by Joel Goldman
Chapter Thirty-Two
ALEX SPENT MONDAY MORNING staring out her office window trying to not to think about anything. Not after the weekend she’d had.
She didn’t want to think about the conversation she had with Judge West when he called her early Saturday. On her cell phone. Not on her burner phone, his indifference to leaving an electronic trail that tied them together another reminder that, as far as he was concerned, she was the one at risk in their relationship, not him. He listened as she told him what to say if Rossi and Wheeler showed up in his chambers, hanging up without comment when she finished, giving no indication whether he would back her up or throw her under the bus.
She didn’t want to think about the judge’s photograph of her kneeling over Dwayne Reed’s body. With everything else that had been happening, she’d had no time to deal with it, flashing on an image of Judge West handing it to Rossi, clenching her eyes until the image faded in an explosion of starbursts. Even if the photo was a fake, by the time she proved it, all anyone would remember would be that damning pose.
It was harder still not to think about the conversation she had when Bonnie called her after returning from the hospital and finding the note Alex had left for her. It was brief, but that hadn’t made it easy.
“Come home,” Bonnie said.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“You read my note. You know why.”
“Don’t do this, Alex. Please. We’ll figure something out.”
“Remember the first time you took me to the ER? You showed me around, showed me all the crash carts and other equipment and introduced me to all the doctors and nurses and staff?”
“Of course I remember.”
“And there was that guy, the chief or head of the ER, what was his name?”
“Adelson. Barney Adelson.”
“Right. So you’re showing me all of that and bragging about what a great job the trauma unit does, and Dr. Adelson interrupts and says something that I’ve never forgotten. Do you remember what he said?”
Bonnie sighed. “Some things can’t be fixed.”
Desperate to find another way but certain there wasn’t, Alex cried, choking as she spoke.
“And this is one of them. I’m sorry. Good-bye.”
Alex had ignored Bonnie’s steady stream of texts and voice messages since then, and when her phone buzzed with yet another, she turned it off, stuffed it in her pants pocket, and resumed staring out the window.
A mountain of work was sitting on her desk, correspondence to answer, motions to respond to, drafts of pleadings to review, and research to read. She’d thought that plunging into work would get her focused on something productive, but she’d been wrong. The best she could do at the moment was to stare out the window, unfocused and unseeing.
Grace Canfield broke the spell, rapping her knuckles on Alex’s open door, a file folder in one hand.
“I’d say I was sorry for interrupting, but I’d be lying,” Grace said. “You think all that work is going to get done by itself?”
Alex swiveled her chair around and gave Grace a weak smile. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”
Grace shook her head. “Unh-uh. Look at you, all down in the mouth. What happened to Little Miss Piss and Vinegar from last Friday? You were all dolled up and ready for the ball and now you got your lip stuck out like your dog died.”
“My dog is fine.”
“But you aren’t. You and Bonnie have a fight?”
Alex leaned her head to one side, sighing. “You could say that. We broke up.”
Grace took one of the chairs in front of Alex’s desk. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. You two were so good together. Isn’t there something you can to do to patch things up?”
Alex shook her head. “No. It’s time to move on, and you’re right about the work.”
“Is that your way of telling me it’s none of my business and to butt out?”
“Yeah. I’d appreciate that.”
“You can appreciate it all you want, but I’ll tell you one last thing. I haven’t seen two people more in love or better suited to each other than you and Bonnie, and that’s something worth fighting for. I don’t care what happened between the two of you; it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“That’s actually two things, maybe three, but thanks. What’s up?”
Grace shoved the piles of paper on the desk out of the way, making room for the file she’d been carrying, then setting it in front of Alex.
“Here’s what I found on Joanie Sutherland. She’s been in the system since she was thirteen. She specialized in the Ps.”
“Possession and prostitution,” Alex said.
“You got it. She’s been in the county lockup half a dozen times but never gone away.”
“If she was a prostitute, that could help us on the rape charge. The coroner says he found genital trauma and Jared says their sex was consensual. So maybe Joanie had rough sex with one of her other johns earlier that evening. You think you can talk to some of the women who work Independence Avenue, maybe get a line on any of her johns?”
“My church is doing outreach to those girls. I’ll find out who to talk to.”
“Grace, you are too good for words. I don’t know another investigator who could turn her church into a source. What else did you find out about Joanie?”
“She was twenty-eight years old. Been to rehab a couple of times. Grew up in Northeast.”
“Where was she living?”
“She spent a lot of time on the street, but she stayed some with her sister, Bethany, in a mobile home park just off of Blue Ridge.”
“Where’s that?”
Grace opened the file and pointed to the address. “Pull it up on Google Maps.”
Alex punched in the address, hunching her shoulders and leaning toward the monitor as she zoomed in and out.
“How about that?”
“How about what?” Grace asked.
“The mobile home park is a little east from where her body was found, maybe a couple of miles,” she said, pointing to the map.
“So you’re thinking Joanie was familiar with the area?”
“Makes sense. I don’t think she met Jared on Match.com.” She scooted her chair away from the monitor. “What do we know about the sister?”
Grace turned to another page in the file. “Here’s a copy of her driver’s license. She’s had a couple of speeding tickets but nothing more than that. She works at the Clay County courthouse.”
“North of the river, huh. What’s she do up there?”
“Cleans.”
Alex picked up the copy of the driver’s license, studying the photograph. “This is a lousy picture, and the photocopy makes it worse, but . . .”
“But what?”
“I may have run into her last Friday,” she said, telling Grace about the little girl in the creek and the woman driving the Impala.
“Well, now we’ve got an address, we can find out for sure. You want me to go see her?”
“No, I’ll go, but I want to talk to Jared first. It’s time he filled in some blanks for me.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“HOW’S THE NECK?”
They were back in the same closet-sized room, the air sour from the day’s earlier meetings. It was warm enough that she took off her jacket. She wished she’d chosen short sleeves with her khaki pants instead of a sweater.
The more violent her client’s offense, the more claustrophobic the room felt. But Jared was too mellow to trigger that vibe, as he fingered the bandage on his neck.
“Okay, I guess. First time I’ve ever been stabbed.”
Alex’s hand went to her neck, a sympathetic reaction, her fingers tugging at her flesh.
“Tell me what happened.”
He furrowed his brow. “Didn’t nobody tell you?”
“I’d rather hear it from you.”
“This old dude, he come up from behind and jumped me for no reason. I
threw him off of me and the guards hauled him away. That’s all I know.”
“Did you find out who he was?”
“Somebody said his name was Wood or Woody, something like that.”
“His name was Mathew Woodrell. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Jared’s eyes fluttered for an instant as he made a fist and pressed it hard against his mouth.
“I knew a Woodrell in the army, but it wasn’t him,” he said, his fist muffling his answer.
“No. It wasn’t him. It was his daughter, McCallister.”
He ground his fist against his teeth, his face flushing; then he pulled his fist away, his knuckles gouged and red.
“Yeah, I knew her,” he said, his voice thickening.
Alex knew she was on fragile ground. She kept her tone soft and easy.
“Everyone called her Ali.”
He nodded.
“One of the COs told me that sometimes you wake up during the night calling her name. Why is that?”
He pressed his fingers against his eyes, dragging his hands across his cheeks. He ducked his chin and turned his head from side to side, moving his lips like he was having an argument with himself about what to say. Then he sniffed, wiped his moist eyes with the backs of his hands, and shook his head again, finally squaring up and looking straight at Alex.
“’Cause I killed her. That’s why her father jumped me, isn’t it?”
Alex sucked in a breath. She knew how hard it was to admit to such a thing.
“That’s what he says. Tell me what happened, Jared.”
He raised his head to the ceiling, one hand covering his eyes, breathing deeply before coming back to her, his face pinched.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. Things sometimes get out of hand.”
“Ali was so pretty and so kind. All I wanted was to be around her, even if she never give me the time of day.”
“How did that make you feel?” Alex asked.
He sighed. “Like I was nothing, like I didn’t deserve her, but I knew I did. I was as good as she was. I kept telling her if she’d just give me a chance, we could be real good together.”
“And what did she say about that?”
He clenched his eyes, ticktocking his head back and forth.
“She said, ‘Not in my lifetime, soldier.’ That’s what she called me, soldier, even though I wore a name tag like every other grunt.”
“Did that make you angry?”
“A little bit, I suppose, but I couldn’t stay mad at her, not the way I felt about her. I just told myself, Jared, you stick with it, give her a reason, and she’ll come around.”
“How did Ali feel about all the attention you paid her?”
He shrugged, eyes down. “I dunno.”
“Did she complain to her superiors that you were harassing her?”
He pressed his palms against his thighs, straightening his back.
“I wasn’t harassing her. I just wanted to, you know, talk to her, be friends. That was all.”
“You must have been angry, then. Is that why you killed her?”
“I was scared, but I wasn’t angry,” Jared said.
“What were you scared of?”
“Getting caught.”
“For killing Ali?”
He shook his head. “No. I was scared of us getting caught by the Taliban.”
Alex squinted at him, trying to make sense of what Jared was saying. “I’m not following you.”
He wiped his face with his sleeve and took a breath. “All that time I was trying to get her to like me and getting nowhere; then one day out of the blue, we get assigned to the same detail and we’re riding in a jeep together, in the middle of a three-vehicle convoy, trucks carrying supplies in front and behind. Anyway, we’re in this little convoy and the truck in front of us hits an IED, gets blown all to hell. Then the truck behind us takes fire and it runs off the road. Next thing I know, we’re surrounded and they dragged me and Ali out of the jeep. I coulda swore they got rid of the others just to capture us.”
“Why would they do that? Why not kill you guys too?”
“Oh, they were going to kill us all right, but not till after they were done with Ali.”
Alex nodded. “Then what happened?”
“Well, I was right, ’cause one of them towelheads put a gun on me while the others held Ali down and . . .” He choked on the words, unable to get them out.
“Raped her.”
He bobbed his head up and down, his voice breaking. “Then they hauled her up to her knees and that was the first and only time she called me by my name. ‘Jared,’ she said, ‘help me.’ But all I did was stand there and watch one of those fucking haji shoot her in the head. They’d have shot me next except an Apache helicopter found us and opened up on them. I hit the dirt and they run off.” He dropped his head, crying. “God, I wish they’d killed me too.”
Alex swallowed the lump in her throat.
“But you didn’t kill her; the Taliban did.”
He lifted his head, red-eyed. “It’s the same thing, ’cause I should have saved her and I didn’t. That’s what you do for someone you love, and I didn’t even try.”
Listening to Jared’s story, seeing how his guilt and pain contorted him, Alex realized why he’d confessed to killing Joanie Sutherland. She was a stand-in for Ali. That’s why, the first time they talked, Jared had told her that his arrest was a long time coming. Joanie was a stand-in for the relationship he’d wished he had with Ali. Whatever had happened between them, as far as Jared was concerned, he hadn’t raped Joanie Sutherland. He’d made love to Ali Woodrell. That was why he hadn’t confessed to raping Joanie, though Alex had no way of knowing whether that was how Joanie saw it. At least Alex understood Jared better, even if she was still uncertain of his innocence.
“Did you kill Joanie Sutherland?”
He stopped rubbing his palms against his thighs, sitting still, looking straight at her. “No, ma’am, but after what I done, I deserve to be in prison or executed, whatever they decide. It don’t matter to me.”
“Well, it matters to me, and trust me, it will matter more to you when you stop feeling guilty for Ali’s death. I see how painful it was for you to tell me about Ali, but what happened to both of you is very important for your defense, so I’ve got to ask you a few more questions, if that’s all right with you.”
He cleared his throat. “Okay.”
“How did you get to know Joanie?”
“She was a hooker that worked Independence Avenue. I seen her there a few times.”
“Were you attracted to her?”
He blushed, turning and looking away. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“What was it about her that attracted you?”
He couldn’t face Alex. “I dunno. Everything, I guess.”
“Ali must have had long dark hair, kind of an oval face, and a good figure.”
Jared swirled around, hands on the table. “How did you know that?”
“Because Joanie did. Were you drawn to Joanie because she reminded you of Ali?”
Jared clenched his jaw. “Ali wasn’t a whore!”
“And I’m not saying she was. But Joanie was a whore who happened to look like Ali. When you talked to Joanie, I bet she didn’t make you feel like nothing.”
Jared hesitated, his eyes glazing over as if he had gone somewhere else, and Alex was uncertain whether he was still with her or back in Afghanistan with Ali. She rapped her pen on the table.
“Jared? Are you with me?”
He blinked, focusing, his voice soft. “Yeah.”
“Did Joanie make you feel like nothing?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“She was probably the one who asked if you wanted to have sex.”
He nodded.
“But you didn’t have any cash, did you?”
He shook his head.
“But you had all that jewelry you’d picked
up along the way, and every woman, even a whore, maybe especially a whore, likes jewelry.”
“They do. Even the ones that got enough of it.”
“So you offered to pay Joanie with jewelry. But that meant she had to come to your tent.”
“She didn’t mind. I told where I was camped out and she laughed, said she used to play down there all the time when she was little. Knew right where it was. Said it was practically on her way home and that she’d meet me there.”
“What time was it when she got to your tent?”
“I’m not real sure since I don’t have a watch, but it had been dark for a couple of hours.”
“That’s pretty early in the evening for a working girl to get off the street. How much jewelry were you going to give her?”
He chuckled. “It wasn’t like that. I mean, yeah, I was going to give her something. I was even going to let her take her pick. She said she was meeting someone later on and wanted to go home and clean up first and she wanted a nice piece of jewelry to wear when she went back out.”
Alex leaned in hard against the table, trying not to get too excited. “Did she say who she was going to meet?”
Jared shook his head. “No, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to hear about her being with someone else even though I knew that’s what she did.”
“So you had sex with her in your tent.”
He blushed again, dropping his gaze to the floor. “Yeah.”
“And afterward, did she pick out a piece of jewelry?”
He nodded.
“What did she choose?”
“The gold cross I took off her when I found her in the creek.”
“Why did you take the cross?”
“’Cause I wanted it for Ali.”
“Then why did you let Joanie take it in the first place?”
He raised his hands chest high, waving them back and forth, his eyes fluttering. “I dunno.” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I dunno. I guess maybe ’cause, like you said before, she reminded me of Ali.”
Alex studied him, looking for something that would expose him as a liar, rapist, and murderer, but it wasn’t there. He believed what he was telling her regardless of whether it was true. Mathew Woodrell had been just as certain.