Gorman sat at a table in a small pale-green room inside the jail. He wore forest-green scrubs and jail-issued slipper socks. Except for the handcuffs, he looked like a low-paid caregiver with a bad attitude. The inmate shook his head when Jackson set his tape recorder on the table.
“I’m not confessing to anything. I was released yesterday. I went to get my son, who was returned to my custody last Friday. This kidnapping charge is bullshit.”
Jackson waited to see what else Gorman would say without prompting.
“I didn’t kill that girl either. This is all bullshit.” Gorman slammed his cuffed hands on the table. “If the fucking state would just mind its own business and leave my family alone, none of this would have happened.”
“None of what? You mean Raina ending up dead?”
Gorman clamped his jaw, clearly regretting his last words.
“Why don’t you tell me your side of it? I know Raina was at your home. I know that the two of you argued and that you chased her. Did she provoke you?”
Gorman tried to calculate what Jackson knew and how he knew it. His eyes worked overtime, while his jaw stayed locked.
“Josh told us he heard you talk about moving Raina’s dead body.”
Gorman flinched, then shook his head. “No. No. No. We were talking about a dog. One of our dogs died last week and we buried her in the woods. Cindy got worried about the body being too close to the well. That’s all there is to it. Josh is a kid. He’s confused. He’s mixing up things that don’t have nothing to do with each other.”
Jackson remembered the Boxer coming out of the trees with the human bone in its mouth. What else was buried out there in the woods behind the Gormans’ trailer? “So you admit now that Raina was there? That you argued? Josh says he saw her come to the door. Tell me what happened. Let’s get your side of it nailed down.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Gorman looked like a man caught in a trap, getting ready to chew off his arm to free the rest of his body. “Raina wanted to see Josh. It was not a good time. I asked her to leave and she refused.”
“Josh says you threatened to kill her.”
“No.” More wild head shaking. “It wasn’t like that. I was upset, I admit. The little bitch kept talking about custody, like she had the power to take Josh away again. I said if that happened, it would kill me.”
A smooth, skilled liar. Not many low-life thugs could pull that story off. Time to mix it up. “When did you find out Raina was gay?”
Gorman looked genuinely surprised. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Damn. The guilty usually looked pleased when you changed the subject. “I want to know how you feel about gay people.”
“I could care less.” Gorman still seemed confused, but now a little disgust came through. “I mean, if a gay guy hits on me, I’ll punch his lights out, but other than that, who cares?”
“What about lesbians? How do you feel about lesbians?”
“I don’t feel anything, unless I’m watching a porn flick with two women going at it. Then I get a big boner. Why in the hell are we talking about this?”
“Because I think you’re homophobic.” Jackson leaned in and lowered his voice like a conspirator. “I think you hated Raina because she was a lesbian. I think that’s why you sexually assaulted and murdered her.”
Gorman slammed his fists into the table again. “I didn’t kill her! She drove away, and I never saw her again.”
Jackson’s jacket pocket began to vibrate. He pulled out his cell phone and checked the incoming number. It was the evidence lab. Jackson prayed for this to be good news. He turned away from Gorman and said, “Jackson here.”
“It’s Parker. The state lab just called. I had them fast track a DNA comparison on a hair I found in the front seat of Raina’s car against the DNA swab you took from Gorman. They match.”
Jackson’s heart did a little flutter. Gorman had been in Raina’s car. Jackson still needed one more confirmation. “What about the Gorman’s DNA comparison with the sample from the rape cases?”
“Nothing yet. You gave me that request after I sent all the hair samples from the car.”
“Thanks, Parker.” Jackson missed his direct connection to Debbie, a long-time state lab supervisor who had quit last month because of an overtime dispute. Still, Parker was great about relaying information as soon as she received it. Jackson turned back to Gorman. “Have you ever been inside Raina’s car? Think carefully before you answer. Obstructing justice is a felony. If you lie, the DA is not likely to plea bargain a rape and murder charge. And my next call is to the district attorney.”
Gorman put his hands to his face and took a long slow breath. “I didn’t kill her, I swear. But I’ll tell you what did happen.”
Chapter 11
Jamie lay in bed and pondered her options. If she got up and got dressed, she would have to talk to that lady cop again today. Detective Evans had come by yesterday, but Jamie had refused to speak to her. This had not made her parents happy. They wanted her to stop obsessing about Raina and get on with her life. They kept pressuring her to ‘find a new focus’. So that was the dilemma. She desperately needed to get out of the house and away from her parents, but she was too depressed to leave the bed.
What if she went over to Paul’s and stayed for a while? He would let her spend a week in bed if that’s what she needed. He was grieving for Raina too and understood her pain. Jamie pushed aside the covers and swung her feet to the floor. You can do this, she told herself. Be strong, like Raina. Raina had wanted her to move out of her parents’ house long ago. She’d called it a sugar-coated poison pill and sometimes lectured Jamie about how unhealthy it was to live with people who were openly prejudiced against gays. It was the only thing they argued about. Jamie knew she needed to get away from her parents, but it was not an easy move to make, especially while she was taking classes. Jamie had never earned enough money to pay for rent, food, car insurance, cell phone, and everything! At the moment, she didn’t even have a job.
Jamie showered for the first time since Friday, then dressed in leggings and a sweater. As she blow-dried her hair, her mother walked into the small bathroom, which could only be reached by coming through Jamie’s bedroom.
“You’re up, dear. I’m so happy to see that.”
“I wish you would knock.”
“I did. But I heard the blow dryer and knew you didn’t hear me.”
Jamie didn’t argue.
Her mother gave her a quick hug. “I’m glad you’re doing better. I have an idea I’d like to share with you later. A plan to help you get through this and move forward.”
Jamie started to brush her teeth.
“Detective Evans is here again,” her mother announced. “You need to come down and speak with her. I’m sure this will be the last time. What could you possibly know that would help them find Raina’s killer?”
Damn. If she had only gotten out of bed ten minutes earlier. “Okay. I’ll be right down.”
Her mother gave her a big ‘good girl’ smile and went back the way she came. Jamie began to think she might have to sneak out when she left for Paul’s. Meanwhile, she would talk to the detective and get the conversation over with. What could she possibly know that would help them find Raina’s killer?
“Was Raina a lesbian?” Detective Evans didn’t waste any time getting to the reason for her visit.
Jamie glanced over at the kitchen to see if her mother was lurking. How should she answer this? Raina would have said “Yeah, so?” If she admitted Raina was gay, then her parents might think she was too. Finally, Jamie said, “I think she was. But we were just friends.”
The detective scowled. “You’re not sure? She was your best friend since high school and you never talked about her sexuality?” Evans had on a green sweater today, which reminded Jamie of Raina, but other than that, the scene felt like a repeat of that first night.
Jamie shook her head. “Not really. I knew she had dated women, b
ut I thought she was just experimenting.” Oh, what a load of crap. Jamie could hear Raina’s voice in her head, chastising her for being ashamed of them both.
“Can you give me the names of the women she dated?”
“Why is it important?”
“Two other women were recently raped and beaten here in Eugene. We just learned that they were both lesbians.” The detective spoke slowly, as if she were forcing herself to be patient. “If Raina was also a lesbian, then we have a connection between the crimes. That connection could help us find Raina’s killer.”
Jamie felt tears build up in her eyes. She pinched the skin in the pocket of her thumb to distract herself. “What do you want to know?”
“Were you and Jamie lovers?”
“No.” Jamie glanced toward the kitchen again but didn’t see her mother.
“You could be in danger if you were.”
Jamie thought about that night in the park. Some guy had watched her and Raina while they kissed, then followed them for a while. She wanted to believe the incident didn’t mean anything. The park was not that far from a college campus that housed hundreds of horny young men. He was just another creep who got off on watching women kiss, wasn’t he?
“What is it, Jamie? Tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell. I’m not a lesbian.”
Detective Evans didn’t believe her. Jamie could see the distrust on her face.
“Did Raina belong to any lesbian groups? Any place where the perpetrator could easily identify potential victims as gay?”
“I don’t think so. She didn’t mention it. Raina was too busy for stuff like that.” Jamie crossed her arms and sat back. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know anything. She would die before she would let her parents find out she had kissed and fondled another woman.
Evans shook her head, then reached in her bag for a card. When she leaned across the coffee table to hand it to Jamie, the detective said, “Call me when you decide to tell the truth. Young women’s lives depend on it.” Evans strode out of the house without a backward glance.
Jamie was relieved and mortified at the same time. Could it possibly be true? How could it help anyone for her to admit she was a lesbian? She and Raina didn’t belong to any political groups, and they hadn’t been active in any of the local efforts to push for gay rights. Jamie almost choked on the thought. Wouldn’t that have been crazy—her campaigning for gay people’s right to marry while her parents signed petitions that tried to deny those rights?
Her mother’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Jamie, why was the detective asking about lesbians?” Beth Conner entered the living room, looking prim and puzzled, a housewife who designed and sold quilt patterns to earn a little spending money.
“It didn’t have anything to do with Raina,” Jamie said, casually tossing off another lie. “There were some rapes last month, and the cops think they might have been hate crimes. But there’s no connection.”
“What do you mean by ‘hate crime’?”
“Never mind. It’s just an expression.” Jamie started for her bedroom, then turned back and said, “I’m going over to Paul’s for a while.”
Her mother looked distressed. “I wish you wouldn’t. It doesn’t look right for you to stay with a young man, even if he lives with his sister. And I really want to talk to you. I found a college in Northern California that I think you’ll like.”
“Not today, Mom. My best friend is dead, and I need some time.”
As she packed a gym bag with enough clothes for a few days, Jamie’s cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, so she didn’t pick up. A few minutes later, she listened to the voice message. A woman with a seductive voice said, “This is Sophie Speranza with the Willamette News. I’m doing a story that profiles female crime victims, and I’d like to talk to you about your girlfriend, Raina Hughes. This is an important story, and I hope you’ll call me back. My number is 337-9821.”
Oh dear God. Jamie began to shake. How did a reporter learn that Raina was her girlfriend? And how could she keep the information from her parents if it ended up in the newspaper?
Disappointed but not discouraged, Sophie called Keesha Williams and waited while the phone rang again and again. From her little office space—more like a half-cube—in the big new building, she had a partial view of the new freeway overpass. Yippee. Sophie looked down at her list of calls.
She’d started with Amy Hastings, who had just moved to Seattle. Amy declined to talk about her experience. Sophie had tried to convince Amy that her mission as a reporter was not to focus on the actual rape but more on the victims’ experiences as lesbians in the Eugene community, but Amy had said no anyway. Then she’d called Jamie Conner, who was rumored to be Raina Hughes’ girlfriend. When her source in the public safety department had given her the news of Raina’s murder, it had been the final piece that made Sophie realize the attacker was targeting lesbians. She believed she had an obligation to not only inform the public so women could protect themselves, but to enlighten the community as well.
Suddenly, Keesha was on the line. “Hello.”
“Keesha Williams?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Sophie Speranza with the Willamette News. I’m working on a feature story about crimes against lesbians here in Eugene. I’d really like to talk to you. I’ll keep your name confidential if you like.”
“How did you get my name?” Keesha sounded a little disturbed. “The police don’t release rape victims’ names.”
“You’re right, they don’t. But the lesbian community in this town is tightly connected. My friends know your friends. The rest of Eugene may not know the serial rapist is targeting lesbians, but some of my friends know and they’re worried for themselves. Especially now that Raina Hughes was murdered.”
Keesha sucked in her breath. “I saw that story in the paper. It didn’t say she was raped.”
“She was. I have a reliable source who confirmed the rape. I don’t think the police detectives have put all the cases together yet, but they will. They’re slow, but not entirely stupid.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“I just want to hear your story. What it’s like for you to be a lesbian here in Eugene and how it compares to other towns you lived in. I’ll give you a pseudonym. It can be completely confidential.”
“I don’t know.” Keesha hesitated. “Why should I?”
“Because your sisters are being targeted and they’re scared. Because the more we expose the ugliness of homophobic hatred, the less acceptable it becomes.” Sophie knew it was a lot of responsibility to put on the shoulders of a rape victim. She had a flicker of guilt. Yet someone had to tell this story.
“You’re one of us?”
“Actually, I’m bisexual, so I’m a bigger outcast than anyone in the gay community. But I date mostly women. Do you know Ashley McCormick? I dated her for a year. We almost moved in together.”
“Let me think about it.”
“All right. Call me.”
Sophie hit speed-dial #9, but got kicked into voice mail after three rings. Jackson now recognized her number and always screened her calls. Sophie left him a message. “Don’t delete me, I have a tip for you. I know you’re not too crazy about me after the front page Mayor Fieldstone photograph, but I want to make it up to you, so we can have a friendly relationship. So here it is: Amy Hastings, Keesha Williams, and Raina Hughes are all lesbians. These were hate crimes, and you should be looking for somebody with a grudge against gay women. Call me.”
Jackson hurried across the sky bridge, then took the elevator to the basement of North McKenzie Hospital. He was late for Raina’s autopsy, which had started at 9 a.m. in a bleak room euphemistically known as Surgery 10. After hearing his suspect’s preposterous story, he’d left the jail with a promise that he’d be back in a couple of hours so Gorman could try again. The crazy shit that criminals expected law enforcement to believe. Sometimes it amused him. Not today. Raina had be
en dead for nearly three days, the trail was growing cold, and if Gorman stuck to the horseshit story he’d just told, they might never convict anyone of the crime.
This would be his third autopsy here at the hospital. Eugene had finally hired its own pathologist, so Jackson no longer had to drive to Portland. He missed working with Hillary Ainsworth at the state pathology lab, but he didn’t miss the hundred-mile drive and the wasted time.
The narrow room had pale yellow walls, stainless steel cabinets, and harsh lighting. Disinfectant failed to cover the faint stink of decay. Rich Gunderson, the medical examiner who managed the morgue and assisted with autopsies, scowled as Jackson pushed through the door, pulling a plastic gown over his suede jacket and black jeans. “Sorry I’m late. An interview with a suspect went long.”
Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 02 - Secrets to Die For Page 9