“I don’t see how he could.” Jack thought a moment, retracing his steps in Thornton’s office. “No, he doesn’t know.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t go to the police just yet? If this is a military thing, maybe we should call the FBI or something. Or my father. Maybe he could tell us something.”
Jack took hold of her hand as he accelerated through the intersection. The police station was only a few blocks away. “I think we should go to the police first, Rachel. Doesn’t sound like the military’s even involved yet. And the Culpepper PD will have to get involved anyway because of Ralph and Markum. Even though the drug itself didn’t kill them, I’m pretty sure the way this went down, they’d call it a homicide.”
# # #
“Is this an emergency, sir? Are you reporting a crime?” The plump receptionist wrestled a piece of gum in her back molars. She sat behind a half-moon shaped countertop dressed in a police uniform.
“I think it is,” Jack said.
“Could we be more specific?” she asked.
“It’s not really an emergency. I mean, no one’s in any danger. Not at the moment anyway.”
“Then how can I help you?”
“I’d like to speak with whoever’s in charge of the Ralph Riesner homicide. I mean death.”
“I don’t recognize the name.”
“Ralph Riesner?” Jack repeated.
“Sorry. Doesn’t ring any bells.”
“He’s the student at Culpepper who died a few—”
“You mean the jumper?” she interrupted.
“Jumper?”
“The kid who jumped yesterday. Off the Jefferson Building?”
“This is going to involve him, too. But I’m talking about the student who died a couple of weeks ago…Ralph Riesner,” Jack said. “The one who died in his sleep.”
“Oh, yeah. The kid with the scary face.”
Jack and Rachel looked at each other. “What?” Jack said.
“Never mind. I know who you’re talking about now. White kid. Skinny. Dark hair. Senior?”
“That’s him,” Jack said. “Could you put us in touch with whoever handled that investigation?”
“I could, but that’s not an active case anymore. Coroner ruled it natural causes. What was it, a heart attack or some kind of defect.”
“I know,” Jack replied, holding up the copies. “But we have something here that might shed a different light on it. Could we speak with the chief investigator? Just for a minute? We won’t be long.”
“I suppose. That’d be Sgt. Boyd. Let me see if he’s available.” She swiveled in her chair and pushed two buttons on a digital switchboard. Lifting her headset in place, she said: “Hank? Rona here. I got two people out here, a man and a woman who want to talk with Sgt. Boyd on those deaths at the school. Is he back there? No, they’re right here. Okay. I’ll send ‘em back.”
Rona faced them and stood up. She grabbed a piece of paper from a plastic bin and slapped it down on the counter top. It was a building layout. “We’re here,” she pointed with freshly painted nails. “Follow this corridor around to the left, past the water fountain. Just before you get to the ladies’ room, it’s the first door on the right. Just knock if it’s closed. They won’t bite.” She sat back down and turned her full attention to some paperwork next to the telephone.
42
Arm in arm, Jack and Rachel walked through a set of double doors, through the tiled hallways, carefully tracing the steps Rona had marked. The door was closed. Rachel was just about to knock when it suddenly opened.
“Oh, sorry,” a young policeman said. “You the two who want to see the Sarge?”
They nodded.
“Sergeant Boyd’ll be right out. Have a seat. My name’s Jensen, call me Hank.” He led them to a small cubicle with shoulder high partitions. They sat in two straight back chairs with green vinyl seat pads. “So, you guys here about the guy who committed suicide yesterday?”
“Yes,” Jack said, “and also the one who died almost two weeks ago. Ralph Riesner.”
“Want some coffee? A little old, but it’s hot. Temperature still dropping out there?”
Jack couldn’t answer. He hadn’t noticed the weather.
“Seems like it,” Rachel said.
Hank took a sip from his mug. “So, you want some?”
“No thank you.”
“None for me, either.”
From the same doorway Jack and Rachel had entered, a man wearing a coat and tie walked in. Jack noticed Hank stand as he came toward them.
“Just warming your seat, Joe. These are the two Rona sent back.”
“Are you Sgt. Boyd?” Jack asked.
“That’s me,” Boyd said, shaking their hands. “What can I do for you?” He sat in his chair and leaned back. “Say Hank, you put on some fresh coffee? You guys want some?”
They shook their heads no.
“We’re here about the Riesner case,” Jack began. “And also the—”
“The Riesner case,” interjected Boyd. “There is no Riesner case. Not anymore.”
“We think there is,” Rachel said.
“We’ve uncovered something here, Sergeant,” Jack continued, “and we think it’s significant.”
Boyd’s face shifted from friendly to sour. “I told you there is no case. Are you friends of the family? Did the father ask you to come here?”
He wasn’t yelling, but his terse remarks set Jack on edge. “I’ve never met Ralph’s father. I’m here because I have evidence that indicates Ralph may have been murdered.”
“Murdered?” Boyd looked at Hank, rolling his eyes. “That’s not what the coroner says. He says he died of a heart attack. And he’s not guessing. Talked with him myself. No doubt about it. A plain and simple heart attack in his sleep. Had some birth defect that snapped. That’s all there is to it.”
“That’s not all there is, Sergeant. Here…look at these.” Jack handed him the stack of copies.
Boyd leaned forward slightly and took the pile of wrinkled papers. He glanced at them, his face like granite.
Jack continued. “Those documents show an elaborate scheme has been underway with a professor at the university involving experimental drugs. I think Ralph was being drugged by this professor. The student who jumped on Saturday was, too. And…so have I.”
“Drugged?” Boyd said sarcastically. “The autopsy checked his blood for drugs. The only drugs in his body was a small dose of some prescription sleeping pills. Dr. Hargrove said it was well within safe limits and couldn’t have made any difference in his death.” He leaned forward in his seat, his face taking a conciliatory look. “I’m sorry guys, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. It’s a shame when kids that young suddenly die, but it doesn’t do anybody any good to go around making up wild accusations. You’re wasting your time.”
“It’s possible these drugs wouldn’t show up in the bloodstream.” Jack tried to sound authoritative, looking Boyd straight in the eye.
“Whatta you mean…not show up in the bloodstream?” said Boyd. “Course, they would. Drugs do that. Show up in dead people’s blood.”
“These are experimental drugs. The coroner probably just did some basic tests because no one knew about this. He wouldn’t have known what to look for.” Jack was purely speculating.
“There were no mystery drugs,” Boyd answered. “No experimental drugs. And they didn’t show up because they weren’t in his body.”
Why was this guy giving him such a hard time? Jack thought. “Did you read those documents?”
“No. You and I been talking here. How could I read them?”
Rachel squeezed Jack’s forearm, as if to say: let’s get out of here. Boyd flipped through some of the pages. Except for his blinking eyes, there was no movement in his face.
“What am I supposed to be seeing here?” Boyd asked.
Jack tried to compose himself. “Do you see those code names on the first page?”
“Code names, is that what you think
they are?”
“Look at the initials beside them. Mine are the first. JT. Do you see it?” Jack pointed to it on the page. “That’s my name, Jack Turner.”
“Okay…so?”
“Look at the second set. RR. Ralph Riesner’s. See how it’s crossed out? And the third, JM. Jared…what’s his name, Rachel?”
“Jared Markum.”
“So what? I see an RR next to a Bre’r Fox and it’s crossed out. A JM next to a Bre’r Bear, also crossed out. Maybe it does stand for Riesner and Markum, and maybe it—”
“You don’t think that’s strange?”
Boyd tried to keep from laughing. “Strange? Let’s see…two students die, and somebody crosses their name off a list. What’s that tell us? It says we can’t use them for this school play, or whatever this Bre’r Rabbit nonsense is about.”
“There’s no school play about Bre’r Rabbit,” Jack said. “This isn’t a high school. Ralph was a history major in his senior year. I found this document in a file folder called Code Names. In a drawer in a history professor’s desk. Those are code names used in this drug deal. Look at the next page.”
Boyd quickly flipped through several more. “Gee, this is strange….”
Jack perked up, hopeful.
“…I see a handful of student records,” Boyd continued. “And you say you found these student records in a teacher’s desk drawer? What do you make of that, Hank?”
Jack’s face fell.
# # #
Boyd held the stack of papers in front of him, an exasperated look on his face. “I don’t have time for this.” He looked into Jack’s eyes, trying to detect any signs of sincerity or hoax. The guy looked intelligent. Was he just seeking attention, recognition? A computer geek or a conspiracy freak with way too much time on his hands? He’d seen people like this in Pittsburgh. Dozens of times. Looking for deep dark secrets behind everything they don’t understand. Looking for someone important to tell them how clever they are. On the other hand, geeky guys weren’t usually able to attract such an attractive girlfriend.
“I don’t know what you see here,” Boyd said. “But I don’t see anything that convinces me there’s something sinister here. It’s gonna take a lot more than this to get me to open up a case that’s been closed by the coroner. And the kid who jumped? Everyone who knew him said he’d been real depressed that his girlfriend back home dumped him.”
He handed the papers back to Jack.
# # #
Jack was stunned. Rachel could see it in his face. This wasn’t the plan. But sitting there quietly, hearing the story played back from an outsider’s viewpoint, she could see how flimsy it sounded. There was nothing proof-positive in their documents. No clear admission of guilt. It was a small sampling of circumstantial evidence that would only be convincing to those directly involved. It seemed Boyd had nothing further to say. They had failed. Now they were back on their own.
“If you’ll excuse me folks,” Boyd said, “I got a lot of work to get working on.”
Jack and Rachel stood up. Jack turned and walked stiffly toward the door. Rachel followed closely. Jack said nothing. Retracing their steps down the hall, she saw up ahead the original set of double doors that exited to the lobby. Suddenly, Jack stopped beside a doorway on the left.
“What is it, Jack?”
“I’ve got one last idea. I’ve got to do this before we leave. Hold on.” He walked through the doorway. A copy machine stood in plain view.
“Jack, what are you doing?” Rachel whispered.
“Making copies,” he said. He quickly ran the sheets through the machine, Rachel involuntarily serving as the lookout in the hall. When he finished she followed him back down the hall and into Boyd’s office without knocking.
“If I may, Sergeant. I think you should have a copy of these.” Jack handed Boyd the documents. “Please don’t throw them out. A day will come when you’ll be glad you have them. I’m not making any of this up. And I’m not crazy. Something very wrong is going on around here, right under your nose.”
Boyd leaned forward and took the copies. “Is that all?” he asked.
“For now,” Jack answered, then they left.
# # #
Back in Boyd’s office, Hank said, “Kind of hard on ‘em, Joe. How come?”
“I wasn’t hard. I was firm. You heard him. This guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. There’s nothing here. I just now got the father to back off and agree to start putting all this behind him. Where do they get off stirring this whole thing up again? Some stupid notion about an experimental drug ring going on under my nose.”
“I’m not saying I disagree,” Hank said. “Want me to toss those out?” Hank pointed to the copies.
“No. Not yet.” Boyd paper-clipped them together and set them in his inbox. “I tell you one thing. They better not call the kid’s father about this. If I gotta get back with him ‘cause they went snooping around….” Boyd swiveled in his chair. He lifted a report he’d been reading and set it down in the center of his desk. “That coffee ready yet?”
“I’ll check.”
As Hank got up, Boyd looked over at that thin stack of copies sitting in his inbox. He was sure. There was nothing there.
43
Jack marched across the police station parking lot toward the car.
“Jack, wait up.” Rachel trotted carefully toward him, trying to avoid the icy puddles.
He slowed down.
“What do we do now?” she said.
“Now? I don’t know.” He opened her car door.
As she got in, she repeated her earlier suggestion. “How about we call my dad?”
Jack walked around the rear end of the car, considered the idea. “We’ve got to do something,” he muttered as he sat behind the wheel.
“Do you have a problem with calling my dad?”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
“Can I ask why? I know he’d help us.”
Jack suppressed his anger. It certainly wasn’t directed at her. “He might. Or he might respond just like that police sergeant.”
“My dad wouldn’t react that way.”
Jack didn’t completely hear her. “I should have been more prepared. I just rushed in there like an idiot.” He held up Thornton’s papers. “There’s not enough here for the police to act on.” He turned the car on.
As he pulled to the edge of the parking lot, Rachel said, “I believed it.”
“That’s only because you care about me. I need enough evidence for people who could care less.” He pulled onto the road with a vague sense he was driving toward The Whispering Hills condominium.
“I do care about you, Jack.” She took his hand. “But that’s not the only thing that convinced me. I know, for example, that Professor Thornton isn’t directing any school plays about Bre’r Rabbit. And I think what you explained to me adds up. I think it would to anyone who knew the whole story.” She moved her hand to his shoulder. “You know something else this evidence means?”
“What?”
“You’re not crazy after all.”
“So you thought I was?”
“Maybe a little.” She smiled. “But I was okay…with a little.”
Jack returned her smile. As he fixed his eyes back on the road, an idea popped into his mind.
“What is it?”
Jack didn’t answer, just nodded his head. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“I just need better evidence. Something that will force Sergeant Boyd to reopen the case.”
“Okay…so, where are we going to get better evidence? What are you thinking?”
“The way I see it, there’s only two sources, Professor Thornton and this Dr. Jameison. I’ll start with Thornton, confront him with this.” He held up the file. “I’ll tell him I’ve been to the police. He doesn’t have to know they brushed me off. What time is it?”
“1:30.”
“I’ll have to hurry.” Jack glanced in his rea
r view mirror, then swung the car into a left turning lane.
“What are you doing, Jack?”
“I’ve gotta make a call.”
“To who?”
“Thornton.” He pulled the car into a store parking lot.
“Right now? Here? What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know yet.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Thornton’s home number from memory. “C’mon, Professor.”
“Hi. You’ve reached the home of Thomas Thornton….”
He hung up then dialed Thornton’s cell phone. Voicemail again.
“Can’t get him?” Rachel asked.
“No.”
“Okay, so how about we call my dad?”
“Rachel. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I want your dad to like me.”
“He already does.”
“And what’s he going to think if we start talking about all this?”
“I think he’ll hear us out.”
“Do you? Okay, let’s say he does. Do you think he’ll be happy I’ve involved his daughter in something like this? Do you think he’ll want me to keep seeing you? I wouldn’t want my daughter mixed up in something where people are being drugged and killed. I think he’ll listen like a father, not like a general.”
“I think you’re wrong. I think he can do both.”
Jack took a deep breath. “Once I get more evidence, better evidence, I promise I’ll get your dad involved.” He started tapping his phone.
“Who are you calling now?”
“Thornton’s extension at the school. Maybe he was feeling better and decided to teach his afternoon sessions.” The phone rang several times, then voicemail again. He was about to hang up, then decided against it. At the end of the message, Jack said: “Professor, this is Jack. We’ve gotta talk. Right away. It’s about…it’s about the contents of your locked drawer. The file about the drug tests. Call me. I’ll try again later.” He should have just hung up.
“Voicemail again?” she said. “Think you should have said that much on a voicemail?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. It just came out.”
“Maybe it’s not so bad. You’re going to tell him anyway as soon as you see him.”
Fatal 5 Page 133