Rules of Crime (2013)

by Sellers, L. J

  A moment later, Schak trotted over with his awkward short-legged gait. “I can’t find anything on Renaldi.”

  “Ever heard of Security First? Renaldi’s Facebook page says he owns it.”

  Schak shook his head.

  Jackson clicked off his tablet. “Let’s go check his home address.”

  His phone rang; he saw that it was River, and braced himself for bad news. “Jackson here. What’s happening?”

  “Another money drop is going down. We’ve got it handled but I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Did you hear from Renee? Is she alive?”

  “Yes. Anderson spoke to her.”

  “Thank god.” The knot in his stomach loosened a little, but the need to be in two places still tore at him. “I’d like to participate, but we need to question Jacob Renaldi. He could be a suspect or witness in Dakota’s death.”

  “Go pick him up. We’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll send Detective Quince to assist. Where do you need him?”

  “At the city bus station.”

  “Will you break the news about Dakota to Anderson for me?”

  “I did. He’s taking it hard.”

  “What father wouldn’t?”

  Jackson drove out Eighteenth Street, pushing the speed limit, with Schak following. They turned left at Churchill High School and started the slow climb up and across the hillside. New housing had been built at the Bertelsen junction but several lots in the little subdivision were vacant. The recession still had a grip on his community and the housing market had been slow to recover. Jackson hadn’t been out to this area since he and Renee had visited a nearby business to look at koi when they’d considered putting in a pond years ago. He passed a little market and slowed, figuring Renaldi’s place had to be along here somewhere. He spotted the address on a small sign and turned into a gravel driveway that led uphill into a grove of oak and fir trees. The driveway curved at the top and opened into a parking area in front of a newly constructed home. Jackson spotted buildings behind the house and a series of metal fences.

  As he climbed from the car, he heard the barking.

  Dogs. Lots of them. A jolt went up his spine and he grabbed for his weapon. Renaldi was either a breeder or a boarder and it was starting to look like he knew exactly what had happened to his girlfriend the night before. Jackson reached back in and grabbed his taser, thinking he might need it for Renaldi. If a dog came at him, he’d simply put a bullet in it.

  He watched the side yards for low fast movement and waited until Schak was at his side. There was nobody he’d rather be in a tight situation with.

  “Sounds like this could be our man.” Schak had his taser in hand too.

  “But what is Renaldi’s connection to Anderson and Renee?”

  “Maybe there isn’t one.” Schak shrugged. “It might be just a tragic case of bad timing.”

  Jackson had been thinking the same thing. “Ready?”

  “You know I am.”

  They strode up the cement walk, eyes darting to the paths leading to the kennels behind the house. The barking grew louder with each step.

  Five feet from the front porch, the door flew open and Renaldi yelled, “You need an appointment!”

  “No we don’t!” Schak called back.

  “Detectives Jackson and Schakowski, Eugene Police.” Jackson noticed the dog standing silently behind Renaldi’s right side. Its head was level with the suspect’s belt and its hungry eyes were trained on Jackson. What the fuck kind of dog was it?

  “Step out here but leave the dog in the house.”

  “No. She stays with me.”

  Jackson visualized Dakota’s shredded face and rage flared in his veins. “That thing is no match for two armed police officers. Do it a favor and step outside.”

  “What is this about?” Renaldi hadn’t budged.

  “Dakota Anderson is dead, and we’d like to ask some questions.”

  Renaldi’s shoulders flinched but his expression didn’t change. “Dakota’s dead? How?”

  “We’ll ask the questions.” Jackson suddenly became aware of how private the property was, an ideal location for keeping someone hostage. “We’d like to search for a missing woman as well.”

  “There’s no one here but me and the dogs, and you’re not searching without a warrant.”

  Jackson weighed the situation. They had no real reason to believe Renee was here. They might get a warrant to examine the dogs in connection with Dakota’s death, but he couldn’t justify barging in to look for Renee. Not yet.

  “Then you’re coming with us.” Jackson raised his voice just enough to be intimidating.

  Schak stepped forward, taser held out.

  “Keep your hands in front and come out of the house.” Jackson moved forward with his taser drawn as well, and his other hand on his gun.

  Neither had to make good on the threat. Renaldi cursed under his breath, held his face in his hands for a moment, then gave the dog a command. He stepped outside and locked the door, then moved slowly down the steps toward them.

  Jackson said, “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  “There’s no need to cuff me. I’ll come peacefully and tell you what I can.”

  “Give me the knife you’re carrying.” Jackson instinctively knew he was that kind of guy.

  Renaldi passed him a large fold-lock hunting knife. “I want it back.”

  “You’ll get it. Climb into the backseat and sit in the middle. I’ll lock you in for the ride downtown.”

  Once Renaldi was in the car, Schak asked, “What about the dogs?”

  “We need a court order to take impressions of all their teeth. We’ll leave ’em here and come back with a county vet and animal control specialist.”

  “Did you see the size of that monster? I think it’s a mastiff, maybe mixed with something else, like a rottweiler.”

  Jackson repressed a shudder. “I dread searching this place.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Tuesday, January 10, 1:45 p.m.

  “Do we have a plan?” Schak stopped outside the interrogation room where Renaldi had been waiting for ten minutes.

  “As much as I want him to tell us about Dakota’s death, whether it was homicide or criminal negligence, we can’t forget Renee. She’s still alive and this jackass might know where she is.” Jackson gulped his coffee, hoping the jolt of energy would hit him soon. It was too early to feel tired. “I’ll question Renaldi about Dakota, then I want you to jump in with a question about Renee every once in a while. See if we can catch him off guard.”

  “Do we have any leverage?”

  “Just the dog connection and the phone text arranging to meeting Dakota. As far as we know, he’s the last person to see her alive.”

  “So we act like we know he’s guilty, offer him a plea?”

  “Yes. And hopefully search his place while he’s here in custody.”

  Jim Trang, the assistant DA, was working on a warrant for the property and subpoenas for the dogs’ forensics. Now that two detectives had been laid off, they took whatever help was offered by the DA’s office or even from volunteers.

  Jackson nodded. “Let’s do this.”

  Schak went in first, knowing Jackson needed to sit near the door. Even so, the closet-size room squeezed him, like he had a rubber band around his chest.

  Jackson pulled out his recorder, clicked it on, and identified all the participants. A recessed video camera was also in use but he preferred not to point that out. He met Renaldi’s eyes. “How well do you know Dakota Anderson?”

  “We’ve been dating a few months.”

  “Were you lovers?”

  “Of course.”

  Jackson didn’t understand why smart young women with college degrees slept with dog-owning thugs with shaved heads and tattoos. He prayed his daughter would never succumb to the bad-boy attraction. “Did you see Dakota last night?” He almost hoped Renaldi would lie and give them some leverage.

>   “Yes. She came over after she left work.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Around ten thirty.”

  “What happened then?”

  “We had sex and she left an hour later.”

  Jackson made note of the times. “Why did she leave?”

  Renaldi closed his eyes. “Will you tell me what happened to her?”

  “I think you know. Why don’t you tell me?”

  “I have no idea. Dakota was upset about her job and the whole kidnapping thing. She wanted to drink and talk but I needed to get some sleep so I could get up early for work. So I asked her to leave.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I breed protection dogs and do part-time construction work. We finished drywalling a house this morning.”

  Jackson needed to know more about both, but the mention of construction bothered him. “Which company?”

  “Evergreen.”

  A shiver ran up his spine. “So you know Daniel Talbot.”

  “He owns the company, but I don’t see him much.”

  Jackson took a moment to process the information. Daniel Talbot had been their primary suspect. He’d lost money because of Ivan Anderson and had sent threatening e-mail. What if Renaldi’s relationship with Dakota was all part of his boss’ retaliation plan?

  In the silence, Schak jumped in. “When was the last time you saw Renee Jackson?”

  “Who?”

  Schak slammed the table. “Don’t bullshit me. You know Ivan Anderson’s fiancée.”

  “Not really. Dakota told me she was kidnapped, but I didn’t pay attention to her name.”

  “When did you meet Renee?”

  “I didn’t. Dakota never brought me home to her family. We don’t have that kind of relationship.” A little smirk in his expression. “I did meet her dad once accidentally.”

  Jackson resisted the urge to smack him. “How did you meet Dakota?”

  “At a friend’s party.”

  Jackson was making connections. “Was it your boss, Daniel Talbot?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Did you know how Talbot felt about Ivan Anderson?”

  Renaldi shrugged. “I knew he was pissed off and bitter.”

  “But you dated Anderson’s daughter anyway. How did Talbot feel about that?”

  A quick jerk of his head. “He didn’t know.”

  “I think he did. I think he asked you to start dating Dakota to pump her for information.”

  “No.” Renaldi scowled. “Dakota came on to me. And except for that party, I don’t really see Daniel Talbot. I work for Darrell Jarvis, the contractor.”

  Schak jumped back in. “We think you helped Talbot kidnap Renee. Tell us where she is and we’ll cut you a deal.”

  “This is crazy. My girlfriend is dead and you won’t tell me how.” Renaldi shoved his chair back and stood. “And you think I kidnapped her father’s girlfriend, a woman I didn’t even know.”

  Before he finished, Jackson and Schak were both on their feet. “Sit down!” they yelled in unison.

  Renaldi took a series of rapid breaths and pressed his thumbs to his temples. After a moment, he sat. “How did she die? Why are you questioning me?”

  Jackson was torn. He’d hoped the suspect would reveal crime-specific information, but that hadn’t happened. If Renaldi wasn’t involved, the man had a right to know how his girlfriend had died. Finally, Jackson said, “She was mauled by a dog, or dogs, in Wayne Morse Park.”

  “Oh god.” Renaldi squeezed his eyes shut again. “It wasn’t my dog. I would never—” He broke off and balled his hands into fists. “Dakota and I were mostly friends. Fuck buddies. But I cared about her. She was kinda messed up but that’s what made her special. I had nothing to do with her death. I’ve never been in that park.”

  “What do you mean by messed up?”

  “Her mother and her stepmother both died, so she had issues.”

  “Like what?”

  “She was a shopaholic. Like she was trying to fill some void inside her. I think sex was like that for her too.”

  “You’re saying Dakota had multiple partners?”

  “We both did.”

  Schak cut in. “Were you screwing her father’s fiancée, Renee?”

  “No.”

  “Did you help your boss kidnap her?”

  “No.”

  Jackson took back the questioning. “Do you know where Talbot might hold her for ransom?”

  Renaldi cocked his head. “He has a skiing cabin up at Gold Lake.”

  “We’ve been there. What about a construction site?”

  “Seems unlikely. They’re all in development.” Something registered in his eyes.

  Jackson said, “You thought of a place. Where?”

  Renaldi nodded. “It’s an underground safe room in a house we’re building on Skyridge. The work on the main house has stopped for the winter because the owners are worried about mold, but the underground room is mostly finished.”

  “Address?” Jackson knew better than to feel hopeful. Renaldi was just trying to shift the focus off himself.

  “It’s near the top of Skyridge on the left, but it may not even have an address yet.”

  “If we find her there, we’ll have a lot more questions for you.”

  Schak stood, walked around the table, and squatted next to Renaldi. “We know you put the dog on Dakota. It’s only a matter of getting teeth impressions and DNA. Once they match any of it to her wounds, you’re going down. So tell us your version. Did Dakota find out you grabbed Renee Jackson? Did you have to silence her?”

  Renaldi blinked like a man in a dust storm. “I breed and sell protection animals, so there are aggressive dogs out there that are closely related to mine. DNA could be misleading.”

  “We’ll leave that to the experts.” Jackson had no idea if they could get a match with canine teeth or DNA that would hold up in court. He’d never handled anything like it. “Where were you last night between midnight and two a.m.?”

  “I was at home, sleeping. I told you. I had to work this morning.”

  “Can anyone verify that you were home?”

  “No.” Renaldi’s tone relayed his irritation. Or was it fear?

  “Where did you work?”

  “At a new house on Monroe Street, near Twenty-Eighth. We finished the drywall and knocked off early.”

  “Who’s your supervisor?”

  “Darrell Jarvis. Like I said.”

  “What’s his phone number?”

  Renaldi rattled it off. “You’re wasting your time.”

  Jackson jotted down the number, not even sure he would make the call. They needed to find the dog. Or maybe the crime techs would get lucky and find something Renaldi had left at the scene. “I’d like a list of customers who’ve bought dogs from you.”

  “I can’t do that. They have a right to privacy.”

  “A judge may not agree.” Jackson felt restless and eager to escape the tiny room. “Why not cooperate with us? Don’t you want to know what happened to Dakota?”

  “Yes, but I can’t let you ruin my business.”

  “Why do you train your dogs to attack and kill?”

  “I train some to protect.” He emphasized the word protect. “I don’t have the time or desire to work with them all. Most of my customers hire a trainer for their specific needs after they’ve bought the dog.”

  “But you have dogs on your property that will kill on command.”

  “Just Tesla, my own protection dog.”

  “When was the last time you commanded her to attack?”

  Renaldi shifted in his seat. “Tesla has never hurt anyone.”

  Frustrated with the lack of a breakthrough, Jackson struggled for a new line of questioning. “How did Dakota feel about your dogs?”

  “She liked Tesla but was never around any of the animals out back.”

  “Do you have other animals besides dogs?”

  “No. Why would
I?”

  “Let’s take a break. Would you like a soda?”

  “Just water. I don’t poison my body with sugar and chemicals.”

  Good for you, Jackson thought, getting up.

  Out in the hall, he turned to Schak. “Will you call Trang and see if he has a warrant yet? I’d like to keep Renaldi in custody until we search his place. He has to be involved in Dakota’s death somehow.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Tuesday, January 10, 11:42 a.m.

  Twenty thousand dollars was such a small pile of money, River thought, as she handed the backpack to Anderson. She’d bundled the cash into rubber bands back at the house, and the two stacks of bills would have fit into the average purse. Instead they were in the bottom of a small backpack as directed.

  Why had the kidnapper offered to take so much less the second time? River wondered. Was he worried about getting stiffed if he asked for the whole hundred grand again? Or was he just in a hurry and not willing to wait for Anderson to beg or borrow the rest?

  Anderson gripped the strap like a drowning man. Her heart went out to him. Hours earlier he’d learned of his daughter’s death and now he was going out again, hoping to save his fiancée. The past few days had probably robbed him of five or ten years of his life. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. “We have no idea what he’ll want you to do next.”

  “I have to.”

  “Is your radio on?”

  Anderson touched his earpiece and nodded.

  River looked over at Agent Fouts and the group of three men standing by. Except for Detective Quince, they wore casual clothes, jeans and sweatshirts or zippered sports jackets. River was sporting a maroon velour tracksuit, something she referred to as street clothes for undercover work, but that she happily wore at home. She suspected they still wouldn’t quite blend with the bus-riding crowd in Eugene, which tended to be a mix of blue-collar workers, students, homeless people, and drug dealers. For the moment, they were in a parking lot near the downtown bus station. The new four-story brick library loomed nearby and the transit station across the street took up an entire city block. Both entities seemed overbuilt for the size of the town, but after living in San Diego and Portland, Eugene felt rather Podunky. River checked her watch: 11:50.