JP turned to another blank page on his yellow pad. “That leaves Wheeler.”
“Ah, where do I start with Willie Wheeler?”
“If this huge stack of files is any indication, this case has been going on for some time.”
“It first came into the system about two years ago with a ‘dirty home’ petition. Bob was appointed for the father, Willie Wheeler, and Regina Collicott for the mother, Debbie Wheeler. I represented the twelve children.”
“Twelve children?”
“Yep, and all the boys are named William and the girls are all named Debra. All of us involved with the case use the middle names of the children. Otherwise, it becomes way too confusing.
“Don’t tell me the parents call them William and Debra?”
“No, that would be silly.” Sabre couldn’t keep a straight face. “They call them Willie and Debbie.”
JP just shook his head and smiled. He looked back at the huge file. “This case has been going on for four years, you said?”
“Yes. We thought it would be a simple case. Get them to clean up the house and give them some services to teach them how to keep it clean, enroll them in a few parenting classes, and close the file.”
“I take it that didn’t work.”
“We soon discovered the case was riddled with drug and alcohol abuse, an obsessive belief in ghosts, mental instability, and some physical abuse—mostly ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ type.”
“Who’s the mental case?”
“Both parents, really, but Willie is crazier than a loon. A few of the children have some mental problems, too. But now there are only eight children left in the system. Four of the twelve are no longer minors; the oldest Willie just turned twenty; the twin Debbies are nineteen; and another Willie is eighteen now. There are a sixteen-year-old and a fifteen-year-old who are in the delinquency system, so we’re only dealing with five placements: two girls, eleven and thirteen; two boys, five and seven; and the nine-year old twins, Holly and Bradley. It’s a lot easier to try to find placements for six children than twelve, especially if you’re trying to keep some of them together.”
JP and Sabre continued to search through the cases looking for clues to the judge’s murder. Four hours later and after, a lot of reading, questions, and some bad Chinese take-out, JP said, “I’ll hit the streets first thing in the morning.”
Chapter 6
Tyson Doyle Cooper
The tall, lean Texan ravaged through each drawer that his wife, Robin, had in their home. Clothes were flung aside looking for clues. Drawers were emptied onto the bed, counters, and floors. He looked at every photograph and every piece of paper that she had once possessed in search of some clue as to where she might have gone. He loved his wife and he wasn’t one to give up easily. He would get her back no matter what he had to do.
He attacked a file drawer filled with bills, insurance papers, and old tax forms. He threw the old bills and the insurance papers in the trash. The last file contained every tax form she filed. He thumbed through it until he found her ex-husband’s name, John Phillip Torn, whose last address was in El Cajon, California. Ty knew from a previous discussion they once had that, unlike most women, she held her ex in high regard. In fact, she clearly stated that if she ever needed anyone, she knew she could count on JP.
Ty threw the papers down and pulled another file labeled, “Miscellaneous.” Among other things it held a newspaper clipping, a little over a year old, about an attorney named Sabre Orin Brown and her PI, JP Torn, involved in a high-profile case in San Diego Juvenile Court that made national news. “JP Torn,” he said aloud. He folded the article and tucked it in his pocket and then called his cousin Blake.
“I need you to rent a car for me, midsize, dark, something that won’t stand out. I’m taking a little trip.”
“Care to tell me where to?”
“It’s better that you don’t know.”
“Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”
“As long as it takes to get my wife back,” Ty said. “I’ll see you in about an hour. Oh, and make sure the car doesn’t have a GPS. I don’t want anyone tracking me. Besides, I have a portable one I can take with me if I need it.”
Ty took a quick shower, threw some clothes in a small suitcase, and opened his safe. He removed a .357 Magnum and a wad of hundred dollar bills. He counted out twenty-five of them. He put four of the bills in his wallet, folded five in half and put them in his shirt pocket, and rolled the rest and stuck them in his front pants pocket. He strapped on a shoulder holster, placed the gun in it, and carried his suitcase and computer to his SUV. Then he drove to Blake’s house.
***
Blake pulled into his yard just after Ty arrived and parked the dark blue Toyota rental car in front of the house. He stepped out of the car and walked up to Ty’s window.
Ty nodded toward the car. “Good choice,” Ty said. “Can I park my car in your back barn?”
“Sure. I’ll drive the rental back there and open the barn door for you.”
Blake reentered the Toyota and drove around the house. Ty followed him. They drove over a small hill and past some trees to an old building hidden from the home’s view. It stood next to a pile of rubble that was once a house; now, only the house’s foundation remained.
Blake jumped out of the car, leaving it running, unlocked the padlock, and pulled the barn door open. Ty drove inside.
“No one will ever know it’s here,” Blake said. “I’m assuming that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want. I don’t even want Big Jim to know. You understand me? I need the element of surprise.”
Blake slid the barn door closed and re-locked the padlock on it. “You can count on me, cousin. You just go get your woman and bring her back here where she belongs.”
“She’ll come to her senses once she sees me again. I know she loves me.”
Ty took the seat behind the wheel on the rental. “I’ll take you to pick up your car.” He reached in his front pocket and pulled out the five hundred dollars he had put there earlier and handed the bills to Blake. “This should cover the car and a little for yourself. If I’m gone too long and it costs more, I’ll get it to you.”
“No problem, cousin.” Blake was three years younger than Ty and as long as Ty could remember Blake had never called him anything but “cousin.” He looked up to his older relative and often patterned himself after him. Blake resembled Ty with the same build and same height. From a distance they could easily be mixed up. But Ty was better looking, better at sports, and way better with the ladies. Ty knew it. Blake knew it. Heck, everyone in town knew it. Ty always took him along and tried to teach him a few things, although Ty made sure Blake always knew his place. When Blake became a policeman, he gained a little more confidence, but he still looked up to Ty. Ty not only still had the looks and the charm, but he also had money. Blake couldn’t compete with that.
Ty dropped Blake at the car rental lot and drove away. He followed Hwy 20 until he reached Interstate 10 and headed west. It was nearly noon by the time he reached El Paso. He drove into the first Taco Bell he saw, ordered a burrito and a large Coke, made a pit stop, and took his food to go. He drove across the street to the Arco gas station and filled the tank. He shouldn’t have to stop until he reached Tucson. Now that he had some direction, he didn’t want to waste any time getting there.
The Toyota moved down the highway at eighty to eighty-five miles an hour, slowing down only when required. He passed through Las Cruces, Deming, and Lordsburg, all the while thinking about how he would approach his wife.
Most of the rage he felt at Robin had been replaced with a purpose. He knew where he had to go and he knew he had to find her. She’d be happy to see him. Maybe not at first, but he’d be able to reason with her once she saw how much he cared, when she realized he had left everything to find her.
Tucson was his second pit stop. He filled the gas tank, used the facilities, and grabbed some food, along wit
h a Monster Energy drink and a bag of sunflower seeds. A truck driver friend of his had once told him that he never drove without his bag of seeds. “It’s hard to fall asleep when yer popping sunflower seeds in yer mouth every few seconds.”
Ty rolled on down the highway at a good pace until he hit Yuma. He was tired, but determined. If he made it to San Diego tonight he could start looking for Robin first thing tomorrow morning.
“No one messes with Tyson Doyle Cooper and lives to tell it,” he said aloud.
Chapter 7
The Martinez Case
Children: Ray, age 2 (M), Falicia, age 5 (F), Jesse (Jesus), age 7 (M)
Parents: Father—Gilberto Martinez, Mother—Juanita Martinez
Issues: Abuse, Domestic Violence
Facts: Mother beat the father with a lamp in front of the children. Alcohol abuse by both parents
“What the hell is taking so long?” Juanita Martinez bellowed as her attorney, Bob Clark, walked out of Department Three with Sabre. Bob sat down next to his client; Sabre remained standing in front of her.
Bob said, “We’re waiting for your husband and his attorney.”
“Why aren’t they here?” She asked, throwing her hands out to the side, her palms up like she was the only one with a life.
“Mr. Wagner is in another hearing,” Bob said. In an attempt to divert her attention from her husband, Bob said, “I want you to tell Ms. Brown what you told me about the program you’re in.”
Juanita stood up abruptly, jerking her head up and back as she stood, almost hitting Sabre in the chin with her head. Sabre jumped back, but she caught a whiff of alcohol as she moved away from her.
“I want my kids back. They can come live with me at my sister’s house or I can go back home, but I need my kids.”
“What about what your kids need?” Sabre said, immediately wishing she had been a little more tactful, but she was irritated at the smell of booze on the mother and the near clunk to the head. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.
Juanita swung around and stepped into Sabre’s space. Though Sabre wore high heels, Juanita stood a good three inches taller than her. Juanita’s face was less than six inches from Sabre’s, a position intended to intimidate, which she had probably used many times before on her husband. “My kids need me, not some stupid foster home or their wimpy excuse for a father.”
Bob stood up, standing close to the two women. Sabre didn’t back away. “Your children need to be safe and to feel safe,” she said. She felt like she was standing up to the school bully. Bob placed a hand on each of their shoulders. Sabre turned and stepped away from Juanita.
Juanita jerked her shoulder away from Bob’s hand, and took one step closer to Sabre. “My kids are safe with me,” Juanita said louder. “I’d never hurt my kids.”
Sabre looked back at Bob. “I know you have no sense of smell, but the rest of us do. Tell your client it’s not a good idea to come to court reeking of alcohol.” Sabre walked away.
She had gone halfway down the hallway before she realized she was shaking. She wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or anger. Sabre didn’t like confrontations, but she was more sensitive than usual this morning. She was frustrated at herself for pushing the mother’s buttons. She knew how hard it was for these parents. Their lives were already a mess and just when it seemed like they had gone about as low as they could go, they came to juvenile court and lost their children. How can life sink any lower than that?
Sabre took a deep breath. She knew Juanita was in the wrong—drinking her breakfast and commenting about how she needs the kids rather than their needing her—but Sabre was the professional. She should have handled it better.
***
The Fisher Case
Child: Baby Girl Fisher (Newborn)
Parents: Father—Dale Fisher, Mother—Susan Fisher
Issues: Substance Abuse, Neglect
Facts: Baby born positive tox for methamphetamines
Sabre walked to the end of the hallway and on to Department Three. She spotted the parents on the Fisher case with their attorneys, Roberto Arroyo and Erica Serlis. Good, she thought, maybe they could complete this case. As she approached she heard a heated discussion among the four of them.
“I don’t give a flying...,” the father yelled.
His attorney, Erica Serlis, spoke over him as Sabre stopped in front of them. “Good morning, Ms. Brown.”
“Good morning. Are you ready on Fisher?” Sabre asked, looking first at Erica and then Roberto, ignoring what the father just said.
“Yes,” Roberto said.
The father, an African-American man named Dale Fisher, stepped through the huddle. His six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-thirty-pound sculpted body towered over Sabre. He said, “I’m ready to have my damn kid home. Are you the bitch keeping her from me?”
“Dale, we need to talk,” Erica said, stepping in front of him.
Sabre turned and walked into the courtroom. The last thing she heard before she closed the door was, “That bitch better give me my kid back.”
Anger filled the air at juvenile court today, she thought. She wondered if there had been a full moon last night. Sabre shook her head as she walked toward the counsel table only to encounter Deputy County Counsel, Marge Benson. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, Sabre thought.
“You okay?” Michael, the bailiff, asked.
Sabre set her files on the table and stepped toward Mike. “Sometimes this job just isn’t worth it,” Sabre said. “And this is one of those days.”
“So you heard about Dr. Heller?”
Sabre’s eyes widened. “What about her?”
“Another hit and run.”
“Oh, no. Is she…?”
“No, she’s alive but in critical condition.”
“What happened?”
“All I know is that she went back to her office last night and just as she was leaving, she was hit by a car. A woman who had been working late in a nearby office reported it.”
“Was it intentional?”
“It looked like it, although the witness didn’t actually see what happened. The witness was the only one left in the parking lot and she was on her way to her car. She heard the tires screeching and saw a car speeding away. She just thought it was someone showing off until she saw the doctor lying on the ground. She called 9-1-1 and they rushed Dr. Heller to the hospital. If she hadn’t been there, the doctor may not have been found for hours.”
Chapter 8
By 5:30 a.m. JP had already taken Louie, his one-year-old beagle pup, for a walk, started on his second cup of coffee, and was sorting through Sabre’s files. His concern for Sabre’s safety had escalated even more now that Dr. Heller had been attacked. The modus operandi was the same as the judge and that worried him. Although the police had no evidence to connect the two attacks, JP couldn’t shake the idea that Sabre was in jeopardy. And since Dr. Heller remained unconscious, he couldn’t obtain any information from her.
JP knew Dr. Heller had completed a psychological exam on Matt Durham. He wondered how many other times Sabre had used her services. He would go through the files to see which ones were tied to both Judge Mitchell and Dr. Heller. He read through his list: Durham, Fisher, Martinez, King, Tran, Howard, and Wheeler. After the name Durham, he wrote Dr. H. He picked up the Fisher file which contained only a petition, a two-page detention report, and a skimpy social study. No psychological reports had been written on either parent. Since the only child was an infant there was nothing on her, either. He set the Fisher file aside.
He picked up the Martinez file. Domestic violence always called for an evaluation. JP turned to the heading Psychological Assessments in the social study. Dr. Murphy was scheduled to evaluate the father next week. There was a report from Dr. Heller on the mother dated three days prior, and nothing was ordered for the children. He set the file aside. He would read the psych eval as soon as he finished his list.
The next file was King, which involved phys
ical abuse by the stepfather, Isaiah Banks. An evaluation had been ordered on the mother, but there was no indication it had been completed or who was performing it. An evaluation had been scheduled for yesterday by Dr. Heller on Isaiah Banks. He called Sabre.
“Do you know that Isaiah Banks was scheduled for a psych eval with Dr. Heller yesterday?”
“No, I didn’t realize that. Do you know if he went?”
“No, but I’ll see what I can find out.”
JP made a note to follow up. Then he went back to his stack of files. Howard, the shaken baby case, had reports for both parents, but neither was written by Dr. Heller. JP put a line through Howard. He went back and did the same for Fisher. He would concentrate on the cases that had a connection to both Judge Mitchell and Dr. Heller.
JP picked up the Tran file. Louie growled. JP laid it back down and walked to the sliding glass door. Louie yipped as he paced back and forth in front of the window. “What’s the matter, boy?” JP asked. “Do you want out?”
Louie barked, louder this time.
JP opened the door and Louie bounced across the yard as several small birds took flight. JP closed the door and left Louie to play. He refilled his coffee cup and then returned to the table to look at the Tran file.
Dr. Heller was scheduled two days ago to evaluate the mother, Kim-Ly Tran, but a written assessment was not available yet. JP made another note to follow up to see if the report had been written.
The last file was Wheeler. After sifting through several files, JP found reports on both parents. Dr. Heller had evaluated the father a little over a year ago. JP placed the folder on top of the Martinez file to read the complete report later.
JP looked at his list. He still had five strong suspects. He had eliminated Fisher, the case with the volatile parents, and Howard, the shaken baby case. It was just as well, he thought. If he had to come too close to the perpetrator on the Howard case, he wasn’t sure he could prevent his new leather Tony Lamas from stomping on someone’s head. JP hated child abusers, and a tiny baby, no less. As far as he was concerned there wasn’t a lower form of life on this earth. They were right up there with men who beat women.
The Advocate's Ex Parte (The Advocate Series Book 5) Page 4