“I already told you people,” Tom said, the chains rattling as he moved his feet under the table.
“Just so we’re clear,” Joanne said calmly. “Could you confirm what you told Ms. Cobb?”
“Friday night.”
Joanne wrote “FRIDAY” in large letters on her notepad, thinking this was the first valuable information they had obtained since the onset of the interview. When people lied, elements of the truth had a way of slipping out. Tom had told the court that Ian Decker had left Thursday evening, not Friday Since Decker had consistently denied seeing the decoy gun used in the crime, if he had found the gun, it could have given the brothers a motive to kill him. It was possible that they held Decker hostage Thursday night until they made their final decision, and then they had taken him out to the field Friday night and shot and buried him.
“May I speak to you outside?” Joanne asked Kennedy, wanting his approval before she confronted Tom with the information Elizabeth had received from the anonymous caller.
As soon as the door to the conference room was closed, Joanne said in a hushed tone, “How far do you want me to go? Should I confront him, tell him he and his brother are suspects in a homicide?”
“I don’t see why not,” Kennedy said. ‘He’s not going anywhere. Start hammering away at him. Get him to crack and give us what we need. What if Decker isn’t dead? He could be bleeding to death in a ditch somewhere while you’re playing twenty questions with his killer.”
“You’re welcome to take over,” Joanne said, stung by his sharp remarks. Her face flushed in embarrassment. Kennedy refused to acknowledge her. He was chastising her by his silence, letting her know that the situation was far too serious for her to take his comments personally. “We can’t restrict him from making a phone call,” she continued, linking gazes with him. “The less we tell him, the greater chance we have of apprehending his brother. Gary might not know that he’s now a murder suspect. That’s why I’ve been…”
“You’ve got one suspect in that room,” Kennedy said, his eyes blazing with intensity. “We didn’t bring these people down here to talk about stolen cars. I’m not interested if Gary Rubinsky hit his mother when he was a teenager. Valencia is borrowing men from other departments. Crush this man, Joanne. You’ve got enough bottled up frustrations to castrate five guys. Imagine this idiot’s your ex-husband and rip him to shreds.”
“Fine,” she snapped, flinging open the door to the conference room.
Taking her seat, Joanne spread her hands out on the table. “You killed Ian Decker,” she said, her voice booming out over the room. “You killed him and buried him in a field near Magic Mountain.”
Tom’s face turned ashen. Beads of perspiration popped out on his forehead. His eyes darted frantically to Marilyn Cobb, then back to Joanne. “I didn’t kill anyone,” he said, his voice shaking. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Stop lying,” Joanne demanded fiercely. “Ian found the gun. He confronted you, and you killed him. Gary doesn’t care what happens to you. How do you think we know where he’s buried?”
The underarms of Tom’s shirt turned dark with perspiration. A muscle in his face was twitching.
“We know everything, Tom,” Joanne continued. “The grave is near a truck stop off of Interstate 5. The truck stop is next to a McDonald’s restaurant. How do we know these things? Who do you think told us? Can’t you figure it out, Tom?”
With both hands, Joanne shoved the yellow pad of paper across the table. Tom jerked back, almost knocking over his chair.
Marilyn Cobb opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. Not only was she inexperienced, it was obvious that she didn’t like Tom Rubinsky and assumed he was guilty.
“Draw us a map to the grave,” Joanne said, unrelenting. “We’ve got an army of men in that field. They’re going to find him. Your brother sold you out, understand? Save us some time and the court will look more favorably on you. Otherwise, your days are numbered. Either draw us a map, or you’ll be using that pad of paper to start marking off days. We’re talking premeditated murder, Tom. Killing Ian Decker is the same as killing a kid or a senior citizen. You know he wasn’t the same as you and your brother. The law takes that into consideration.” She stopped and took a drink of water.
“Not only that,” Joanne continued, “you killed Ian to keep him from testifying against you. Listen carefully” She paused, one side of her top lip curling in contempt. “We’re not talking life in prison, Tom. You’re going to be executed.”
A cloak of silence fell over the room, the only sound Tom’s heavy breathing. He gripped the arms of his chair. The area around his mouth became chalky white. A few moments later, he leaned over and vomited. One of the police officers brought over a trash can. Marilyn Cobb grabbed a stack of napkins and handed them to him, then she filled up another paper cup with water. Ignoring the napkins and water, Rubinsky wiped his face with the edge of his shirt. His chin dropped to his chest, and the fear was replaced with rage.
“Here,” he snarled, picking up the yellow pad and hurling it across the room, “draw your own fucking map.”
One of the two police officers twisted Tom’s arms behind his back, snapping on the metal handcuffs. Rubinsky lunged forward against the restraints, his eyes bulging. “You’re the one who’s a liar. You’re trying to trick me.”
The larger of the two officers grabbed Tom from behind, prepared to take him to the ground. Joanne leapt to her feet, gesturing for them to wait. “Who else would tell us these things?” she shouted. “You let Gary talk you into it, didn’t you? He said you could get away with it. All you had to do was get rid of Ian and everything would be fine. Isn’t that what Gary told you? Did Gary shoot Ian? What did he do? Make you watch while he killed your childhood friend?”
Marilyn Cobb had no choice but to intervene. “My client refuses to answer on the grounds that it may incriminate him.”
“He doesn’t have to answer,” Joanne said, taking a deep breath. “While your brother is free, you’re going to hear it. In the middle of the night you’re going to hear it. When you’re awake you’re going to hear it. While you’re sitting on death row, you’re going to hear it.”
“What?” Tom said. “What am I gonna hear?”
“You’re going to hear the pitiful screams your friend made when you killed him.”
Joanne finally broke him. Tom began sobbing hysterically. Kennedy was nodding in satisfaction.
“You don’t mind taking the rap for Gary,” Joanne continued, thrusting her finger toward the ground. “You don’t care that Ian Decker is buried in a cold grave, a grave you and your brother dug for him. What’s the big deal, right? Isn’t that what Gary said? Ian didn’t have a future anyway. If you and Gary didn’t kill him, someone else would. He was a sitting duck, right? An accident waiting to happen?”
“Book him,” Kennedy said, pushing himself out of the chair. “Chief Adams, I’d like you to assign every officer available to this case, as well as assist Valencia in recruiting extra manpower and equipment so we can expand the search for the victim’s body. Joanne, as soon as you get the pleading prepared and typed, bring it to my office for my signature.”
“How do you want me to write it?”
“First-degree murder with special circumstances,” Kennedy stated, pausing and pointing at Tom from the doorway “You’re a guilty man, Mr. Rubinsky. You made a mistake by not telling us the truth. That mistake will cost you your life.”
SEVENTEEN
Tuesday, February 13, 2001, 3:30 P.M.
WHEN SCHOOL let out that afternoon, Leah walked over to a handsome sixteen-year-old with shoulder-length blond hair and a golden tan. “I need to see my dad,” she said. “Didn’t your parents go to Aspen on a ski trip?”
“Yeah,” Nathan Salinger said, “but my aunt is staying with us. I could never sneak the car out without Irene finding out.”
“What about one of your friends?” Leah asked. “Can’t you think
of someone who could drive me?”
“Why doesn’t your mother take you to see your father?”
“Because she hates him,” Leah said bitterly. “I’m afraid to even go home today She took my computer away because I talked back to her. She hid it in this secret room in the back of her closet. I stole the key to the room from her backpack and took my computer out. When she finds out, she’ll probably send me to reform school.”
“Don’t be silly” Nathan told her, laughing. “Your mother can’t send you to reform school. You didn’t break any laws. Wasn’t this room in your own house?”
“Don’t you know what my mom does for a living?” Leah asked. “She sends people to prison. We don’t own the house in Seacliff Point anyway. We’re renting it from Judge Spencer and his wife. Maybe some of that stuff in the room belongs to them.”
Nathan was leaning against a large oak tree, a toothpick dangling from one comer of his mouth. His mother said he had an oral fixation. Because gum wasn’t allowed in school, he chewed on toothpicks. “Tell me about this room,” he said, grinning mischievously. “Is this where the Spencers keep their dirty stuff, like porno magazines and X-rated movies? Hey, maybe it’s their dungeon. You know, whips and chains, that type of thing.”
“You’re disgusting,” Leah said, shoving her long hair to one side of her face. “All you ever talk about is sex.”
“I’m a guy,” he told her. “Guys talk about sex. If you want to talk about clothes or something, hang out with one of your girlfriends.”
Leah kicked a rock across the grass, slowly raising her gaze to him. “Do you think you’re my first boyfriend? I’ve had boyfriends since I was twelve. When we lived with my dad, he was never around. I had a different guy over every afternoon. I used to give my brother five bucks to leave the house.”
Nathan snapped to attention, looking around to see if anyone was in earshot. “Why are telling me this? Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“You’re the one who started talking about sex.”
“I was just joking around,” he said. “I’m your friend, Leah. I care about you. I’ve been trying to help you. I just can’t solve all your problems.”
“Every guy starts out saying they want to be my friend, then the next thing I know, they’re trying to get in my pants. You’re the same as all the others. Why don’t we talk about what you did to me at Trent’s party?”
A group of students were walking toward them, either to their parents’ cars parked in front of the school or to board one of the two school buses. Nathan took Leah’s elbow and steered her in the direction of the restrooms.
“Where are you taking me?” she protested. “I’ll miss my bus.”
“Don’t worry,” Nathan told her. “I’ll make sure you get home.”
The boys’ restroom was unlocked. The custodian stayed until five o’clock, then locked all the rooms after he’d finished cleaning. Kicking open the door, Nathan pulled Leah inside, blocking the door with his body “Listen to me,” he shouted, holding her by the shoulders. “I didn’t force you to do anything against your will. You wanted to be with me. You insisted I go in the bedroom with you. You stripped naked, then climbed on top of me.”
Leah had an icy look in her eyes. “I was drunk on that vodka punch Trent made. That didn’t mean I gave you permission to have sex with me.” She moved closer, her breath hot on his face. “I was freaking passed out! A person can’t give their consent when they’re unconscious. I hope you enjoyed yourself. All I remember was waking up in Trent’s bedroom. Did you guys trade off, huh?”
“I can’t believe this,” Nathan said, shocked at what he was hearing. “You’re trying to blackmail me. Do you want money? Are you trying to force me to take you to see your father? I’ll hire a car service if that’s what this is all about.”
“Forget about my stupid father,” Leah shrieked uncontrollably, her frustrations spewing out. “My father’s a criminal. Just because I’ve had a few boyfriends doesn’t mean I had sex with them. I was lying when I said those things. I wanted to get back at you. I’m only fifteen years old.”
“Calm down,” Nathan said, placing his hands on her shoulder.
“I wish I were dead,” Leah said, wrenching away from him. “I got drunk so I could forget about my miserable life for a few hours. I thought you were a nice guy, that we were just going to play around. I guess I was wrong.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to her. “Please…I thought…”
Leah backed into a comer. “Don’t touch me.”
Nathan turned around in a small circle. “You’re not going to say I raped you, are you? God, Leah, you’ll ruin my life. My parents will disown me, and I’ll go to jail. Then I won’t be able to get into a decent college. No one in my family has ever been charged with a crime. Most of them are doctors, lawyers, bankers. I’m begging you, please don’t do this to me.”
Nathan shook his head, blaming himself for ever getting involved with her. She’d pursued him from the first day she’d enrolled at the Waldorf School. She knew his family had money, that his father was one of the wealthiest men in Santa Barbara. He’d never suspected she might be an opportunist. Her mother was a district attorney. She lived in an exclusive community When she’d told him about the problems with her father, he’d felt sorry for her, wanted to comfort her. “I made a mistake,” he said. “We should have never gone to Trent’s party. Things always get out of hand with that crowd. I swear on my mother’s life, Leah, I thought you wanted it. I didn’t realize you’d passed out. I don’t even remember how it happened. I thought I was dreaming or something. Trent must have poured enough vodka in that punch to make an elephant pass out. I don’t even like booze.”
“Yeah, right,” Leah said, picking a piece of lint off her black skirt. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to call the police and tell them you raped me.”
Nathan released a long sigh of relief. “It stinks in here,” he said, reaching for the door handle. “We can talk at my house. I’ll get my aunt to drive you home later.”
Leah placed her hands behind her back. “What am I going to do? I’m pregnant.”
Nathan’s mouth fell open. For a few moments, he was speechless. When he finally spoke, his voice was elevated several notches—the voice of a young boy who suddenly found himself in serious trouble. “I thought you were just trying to get my attention. Are you really pregnant?”
A tear rolled down one side of her face. “The home pregnancy test came back positive,” she told him, dabbing at her eyes with her finger. “I’m sure my father will wire me money for an abortion if I ask him. I tried to tell him over the phone the other night, but my brother kept walking in. Besides, knowing my mother, she’s probably recording our phone calls in case my dad says something they can use against him in court.”
“How far along are you?”
“It’s been over two months since Trent’s party,” Leah said. “I haven’t gained any weight, but I was sick to my stomach yesterday morning.”
Nathan pulled her into his arms, gently pushing her head down onto his shoulder. “Everything’s going to be okay, Leah,” he said, inhaling the fragrant scent of her hair. “Maybe the test was wrong. My grandfather left me some money, so you don’t have to worry. Before you even think about getting an abortion, though, I want you to see a doctor. Sometimes those tests are wrong. You might not have read it right.”
“They’ll call my mother,” Leah said. “I couldn’t stand it if she knew. She already thinks I’m a juvenile delinquent. The only person I’ve ever been able to talk to is my dad. They’re going to send him to prison. Then I won’t have anyone.”
They took a shortcut to Nathan’s house, using one of the hiking trails laced throughout Santa Barbara. Both of them were silent. Tall trees shaded them, the leaves crunched under their feet. He clasped her hand protectively, pushing aside several protruding branches so they didn’t strike her in the face. In three months, he would turn seventeen. Just a few w
eeks after that, he would graduate. He came from a family of staunch Catholics. His mother went to mass every Sunday, and his grandmother went every morning.
Nathan glanced over at Leah’s profile, her elegantly slanted nose, her pronounced cheekbones, her delicate, flawless skin. People told him he was handsome, that his family had good genes. Other images appeared in his mind. He tried to push them away, but they were too vivid. Their child would be beautiful. How could he allow her to kill it?
Nathan and Leah reached an area where the trail branched off into separate directions. He suddenly stopped walking, dropping Leah’s hand and staring off into space. All the stories he’d read about arriving at the fork in the road, then having to decide which path to take. Like the night he’d had sex with Leah, the moment had felt surreal, as if he were locked inside another dimension. What decision would he make? He turned and gazed at Leah. This wasn’t only his decision. They might not agree. Was a life worth the sacrifices they would both have to make?
Yes, Nathan told himself, taking Leah’s hand again in confidence.
EIGHTEEN
Wednesday, February 14, 2001, 9:45 A.M.
A STORM FRONT moved in early that morning. Joanne almost didn’t make it to the office. Several times she nearly lost control of the Lexus in the torrential downpour. A mud slide had brought traffic to a standstill on the 101 Freeway. The storm was so severe that Seacliff Point and most of the surrounding areas had suffered a blackout. She decided to keep Mike and Leah home from school, calling Emily Merritt and asking her to check in on them.
Carrying her galoshes in her hand, Joanne removed a pair of black pumps from her backpack, dropped them on the floor just inside the main entrance to the courthouse, and was about to step into them when she spotted Kennedy standing by the elevator. Rushing to catch up to him, they rode to the third floor together. “Quite a storm,” he remarked, fastening the snap on his umbrella. “You had a longer drive than I did. I’m surprised you made it in today.”
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