“We’ll be fine.”
*****
About thirty minutes later, Brent Turner shadowed the doorway of Larson’s office both loaded down and wearing drenched boots. It was good timing too. I sensed if Jack and I had to talk with Larson much longer, Jack would have said something he really shouldn’t have. His need for a cigarette was getting desperate and had him reaching for his pocket at least five times in the last ten minutes.
I was about to stand up, but Brent Turner made it over to us before I could. He adjusted the strap of his laptop bag on his shoulder.
His hair was blond, and his eyes beamed with a zest for life. He was trim and it was apparent, despite the rushed lifestyle of a reporter, he made time for an exercise regimen.
Turner dropped into a chair and put his bag on the floor at his feet. I noticed that even though it was off his shoulder, he’d ensured that it was not out of reach. He let it lean against his leg, as if by maintaining contact with it, he would also maintain control.
He rubbed his hands on his thighs and looked past me to Jack. “I’m not sure why you want to talk to me.” He gave a quick glance at his boss, which seemed to silently plead his innocence of any wrongdoing.
Larson directed him back to Jack with a pointed finger.
“You’ve heard of the murdered men? Darren Simpson and Clyde Ellis?”
“Of course. We covered their stories.”
I sensed he was going to elaborate but was silenced by Jack’s eye contact.
“There’s another missing man.”
Turner didn’t glance at his boss as Larson kept his focus locked on the reporter’s profile. There was something that wasn’t being communicated, and I had the feeling I knew what it was.
“We apologize that we pulled you from a story.” I opted for getting on his good side. I received another glower from Jack for my trouble.
“Oh. Don’t worry about it. I think I got everything I needed.” His eyes shifted to Larson now.
“What’s it about?” I drew his attention back to me with the question. I had a hunch the story he was chasing was at the heart of this investigation.
“Well, it’s best not to say. Hope you understand.” Turner plastered on a smile, one I’m sure he could use to get himself past police lines if need be, but his charm wasn’t going to work on me.
“Is the story about Warren Howell?” I asked.
Jack’s eyebrows shot up and the hand that had been over his shirt pocket lowered.
Turner’s eyes shifted between the three of us, as if not wanting to settle on any of us. Eventually, he focused on his boss.
Larson leaned forward and clasped his hands on the desk. “For good reason, we keep our sources and stories close to the vest until they go public. It’s part of doing business.”
Jack stood and slapped photographs on Larson’s desk. They were pictures of the dogs abused by Simpson and Ellis.
“Part of doing business? What about this one?”
He dropped the photograph of Howell’s Boxer. “He never survived.” He put the photograph of Howell on the desk. “Now this man is missing,” a pointed finger went level with Turner’s nose, “and you wrote the original article on the abuse charges.”
Panic swept over Turner’s features. When he spoke his voice was low and gravelly. “I don’t know anything about his disappearance.”
Jack narrowed his eyes on Turner. “Are you sure about that?” He held the eye contact for a few seconds. Turner broke it to glance at his boss.
“Did you see this?” Jack flicked the picture of Howell’s injured dog from Larson’s desk and shoved it in Turner’s face.
Turner covered his mouth, heaves causing his cheeks to pale and swell. He composed himself and turned to Larson. “Can I tell them?”
Chapter 38
Paige and Zachery went into the animal shelter and were greeted by Alisha holding onto the cat again.
“You’re back?” Alisha regarded Paige’s hand. “The warrant?”
“You would be correct.” Paige gave it to her. Although happy the legality had finally come together, she couldn’t help but wonder why some were issued so much faster than others. “Would Kim Delaney be here?”
“Absolutely. I will get her for you. Actually, why don’t you just follow me back?” Clutching the piece of paper, Alisha ran her hand down the cat’s back, loose hairs flying out in its wake.
Kim Delaney was at her desk, tapping away on the keyboard. She stopped typing, but didn’t seem as pleased to see them as Alisha had been. “Agents?”
“They have a warrant, Kim.” Alisha handed the paperwork over and stepped back.
Delaney examined it and dropped it on her desk. “Well, then. It seems I can help you out. If you want to have a seat while you wait, this will take a while.”
Alisha slipped out of the room.
“We understand it will, but if you could answer a few quick questions first,” Zach said.
“Sure.” The single word was drawn out.
“Kent Fields. He was a large donor, but did he ever get hands-on involved?”
“I don’t think so. He was too busy with his publishing career. Otherwise, I think he would have. Kent Fields—what a tragedy there.”
News spread fast, and bad news had wings.
“It was. We had asked you before about any volunteers who would get really upset over animal abuse cases.”
Delaney nodded.
“We got the impression you had some names.”
“There are so many of them. Honestly, even I get worked up. To witness what people—we’ll say people in quotations—do, it breaks my heart. They are more animal than the animals.”
“You had told us about how the charges work last time we were here. There would be a lot of anger when this is being executed I would assume,” Paige said.
“Absolutely. It’s in the core of mankind—at least I believe so—to find justice. We know that we’re only the first step in getting this for those animals. The rest is out of our hands.”
“Did you ever have anyone become physically violent at one of these scenes, or afterward?”
Delaney gave it a few seconds, deep in thought. “I do remember this guy from years ago. Darn, what was his name? He actually put his hands on the dog owner’s neck. A few of us had to pull him off.”
“And you don’t remember his name?” Zach asked.
“No, sorry. It should be written up in a file somewhere. I’m not sure. You’ll be getting everything I have.”
“You mentioned most of you get angry. Anyone else stand out to you?”
“There is someone.” Her eyes flickered as if she hesitated to share the name. “He would see what these people did and say that there’s one thing that could move him to murder. Thing is, he didn’t strike me as a violent person, but the way he would get this twitch in his cheek when he spoke about it.”
“About it?”
Delaney leveled eyes with Zach. “He said he’d have no problem repaying these people in kind for their treatment against these animals. Said that they deserved it for what they had done.”
“You mentioned he’d speak about it after seeing what they had done. Was he a volunteer?”
“No. He was a reporter. Brent Turner.”
Chapter 39
There were several seconds of silence that followed Turner’s question to Larson about whether he should give us any details. I had an inkling, and I was certain Jack did as well.
“Should you tell us what?” Jack asked, nailing in the fact that we needed answers now.
“Brent just came from Howell’s place,” Larson said. The ever-present grin had finally subsided. “We’re just doing our jobs.”
“Just doing your jobs? Hmm.”
“Listen it’s not like it’s illegal to talk to people. You can’t stop us…free speech and all.”
“Why did you go?” Jack asked Turner.
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You’re
the one who covered the story originally, when Howell was charged. I’m sure his wife wasn’t too happy to see you.”
Turner’s mouth gaped open. No words came out.
“How did she react to seeing you there?”
Larson held both hands, palms out, motioning for Turner to lay it all out there for us.
“We hear everything over the police scanners. We knew that Howell was missing. We also know about his past. Obviously.” Turner’s eyes went between Jack and me. “It was decided since I had history there, I would cover the piece. I actually fought for it.”
Regret was evident on both Turner’s and Larson’s faces.
“I’d like to know why you fought for it,” Jack said.
“Really? It’s big news. Two men have been killed and another one goes—”
“Jump ahead to the real reason.”
Turner pressed his hands on his thighs, and then one of them reached down and brushed the top of his laptop bag. Seemingly content it was still there, he angled his head to the left and continued. “It was my opportunity for a breakout story.”
“It’s only about the ratings?”
Jack didn’t seem convinced, and I held my suspicions as well. Here we’d had a man who had easy access to all animal abuse cases the paper had covered and a direct connection with Howell. Now he was eager to talk to the man’s wife? Was it just out of hunger for front-page placement, or was it to get close and find out how the investigation was being handled? A means of prodding the woman into saying things the police had asked her about?
“I can see you doubt me, both of you, but that’s all it was, I swear.”
“So you didn’t go there to get close to the investigation?”
“Yeah, but not in the way you’re implying.”
“Hmm.”
“No, seriously.” He held up his hands. “I covered this man’s case. I know you know that. But I just felt the story needed to be told by me. No one else. I was there when that dog was brought into the shelter. Well, I wasn’t there, I saw it anyway. It was barely alive and then it was pronounced.” Turner’s voice held grief and anger.
“Sounds like you were quite mad about it.”
“Of course I was. Have you ever seen an abused animal…after?”
His question put me back in time, to when Deb was home. It was impossible for her to watch those television commercials that depicted neglected or injured animals. In contrast, I couldn’t imagine it having the same effect on Jack. Turner was trying to elicit empathy from the wrong man.
“I’ve seen worse,” was Jack’s answer.
His statement was enough to cloak the room in silence. I figured he referred to both his job with the FBI and his military service.
His phone vibrated and he answered.
His eyes shifted from Larson, and then settled on Turner. “We’re with him right now.”
Turner swallowed roughly and audibly. He reached for the bag at his feet and picked it up. He was good at reading body language and when Jack told him he’d be coming with us, he was calmer than Larson, who yelled out behind us.
“I’ll get you a lawyer. Don’t say anything.”
I had a feeling the only thing Larson was truly concerned about was the reputation of his paper, not Turner’s future.
Chapter 40
Brent Turner’s confident demeanor had been replaced by panic. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes jabbed about the room. I imagined he was thinking about his future and how it was a bleak projection.
The lawyer that Larson had promised still hadn’t shown up, and Turner, who must have been more eager to get things moving along, waived away his right.
Jack sat across from him in the interrogation room. I stood behind him, against the wall.
Jack laid out a bunch of pictures in front of Turner, one by one, putting them on the table with dramatic flair.
First, the one of Simpson with his dog, followed by his body in the alley.
Second, Ellis and his dog, then his mangled body.
Third, Howell and his dog.
“It looks like we might be missing a picture,” Jack said.
Turner refused to glance at the photos.
Jack raised his voice. “You killed these men.”
“I didn’t. I swear to you.”
“You got really angry when animals were abused.”
“Who told—yes, I did. I do. It’s wrong on so many levels.”
“Yet you reported on these cases. You put yourself around them.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“Hmm.”
“These men,” Jack pressed a finger, first to the photo of Simpson, and then Ellis, “these were old cases, dating back twenty-six years ago.”
“Yeah, I was just a baby.”
To hear him put it like that made me realize how young I was in the scheme of things myself. Turner and I were only two years apart.
“Doesn’t matter. They were killed in the last couple of weeks.” Jack put down photographs of Karl Ball and Dean Garner.
“Who are they?”
Jack smiled. It was predatory. “You sure you don’t know who they are?”
“Should I?”
“They went missing back in two thousand nine and ten.”
“Well, I don’t even know who they are.”
“But you know who this is?” Jack put a professional photograph of Kent Fields on the top of the rest.
Turner glanced down only for a split second. “Of course I do.”
“What did you think of Mr. Fields?” Jack leaned back in his chair.
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“Just that. You knew him.”
“I knew of him.”
“Hmm.”
Turner looked past Jack to me. “I don’t understand. Obviously you know more than I do.”
“You were up for the same award, against a Pulitzer-winning journalist. It must have been quite an ego boost.”
Turner gave a slight nod, as if by doing so it was a confession of wrongdoing somehow.
“But you didn’t win, did you? He claimed the award at the very end. Crushing your dreams.”
“I moved on.”
“But that wasn’t the first time you ran into Kent Fields, was it?”
Turner rubbed his hands together on the table. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“Let me refresh your memory. You both went to the same university.”
Turner blurted out a laugh. “Years apart.”
Jack’s face remained stoic. “But he came back to deliver a lecture, didn’t he? One you were in attendance for.”
“How do you know all this, and what are you implying? Please just tell me.” Turner addressed his words to me.
Jack turned toward me as if tagging me to take over.
I pushed off the wall. “We believe that you framed Kent Fields for the murders of Simpson and Ellis. When things got messed up, meaning he died, wrapping his car around a tree, you had to change your victim pool.” I had elaborated on Fields’s cause of death to prompt a reaction. Turner provided none.
“Victim pool? Framing Fields? No, no way. You’re saying I’m the killer?” Turner retched into his mouth and swallowed it back down. “You can’t prove any of this.”
“Here’s the wonderful part. We can hold you for at least forty-eight hours without needing to charge you. That will give us plenty of time to ensure we have all the evidence we need.”
“No. Please. I’ll tell you anything you need to know, but I didn’t kill those people.” Turner ran a hand through his hair, his eyes were moist with tears. Fear was embedded there.
I’m sure he was rethinking his decision to waive his right to a lawyer.
“Listen, those stories? It wasn’t my idea. It’s where the new guy starts out.”
“You seem to bring a lot of passion to the table though. The manager at the shelter said you would be willing to murder an animal abuser. She said,
and I quote, that you would have ‘no problem repaying these people in kind for their treatment against these animals.’”
Turner held up a hand and took a deep breath. “What she said, it’s true. I did say that, but I didn’t act on it.”
“We’ve got two bodies and three missing people. Somebody acted on it,” Jack said.
“Yeah, somebody, not me. Like I said, I’d rather be reporting other kinds of stories. You mentioned people went missing in two thousand nine and ten? I was still living in California.”
“You told us not long ago that you fought to have this story about Howell.”
“About him going missing, not about him abusing the dog. Local news, animal abuse, they’re not going to advance my career. I don’t have a choice about what I write. I’m told what to write.” He probed my eyes and then Jack’s. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“You said you are assigned these stories. By whom?”
I glanced at Jack. He beat me to the question.
A knock came on the door, and Jack’s glare had me jumping to answer.
Paige and Zachery were there. Both of them were winded.
Chapter 41
Brent Turner was left in the interrogation room while Paige and Zachery shared their findings.
“When we were at the shelter executing the warrant, we spoke with the manager. She told us about a volunteer from years ago who got violent with an animal owner when they went to collect the abused animals. She said that he had his hands around the man’s neck and it took a couple of them to pry them off.” Paige paced around the table in the conference room. “She couldn’t remember his name but said something may have been noted in the files. When we were working through the volunteer information, we found him. At first, his name didn’t mean anything to us, but we had Nadia complete a full background check. Well, it’s Saul Larson.”
“That’s the newspaper editor,” I said.
“That’s right.”
“Turner was just telling us that he doesn’t pick these animal abuse stories, they are assigned to him.”
“And who else would know about all of these cases as well as the editor?” Zachery flashed a knowing smile.
“We had him in our reach and we took in the wrong guy.”
The Defenseless (Brandon Fisher FBI Series Book 3) Page 16