“You should sit up front with your lawyer and your primary witness,” Kera whispered.
“I know. I was just saying hi.” Jackson tried to set Benjie back on the seat, but the boy clung to him. A familiar feeling.
He carried him to the front and sat down next to Mariah Martin, the social worker who’d come to the original crime scene. Benjie whispered in his ear, “I don’t want to go with her.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t.” What if he lost this petition? What if they took Benjie out of his arms and sent him home with a stranger? Worry churned in Jackson’s stomach.
Next to him, the social worker patted his leg. “We’ve got this.”
Jackson tried to relax, but he knew judges tended to side with biological family members. Some people were focused on genetics. Jackson couldn’t help but think about the man who’d sired Benjie, or thought he had. He’d become so obsessed with getting his son back that he’d resorted to outrageous criminal behavior. Some people would do anything to protect and keep their children. Jackson grew more worried. The other petitioner was a woman. Judges liked to award custody to women.
A moment later, the judge came in, and they all stood while she settled into her elevated seat. A stout woman with a buzz cut like Schak’s, Judge Holt called the room to order and promised to keep the hearing short.
“I already spoke with Mr. Jackson when he applied for guardianship,” the judge said, “so I’d like to hear from the other petitioner first. Caprice Arlen, are you present?”
A woman on the opposite bench stood. She was fifty-something and wore a plain brown dress and a white hairnet-like thing. Was that a religious preference?
“What’s your relationship to the child, Benjie Caiden?” the judge asked.
“I’m his great-aunt. He’s my sister’s grandchild. But she’s dead, Your Honor.”
“Do you have other children in your home?”
“No, I wasn’t blessed.” A solemn voice.
“Who else lives with you? A husband or any other family?”
“Just me. My husband passed away last year.”
Jackson felt sorry for her, but she wasn’t right for Benjie.
The judge continued. “Why didn’t you come forward when Mr. Jackson was looking for family members?”
“I didn’t hear about the child until recently.”
“You mean when the court notified you of your sister’s will?”
Thank god. Judge Holt thought the woman was after Benjie’s small inheritance. Jackson would gladly give it to Arlen to make her go away. His phone rang, and he slipped it from his pocket. Jasmine Parker. He silenced the cell and rejected the call, even though he really wanted to know what she had for him. He glanced at the judge, who was still asking questions, set Benjie next to him, and texted Parker: What have you got?
The social worker gave him a dirty look. Jackson tuned back in to the proceedings. A moment later, the judge asked if his family situation was the same. Jackson stood. “Yes, your honor. But my longtime partner and I are planning to move in together. She has a young child, and we want to raise the boys as brothers.”
“What’s her name and what does she do? Or his name, if that’s the case.”
Jackson held back a smile. Eugene was so politically correct. “Kera Kollmorgan. She’s a part-time nurse.”
The judge turned to the social worker and asked her in which home she thought Benjie should be placed. As Martin responded, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Jackson slipped it out. Jasmine had texted: Dr. Donna Thompson wrote the Rx you asked about. The date matches a community outreach program for the homeless.
Dan Thompson’s mother? A cold chill ran through his chest. The victim’s mother was connected to the drifter. It couldn’t be coincidence. The earlier thought echoed in his head. Some people would do anything to protect their children. But Dan Thompson was her child. A more heinous thought gripped him. Danny wasn’t her only child. He had a brother. Why would Donna need to protect her other son? Then it hit him. Officer Thompson might have known something incriminating about his sibling. What was his name? Jackson pulled out his case notes and flipped through them. Kurt. And if Dan had threatened to put Kurt in jail, their mother might have protected her weaker child by silencing Dan. If he hadn’t seen worse, it would be hard to believe. Schak wouldn’t want to hear it at all.
Still, Jackson had to find Donna Thompson immediately.
He glanced up and heard the judge say: “Full custody of Benjie Caiden is awarded to Wade Jackson.”
Thank god. Now he had to adopt the boy and give him the Jackson name. He squeezed Benjie. “We won. You get to stay with me.”
Benjie let out a “Boo-yah!” and Jackson almost smiled. The boy had been watching basketball with Katie, who’d gotten her love of sports from her mother.
Jackson jumped to his feet and thanked Martin and his lawyer, who would be well paid for sitting there and saying nothing. He hurried back to Kera. “We just got a huge breakthrough on this case, and I have to go.”
“Good news all the way around.” She tried to look happy.
“We’ll make an arrest today. Probably several. And I’ll be home all day tomorrow for Thanksgiving.”
“Congratulations on becoming a father again.”
He handed Benjie over, kissed her, and bolted from the courtroom.
CHAPTER 41
In his car, Jackson called Schak. “Hey, partner. How’s the service?” He had to ease into this slowly.
“I’m not there. I’m at the department. How did your custody case go?” Schak’s voice was strangely quiet.
“I won.” Jackson pulled onto the road. “Why are you at the department?” Something was going on.
“I arrested the sexual predator. He confessed when I confronted him.”
Holy shit! “Who is it?”
“Kurt Thompson, my cousin. Danny’s half brother.”
It all fell into place. “I’m so sorry. You must be devastated.”
“Yeah, it’s been a shitty week for my family.”
Jackson had to tell him, and there was no gentle way. “I’m afraid it’s worse than you think.”
“You mean my aunt?”
“You know?”
“It’s just suspicion so far, but yeah.” Schak’s voice was deadpan. His partner was holding in his emotions.
“We may have something solid,” Jackson offered. “Donna Thompson wrote the prescription we found in Pete Scully’s rucksack.”
“So she killed the drifter too?” Schak’s voice cracked. “Kurt knows something about Donna’s involvement, but he’s still protecting her.”
“Let’s bring her in and pit them against each other.”
Schak was silent for a long moment. “My aunt never forgave Danny for accidentally shooting Kurt. She pretended to, maybe even wanted to. But she never treated them the same after the accident. She even sent Danny to live with us for a while.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“She has a surgery, a heart transplant. So she’s probably at the hospital.”
“I’ll head over there now.” Jackson hoped she hadn’t started the surgery yet. But if so, they would be there when she completed it. Her crimes were potentially horrendous.
“I’ll meet you there.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll get Evans to come out.”
“No, she’s at Danny’s service. And I want to be present when you arrest Donna. Maybe I can get her to confess or at least admit something we can use.”
“What about Kurt?”
“I’ll leave him in the hole.”
Twenty minutes later, Jackson charged into the main lobby of the new hospital, struck again by how spacious and upscale the building was. He gave his name and showed his badge to the young woman behind the circular reception desk. “I need to spea
k with Dr. Donna Thompson immediately.”
“I’ll see if I can locate her in the system.” The young woman keyed in some information, her nails making a loud clicking sound in the massive, silent lobby. “Dr. Thompson has a surgery this afternoon, so she’s in the hospital somewhere. Probably in the cardiothoracic institute next door.” She pointed at a hallway to his right. “Down that hall.”
“Will you page her?” Tracking down a doctor in this massive complex would waste his time. “Don’t mention my name. Just tell her it’s important to come to this reception desk.”
“I’ll try.”
Jackson stepped back and checked his phone. Nothing new had come in. He started to doubt his case against the doctor. All they had was a prescription written months ago at a community outreach program. He still had to question her. Considering what he would accuse her of, the emotional element should work in his favor, maybe even break her down. Unless she was a sociopath with little empathy for others. Many high achievers were.
Hurried footsteps behind him. He glanced over and saw Schak—still in the black suit he’d worn with the intention of attending a funeral. Poor guy had missed the department’s tribute to his cousin, a fallen officer.
“Is she here?” Schak’s voice and face were filled with anxiety.
“Yes, they’re paging her.”
The receptionist called out, “Excuse me.”
Jackson turned back to her.
“The scheduler at the institute says Dr. Thompson isn’t available. She’s traveling with the donated heart to Bend and will be part of the team that transplants it into a new patient.” The receptionist gave a small smile. “It’s a miraculous day for someone and their family.”
Oh no. Jackson was torn. He didn’t want to interrupt a process that could save someone’s life. But he couldn’t let a killer leave town. If she figured out they wanted to question her, she might disappear. He turned to Schak. “Do we intercept her?”
“Hell yes. Another doctor can do the surgery. I want answers now.”
The receptionist cut in. “You’ll have to wait. The helicopter is on the pad, so she’s leaving.”
Schak lurched toward the desk. “How do we get up there?”
The receptionist’s eyes went wide. “Take the elevators in the Emergency Department.”
Schak bolted for the hall on the right, and Jackson rushed after him. At the intersection, they turned left and ran toward the emergency area. Jackson reached the admitting desk first. “Where are the elevators to the roof?” He showed his badge. “I need to get up there now.”
The man in blue scrubs didn’t move, but confusion spread over his face. “The team is taking a donor heart to a patient in Bend. We can’t interrupt that.”
“We have to,” Schak said. “Dr. Thompson is wanted for murder.”
The desk attendant blinked, looked them over thoroughly, then said, “Follow me.”
They went back into the same maze of hallways Jackson had traveled the night before with Katie, then Skylar. Most of the doctors and nurses didn’t even look up from their tasks. Jackson hoped this was his last trip here. He’d spent far more than his share of time in hospitals.
They stopped in front of a set of steel doors. The attendant hit a red button, the doors opened, and they stepped into an oversize elevator, designed for a gurney and several people. The ride to the roof took only a moment, and they stepped out. Cold wind whipped Jackson’s pant legs and made his eyes water.
Two people bundled in heavy coats over blue scrubs climbed into the helicopter in the center of the landing pad. Jackson called out, “Wait!” and ran toward them.
The woman glanced back, then shouted something at the pilot.
The rotors came to life, filling the quiet day with a whooping sound. Jackson shuddered, and his pace slowed instinctively. The blades were on top of the helicopter, he told himself. It was safe to approach.
Inside the chopper, Donna Thompson gestured and shouted at the pilot.
The pilot turned to face her and shook his head.
Jackson couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she looked furious. After a brief shouting match, the blades began to slow. A minute later, their suspect stepped out of the helicopter.
“Can this wait?” she snapped. “I have a heart transplant to perform. A life is on the line.”
The irony was overwhelming. “Other lives have been lost, and we’d like to talk to you about them.”
CHAPTER 42
Schak sat across from his aunt in the windowless room, a scenario he would have never predicted. His whole body ached with tension.
“I’m not answering questions without my lawyer,” Donna stated.
He leaned over the table. “You haven’t been charged or read your rights. This is the only moment when you get to tell us anything, and we can’t use it against you in court.” A half-truth.
“I have nothing to say.”
“What about the prescription you wrote for Pete Scully? Why not explain that?” Schak gestured around. “There’s no camera in here, and my recorder is turned off.” He hoped she would buy it. Schak tapped the device on the table. “It’s just you and me. Help me understand why you’re connected to a vagrant.”
“I’m not connected to him. Danny asked me to participate in one of those community outreach fairs for the homeless, and I wrote scripts for several people. So what?”
At least she was talking. Jackson would come in any moment to confront her with Kurt’s betrayal—real or fictitious—whatever they needed to make it work. Evans was watching both interrogations on the monitors. “A gray Lexus was spotted a block away from Danny’s body that night. We’re pulling security video now. If you got in or out of that car, it’ll be on the footage, placing you at the murder scene.”
Donna’s artificially smooth skin seemed to tighten even more. “So what if I came out there to meet Danny? I wanted to see him.”
Yes! She had admitted to being at the crime scene. “Did you get in his truck?”
“Yes, we had a drink. So?”
Jackson breezed into the room but didn’t sit. “Mrs. Thompson,” he said, leaning on the table with both hands. “Your son Kurt claims you killed Danny. Kurt has already confessed to sexual assault and blackmail, so there’s no need to protect him anymore. You need to tell us everything and make the best deal you can.”
Donna, looking thin under a loose white doctor’s coat, shook her head. “Kurt didn’t betray me.”
“One of you will get the death penalty for Danny’s murder, and Kurt decided to save himself.”
“I want to see Kurt. Right now.”
Schak repressed a smile. She was playing right into their setup. He looked at Jackson. “I don’t think we should let them confer.”
Jackson shrugged. “I’m curious to see what kind of story they come up with.” Jackson stepped toward the door. “I’ll get Kurt, and he can tell you himself that he spilled everything he knows.”
Donna made a low-pitched sound, displaying her disgust. “Kurt doesn’t know anything. He’s a sweet boy with a talent for computers, but otherwise not all that bright.”
Schak stepped out of the room and waited while Jackson moved Kurt into the small space with Donna, came out, and closed the door.
“This could backfire,” Schak warned. “Those two have always been close. And Donna has protected and coddled Kurt from the moment he was born.”
Jackson turned for the stairs. “But now that he knows his mother killed Danny, all the old patterns go out the window.”
Schak followed him up to the conference room, and they stood next to Evans in front of the monitors.
Evans laughed. “She just slapped him, so this is going to be good.”
“Shhh.” They all went quiet, needing to hear every word.
On the monitor Donna screeched,
“What did you tell them?”
Kurt stepped away and rubbed his face. “Just what I saw that night when you came home. I was there, in the family room. I heard you come in, so I got up and walked into the hall. You had blood on your face.”
Donna’s brow creased. “Why didn’t you talk to me? I didn’t even see you.”
“I know. You looked upset and went straight to the shower, so I left.”
“And you told the detectives that?”
“I had to,” Kurt whined. “Rob thought I killed Danny. He was going to charge me with aggravated murder.”
“You think I killed your brother?”
“I don’t know what to think. Whose blood was on your face?”
“That drifter’s. I saw him kill Danny, so I got justice.”
“No, you paid him to do it. Why?” Kurt’s eyes were pinpoints of pain.
“To protect you, as always!” She stepped in close to her son and lowered her voice.
Donna couldn’t believe Rob, the fat little fuck, had somehow figured out her role in Danny’s death. Her alleged role, she corrected. They had nothing on her but speculation. She’d been careful. Except for leaving the damn cash in the drifter’s pack. But at the time, she’d been a little rattled. Scully had been late, and Danny had almost passed out before the bum had shown up to do the stabbing. Later, as she waited for him to settle into the sleeping bag, snow had really started coming down, making her rush the job at the last minute. Crawling into that space in the dark had unnerved her, even with all the camping she’d done in primitive settings. So she’d moved quickly to shoot him, fake the suicide, and get the hell out—forgetting to take back the cash. Damn. Had that little mistake put them onto her?
She couldn’t believe it had come to this. The plan had seemed foolproof—and meant to be. Scully, the drifter, had contacted her asking for a different prescription, right after Danny confronted her about Kurt’s problem. The timing was serendipitous, and she’d known exactly how to handle the issue. But Kurt was never supposed to know. Why had he been in her house? Why hadn’t he confronted her?
Wrongful Death (A Detective Jackson Mystery) Page 26