Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 05 - Dying for Justice

by L. J. Sellers

  The quickest route to that information was the department of motor vehicles. She called Stacy Garrett, Jackson’s contact at the DMV, and introduced herself.

  “How can I help you?” The woman sounded annoyed.

  “I’d like to know every vehicle Gary Bekker has owned since 2008.”

  “It’s crazy busy here today. Can I call you back on my break?”

  “Bekker is a dangerous man who’s about to make bail. I need this info to keep him locked up.”

  The overworked state employee sighed. “Give me a minute.”

  Syrupy pop music filled Evans’ ear. She set her cell phone on the desk while she was on hold and mentally kicked herself for not doing all of it yesterday. She’d been sidetracked with contacting Bekker’s sexual victims. Evans snatched up the phone when she heard Stacy talking.

  “Gary Bekker has owned a 1997 red Chevy truck since 2002. In 2007, he appeared as a co-owner on a white Ford Fiesta that is no longer registered to him. That’s it.”

  “Can I get the license numbers?”

  Stacy rattled them off, then hung up before Evans could thank her.

  Impatient to pick up the video disk, Evans quickly called the number for the neighbor who had moved and was subjected to an annoying voice message from a young man named Troy. Obviously, it was not Alison’s number anymore. She keyed Alison into the database and came up with the old address at Riverside Terrace. Crap. She had no intention of spending an hour driving to Salem without contacting the woman first.

  Evans googled the address for the security company, pulled on her jacket, and headed out.

  Forty minutes later, she checked the disk into the crime lab and went to look for Joe. She found him in his office, comparing fingerprints.

  “Hey, Joe.” Evans had once called him Berloni, the way law enforcement called everyone by their last names, and Joe had strongly objected. She waited while he finished his scrutiny. “What case are you working on?”

  “The woman who was buried in her backyard. They found the murder weapon and I’m checking the prints.” Joe looked up. “What happened to your face?”

  “An altercation with a suspect. I’m fine. Any luck with the prints?”

  “Not yet. I keep getting interrupted.” He smiled to soften his words. “What can I do for you?”

  Evans handed him the disk, now in a plastic bag with labels. “This is camera footage of an apartment complex where a woman was attacked and given an overdose of drugs. She went into a coma for two years, then recently came out of it.”

  “I saw the story in the paper this morning.”

  “What the hell?” Evans immediately thought of Sophie Speranza, who’d been leaving her messages, asking about the case. “Who would give a reporter information? Thank God my suspect is in jail.”

  “Is the woman in danger?”

  “If he gets released on bail, she could be.” Evans didn’t want to believe Bekker was that stupid or irrational, but he’d already proved her wrong. “What I need you to look for on the footage is a red Chevy truck driven by a man. He’s around five-ten and one ninety. He may be wearing a ski mask. I’m looking for him in the vicinity of apartment sixteen around nine in the evening.” She hesitated. “He could be driving a department-issued vehicle.”

  Joe raised his eyebrows. “An officer?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll get one of the assistants to start wading through the footage, but we’re pretty swamped. It may be a day or two.”

  “The suspect is in jail on unrelated charges but he was arraigned this morning. If he makes bail, I need a good reason to pick him up again.”

  “We’ll do it as fast as we can.”

  At the department, Evans went straight to the break room, hoping to find a newspaper, but she found someone’s uneaten lunch instead. One of the joys of working with mostly men. She wanted the news story in front of her when she called Sophie Speranza to give her a verbal ass-kicking. Evans jogged over to Full City where they had a newspaper stand nearby.

  She bought a paper and hustled back to City Hall, her weapon bouncing against her ribs as she ran. She laid the paper out on her desk, found the story on the front page of the City section, and quickly scanned it. At least the reporter had not given Gina’s name. Yet Speranza had named the care facility, so anyone who knew Gina was there would know she was now conscious. The story quoted Gina and her parents, so they had obviously consented to the coverage. The quotes mentioned the ex-husband and Gina’s effort to document his criminal activity, but didn’t give his name or occupation. The reporter had been careful to let her interview subjects make the unsubstantiated accusations. Crafty.

  Evans called the Willamette News and asked to speak to Sophie Speranza. The reporter didn’t answer her phone, so Evans left a message. Trying not to sound hostile, she simply asked for a call back on her cell number. Next, she searched Salem’s online white pages and found a new phone number for Gina’s unaccounted-for neighbor. She called and left Alison a message as well.

  Frustrated by her lack of progress, Evans read through her notes and mentally retraced the steps of her investigation. What had she not done yet? She visualized the visit to Gina’s parents and the boxes full of her personal belongings. Was there any value in digging through the rest of it? She was no longer looking for a suspect; she was in the phase of building a case. Would she find anything in the pile of stuff that would incriminate Bekker?

  She couldn’t just sit and wait for people to call back, so Evans decided to see the victim again.

  Gina was out of bed and sitting in a chair by the window. A slender woman with short red hair and a digital recorder sat next to Gina, leaning forward and looking earnest. They both looked up.

  “Detective Evans. Oh my God, what happened to you?” Gina’s smiled faded.

  “An altercation with a suspect. I’m fine.”

  Gina gestured at the redhead. “This is Sophie Speranza from the Willamette News.”

  The reporter jumped up and stuck out her hand. Evans ignored it. “I need to talk to you outside.”

  “Sure. I’ve got some questions for you anyway.”

  The ballsy little bitch. Evans gestured for the reporter to move through the door. She followed and closed it behind her. In the hall, an old man with a walker moved slowly past, so Evans waited. When he was clear, she yelled at Speranza, but without raising her voice. “You put Gina’s life at risk by printing that story this morning.”

  Speranza blinked and rocked back, but she quickly recovered. “The care facility sent out a press release and both Gina and her parents consented to an interview. They think the publicity will pressure the department to do something about Gary Bekker.”

  “We are doing something, but you could jeopardize our investigation.”

  “I don’t buy that. If you want Gina to be safe, arrest Bekker.”

  “We did, but we still have to build a case. I need you to stay away from Gina and her parents until we have something solid on Bekker.”

  “What about all the women he sexually coerced? That seems like a solid reason to keep him in jail.”

  Evans struggled for the right thing to say. “That investigation is even more critical. Please leave it alone until we’ve made some progress.”

  “Maybe I can help you.” Speranza still had her pen, tablet, and recorder in hand. “If I run the story—without naming the women—maybe more victims will come forward. The more accusers Bekker has, the more likely he’ll be convicted.”

  Evans had to admit she liked the logic. “I can’t let you name me as a source.”

  “Fine. This is off the record. What can you tell me?” Speranza clicked on her recorder.

  “No recorder.”

  She clicked it off.

  “Gary Bekker is being investigated by internal affairs for inappropriate contact with detainees. We have the testimony of two women so far.”

  “Will you tell me their names so I can interview them? I promise not to rele
ase their identities. I also know a lawyer who will be happy to take their case. ”

  “I can’t. But I will give your name to the victims so they can contact you if they choose.”

  “How long has Bekker’s behavior been going on?” Speranza’s young face was a mask of determination.

  “At least two years. Beyond that, we don’t know.”

  “You said you arrested Bekker. What is he charged with?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “No problem. I can look it up.” The reporter pulled a cell phone from her jacket pocket and quickly accessed the Lane County Jail website. She looked up, startled. “He has a pending charge of assaulting an officer. Is that who hit you in the face?”

  “I can’t comment. I’m going in to talk to Gina now. Alone.”

  “Let me grab my laptop.”

  Speranza went back in the room and sat next to Gina for a moment. “I’m not leaving yet. I’m just stepping out for a few minutes. We’ll finish up after the detective leaves.”

  “Okay.”

  Evans took her chair as she left. “How are you doing? Still making progress?”

  “The doctors are stunned by how quickly I’m regaining strength. In fact, I’m going home this afternoon.” Gina gave a sad smile. “I mean to my parents’ house. But I’ll have my own place again soon.”

  Evans was surprised by the suddenness of it, but happy for Gina. “That’s great news. In fact, I’ll escort you. I want to look through more of your paperwork. We have to build a case against Bekker.”

  “What do you expect to find?”

  “I honestly don’t know, but I’ve run out of other sources.”

  “Have you talked to Gary’s brother?”

  Evans was crushed by her oversight. In avoiding contact with Bekker, she hadn’t talked to any of his non-police associates. “No. You didn’t mention his family.”

  “His parents are in San Diego, but his brother lives here. His name is Doug Bekker. He’s a slacker, but a nice guy.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  “He used to live in a trailer park not far from here. It’s called Meadow View and it’s on 32nd Street just off Q. Doug had the green singlewide at the very end.” Gina shrugged. “I don’t know if he’s still there, but most likely.”

  “Would he talk to me about his brother?”

  “Oh sure. He loves Gary, but he also hates him. They have a weird relationship.”

  Evans understood that. She felt somewhat the same about her own brother. Charged with a new lead, she stood. “What time are you leaving here today?”

  “Around five. My parents are out buying me a walker and doing some last-minute preparation at the house.”

  “I’ll be back at five.” Evans touched Gina’s arm. “Be careful about what you tell reporters.”

  Gina smiled. “Sophie is going to help me launch a comeback. The publicity will be great for my clothing business.”

  Apprehension crawled up Evan’s spine. “Bekker is in jail for now, but if he makes bail, I’m worried he’ll come after you.”

  Gina nearly dropped her water bottle. “That seems crazy.”

  “I know, but he’s not acting rationally. I requested a guard for you, but I didn’t get it.”

  “How much is Gary’s bail?”

  “Two hundred and fifty thousand, but he only needs twenty-five of it.”

  “He’ll never come up with that unless he cashes out his retirement, and that would take weeks.”

  “Just keep your eyes open and your doors locked. I will make sure patrol units circle by your house as often as possible.”

  “Thanks.”

  “See you in an hour.”

  Evans found Doug Bekker sitting on the deck of his shabby trailer, drinking from a two-liter bottle of soda. Boxes loaded with mechanical parts surrounded him and a rusted kitchen stove took up the rest of the space. Doug wore shorts and sandals and nothing else. With the same ash-blond hair and broad chest as his brother, Evans identified him immediately. But while Gary Bekker looked like a man on permanent stress duty, Doug looked tanned and relaxed. Not a care in the world on a Wednesday afternoon.

  Evans noticed two teenage boys across the cul-de-sac and a group of Hispanic men clustered around a food truck nearby. She locked her car and strode over to the man in the lawn chair.

  “I’m Detective Evans, Eugene Police. Are you Doug Bekker?”

  “I am.” He stood and shook her hand. “You sure are pretty for a cop. Even with that bruise.”

  Evans tried not to jump to conclusions about him, tempting as it was. “I’d like to ask you about your brother, Gary Bekker.” She grabbed her recorder from her bag, held it up for Doug’s consent, and clicked it on.

  “Did he do that to you?” Doug asked, sounding more curious than concerned.

  “Does Gary have a history of assaulting women?” She used Bekker’s first name as a courtesy to his brother.

  Doug gave her an odd look. “Not exactly. But I hear he’s in jail on assault charges and here you are looking assaulted.”

  “Did you ever see him hit his ex-wife, Gina Stahl?”

  “Nope, but I heard him threaten to kill her.”

  Excellent. More corroboration. “When was that?” Sweat pooled in her armpits and Evans wanted to get out of the sun, but she didn’t want to break the flow of information.

  “The first time was at a backyard barbeque at their house. Gary had too much to drink and Gina tried to cut him off. They got into a fight and he threatened to kill her. She left him shortly after.”

  “Were there other threats?”

  “One night Gary and I were drinking at the Keg. He started talking about the guy Gina was dating and how he’d like to dump them both in the river.”

  “Can we go inside and narrow down the dates? I’d also like get his verbatim statements, if you can remember.”

  As soon as they stepped into the trailer, Evans understood why Doug had been sitting outside. Stuff was piled everywhere. Stacks of newspapers and magazines filled the space under the coffee table and lined up against the walls. Laundry covered the couch, and open plastic bags full of empty food packages were stuffed in every crevice. The room smelled like a giant recycling bin. Evans fought the urge to run outside. Jesus! Gary Bekker was a predator and Doug Bekker was a hoarder. Had their parents been brother and sister?

  “I know. It’s a little overwhelming, but I’m getting help.” Doug gestured for her to come into the kitchen.

  Evans told herself it would only take five minutes. She’d been inside homes that were more disgusting. At least Doug had no animals or dirty diapers. He pushed a massive pile of mail to one side of the kitchen table and Evans reluctantly took a seat.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No.”

  “You can relax. There’s no garbage in here, so it may be cluttered but it’s sanitary.”

  Who was he kidding? “What was the date of that family barbeque when Gary threatened Gina?”

  “It was late summer, probably September, the year before Gina went into the coma. So 2008.”

  “What about the time at the tavern? What was the date of that threat?”

  “That was July 7, 2009. I remember because it was my birthday. That’s why Gary was having a beer with me.”

  Evans jotted down the dates. “Do you and Gary get along?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Do you have a grudge against him? Is that why you’re talking to me?” She had to ask. This was too easy.

  “He has serious issues and I can see no reason to lie for him.”

  “Was he a delinquent when he was teenager?”

  Doug laughed. “He was a Boy Scout. Being a cop and having control over people is what ruined him. The power made him mean.”

  “What do you think happened to Gina?”

  Doug shook his head. “I really don’t know. She was always kinda moody, so I wasn’t too surprised to hear she tried to commit suicide. Yet
here you are implying Gary tried to kill her. And that doesn’t surprise me too much either.”

  “Did Gary talk to you about the women he had sex with? Other than his wife?”

  “Sometimes he bragged about getting all the pussy he wanted, but the truth is, I don’t see him that often.”

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t have much in common.”

  “What do you do for a living?” Evans thought she knew the answer, but she wanted to see if it made him uncomfortable.

  “I’m disabled. I hurt my back logging when I was twenty-seven and I have chronic pain.” He showed no sign of embarrassment.

  “Does Gary have a current wife or girlfriend?”

  “He dated a young girl for a while after Gina, but I don’t think he’s had anybody serious since. He was crushed when Gina left him.”

  The idea of Bekker as a wounded soul was hard to swallow. “Does Gary have access to Demerol?”

  “He might. He has chronic pain from an old football injury and I know he takes something for it.”

  “Does he inject it?” It was the easiest way to get drugs into an unconscious person.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Has Gary ever been diagnosed with a mental illness?”

  Doug gave her a hurt look. “I know Gary is troubled but he’s not crazy. He has a good side, you know.”

  “Yeah? Tell me.”

  “Gary was married once before Gina. They had a boy with Down syndrome and Gary ended up raising him after his wife died. He does yearly fundraisers for the Special Olympics and he’s really good with the kids.”

  Evans would have hated Bekker a little less if her head didn’t still hurt from where the bastard had smacked her with a baton. Still, the information was interesting. “Would you testify in court about his threats to Gina?”

  “Not if I could avoid it.”