Family Secrets: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller

by Glenn Rogers

  She eyed me, suspiciously at first, but then her looked became more ... mischievous. “Okay, Mr. Badger ...”

  “Please, Jake.”

  “Okay, Jake. I'll play along as long as you don't try to sneak in a specific question about Jane.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Okay, hypothetically, suppose you have a young woman from a prominent family. She is well-educated and has a job with a promising future. She is, in fact, going to be super-rich. The year, hypothetically, is 1984. She finds herself pregnant. Inexplicably, she decides to walk away from her family and her career. She has a twin sister she loves very much. They are very close. But she doesn't communicate with her family regarding her decision to leave. She just picks up and leaves. Her sister, hypothetically, is devastated. Her father is devastated and outraged. This young woman moves to another state, changes her name and starts a new life. She makes a call asking her family to respect her wishes and leave her alone. She has a child and, hypothetically, raises it alone. But she struggles with guilt or regret for what she has done. So, hypothetically, she goes to a therapist. Hypothetically, what kinds of things is she likely to say to her hypothetical therapist?”

  Dr. Schneider smiled at me when I finished. “You're a very cleaver man, Jake.”

  “And charming and witty,” I said.

  “Let's stick with cleaver,” she said.

  “Second best,” I said. “Story of my life.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” she said.

  “Okay,” I said, “so how about my hypothetical young woman?”

  She hesitated, thought, and then began. “Suppose a young woman in those kinds of circumstances came to me for help. She might express regret for leaving her family as she did. But she might also feel justified, in this hypothetical scenario, by the fact that she was pregnant.”

  “Which might suggest,” I said, “that this hypothetical woman's guilt or regret had something to do with who the father was or the circumstance under which she got pregnant.”

  “It might,” Dr. Schneider said.

  “What if this hypothetical pregnancy was not the real reason she left? What if things had happened, scandalous, hurtful things, that had nothing at all to do with her pregnancy. What if those things were the reason she left? What kinds of things might she talk to her therapist about?”

  “How could I possibly know what this hypothetical woman might say to me without knowing what kinds of hypothetical things happened?”

  “Good point,” I said. “Let's suppose she had discovered that her father's company had been engaged in questionable activity that resulted in suffering and death, but that the activity had been covered up and no one knew about it.”

  Dr. Schneider studied me for a moment, and then said, “I've no idea what a hypothetical woman in that kind of a hypothetical situation might say. I can honestly say, though, that I have never encountered anything even remotely like the situation you've just described.”

  Now it was my turn to study her for a moment. “Really?” I said.

  “Really,” the doctor said.

  That didn't make any sense, I thought to myself. Why would Jane not talk about what she had discovered about her father's company? I must be missing something.

  “I'm sorry, Jake,” the doctor said. “There's just nothing I'm going to be able to help you with.”

  She was right. She'd gone as far as she could. And I was pretty sure I hadn't learned anything I hadn’t thought of or considered already. I thanked her for her time and for her patience.

  She was gracious, saying that she wished she could have helped.

  I thanked her and left.

  I needed to think, so I went back to my room, changed into my running clothes and went for a run in the one hundred plus degree heat.

  Chapter 26

  I'd run for nearly five miles, but couldn't figure out what else to do in Tempe. It seemed apparent that other than talking to a therapist, Jane had kept her past to herself. She felt guilty about the pregnancy, but even in conversations with her therapist had not explained why. Some people just don't reveal their innermost secrets, not even to their therapist. She'd started over when she'd moved. She'd put the past behind her and intended to keep it there. The answers to Jane's past were in Los Angeles, not Tempe.

  My run ended where it had begun, at my motel. It was noon. I showered, dressed, checked out, gassed up the Jeep, had a Double Whopper and fries at Burger King and hit the road. It was a seven or eight-hour drive, depending on how often I stopped and for how long. I'd be home between eight and nine.

  I used the drive time to relax and think. I put the Moody Blues on the stereo and lost myself in the philosophical rock of the late sixties and early seventies. I didn't consciously think about the case, but within a couple of hours, insights began to claw their way into my consciousness.

  The first insight I became aware of was that June had not known her sister as well as she thought she had. Once that occurred to me, it seemed rather obvious. But the obvious is only obvious when you finally recognize it.

  The second insight I had was that Jane had not just had a boyfriend. She'd been deeply in love with someone, had a relationship with him, and had managed to keep it a secret. Not easy to do.

  The third insight I had was that she was protecting her lover from the consequences of their forbidden love. But why would I assume that it was a forbidden love? Why else should he not know that she'd bore him a son? Maybe because of who he was or because of what he would do if he knew. Maybe he was married.

  I stopped in Blythe to use the restroom and get another sugar-free but caffeine-loaded soft drink. As I was filling the large cup, I realized that I had been assuming that whatever secrets Jane had discovered about Lindell Industries and her pregnancy were separate issues. Why assume that? Maybe they were somehow connected. Maybe her lover was somehow involved in the scandal. Once I was thinking about the scandals, I wondered how much Lyell Lindell knew about them. Some CEOs delegated a lot of authority and were not directly involved in every aspect of their company. The bigger the company, the more likely it was that the CEO would engage in extensive delegation. Maybe Lyell didn't know about his company’s indiscretions. Who was I kidding? Of course he knew. Was Lyell the one trying to kill me? Maybe I should ask him.

  I had phoned Mildred and told her I was on my way home and would come by for Wilson a little before nine. She had Wilson ready, and we got back to our apartment right at nine. Heidi must have been watching, because as Wilson and I walked past her door, she opened it and stepped halfway into the hall. She was wearing a pair of tiny tight shorts and a tank top with no bra. Even though I was tired, I had to acknowledge that her breasts were spectacular.

  “Hi, Jake,” she said as she leaned against her doorjamb.

  “Hi, Heidi.”

  “Haven't seen you for a couple of days.”

  “Yeah, I've been away. Business.”

  “Working on a case?”

  I smiled. “Uh-huh.”

  She smiled. “Want to come in for a drink?”

  “Oh, uh, gee, Heidi,” I said, “I've been driving for eight hours. I’m kind of tired. Maybe another time.”

  She stuck out her bottom lip in an attempt to look pouty. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I'm pretty sure.” I began moving on toward my door. “We'll do it some other time,” I said.

  “Okay,” she said. “Another time. I'm looking forward to it.”

  Wilson and I played tug-o-war with his favorite rope toy for a few minutes. I had some yogurt and thought about calling Susan. Part of me wanted to. But I knew that until all of me wanted to, there was no point. So I brushed my teeth and went to bed.

  Chapter 27

  Wilson and I got to the office a little after eight. Our morning run had been incident free. I’d had my small .357 with me on the run and had swapped it out for my bigger one when I dressed for work. I was pretty sure that when they, whoever they were, realized that I was going to keep
digging, they would make another run at me.

  I got the coffee maker going so Mildred could feed her addiction to caffeine when she arrived, and made myself a mug of tea. Then I called June to see if she had time to see me. She said she could see me at ten. That gave me time to call Alex and see what else he had found.

  “I've had to call in a lot of favors and make a lot of promises to get some of this stuff. Some of it's classified. Some of it's in the record of some congressional committee. Not easy to get.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I owe you big time. What'd you find?”

  “The brain implants thing was just one of several problems. In Iraq there were problems with laser targeting devices—missiles hitting the wrong targets. A lot of civilians died in that debacle. In Afghanistan there were problems with communications equipment. Couldn't call in ground support. Soldiers died in that mess.”

  “How is it that these things escaped media attention?” I asked.

  “How does that sort of thing ever happen? Somebody got paid off.”

  “Any evidence of that?”

  “Not so far,” Alex said, “but if there's evidence to be found, I can find it.”

  “I've complete confidence in you,” I said.

  “Confidence or not, who else you gonna get to do it?”

  “Good point,” I said. “Can you fax Mildred the stuff you found on Iraq and Afghanistan?”

  “Sure. Soon as we're done here.”

  “I think we're done here.”

  *****

  I stepped into June Morrison's office right at ten. She'd already had Ingrid bring in a cup of tea for each of us. Considerate.

  “So,” June said, “what else can you tell me about my nephew?”

  “He'll be thirty in October.”

  I could see June doing the math in her head. “That would mean Jane was pregnant when she left.”

  I nodded.

  “So she and her boyfriend ran off together.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Not exactly. Why not exactly?”

  “She left by herself,” I said. “She started a new life by herself, had her son by herself, and raised him by herself.”

  “Do you know who the father was?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Does Eric know who his father is?”

  “Says he doesn't.”

  “Do you believe him?” June asked.

  “No reason not to,” I said. “From everyone I talked to, both here and there, Jane was very tightlipped. She didn't share a lot of information with people ... even with you. She may not have told Eric who his father was.”

  June acknowledged what I’d said with a nod.

  “There was one person Jane talked to about Eric's father,” I said. “Jane's words to her were: He is the love of my life. And I can never be with him. And he can never know that he has a son. Please don't ask me any more questions.”

  June thought about that for a moment. She was a thoughtful woman. Not one to jump to conclusions or overreact.

  “And you're satisfied,” she said, “that you've talked to everyone who might have information about Jane during those years.”

  “No.”

  “So there's more work to be done?”

  “As long as there's something we don't know, there's more work to be done.”

  June nodded approvingly.

  Then she said, “But that's not all you wanted to talk about, is it?”

  “No. I was hoping you found something scandalous about your company.”

  She looked slightly annoyed.

  “The only things I found,” she said, “were positive.”

  I drank some tea. “Let me guess,” I said, “you googled Lindell Industries.”

  “What else was I supposed to do?” she asked.

  “Everything about Lindell Industries on the internet has been sanitized. You won't find anything negative there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Did you find anything negative?”

  “No.”

  “That's because there's nothing negative there to find.”

  “There might be,” June said. “I'm sure I overlooked something. I'm not a professional investigator.”

  She wasn't going down without a fight.

  “That's true,” I said. “But I have a friend in the FBI who is a professional investigator. One of the best. And he couldn't find anything negative either.”

  “Maybe that's because there isn't anything negative.”

  “Sure. And when you wake up in the morning you don't have morning breath.”

  “Hey,” she said with a frown.

  Now it was my turn to give her a look.

  “Okay, fine,” she said. “There's probably something negative out there somewhere.”

  “But you're not going to find it on the internet,” I said.

  “So where will I find it?”

  “Probably in the corporate archives.”

  She looked at me but didn't say anything.

  “Where would those kinds of files be found?” I asked.

  “In our underground vault, under the parking level.”

  I took another sip of tea. “Want some help?” I asked.

  “No. Your presence down there would draw attention to what we're doing.”

  “I think I've already done that.”

  “All the more reason for me to be the one who goes through the files.”

  She took a deep breath. “Tell me again why I'm doing this.”

  “Something happened that no one knows about. It's a secret that they want kept secret. And someone is willing to kill me to keep it a secret.”

  “And you think Jane may have discovered it. But rather than expose it, she walked away.”

  “I think that’s at least a possible scenario,” I said.

  “And so we need to figure out what she discovered,” June said.

  “Yes.”

  “It's going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  Part of me wanted to tell her I already knew what some of the secrets were. But part of me didn't. I'm not sure why. But she was right about going through the files. So I said, “There is another approach you might want to consider.”

  She waited for me to explain.

  “You could ask your father,” I said.

  “Since the nature of the inquiry calls into question the integrity of his company,” she said, “and ultimately him, I can't imagine he'd appreciate me approaching him about it.”

  I nodded. “What if I approached him?” I asked.

  “No. Under no circumstances are you to approach my father.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he's a very proud man. And now he's old. And whoever is responsible for these secret things, whatever they may be, it was not and is not him. I'm sure of it.”

  She had also been sure that Jane had not had a boyfriend. But I thought it imprudent to remind her of the fact. So I just took another sip of tea.

  She drank some tea as well. “I'll have Ingrid reschedule my appointments and I'll spend some time in the archives. Any idea what I'm looking for or where I should start looking?”

  “I would look between the years of 1967 and 1982 83, and I would look at anything that involved interaction with the government.”

  She nodded. “I'll call you when I find something.”

  Chapter 28

  As I stepped off the elevator into the underground parking structure of Lindell Industries, I looked around for anyone suspicious. I didn't see anyone sitting in a vehicle reading a book or a newspaper. I'd left Wilson at the office with Mildred. If someone took another run at me, I didn’t want him in the line of fire. As I pulled up out of the underground structure and waited to pull into traffic, I scanned the street in both directions, looking for something that looked out of place. Everything seemed to be in order, so I pulled into traffic.

  Picking out a tail while driving in traffic can be difficult. The more cars there are on the r
oad, the more difficult it is to pick out a vehicle following you. Century City traffic on a workday can be considerable. There were lots of cars on the road so I checked my mirrors often. Just because a car is traveling in the same direction you are doesn't mean it’s following you. But it might. Just to make sure, I decided to take a circuitous route, turning left and right several times to see if one of the vehicles behind me would make the same turns. One of them did. It was a silver Tahoe with two guys in it. They hung back, sometimes nearly a hundred yards behind me, other times getting as close as three car lengths. As I began my series of turns, they needed to stay a little closer.

  Whoever sent them must have told them not to lose me. Not losing me would cost them. A single vehicle following a single vehicle for very long is going to be detected if the driver being followed is paying attention. I was paying attention. The question was, now that I had them, what was I going to do with them?

  What I needed was to get them out of the vehicle. And when I did, ideally, it should be someplace where there weren't other people around. I wasn't sure if that would be possible. A few days ago, three guys had followed me for miles on the freeway, then followed me behind a strip mall, got out of their vehicle and let me walk right up behind them. Were these two as dimwitted as those three had been? Probably not. These guys probably knew better than to follow me into a deserted location.

  I thought about it for a while and came up with an idea that I thought might work. I drove to Studio City, to Papa's Pizza, a small carry out place on Moorpark where they knew me. I parked a few spots away from the front door of the small shop, got two pair of handcuffs out of my glove compartment, put them in my back pocket, and went it. Mario asked if I wanted my usual, a large pepperoni.

  “Not just yet,” I said. “Right now I just need to wait a few minutes and then go out the back door.”

  Mario was the owner's son and was in his mid-twenties. He smiled and said, “What is it, Jake? You got an angry woman after you? Or an angry husband?”