“Unless Callahan worked for the Russians,” Vargas said.
“He’s a bartender in Glenhampton who was sleeping with Stark’s wife,” Jess said. “He has no connection to the Russian mob.”
“That you know of. But take a look at this.”
She clicked to the next photograph. It showed Aidan Callahan’s truck several car lengths behind the blue Audi that carried Jason Stark and the Russian woman.
“This photo was taken by one of our surveillance agents on the day that Jason Stark and Galina Morozova met with the enforcer at the auto parts store. We ran the plate. The red truck you see here is registered to Aidan Callahan. He followed them to the meeting. It’s possible that he attended the meeting. Here’s a photograph of a man walking down the alley on the side of the auto parts store heading in the direction of the rear parking lot. We think this is Callahan, but we can’t confirm it.”
She put up another slide showing a man walking away from the camera, taken from a distance. The man’s face wasn’t visible, but based on height and hair color, it could very well be Aidan Callahan.
“This is the only photo we have of him,” the prosecutor said. “We went back through all our surveillance material, and he doesn’t show up in anything else relating to our case. We can’t prove he worked for our Russians. But it is suspicious that he showed up at this meeting. Now, I’d like to hear about your evidence. What’s your proof that Callahan was the shooter?”
“Our case hinges on a detailed witness statement from Mrs. Stark,” Jess said. “She admits to having an affair with Aidan Callahan. When she ended it, she says he started stalking her and her family. That’s why Callahan followed Jason Stark. It has nothing to do with any Russians. Caroline Stark claims that Callahan later broke into their home and shot and killed her husband. She saw it happen. Callahan was arrested in that same red truck. The truck was full of blood, and he was wearing blood-soaked clothing. A silver handgun was retrieved from the vehicle.”
“We now have forensic test results on the blood and the gun,” Vernon Mays said. “Phil, can you summarize?”
Phil Nadler was a storied crime scene investigator with a craggy face and salt-and-pepper hair, who’d worked some of the best-known homicide cases in recent history. A rumor was going around that he planned to retire any day now and start raking in the cash as an expert witness. Jess was excited to have this opportunity to see him in action.
“Afraid I forgot my PowerPoint,” Phil said, drawing chuckles around the table. “But I do have some pictures to pass around, with extra copies for the feds if you’d like to take home a party favor. Okay, Callahan’s truck, interior and exterior views. Notice the substantial amount of blood on the front upholstery. Photographs of Callahan wearing blood-soaked clothing, and the blood on his hands. Photographs of a silver-gray handgun, a Beretta APX RDO with bloody fingerprints. And photographs of a man’s jacket and a blanket both recovered from a cave where we believe Callahan may have dumped Stark’s body. The body has not yet been recovered. We believe it may have been swept out to sea by the storm surge from Hurricane Oswald. The good news is, we no longer need the body to prove the murder. The blood on the seat of the truck and on Callahan’s clothing belongs to Jason Stark. We were able to develop a DNA profile for Stark based on a lock of hair taken from his daughter Hannah. That sample is one step removed, however. It’s reliable. But I’d prefer a direct sample from Jason Stark for trial. We could get that from his hairbrush, razor, whatever. We searched the beach house based on Caroline Stark’s consent. Unfortunately, Jason didn’t spend time there, and we were unable to obtain a hair sample that we could confirm as his. We’d like to search their apartment, if his wife would give permission. But I’ve been told Caroline Stark is no longer cooperating with the investigation.”
Everybody turned to look at Jess.
“Is that true?” AUSA Vargas asked.
Jess felt her face flush.
“She was physically assaulted by Aidan Callahan at the Glenhampton police station. He broke loose while being transported. After that attack, Caroline turned off her phone and stopped responding to my calls or texts. She claims she fears for her life and doesn’t trust the authorities to protect her. Which could be the explanation for why she went AWOL. But—”
Jess took a deep breath. Her hands were clenched into fists. She made an effort to uncurl them and speak calmly.
“Deputy Castro and I have developed new information that causes us to doubt Caroline Stark’s version of events. This information may—and I stress, this is preliminary—it may implicate Caroline Stark as a coconspirator with Aidan Callahan in her husband’s murder.”
There were some indrawn breaths around the table.
“This is news to me,” Vernon Mays said. “When were you planning on telling me this, Lieutenant?”
“At this meeting, sir.”
Mays was about to yell at Jess in front of everyone, but to her intense relief, Phil Nadler interrupted.
“I have evidence that undercuts Caroline’s story also. Honestly, I dismissed it, but it could be read to say she’s lying.”
Phil hadn’t brought his damaging evidence forward before, either. Jess was off the hook.
“Everybody wants to ruin my case today,” Vern said. “Go ahead, Phil. What have you got.”
“We went through Caroline’s very lengthy witness statement and compared it to forensics at the crime scene, looking to corroborate. A few things don’t add up. There was a lot less blood in the house than would be expected if an adult male was shot and bled out, even accounting for cleanup. There was some blood. But the blood belonged to Caroline Stark, not Jason. And that brings me to the forensic evidence most damaging to Caroline’s credibility. The wound to her hand, which she claims she got by grabbing the knife away from Callahan, is extremely shallow. It’s also on her left hand, and she’s right-handed.”
“What are you getting at?” Mays said.
“I believe that the knife wound to Caroline’s hand was self-inflicted.”
Jess drew back in shock. Hearing about the insurance policy, Jess had begun to accept that Caroline might be lying. That in fact she was probably lying. But to stage the crime scene, to fake an injury? That would mean Caroline had engaged in a carefully orchestrated, premeditated murder and cover-up. How could Jess have been so wrong about her?
“Lieutenant Messina, do you have anything further?”
Jess struggled to gather her thoughts.
“Um, yes. Okay. First, sir, the Starks’ next-door neighbor, Mrs. Francine Eberhardt, who admittedly is elderly and was viewing the scene through the rain caused by the hurricane, says she saw three people leaving the Starks’ house at or around the time of the murder. Specifically, she saw two people dragging a third. One theory is, that was Caroline Stark and Aidan Callahan dragging Jason Stark’s body. Another theory is that Chief Thomas Callahan helped his brother dispose of the body, and he’s the third individual that the neighbor saw.”
“I strongly disagree with that,” Mike said. “It was Caroline.”
“There is some troubling evidence against Chief Callahan, who’s our suspect’s brother, which I will report through channels whether or not it impacts this case, sir,” Jess said.
“The neighbor didn’t say who it was? Just that she saw a third person?” Mays asked.
“She couldn’t see clearly,” Jess said.
“Could be anyone then. Might even be one of your Russians, Melanie. We simply don’t know.”
“Sir, there’s something else. Something that does directly implicate Mrs. Stark,” Jess said.
“Go on.”
“Deputy Castro learned that Caroline Stark took out a five-million-dollar insurance policy on her husband two days before his murder. She is the sole beneficiary of that policy.”
The room fell silent at that. Every eye was on Jess.
“Well,” Mays said, “that’s a problem. No jury would believe that’s a coincidence. I don’t see ho
w we use her as a witness now.”
Jess’s stomach sank. “Shouldn’t we at least ask Caroline about the insurance policy? Give her a chance to defend herself?”
“Ask her? You can’t find her, Lieutenant. And this has got to be why. She knows she’s guilty and she’s on the lam. At any rate, she’s now made herself useless as a witness. Callahan’s lawyer would wipe the floor with her over that, and we’d be forced to disclose it.”
Mays rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe the way to salvage this case is to go after her. Make Caroline Stark the centerpiece. Phil, do you see any forensic evidence implicating Caroline?”
“I do. Her fingerprints are on the murder weapon,” Phil said.
Mays pounded the table. “Beautiful.”
“But, so are Callahan’s. And Callahan’s fingerprints are bloody, which means he had blood on his hands when he touched the gun,” Phil said.
“How does that make sense?” Mays asked. “Wouldn’t the blood come after he shot Jason Stark?”
“Two possibilities. Either Caroline shot Jason, and Aidan handled the gun afterwards, during the cleanup. Or Aidan shot Jason without leaving prints, and picked up the gun with blood on his hands afterwards. As I’m sure you all know, it’s possible to touch something and not leave a print if your hands are perfectly clean and dry.”
“About the gun?” Jess said.
Heads swung back her way.
“Caroline claims that the murder weapon belonged to Aidan Callahan. She saw it in his apartment and she handled it there. That could explain why her prints are on the gun.”
“She could be lying,” Mays said.
“She could be,” Jess conceded. “And there’s evidence that she is. Hannah Stark contradicts her mother. Hannah says the Beretta recovered from the truck matches the general description of a gun carried by her father. She saw it in his briefcase.”
“We have information on the source of the gun,” Phil said, shuffling through some papers in a folder in front of him. “This is based on a query of the serial number to the ATF database. Okay, here it is. This firearm was originally purchased online three years ago in a batch of twenty firearms bought by a company that runs gun shows. No record of what happened after that, until six months ago, when the gun was reported stolen by its then-owner, a Joseph Lombardo of Massapequa, New York.”
Jess sat up straight in her chair.
“Joseph Lombardo is Caroline Stark’s brother-in-law,” she said. “He’s married to her sister, Lynn, with whom she’s very close. Lynn knows where Caroline is, but she’s not talking.”
Mays leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “What does this mean? You think Caroline stole the gun from her brother-in-law?”
“No,” Jess said. “I bet Joe Lombardo gave the gun to Jason Stark. Gave it to him willingly. From what the AUSA said, Jason knew he was in trouble. That’s consistent with something Hannah Stark told me. She said that in the months leading up to the murder, her parents seemed upset and worried, like something was wrong. About that time, her father started carrying the gun. Jason needed a gun to defend himself against the Russians. Joe Lombardo gave him his gun, but maybe he knew that his brother-in-law was dirty. He didn’t want to be implicated if the gun was ever used in a shooting. So, he reported the gun stolen. And he was right to do that, because it was used in a shooting. It was used to kill Jason himself—somehow.”
“Yes, but how, and by whom?” Mays said. “There are too many loose ends in our case. I’m uncomfortable. We need a witness who can reliably tell us what really happened. Somebody who was there.”
“Caroline, obviously, once we locate her,” Jess said.
“I said reliably. Caroline has no credibility. After the insurance policy? With her prints on the gun? Come on. She’s toast. What about Aidan?” Mays said.
“Aidan?” Jess said.
“Why not? We flip him, get him to testify against her. Maybe he’s the shooter, but she’s the better target. Betrayed her own husband for five million dollars and the love of a younger man? It’s classic.”
“What makes you think he’d flip on her?” Jess asked.
Jess doubted it, personally. She’d seen the desperation in Aidan’s eyes as he grabbed for Caroline in the station house. There was at least one thing Caroline hadn’t lied about. Aidan Callahan was obsessed with her nearly to the point of insanity. Jess didn’t believe he would talk.
“What’s the alternative?” Mays said. “Callahan rots in jail while she lives it up on the insurance money? He’ll flip, I guarantee it. I say we get a warrant for Caroline Stark’s arrest. Put her in handcuffs, do a nice little perp walk into the courthouse. Oh, yeah. I’m liking this.”
55
“I have some good news and some bad news,” Lisa Walters said.
It was five days since Aidan’s last court date, and five more until the grand jury would meet to determine his fate. Aidan and Lisa sat across a narrow table from one another in the small interview room that the prison set aside for attorney visits. The fluorescent lights buzzed. The carpet was dingy and stained. The room smelled of roach spray and damp. But Lisa, in a red suit and bold earrings, with her clear gaze and firm voice, brought a ray of hope.
“I could use some good news,” Aidan said.
“All right. Good news first. And this is big. The prosecution wants you to cooperate against Caroline Stark.”
“Cooperate? What do you mean?”
“Turn. Flip. Sing. Drop a dime. Call it what you’d like. They believe she killed her husband with your help, and they want your testimony against her in exchange for a reduced sentence.”
“But—”
Lisa held up her hand. “Wait a second. I know what you’re going to say. Waah, waah, Lisa, I can’t remember. Waah. I love her, I won’t talk against her. Well, stop right there, kid. You’re gonna do this. You’re going in there and agreeing to testify, but not with a guilty plea, and not in exchange for a reduced sentence. They’re going to declare you innocent and drop the charges. I have a bombshell up my sleeve that changes everything. Your tox screen came back. You know how many Ambiens you took on the night of the murder?”
“Ambien? The sleeping pill? Zero. I never took a sleeping pill in my life.”
“Wrong. You took a shitload. The tox screen shows an enormous concentration of zolpidem in your blood, which is the sedative in Ambien. Normally, zolpidem dissipates quickly. Your blood was drawn after your arrest, which by my calculation was about eight hours after you had that drink with Caroline—”
“The bourbon?”
“Yes. My expert says that to have that much zolpidem in your system that long after administration of the drug, you would’ve had to ingest up to four or five times the standard dose.”
“You’re saying Caroline drugged me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Don’t you think she did?”
Aidan cast his mind back to the first gulp of that bourbon at Caroline’s house. It had tasted bitter and strange, but he’d ignored that and drunk the whole glass down, simply for the pleasure of drinking with her. Almost immediately afterward, he’d started feeling lethargic, dizzy and shivery. But the music was intoxicating and being near her was overwhelming, and he attributed his light-headedness to that. Yet, when he awoke in his truck the next day, his mind was wiped clean like he’d been bingeing for days, after only one drink. Aidan tended bar for a living. He had a high tolerance for alcohol. He never blacked out. Yet he remembered nothing after the singular moment of stepping out into the wind and rain. And then, to wake up drenched in blood with a gun he’d never seen wedged under the seat, and Caroline’s husband dead, at his hand? He remembered telling Caroline he’d protect her from him. He even recalled wanting to jump the guy. But in his heart, he didn’t believe he could do something like that and have zero memory of it.
“Maybe you’re right,” Aidan said to Lisa.
“I am right. Tell me about that drink, and how you felt afterward.�
�
“The bourbon tasted funny. I passed out not long after drinking it. I woke up in my truck on the beach with my mind a blank and no memory of anything in between.”
“There you go. Put that together with the Ambien in your blood, and it’s obvious. But if you want to feel better about it, the prosecutor told me Caroline’s fingerprints are on the gun.”
“Seriously?”
Aidan’s spirits soared. If she killed him, then Aidan’s hands were clean. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he wanted not to be guilty. How much he didn’t want to have another dead man on his conscience. He hated that Caroline would suffer. He wished he could carry that burden for her. But at least his own conscience would be clear.
“Though, you should know, your fingerprints were on the gun, too,” Lisa said.
Crap. Aidan hung his head and rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t handle much more of this stress, of this crazy roller-coaster his life had become.
“Which is it, then? Did I shoot Stark or did she?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you what I think happened,” Lisa said. “Caroline drugged you. She shot her husband, and then she stuck the gun in your hand while you were blacked out. She made sure your prints were on it, then she planted it in your truck.”
“How did she get me to my truck? And dispose of Jason’s body?”
“Somebody helped her. But it wasn’t you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to go in this direction.”
Caroline was still a beautiful dream, one he couldn’t give up. If she’d betrayed him that badly, it would be worse than anything Samantha ever did. He didn’t want to face it. And yet—
“After all the proof I laid out, you still don’t see that she set you up? I want to slap you, kid,” Lisa said.
“There is this one thing.”
He paused, afraid of what he was about to say, of where it would lead him.
“I’ll bite. What’s the one thing?” Lisa asked.
“Someone came to visit me the other day, and she told me a strange story. This girl Brittany? She works for Harbor Gourmet. She’s the person who hired me to work at Caroline’s party, the one where Stark’s mistress showed up and made a scene.”
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