The story was so embellished Jeffrey wondered how many times it had been repeated. He tried to get to the important part. 'So you saw the car burning on the field?'
'Right,' Valentine confirmed. 'Last night was dark as pitch, but the flames were high, and I could see somebody sitting on the bleachers. I walked over, thinking it'd be some stupid kid gone out for a joyride, and I see Miss Adams – your detective. She was sitting on the bottom bleacher, soot and stuff all over her. Had her foot propped up on a gas can.'
'Was she burned?'
'Nah, but she was beat something awful,' the man answered. 'Bruised down the side of her face like she'd been punched, blood coming out of her mouth, wheezing something horrible. Me, I've never seen anything like that before, but maybe I've been watching too many Lifetime movies with the wife, because the first thing that pops into my mind is, "this woman just torched her husband." You know, like he'd hauled off and hit her one too many times and she just snapped' – he snapped his fingers – 'and so I sat beside her, tried to get her to talk.'
Jeffrey asked, 'What did she say?'
'Nothing,' the man admitted. 'I tried every trick I could think of to draw her out, but she wouldn't speak.'
Jeffrey could imagine what Lena's reaction would have been to Valentine's various 'tricks.' The man was lucky she hadn't laughed in his face.
Valentine continued, 'Wasn't until this morning when we did a search of the school parking lot and found her Celica that we got her name. I found her badge in the glove compartment and figured, hey – what's it hurt to give 'em a call?'
Jeffrey skipped over the fact that the sheriff had waited until daylight to search the parking lot. 'She wasn't carrying any ID on her?'
'No, sir. Didn't find anything on her except a tube of ChapStick – the license was in the Celica and the badge was in the glove box like I told you. Nothing else in her pockets, nothing hidden in her . . .' His voice trailed off, and he blushed as he finished, 'places.'
'No weapon?' In addition to her Glock, Lena sometimes carried a large folding knife in her back pocket, but Jeffrey wasn't going to share that with the sheriff right now.
'No, sir. No weapons of any kind.'
'Was anyone else injured or on the scene?'
'Nope. Just the victim in the Caddy and her on the bleachers.'
'Did she have gasoline on her? Any kind of accelerant on her shoes or clothes?'
'Nope. But the gasoline can was empty.'
'Did she have matches or a lighter?'
'Nothing except the ChapStick, and I cranked it all the way up to make sure what it was and it was ChapStick all the way through.'
'Were her fingerprints on the gas can?'
'Can't really tell. It's an old can – lots of rust. We sent it to the GBI lab in Macon, but I can guess you're familiar with their time frame.'
Jeffrey nodded. Unless a case had high priority, the lab probably wouldn't have time to process the gas can for at least six months.
He tried to be polite with his next question. 'No offense, but what did you charge her with?'
'Not much,' Valentine admitted. 'I'm gonna shoot straight with you, Chief, what with us both being on the job and all. We don't have a lot on her, but I think you'll agree the circumstances are pretty suspicious, plus with her not helping us out by answering any questions.'
Jeffrey had to admit that with a noncompliant person found at the scene of a homicide, he probably would have done the same thing. He repeated, 'What did you charge her with?'
Valentine had the grace to look embarrassed as he counted off on his fingers, 'Obstruction of justice. Impeding an investigation. Failure to produce identification when asked.'
Jeffrey nodded again. He could see Lena doing all of that. Hell, he couldn't count on his own hands the number of times she'd impeded investigations back in Grant County – and those had been cases she was working on.
He asked, 'Has she been arraigned?'
'The judge came over to the hospital this morning.'
Jeffrey did a quick count of the money he had in his checking account. His paycheck wasn't due for another week. He would have to wait for the bank to open in the morning so that he could move the money from his savings and take out the cash from an ATM machine. He asked, 'Where do I post bail?'
'Bail was denied.'
Jeffrey tried to hide his shock, but then he figured out very quickly how this had probably worked. The sheriff was new to the job, but he'd managed to get a judge in his pocket. Still, Jeffrey tried to make the man see logic. 'You think she's a flight risk? She was born here. She has ties to the community. She's been a distinguished officer on my force for over a decade.'
'I understand that.'
'You can't put a cop in jail. They'll tear her to pieces.'
'She's not in the jail,' Valentine reminded Jeffrey. 'She's in the hospital.'
'All I can tell you is you better have a damn good reason why you're keeping her in custody.' Jeffrey could play this game, too. He'd been on the job a lot longer than Jake Valentine. Fuck the local yokels. Jeffrey had state judges in his pocket.
Apparently, Valentine wasn't as stupid as he looked. 'I had nothing to do with that, Chief. I'll swear on a stack of Bibles. Not my fault she wouldn't plead.'
'What does that mean?'
'It means what I said before. Your detective's not making a peep.'
Jeffrey finally understood. 'She hasn't said anything since you found her on the field?'
'No, sir. Not one word. Didn't ask for a drink of water or try to find out how her medical condition was doing or when she was gonna get out of here. She wouldn't talk to her court-appointed lawyer, wouldn't answer the judge when he asked if she was guilty or not guilty. She just laid there in the bed staring at the ceiling. Avery was so annoyed – Avery is the judge – that he denied bond and ordered a psych evaluation.'
Jeffrey felt his mind reeling. Lena could certainly be obstinate, but her silence made no sense. Someone had died in that fire. How could she sit there watching the car burn?
Sara finally spoke. 'Maybe her throat was damaged during—'
'Doc said there's no medical reason she can't talk,' Valentine interrupted. 'Problem is, she won't even make the effort.'
Jeffrey still could not see the logic behind Lena's silence. 'What did the shrink say?'
'She wouldn't talk to him, either,' the sheriff answered. 'Far as I know, she hasn't said one dang thing this whole time. Just lays there staring at the ceiling. I even tried to get Darla to draw her out. Nothing.'
'Could be post-traumatic stress? Shock?' Jeffrey suggested.
Valentine looked as dubious as Jeffrey felt.
'Did you tell her I was coming?'
'Nope. Thought it'd be best to let her sit and stew for a while.'
Jeffrey tried to put himself in the other man's shoes, to look at the case from all angles. 'Do you have an ID on the corpse?'
'The car was too hot to tow off the field until this afternoon.'
'Has your coroner seen this kind of thing before?' Jeffrey asked. The burned corpse was crucial; the body was the only thing that might offer an explanation of what had happened on that football field. In Georgia, the job of county medical examiner was an elected position usually held by the local funeral director or anyone else who wasn't afraid to touch a dead body. The fact that Sara, a medical doctor, had taken the job in Grant County was very rare. There was no telling who the local body handler was.
Valentine offered, 'Fred Bart's a good man. He'll let me know anything he finds. I gotta say he wasn't too optimistic. Body like that – it's hard to even say whether it's a man or a woman, let alone how they died.' He shrugged, gave a goofy smile. 'What am I saying? I'm sure you know how this works.'
Valentine hadn't exactly answered the question. Jeffrey tried to tread lightly as he fished for Bart's qualifications. 'Sara's the coroner back home. She's a pediatrician, too.'
'Oh.' Valentine shifted away from the shelves, flashed a smile a
t Sara. 'That's nice. My wife's a schoolteacher. All she does is correct my grammar and tell me to sit up straight.'
Jeffrey had more questions, but something told him Valentine wouldn't answer them. 'What made you call me?'
'Common sense,' Valentine answered. He had seemed ready to leave it at that, but then he added, 'I'll be straight with you, Chief. Your detective's just a little thing. Doesn't seem like she'd hurt a fly. I can't see her doing this. There's gotta be something more to the story. I figured if I couldn't get it out of her, maybe you could.' He paused. 'At the very least, you can save us a lot of time and money if you'd find out who's in that car.'
Jeffrey doubted he would prove to be any help, but he said, 'All right. Let me see her.'
Again, Valentine let Jeffrey and Sara go first. Sadly, Jeffrey guessed this was more because the younger man's parents had always told him to respect his elders than out of any deference to rank.
As they walked toward Lena's room, Jeffrey tried to process what the sheriff had just told them. The facts were simple. Lena had been found at a crime scene where a car was torched and a body was burned beyond recognition. Why was she on the football field? What connection did she have to the dead person? Who had caused the explosion? He heard Sara's earlier question echo in his mind: What has she done now?
Despite Valentine's newness to the job, Jeffrey could not fault the man on the arrest. Based on the circumstances, Jeffrey would've arrested Lena, too. She was an obvious suspect, and her silence wasn't helping matters. Not that Lena had ever fostered a reputation for being helpful.
He could still remember the first time he'd seen her. She was in the police academy gymnasium, hanging halfway up the climbing rope, determined to make it to the top even though she was sweating so hard that her hands could barely keep their grip. No one else was around – this was something Lena was doing on her own time – and Jeffrey had watched her trying and failing to reach the top of the rope for nearly half an hour before he went to the commandant's office and asked for her file.
The mayors of the three cities that comprised Grant County had brought in Jeffrey as police chief to shake things up, to help force the department into the twenty-first century. Lena was the first non-secretarial woman hire in the town's history. Jeffrey had pinned everything on her, determined he had made the right choice even when sometimes the facts said otherwise. When Frank Wallace, his most senior detective, had announced a few weeks ago that he was finally going to take retirement at the end of the year, Jeffrey had taken the news in his stride, thinking Lena was ready to tackle some added responsibilities. Had he been wrong about her? In the nearly fifteen years that he'd known her, had Lena been living some kind of lie?
There had to be a reason for all this. Every crime had an explanation, a motivation. Jeffrey just had to find it. The sheriff was right about one thing. Lena was not a cold-blooded killer.
'Here we go.' Valentine indicated a closed door, and Jeffrey could plainly see Lena's name on the sign. She was at the back end of the hall in a corner room. If Jeffrey and Sara hadn't followed that stupid blue stripe off the elevator, they would've found Lena without having to go through Cook.
Jeffrey suggested, 'Maybe Sara and I should go in alone.' If Lena was going to talk, it certainly wouldn't be in front of the man who had arrested her.
'Well ...' Valentine began, scratching his chin. He took his time mulling it over. Down the hall, they heard the elevator doors ding. Probably Cook going out for more crackers.
'Let's just go inside,' Jeffrey insisted, tired of waiting for the sheriff.
Like the hallway, the room was deep in shadow. Lena lay in bed just as Valentine had described: on her back, motionless. Velcro bands attached her wrists to the bed rails. Her hands hung limply, fingers brushing the mattress. Her eyes were closed, but Jeffrey did not know if she was sleeping or biding her time. She was just as battered-looking as the young sheriff had said. Blood crusted her bottom lip. The skin was scraped off down the side of her cheek. The dark bruises on her face must have stopped them from trying to wipe off the blood and soot; she looked filthy, beaten down.
Jeffrey felt speechless. He was glad when Sara stepped forward, asking, 'Lena?'
Lena's head snapped around in surprise, eyes widening as she saw Jeffrey and Sara in the room. She bolted up in bed, jerking against the restraints as if she felt cornered, threatened. The bedsheets tangled around her feet as she pushed against the mattress, backing as far away from them as she could.
'No,' Lena whispered. 'You can't be here. No.'
'Well, now.' The sheriff's sloppy grin indicated that he was pleased with himself. 'I knew you could talk.'
'No,' Lena repeated, ignoring everyone in the room but Sara. Her voice was venomous. 'Get out. Get out now.'
Jeffrey tried, 'Lena—'
All her hatred seemed to focus on Sara. 'Are you stupid? I said get the fuck out of here! Go!'
Sara's mouth opened in surprise. Jeffrey felt a white-hot fury spark inside him, and he spoke through clenched teeth when he ordered, 'Lena, back off.'
'Get out!' she screamed, jerking against the restraints. 'Get her out of here!' she begged the sheriff. 'I'll tell you whatever you want. Just get her out!'
Valentine seemed at a loss. He indicated the door with a nod of his head. 'Maybe she should—'
'No,' Sara insisted. She spoke so quietly that Jeffrey wasn't sure she'd actually said the word until she turned to the two men, asking, 'Could you give us a moment alone?' She asked Jeffrey, 'Please?'
Sara did not wait for an answer. She slipped Lena's chart out of the holder at the foot of the bed and studied it as she waited for them to leave. Jeffrey could tell she was forcing herself to do this, that if she could snap her fingers, she would've been anywhere but here. He just wasn't sure why she wanted to stay.
For the first time since he'd entered the room, Lena spoke directly to Jeffrey. 'Get your fucking wife out of my face. I don't want her here.'
He locked eyes with her, willing the young woman to understand that there would be lasting consequences for her words. Jeffrey could put up with a lot of bullshit, but he would be damned if an officer on his force would get away with trashing his wife.
Sara looked up from Lena's chart. 'It's okay. Just give us a few minutes.'
Despite his better judgment, Jeffrey managed, 'We'll wait in the hall.' He went to the door and held it open for the sheriff. Valentine stared at Lena for a few seconds, undecided. Finally, he shook his head, making it clear he wasn't happy with his choice, and walked out of the room.
In the hallway, Jeffrey let the door close behind him, then stood in front of it – not exactly blocking the way but close enough.
'So.' Valentine rested his hand on the butt of his gun. He obviously was itching to go back into the room. 'That what you expected to happen?'
Of all the scenarios Jeffrey had considered, this had not been one of them. He asked Valentine, 'Where's Lena's uncle? Hank Norton?'
Valentine was staring at the door as if he wanted to bust through it.
Jeffrey pressed, 'He's Lena's next of kin. Didn't you contact him?'
Valentine nodded. 'Wasn't there.'
There were muffled sounds through the door, but no yelling that Jeffrey could hear. He indicated to the sheriff that they should walk up the hallway a bit. 'You went by Hank's house?'
Valentine stayed where he was. 'I can't find him anywhere. I went to his house last night, then again this morning. His bar's been closed. There was something happened a few weeks ago—'
'Cook told me about that.'
'Yeah,' Valentine said, a suspicious look crossing his face. The man obviously did not trust his deputy. Jeffrey wondered how they got any work done. The force had to be a small one, with probably no more than five deputies in all. Parking Donald Cook at the hospital was one way of keeping his enemy at arm's length, but Jeffrey was going to take a wild guess and say that the old-timer had a lot more friends in uniform than his young boss.
Jeffrey asked, 'Any idea who it might be in the Caddy?'
'There are no missing persons that we know of. No reports on any suspicious characters hanging around. No Escalades reported missing. It's a puzzle.'
At least he hadn't been sitting on his hands all night. 'What about Hank Norton?'
'He drives a Mercedes that's probably older than I am.'
'No.' Jeffrey shook his head. 'Do you think maybe it's his body in the car?'
Valentine shrugged. 'All's I know is a DNA test is gonna blow half my wad for the quarter.'
His budgetary concerns were valid, but Jeffrey wondered again why Valentine wasn't more eager to nail down the victim's identity. Maybe he already had some idea, but he wasn't yet willing to share the information.
'I know you said there weren't any accelerants on her clothes, but did forensics find anything on her shoes?'
Valentine took his time answering. 'She was wearing those what-do-you-call-its, with the short heel.'
'Pumps?' Jeffrey asked, thinking it was odd that Lena was wearing anything dressier than tennis shoes on her day off.
'Right, pumps. My wife wears those shoes hippies and lesbians wear. You know, with the cork? I don't know what they're called, but she swears by them.'
Jeffrey tried to get him back on subject. 'Did they find anything on the shoes?'
'Just soot, dirt, the usual. Didn't seem like there was any need to send them to the lab.' Valentine tilted up his chin, asked, 'You think I should?'
Jeffrey shrugged. Though, if it was up to Jeffrey, he'd spend money on identifying the victim before worrying about Lena's shoes, but that hadn't been the sheriff's question. 'Up to you.'
Around the corner, he heard the elevator ding again. Jeffrey tried to think of something to keep them out in the hallway a little longer, wanting to give Sara as much time as he could. 'Where's one?'
'What's that?'
'The elevator,' he said. 'The buttons only go to two and three. Where's the first floor?'
'Basement,' Valentine told him. 'Crazy, ain't it?'
A Grant County Collection Page 86