Betrayal of Trust

by J. A. Jance

  I ticked off my suspicions one by one. “I believe Gizzy and Ron both played a part in the cyber bullying that went on with Josh Deeson before his suicide, including staging that film clip that we found on Josh’s phone. The presence of Rachel Camber’s bracelet, one her parents told me she wore every day, gives us a possible link between Ron Miller and her murder. Last but not least is the fatal arson fire at Janie’s House this morning. I think one or both of them burned down the building in hopes of frying whatever incriminating evidence was on the computers.”

  “Which Todd already has,” Ross said.

  “Yes, but Ron couldn’t have known that. If Gizzy and Ron really were together all night—as they told her parents they were—then Gizzy was directly involved in the arson. If they weren’t together, and she’s providing an alibi for him, she’s still rendering criminal assistance.”

  “Okay,” Ross said. “Give me a couple of minutes. I’ll get back to you.”

  I closed my phone and turned to Mel. I had heard her phone ring while Ross and I were talking.

  “Thanks for letting me know,” she said as she ended her call.

  “For letting you know what?”

  “That was Captain Hoyt,” Mel said. “Sam Dysart didn’t make it. He suffered another stroke in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, so he’s out of the picture as far as any information or criminal charges are concerned. But WSP investigators managed to track down the serial number on the watch. Sam Dysart bought that replacement watch just last week, the one Josh was wearing when he died. The one Gerry Willis gave Josh was engraved with Josh’s initials. The one found on Josh’s body had no engraving. Dysart also paid for the watch to be gift wrapped. With any kind of luck, we will find some of the gift wrapping in the trash at Dysart’s house.”

  “But why did he do it?” I asked. “Was the watch a thoughtful gift, a bribe, or what?”

  “Since they’re both dead, we’ll probably never know,” Mel said. “But as of right now, you and I are off the Dysart case. The Olympia PD Sex Crimes unit is on it. They’ll search Dysart’s house. They’ll also interview the other kids in the chess club, past and present. Joan believes there’s a good chance Sam Dysart used his position of authority to victimize more than just one kid.”

  “Me, too,” I said grimly. “If that’s the case, the school district is going to be liable big-time. But none of this is going to help Gerry Willis. His grandson is dead, and he isn’t coming back. One way or another, Sam Dysart’s relationship with Josh Deeson contributed to the despair that resulted in his suicide.”

  Mel nodded. “I agree, and that’s exactly what I told Joan—that even if we don’t end up having to prove all of this in a court of law, we need to have enough forensic evidence to be able to give Josh’s family rock-solid answers about what really happened to him—with both the cyber bullying and the sexual exploitation. The truth may be uncomfortable, but it seems to me that knowing is better than not knowing.”

  My phone rang. It was Ross Connors calling back.

  “All right,” he said, “here’s the deal. I’ve spoken to Governor Longmire and laid out the situation. I didn’t make any specific promises about the benefits of Giselle turning state’s evidence, but Marsha’s a smart woman and she gets it. She understands that if Gizzy talks to you before you talk to Ron, her cooperation will be well received. I think she also believes that, given the opportunity, Ron would jump at taking a plea agreement in order to testify against Gizzy. She wants to talk to you first.”

  Those elusive pronouns again. “Gizzy wants to talk to us?”

  “No, Governor Longmire and Mr. Willis want to talk to you. She says there’s a patio out back by the kitchen at the governor’s mansion. You’re to meet them there.”

  “When?”

  “Now. As soon as possible.”

  Mel and I went straight there. The patio outside the kitchen wasn’t a patio so much as a covered arbor where whatever cook was on duty could step outside for a quick smoke and still be out of the rain. We found the governor and her husband sitting across from each other on the benches of a rough redwood picnic table. There was a large crystal ashtray on the table between them. Marsha was smoking; Gerry was not.

  Marsha had been outraged earlier that morning when she had caught me in the act of lifting Josh’s dirty clothes out of the hamper. Then she had been angered to the point of fury. Now she looked haggard and beaten down—defeated rather than angry. Marsha gestured for Mel and me to join them at the table, then she picked up her pack of cigarettes and held them in our direction.

  I gave up smoking a long time before I gave up drinking. Cigarettes don’t have much of a hold on me anymore. Mel stopped smoking a relatively short time ago, a matter of months rather than years. When the proffered pack came close to her, I saw Mel stiffen with temptation before she shook her head and murmured, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  In her torn panty hose and dirt-smudged suit, Mel didn’t look like someone ready to have a private audience with a sitting governor, but I don’t believe Marsha paid the slightest bit of attention to anyone’s looks. Her focus was elsewhere.

  “Which one of you found the watch?” she asked.

  I raised my hand. “I did,” I said.

  Marsha shook her head ruefully. “It was smart of Ross to have you check through the trash. I guess we need to be more careful about what we toss in the garbage.”

  Since her comment didn’t appear to be a question, I decided that no response was required.

  “Show me what you found in the hedge,” Marsha said.

  That was an official command, and I complied immediately. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the evidence bag that contained Rachel Camber’s bracelet. I handed it over to Marsha. She studied it briefly, then handed it back to me with an almost imperceptible shrug.

  “I saw it earlier,” she admitted. “It was there in Gizzy’s underwear drawer along with the watch. At the time I had no idea what it was and didn’t understand the significance. If I had, I might have tried to get rid of it, too, the same way I tried to get rid of the watch.”

  “You?” I stammered. “You’re the one who tossed out the watch?”

  Marsha looked me in the eye and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I willfully attempted to conceal evidence in an active homicide investigation. When I realized Josh had been coming and going without my knowledge, I wondered if my girls had been pulling the same stunt. One bad apple and all that. Zoe told Gerry just a little while ago that she and Gizzy have been letting themselves and their friends in and out that way for years, long before Josh ever came to live with us.

  “On a hunch, I decided to stage an impromptu search-and-destroy mission of my own in both girls’ rooms. I found that thing hidden in Gizzy’s room,” she said, nodding toward the bracelet, “along with a watch that seemed to be a duplicate of Josh’s. By then we had already found Josh’s body. I couldn’t understand why there would be two watches instead of one, but it seemed to me that finding it in Gizzy’s room meant that she was involved in what was going on, one way or the other.”

  Marsha paused and shrugged again. “What was I supposed to do? I’m a mother. I wanted to protect my child, so I tossed it. This morning, after Gizzy didn’t come home last night, I mentioned to Monica that she might want to do the same thing—take a look in Gizzy’s room at her father’s house. This is what she found.”

  Marsha reached into her pocket, pulled out a thumb drive, and placed it in Mel’s outstretched hand. “Monica dropped it off with Gerry while I was at the airport picking up my sister-in-law.”

  “The same clip?” I asked.

  Marsha swallowed before she answered. “I wish,” she said. “That one was faked. It’s the same girl, but I believe this one is real. Gerry and I watched it together this afternoon. As soon as we saw what was on it, we knew we’d have to turn it in to the authorities. I was hoping to conceal Gizzy’s involvement for a couple of days longer—long enough to get through Josh�
�s funeral tomorrow afternoon. I wanted to give the out-of-town relatives a chance to go back home before we have our coming-to-God session with Gizzy about it. Obviously it’s going to have to happen a whole lot sooner than that.”

  Marsha paused long enough to grind out the remains of her cigarette in the ashtray and to draw a deep breath. Her hand lay limply next to the ashtray, as though she didn’t have the physical strength to move it. Gerry Willis reached out, took her hand in both of his, and sat there looking at her, nodding encouragingly. They were in this mess together, and they would deal with it together.

  “I’ll be tendering my resignation as governor at a press conference immediately following Josh’s funeral,” Marsha continued. When no one made any comment to that announcement, she smiled wanly and continued.

  “That’s always the best time to come out with bad news—Friday afternoon, preferably after most of the news shows have put their evening newscasts to bed. I’ll be saying that I’m resigning in the aftermath of a family tragedy to focus on my family. That will be true regardless of how deeply involved Gizzy was in everything that’s happened. If you decide to lodge formal charges against me for tampering with evidence, that will be up to you and, of course, to the attorney general.”

  With that, Marsha plucked a cell phone out of her pocket and dialed a number.

  “Hi, Liz,” she said to her chief of staff. “I believe Giselle is upstairs in her room. Would you please tap on her bedroom door and ask her to join Gerry and me out on the kitchen patio? Thanks.”

  Mel waited until Governor Longmire closed her phone. “Is your daughter aware that Ron has been taken into custody?”

  Marsha shrugged. “I’m not sure. If any of the other kids realize it, they might have sent her a message by now, but we haven’t mentioned it to her or to anyone else.”

  “All right,” Mel said.

  We spent most of the next two minutes sitting there in uneasy silence. The birds that lived in the greenery around the governor’s mansion were talking up a storm while the four of us had nothing to say. Eventually the kitchen door opened and Giselle Longmire stepped out onto the patio.

  I had voted for Marsha Gray Longmire twice, both times she ran for governor, and both times she won. I had done it more for old times’ sake—because she and I were both Ballard Beavers—than out of any particular party loyalty. I have to say, however, that I was never prouder of her conduct in the governor’s office than in her decision to leave it. And the First Husband’s behavior was amazing in its own right. To see him disregarding his own loss in favor of helping Marsha deal with hers is something I’ll never forget and something I hope to emulate should I ever be called upon to do so. It offered mute testimony to the healing power of love between two people and how it can sustain us when everything else we hold dear is ripped away.

  Gizzy appeared among us dressed a little more conservatively than she had been earlier at Janie’s House. She approached the picnic table tossing her hair and smiling confidently, totally unaware that the damage she and Ron Miller had wreaked on others was about to come back and nail them both.

  “You wanted to see me?” she asked cheerfully.

  When Gizzy caught a glimpse of Mel and me sitting there at the picnic table with her parents, she hesitated. Her air of unquestioning confidence faltered a little.

  “Mom,” she protested. “These people are cops. What are they doing here?”

  “They came to talk to you, Giselle,” Marsha said.

  It was June. Morning cloud cover had burned off during the course of the afternoon. Outside temperatures hovered in the low eighties, but Governor Longmire’s voice was pure ice.

  “I’ve spoken to both your father and to Monica,” Marsha added. “They both agreed that due to the seriousness of the situation they would abide by my decision, and I have made it.”

  “What situation?” Gizzy asked, feigning innocence.

  “Ron has been taken into custody,” Marsha announced, making no effort to soften the blow. Gizzy’s sudden sharp intake of breath showed it had landed.

  “Initial charges have to do with assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest,” Marsha continued, “but my understanding is that there are far more serious charges coming—something about the murder of a girl named Rachel Camber and about the fire at Janie’s House last night.”

  “I don’t know anyone named Rachel Camber,” Gizzy protested. It was a halfhearted denial. I didn’t buy it; neither did anyone else.

  “She was from Packwood,” Mel inserted quietly. “You may have known her as Amber Wilson.”

  Giselle Longmire suddenly looked stricken, but only because the seriousness of her situation was finally beginning to dawn on her. “You mean she’s really dead?”

  “Yes,” Marsha replied coldly. “Like on the video clip I found hidden in your underwear drawer, as opposed to the pretend dead in the video we found on Josh’s cell phone.”

  Gizzy stood very still and said nothing.

  “Right this moment the authorities don’t know what all is involved, who did what, or how much you participated,” Marsha continued. “If we’re lucky, you’ll be considered an accessory after the fact. I’m telling you straight out that though you may be my daughter, you are not above the law. You could do yourself some good and speed the process considerably if you’d simply tell these investigators what you know.”

  Gizzy looked at her mother incredulously. “You think I should just talk to them? Shouldn’t I, like, have a lawyer present or something?”

  Marsha stood up.

  “That’s entirely up to you,” she said. “If you want to ask for an attorney, that’s certainly your prerogative, but if you want our support—Gerry’s and my support, your father’s and Monica’s support—then you’ll grow up and start taking responsibility for whatever part you played in all this.

  “That means you need to come clean and to tell the truth. If you’re not prepared to do that, you must understand that your father and I are fully prepared to cut you loose. Yes, we love you, but don’t believe everything they tell you about unconditional love. There are conditions. We refuse to squander anything more on someone who has no respect for us or for our values.

  “If you demand an attorney, fine, but be prepared to have one that is appointed for you by the courts. We won’t be paying for it; neither will your father or Monica. Gerry and I took Josh into our home thinking we’d be able to give him a better life than what he’d had before. Your behavior and that of your friends took that chance away from him. Zoe has always looked up to you, but she’s evidently known all along what you and Ron were doing to Josh. She finally told Gerry about that ugly texting nonsense this afternoon. She kept quiet about it out of misplaced loyalty to you, but the secret has been eating away at her for months, tearing her apart. So you’ve destroyed Josh, you’ve harmed your sister, and you’ve ruined me as well. As of tomorrow at this time, I will no longer be governor—all because of you.”

  “But . . .” Gizzy began.

  “No buts!” Marsha mowed over her daughter’s attempted protest and stormed on. “You need to figure this out for yourself, Gizzy. You can cooperate with the cops in the feeble hope that your cooperation will buy you mercy from a judge or jury somewhere down the line. Or you can deny everything and trust that Ron Miller won’t sell you down the river. If I were you, though, I don’t think I’d count on that. We’re all prepared to stick by you, but only if you do the right thing. If not? We’re done.”

  Stunned with disbelief, Gizzy Longmire stared at her mother as Marsha stood up. Then Marsha reached down and helped her husband to his feet.

  “Let’s go,” she said to him, pocketing her cigarettes. “We need to get back to our guests. We’ve left them alone long enough.”

  “But wait,” Gizzy wailed as Marsha and Gerry started toward the house. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  Marsha stopped long enough to look at her.

  “I have no idea,” Governor Long
mire said, shaking her head. “It’s in your hands now. It seems to me you should have thought about that a long time ago.”

  On Gerry’s way past his stepdaughter he paused long enough to lay a consoling hand on her shoulder. “Your mother’s right, you know,” he said softly. “If you want us to stick by you, we will, but you’ve crossed over the line, betrayed our trust. It’s time for you to do the right thing.”

  With that, Governor Longmire and Gerry Willis disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Gizzy standing there dumbstruck watching them go.

  Chapter 27

  Once the kitchen door closed behind Gerry and Marsha, what followed was something my mother would have called “a pregnant pause.” In all my years as a cop, I had never seen a suspect’s parents step up the way Marsha and Gerry just had. And the fact that the other set of parental units was evidently on board and in total agreement with this unflinching bit of tough love was even more astonishing. In my experience, a crisis of this kind in divorced families usually devolves into a circular firing squad of finger-pointing.

  As for Gizzy? I didn’t know if she would go ahead and demand an attorney, as she had every right to do with or without parental approval, or if she would run for the hills.

  “Is it true?” she asked finally. “Is Ron really under arrest?”

  Mel nodded. “Yes, he’s really under arrest. Usually, in these situations, the suspect who talks first is the one who gets the best deal. Not that Mr. Beaumont and I can make deals,” Mel added, “because we can’t.”

  “How bad will it be for me?” Gizzy asked.

  Mel shrugged. “I have no idea,” she answered. “That depends on what you’ve done, how much you know, and how much you can help us.”

  “Are you placing me under arrest?”

  “Not right now. We’re only taking you in for questioning.”

  “Will I have to walk through the house in handcuffs?”

  Mel’s handcuffs had disappeared much earlier in the afternoon when Ron Miller was locked in that capitol cop’s squad car. I still had mine. We could have used those.