by Ace Collins
“A suicide is a suicide, and a small-time robbery is a smalltime robbery. I don’t see what this two-year-old evidence has to do with what we’re working on in the Evans case. But being here when we turn up nothing will probably make me look good in the governor’s eyes. He is pushing for me to follow up on anything Evans wants to do.
“This whole trip is a waste of time. Probably nothing on the DVD except some kid’s birthday party or ball game.”
Mitchell waved them over.
“I don’t know what this is supposed to be,” Mitchell said. “It’s pretty simple video, shot in poor light, and looks to have been done by a home video camera. It’s raw footage. No doctoring from what I can see.”
“Let’s see it,” Curtis said.
As if her voice was the cue he needed, the lab tech pushed a button on his mouse and images began flickering on the computer screen.
“Before you ask, I’ve done all I could to sharpen the image, but there are limits even with my software.”
Curtis studied the scenes playing out in front of her. In what looked like a barn, two men appeared to be arguing. Even though the image, as Bear had warned, was not sharp, she could easily see that the person on the right was Jonathon Jennings. He looked just like he did in the photo that accompanied the internet story Lije had pulled up a few nights before. His body language showed he was more than a little agitated. Though the image was blurry, it was still sharp enough to present a facial expression indicating his blood was nearing the boiling point.
Moony had been hired by Dean to secretly tape some of his meetings with Jennings. Obviously this was one of them. Had Moony caught the actual murder? Was that the shocking development?Is that why he was killed? Curtis wanted Bear to hit the fast-forward button. But that was not his style. He would want them to see every bit of what had been captured on the DVD.
“Okay,” Lije cut in, “I know Jennings. He’s on the right. Is the man on the left Micah Dean?”
“I don’t know,” Curtis said, “but note the time and date codes on the bottom right of the screen. According to the story we pulled up from the Democrat-Gazette, this video is from the night Dean was murdered.”
HILLMAN’S INTEREST EVER SINCE HE HAD ARRIVED had been peripheral. Now he could not take his eyes from the screen. His gaze was suddenly transfixed by what Bear was spinning on the screen.
The images showed the two men coming closer together, separated by only a yard, their body language indicating both were caught up in deep rage. Curtis fully expected to see Jennings pull a gun and shoot Dean. But at the moment the anger had grown to where that should have happened, a woman entered the barn.
“That must be Dean’s wife,” the tech explained as he paused the DVD. “You’ll note that she says something to her husband, then leaves. As she exits, watch Jennings.”
As she headed out the door, the real-estate agent shouted something while shaking his fist at Micah Dean. The agent continued his rant for what the time code showed were two more minutes before turning and rushing from the barn. A few seconds later, Dean followed him.
The tech again paused the video. As he did, Hillman offered an observation. “As you can see, the tape confirms the testimony of both Jennings and Mrs. Dean. The men could have come back, and that’s when the murder took place. We don’t know the exact time of the shooting. Besides, there’s no proof the time coding on the video is accurate. By the way, how was it that we didn’t have this surveillance video during the trial?”
“I guess no one knew about it,” Mitchell replied. “I just emailed the lab and had someone check the evidence log. There was nothing listed. You have to remember, the ABI did not participate in the crime scene investigation. That was all taken care of locally. And it was probably a rush job of looking at the scene. All we did was the lab work.”
“That’s right,” Hillman said. “Mrs. Dean told investigators at the time that her husband always met with people in his workshop, which obviously is what he called this old barn. She said he wouldn’t talk business in front of her because she wanted him to sell Swope’s Ridge and fix up their home property. That’s why he didn’t want her to meet anyone interested in buying the land. As I recall, a few locals told me that he couldn’t deal with her badgering.”
“You worked the case on the ground? ” Curtis asked. “I didn’t know we had any real contact with anyone. I thought all we did was the lab work.”
On the surface it appeared her remarks had not affected him. Hillman seemed unflustered, but there was a light sheen of sweat on his brow. When he answered her question, there was an uncharacteristic crack in his voice.
“Didn’t work it. I was in town on a fishing trip a few days after it happened. Had some friends give me their read.”
She wanted to ask who the friends were, but Mitchell jumped in with, “When I went through this the first time, I figured the person shooting the video must have stopped after everyone left the barn. But the video kept running. After a gap of almost a minute, I found more.” Mitchell could no longer contain his grin.
Anxiously, Curtis watched as Bear again clicked his mouse and everyone leaned in closer, so close that Hillman and Lije lightly bumped heads. Neither apologized or even acknowledged their quick meeting of the minds.
The video showed Dean reentering the barn. The cameraman had moved. The video was blurrier and was shot from farther away. At first Dean was alone, working on what appeared to be a metal detector. Then, with no warning, three men walked into the barn. It was obvious from his expression that Dean was surprised by their arrival.
At first the exchanges between Dean and his guests appeared to be civil. The man in the middle appeared to be the spokesman. He would talk to Dean, Dean would answer, and the man would then turn to the man to his left and say something. The third man, standing over on the right, said nothing.
The man on the left—his back always to the camera—started displaying more arm movements. Though he continued to speak only to the spokesman, it was clear the man’s anger was directed at Dean. Then Dean shouted two words and picked up a shovel and pointed the blade at the visitors. That’s when the spokesman pulled out a handgun. My Lord, Curtis thought, they were watching a murder.
Mitchell froze the image on the screen. “You can get a pretty clear look at one of the men here. The man in the middle, the spokesman. I can blow it up and clean it up a little. Still, it’s a bit fuzzy. He pushed a button and the face was pushed to a full frame.
Curtis studied the grainy image. “Hold it right there,” she ordered, reaching to her right and grabbing her own laptop. After waking it up, she pulled up the image of the man Jennings knew as Robert Smith. “I think we have a match.”
Mitchell nodded.
Lije smiled.
Hillman shrugged. “Looks pretty close.”
She glanced back at the tech. “Bear, any idea what was being said? ” Another skill useful to a video tech with the ABI.
“Because of the poor quality, no. I do think Smith was translating for the other man, based on the pattern of conversation.”
“So,” Curtis said, “we figure the man who has his back to the camera, the only one we can’t really see, might well be a foreigner.”
She almost blurted out that Jennings had heard Smith speak in German, but caught herself. That information came from death row, from Lije. She had not learned it from a case file. Knowing it was unwise to reveal that Lije had been to Varner, she decided to play it close to the vest. “If you’re right, Bear, I think this video confirms that the man on the left was speaking another language and that Smith is bilingual. Wish we knew what language. What else is on the tape?”
“Wait a second,” Hillman barked. “What about the guy we haven’t seen? Bear, you’ve watched the whole thing. Do we ever get a look at his face? This could be important. We need to get this back to the lab now and use your equipment there.”
“Boss, we never see his face, and I would be using the same computer and the
same program there. I know the quality isn’t great, and I wish we could see the guy’s face, but this is as good as it gets.”
When Hillman didn’t offer another protest, the lab tech clicked the mouse and the images on the screen again sprang to life. Initially it appeared that Smith was now ordering Dean to drop the shovel. Instead, Dean raised it higher. The man with his back to the camera then pulled what looked like a bundle of cash out of his pocket and tossed it on the table in front of Dean. Micah glanced at it, shook his head. He brought the shovel blade down, scooped up the cash with it, and flung it back toward the man. This action seemed to so enrage the man that he lost his composure. He took three quick steps over to Smith, grabbed the gun from his hand, and aimed it at Dean. It didn’t take a lip reader to see that Dean screamed, “No!” Even in the muddy images, they saw the man assumed to be a foreigner fire the gun at least twice. Dean dropped the shovel, fell to his knees, looked back up at his assailant, then crumpled to the floor. None of the visitors moved. Finally, Smith—looking stunned—took the gun from the foreigner and pushed him toward the door. The third man picked up the money and followed.
The video continued to roll, then the screen went black.
“ANYTHING ELSE ON THE DVD? ” CURTIS ASKED.
“No,” Mitchell replied.
This changed a lot of things and made the hidden bullet information even more important. Obviously Jennings was telling the truth. He was innocent.
Yet Hillman didn’t budge. Even when he looked at Curtis, he said nothing. He even appeared much more relaxed than he had been while watching the DVD. What was going on in his head? It appeared she wasn’t going to find out—not now, perhaps not ever. At least there was still time to correct a mistake.
“The state will be executing the wrong man in less than seven hours,” she said.
“It would appear,” Hillman replied.
“You need to call the governor.”
The director considered her words before turning to Mitchell. “Bear, give me the DVD.”
The disc popped out of the laptop and into the tech’s gloved fingers. After slipping it back into its plastic case, he handed it to Hillman, who dropped the evidence into his suit coat pocket.
“Will this play in any DVD player? ” Hillman asked.
“Should,” Mitchell assured him as he packed his gear back in his briefcase.
“Okay, I’ve got my car here. I can be back in Little Rock in two hours. The governor is out of state, but the attorney general will be at a dinner tonight. He’ll want to see this before he takes any action. Once he views what we just saw, we can stop the execution. We still have time. In a day or so, Jennings will be a free man. Thanks to each of you, justice will have been served and an innocent man will have been saved.”
Hillman smiled, looked at each of them, then added, “Curtis, take the rest of the material with you back to Salem. You can ship the box to the lab tomorrow, but go over the material again before you do. And again, thanks to each of you. Now, I’ve an important errand to run. Bear, will you be in the lab?”
“Should be there by the time you get to the dinner,” he said.
After the two men walked out, Lije took a seat at the table. Curtis figured he’d probably never seen anything like what they had just watched. “So one of those men in the video killed Moony Rivers? ” Lije asked.
“That’s what I’m guessing,” Curtis said. “They probably saw him rush away from the barn. He must have eluded them that night. They finally found him. I’m guessing they scared Moony and he either told them where the DVD was or went to get it for them. They then arranged his suicide and, just to be safe, took all his DVDs and tapes.”
Lije leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and tented his fingers together in front of his face, apparently lost in thought. Curtis eased into the seat beside him. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Why did they keep the shoe box and the DVD? Why not pitch them? Destroy them? After all, this was evidence that could be used against all of them.”
On the surface, there would seem to no longer be a need for the men to keep the DVD. But Curtis had enough experience in the thinking of criminals to at least present a sound theory. “In business, mistakes made by CEOs are often filed away by those working under them. The underling then has some bargaining power for positioning in the company. Crime works in much the same way. Smith didn’t shoot Dean. The killer was the foreign man who appeared to be Smith’s boss. When Smith and the other man got hold of the DVD, I’m guessing they opted to keep it because it convicted not them but the man at the top.”
“It was their safety net,” Lije said.
“That video may also have meant a bigger cut of whatever their boss was after.”
Her theory was logical, it was solid, and it sounded right when she said it. But was there more? Was there something else in Moony’s box that she had missed? “Well, I’ve got a shoe box full of stuff that seems to have nothing to do with the case, but I still need to take a closer look at it. So what do you say we get back to your house?”
“Sounds good to me,” Lije said as he got up from his chair. “Hey, isn’t that one of your briefcases?”
Curtis looked beyond him. “Bear’s good, but he’s often absentminded. That’s his. We can take it with us. I’ll give him a call later and tell him. He’ll at least buy me a meal for not informing Hillman.”
“Insurance, like the DVD?”
She grinned. “Exactly!”
IT WAS JUST PAST SEVEN, THE ROAD WAS ALL BUT empty, and this new twist in the case had given Lije a feeling of excitement. Jennings was innocent and would not be executed. His name would be cleared. But Lije didn’t know what all of this meant for Heather Jameson. There was no real connection. The DVD was two years old. Worse, it seemed to Lije that Hillman’s response to the video had removed any doubt Curtis may have had that he wasn’t on the up and up.
Thus, the trip to Mountain View, while it saved Jennings, had brought Lije no closer to freeing Heather or finding out who killed Kaitlyn. Nor had he learned anything about what was actually up there on Swope’s Ridge. He struggled with the convoluted elements and realized that he was all alone. The bond between Hillman and Curtis was once again strong. He could no longer trust the woman driving the car.
“Just when you think it can’t get any stranger, it does,” Curtis said, sighing.
He looked over at her. She seemed relaxed. Instead of being happy for her regained faith, he was angry. He wanted to shake her, force her to see Hillman as he was. Yet what could he say? Maybe the director wasn’t cutting corners or hiding anything. There was no real proof. Maybe Kaitlyn’s death had so skewed his thinking and vision that he was the one whose judgment was screwy. Maybe the murders of Dean and Moony weren’t connected to his case. Still, he knew he was right about Heather. He also felt sure something on the ridge was behind everything that was going on. But what? He and Curtis had been there. They had searched the place. Except for the railroad tracks, nothing. And that piece of track was probably never noticed by the German, so it too was a dead end.
Curtis suddenly straightened up and firmly grabbed the wheel with both hands. “That guy’s crazy!” she yelled.
“What guy?”
“Behind us!”
Craning his neck to see out the back window, he saw a four-wheel-drive GM truck speeding toward them. What was the driver doing? It was as if the truck was going to run right over them.
Curtis floored the accelerator and hissed, “If you know any prayers, you might want to start saying them. This car doesn’t have the police package. He’s gaining on us.”
Lije tried to see who was in the truck, but the window was tinted black. “I can’t see anything, but at this pace they’ll be running right over us.”
“I’m open to suggestions,” she snapped.
The truck now filled the whole back window. It was a repeat performance. The bright lights, a large vehicle on his tail—it was again the night Kaitlyn was killed.
It was even the same road. Someone wanted him dead, and if they continued to get enough chances, their wish would be granted.
The truck hit the back end of the car and the impact blew out the back window. Arkansas 9 took a dramatic right turn, but Curtis didn’t slow down. The car was now doing ninety around a curve marked for forty-five.
About a half mile ahead was a curve so sharp that it almost met itself coming. It was marked for thirty miles an hour, and if they missed the curve, he wasn’t sure they would make it. The car certainly wouldn’t.
The truck rammed the rear of the ABI car again. The impact must have pushed the car’s back bumper into the gas tank. Lije smelled gasoline, then flames were licking the back seat.
“Hang on,” Curtis said through clenched teeth.
She floored the gas pedal and pushed the car close to a hundred. He realized she had no intention of making the turn. Instead she kept the wheel straight, guiding the car to a spot between two thick pine trees. She’s crazy! She was going to kill them both before the other guys had the chance.
The Victoria left the road like a rocket, flying ten feet over the ditch, scraping the limbs of the evergreens, and then soaring above the grass-covered hill. Almost fifty yards later, the flaming car hit nose-first in a patch of blueberry bushes, flipped nose to tail three times before ending its short flight upside down against a centuryold elm. The fire was now curling up the backs of the front seats.
The passenger-side air bag had slapped Lije hard but cushioned the landing. As it deflated, he found himself hanging upside down, his seat belt holding him in place. He tried to unlock the restraint but couldn’t. It was jammed. As the fire grew closer, he looked at Curtis. She was either knocked out or dead. He was on his own.
He grabbed the armrest and tried to yank himself out of the unyielding belt. Using every ounce of strength that he could muster, he pulled at the latch and finally felt the belt give way. He fell onto the headliner. Coughing and unable to see, he reached up and felt for the strap that held Curtis in place. Now able to use both hands, he crouched beneath her, using his shoulder to push her against the seat, providing slack in the belt. Seconds later, she dropped down against him.