy was born. She was used to being the center of attention, and didn’t like being upstaged by the baby. About a week after we brought Stacy home from the hospital, Jude tried to pull her out of the crib. She yanked on her leg so hard, it came out of the joint and we had to rush her to the hospital. Veronica swore it was an accident. I knew Jude was trying to hurt Stacy so I lit into her with my belt. Veronica and I had a huge fight that night. I didn’t hurt the kid or anything, but let me tell you, Jude never forgot it. She kept embellishing that story until she had me trying to strangle her.”

  Although Drew didn’t realize it, Carolyn was parked in front of his house. He needed to talk, and she had gained some insight into why Jude might have concocted the story about him abusing her. In the formative stages of a child’s development, a single incident could have a major impact. Not because it was genuinely traumatic, but as it could be used to garner attention, something Jude apparently craved.

  “I’ll never know why she turned out the way she did,” Drew continued, the muscles in his face rigid. “You have no idea how much it hurts to have a daughter say such vile things about you.”

  Carolyn let some time pass before she resumed speaking. “I assume you’ve heard about Haley Snodgrass.”

  “Awful,” he said, grimacing. “How are Don and Angela handling it? We’ve all been friends for years. Jude and Haley were like sisters. I thought things were turning around for a few years. Haley was a good influence on Jude, or at least it seemed that way. I was brokenhearted when they ended their friendship over that boy. They reminded me of you and Veronica. They practically grew up together.”

  “Did Jude spend a lot of time at Haley’s house?”

  “When she was younger,” Drew said, rubbing the side of his face. “During the past year or two, we couldn’t get Haley to go home. Jude didn’t like staying over there for some reason. Don was silly, and I guess he annoyed the girls when they got older. He’s like an overgrown kid. Happy go lucky, you know.”

  Carolyn pulled into the driveway and parked. “The house is probably a mess, Drew. When Protective Services came that night, they were rushing to make it to the airport to meet Emily’s plane. I can send Marcus’s housekeeper over to help you put things back in order. I’d also like to go to the funeral home with you. Veronica was my best friend. You can buy the plots, but I’d like to pay for her casket.”

  He gave her a curious look. “You’re acting like you did something wrong, Carolyn. I’m not mad at you. I know you believed the things Jude told you. You had no choice but to notify the authorities. If it had been Veronica, she would have done the same thing.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I needed to hear that.”

  “No problem.” He leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. “The only thing I’m angry about is that the police haven’t caught the person who murdered her. Do they have any leads as to who did it?”

  “The case should come together now—” Carolyn caught herself just in time. She was about to say that his elimination as a suspect would narrow down the suspects. “Because I knew Veronica so well, the agency gave me permission to work on the task force. We’ve been working around the clock, Drew. I know we’re going to nail this killer. I just can’t tell you when.”

  An awkward silence ensued. “So, I’ll call you in the morning, if that’s all right,” she said. “I’ll bring my lunch to work. Why don’t you see if you can set up an appointment at the funeral home around noon?”

  “Okay,” Drew said, opening the car door and stepping out.

  Carolyn watched as he made his way up the sidewalk to the dark house. She chastised herself for not buying some lightbulbs, maybe picking up some groceries. Just before she drove off, he came back and tapped on the window.

  “I don’t have a key. The night the police arrested me, I left my keys in the house.”

  “Here,” she said, removing hers from the key ring. “I probably shouldn’t have a key to your house anymore.”

  “You’re still family,” Drew said, palming the key. “I’ll give this back to you when I see you tomorrow. It meant a lot to me to see a familiar face when I got out of that hellhole.”

  Carolyn walked into the bedroom wrapped in a towel. Marcus had already turned out the lights. He came over and tugged on the edge of the towel, his eyes feasting on her body as it slid to the floor at her feet. “How could anyone as beautiful as you be self-conscious? There are women half your age who’d kill to look as good as you. “

  “They don’t have to kill,” she told him. “All they need is a good plastic surgeon. Besides, I might not look so good if you could actually see me. When are we going to take down the blackout drapes? I never know what time it is.”

  “I’d wake up at dawn every day without them. Why are we talking about drapes? Drew’s not a child molester. That should give you some relief.” He collected her in his arms, a lusty look in his eyes. “The less time I spend with you, the more I want you.”

  Carolyn craned her neck around to make certain the door was closed. Jude sneaking in and watching them while they were having sex had rattled her. The strange part was it hadn’t seemed to bother Marcus. She suspected he’d even found it somewhat erotic.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, as if he could read her thoughts. “The door’s locked, Jude’s gone, and Rebecca would never come in with out knocking.”

  Marcus was a sensual and considerate lover. Carolyn managed to relax and enjoy herself. Connecting at such an intimate level with a person who truly loved her made her feel like herself again. Marcus had been right. When everything went wrong, doing normal things was sometimes the best medicine.

  They were both asleep when the bedside phone rang. Marcus grumbled, his body curled around Carolyn’s. “Let the answering machine pick up.”

  Carolyn saw Ventura PD on the caller ID. Her hand shook as she reached for the phone, knowing Hank or Mary would never call her this late unless something had happened. “What’s wrong?”

  “I called Drew at the house but he didn’t answer,” Mary said, her speech rapid fire. “Jude was hit by a car. She’s in bad shape, Carolyn. Her left forearm was severed.”

  “Mother of God, no!” Carolyn exclaimed, clutching the phone with both hands. “What hospital did they take her to?”

  “VCMC,” t
he detective told her, referring to the Ventura County Medical Center. “They were going to chopper her to UCLA but it didn’t make sense. VCMC has an excellent trauma unit, and they were only a few blocks away. A nurse named Amy Fitzgerald stopped to help, or Jude would have bled to death. As soon as she called the paramedics, she applied a tourniquet, then ran across the street to Ralph’s for a bag of ice to pack the arm in. Her father is an orthopedic surgeon. He’s one of the best in LA. I’m in the ER now. They’re doing tests to make certain Jude doesn’t have any internal injuries. On the surface, outside of the blood she’s lost, all they could see were a few cuts and bruises. If everything checks out, they’re going to try to reattach her arm.”

  Carolyn placed her hand over her heart. “Was Jude driving or was she a passenger?”

  “Fitzgerald was traveling southbound on Dos Caminos when she saw a dark-colored passenger car slam into the side of a parked truck. The driver left the scene, but his vehicle must have sustained damage. From the skid marks, he had to be going at least forty, maybe fifty miles per hour. It looks like Jude stepped out from behind a flatbed truck. The car swerved to miss her and spun out, crashing into the front section of the truck. The truck belongs to a landscaping company. They had shrubs in the bed, which were held in place by galvanized steel guy wires. The wires are what severed her arm.” Mary paused and caught her breath. “Do you know where Drew is, Carolyn? I called the jail and they said they released him.”

  Carolyn was franticly juggling the phone with one hand while she yanked open her drawers and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. “I picked Drew up and drove him home. He probably got drunk and passed out. I’ll go to his house and see if I can rouse him.” She tossed on a sweater, then rushed to the closet for her shoes and purse.

  Marcus insisted on going with her. They left a note for Rebecca on the kitchen counter. On the way out, he stopped and advised the night security guard to patrol the perimeter of the house every hour. Soon, they were speeding toward Veronica’s house in his Range Rover.

  Carolyn dialed Drew’s number several times, then gave up. Turning on the dome light, she toggled through her directory and placed another call. “Father Michaels,” she said when a groggy voice answered. “I’m sorry to wake you. This is Carolyn Sullivan. I need you to ask a favor of you. A young girl has been gravely injured. She was baptized a Catholic, but her mother fell away from the church.”

  “Where is her mother now?”

  “She was murdered.

  “Oh, my,” the priest said. “Is the poor child conscious?”

  “I doubt it,” Carolyn said. “Please administer the anointing of the sick, Father. She’s at the Ventura Medical Center. Her name is Jude Campbell.”

  “Of course,” the priest said. “I’ll go right away.”

  “Thanks, Father,” Carolyn told him, disconnecting.

  “Is that the last rites?” Marcus asked.

  “They don’t call it that anymore. Last rites sounds too ominous, and a person doesn’t have to be dying. If Jude is conscious, she could receive what’s called the viaticum, where she would receive the Eucharist, as well as the sacrament of reconciliation. She was repentant at the DA’s office the other day. She admitted she lied about her father, and exhibited remorse for the things she’d done during her life. If she does die, God forbid, she’ll be leaving this world in a better state than she would have before.”

  “You really believe all this stuff? It sounds like a bunch of hocus-pocus to me.”

  Carolyn stared hard at him. “Yes, I do believe in the sacraments. They’re based on the teachings of Christ. I respect your beliefs. Please accept mine.”

  “Don’t get mad,” Marcus told her, seeing the annoyed look on her face. “I didn’t mean anything. I ask questions so I can learn, that’s all. I just think it’s odd that you believe a girl who’s been victimized all her life would be in danger of going to hell.”

  “I don’t know what I believe anymore,” Carolyn said. “Have you forgotten that Jude recanted the accusations against Drew? For all we know, she could have killed Veronica and Haley.”

  “That’s asinine.”

  “Please, Marcus, concentrate on the road. I’m too upset to talk right now.”

  As soon as he pulled in the driveway at Drew’s house, she bailed out of the Range Rover and ran toward the door. She rang the doorbell, then pounded on it with her fists. If only she hadn’t given Drew her key. “Jude broke out a window in the kitchen to get in the night she overdosed,” she told Marcus when he stepped up beside her. “Maybe we can get in that way.”

  They opened the side gate and walked through the grass to reach the back of the house. The police had nailed boards over the window.

  “I’ll go get a crowbar,” he said. “I think I can get us in.”

  “No,” Carolyn said, taking hold of his arm. “Take me to the hospital. Then you can come back if we still can’t get Drew on the phone.”

  Mary was in the waiting room at the ER when Carolyn and Marcus rushed in. “Your priest is with her now,” she told them. “No luck on Drew, huh?”

  Carolyn explained that Marcus was going back to the house. “No one got a better description than a dark-colored car? Didn’t anyone other than the nurse witness the accident?”

  “I wish,” the detective told her, cupping her hand over her chin. “We also have to consider that it might not have been an accident, especially since we can’t find Drew.”

  “You think he intentionally ran into her?” Marcus asked. “Why? To get back at her? But isn’t Drew’s car white? How long ago did this happen?”

  “Let’s see,” Mary said, glancing at her watch. “It’s eleven, so we’re coming up on two hours now. Amy Fitzgerald was reporting for her shift that began at nine, so the accident occurred at eight forty-five. When did you drop Drew off at the house, Carolyn?”

  “Around seven.” Carolyn wondered how they could stand around and speculate when Jude was fighting for her life. Something seemed to be physically pulling on her. She took several steps and then stopped. Did she really want to see Jude in that condition? She had to be drenched in blood. Although Carolyn had seen photographs of dismembered people, they’d all been strangers. Her head was swimming. She pushed past the detective. “I need to be with her. She needs—”

  “Wait,” Mary called out. “Amy said they’re getting Jude ready for surgery. She’s unconscious, so I don’t see what good it will do to go in there.” When Carolyn turned around, she continued, “The traffic officer handling this thinks Jude threw her left arm out when she saw the car coming toward her. The rest of her body was positioned to the rear of the pickup, which explains the lack of injuries.”

  “I’m going back to Drew’s,” Marcus said, turning and walking briskly out the exit doors.

  Carolyn headed to the reception desk. They said the only way she could see Jude was if she was the next of kin. She lied and told them she was Jude’s mother.

  Other than one with an elderly woman, the beds were empty. She walked toward a large glass-enclosed examination room where a group of nurses and doctors were assembled, almost knocking down Father Michaels. In his late sixties, the priest had baptized both John and Rebecca, as well as officiated at Carolyn’s wedding to their father.

  The nurses and doctors were shouting orders as they worked over Jude’s mangled body. She couldn’t get close enough to see anything other than a portion of her face. Her hair was caked with blood, and her eyes tightly closed. She had a tube down her throat and IVs in both arms.

  Father Michaels had already finished the anointing. He whispered to Carolyn to keep him apprised of Jude’s condition, and said he would say a special Mass for her.

  After he left, Carolyn tried her best not to cry, but the tears came anyway. First, poor Veronica and now her daughter. It was almost as if an evil entity was trying to wipe out an entire family.

  A young petite nurse with short blond hair and a turned-up nose rushed past her. She started to ent
er the room where Jude was when she saw Carolyn and stopped. “You must be Jude’s mother,” she said. “I’m Amy Fitzgerald. I was the person who reported the accident. I know how terrible this must be for you, but Dr. Martin does amazing soft tissue work. I know because he’s my father.” Another nurse gestured to her from inside the room. “We’re taking her upstairs now.”

  Carolyn looked around, expecting to see the kind of container they used to transport organs. “Where’s…her…arm?”

  “It’s already in the operating room. I’m sure the doctor will speak to you if you hurry. Go upstairs to the seventh-floor surgical unit. I’ll call now and tell him you’re on the way.”

  Carolyn followed the arrows to the elevator, punched the UP button, and stepped inside. This was Hank’s fault. He was the one who’d insisted they release Jude, when they were clearly aware of the dangers involved. No wonder he hadn’t shown up at the hospital, she decided, stepping out when the doors opened.

  She jogged down the hall until she saw the double doors for the surgical unit. There was a sign on the tiled floor that said she couldn’t pass beyond a red line. She saw the waiting room a few feet away, but her feet felt glued to the floor. Jude was already suicidal. How could she cope if she lost her arm?

  An attractive man who appeared to be in his mid-fifties, dressed in green surgical garb, burst through the doors. “Are you Mrs. Campbell?”

  When Carolyn nodded, he spoke abruptly, his eyes flitting here and there. She understood. He had an urgent job to do, and he wanted to get under way as soon as possible. When you had the skills to save lives, being polite wasn’t important. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t Jude’s mother, but now wasn’t the time.

  “Dr. Samuels will be assisting as well as Dr. Goldstein, an excellent vascular surgeon. Your daughter’s age, coupled with the fact that she didn’t incur any other major injuries, gives us a better chance of success.” Dr. Martin pulled his mask over his face, spun around, and rushed back through the double doors.