Burning Proof

by Janice Cantore

  Dede retrieved some papers. She was coordinating the meals and needed a head count and a shopping list. After she had the papers, she and Abby left.

  As they drove away from the site, Abby watched the men work the concrete pump, admired the coordination and concentration she saw as they spread the viscous gray substance. The image stayed with her for some time as she pondered the importance of a solid foundation, concrete or otherwise.

  CHAPTER

  -27-

  “BURGLARIZED?” Luke stared at Woody. They were about to set out for the Lancaster sheriff’s office to formulate a plan of attack on their cold case. Because they’d been given the okay to work through the weekend, they decided to divide the workload and hoped to be able to comb through everything pertinent by Monday. Then the plan was to pool what important information they’d each pulled out and determine the most useful tidbits, see if they had a handhold and a place to start.

  “No harm, no foul. Apparently Abby’s friend Jessica was house-sitting and she scared the guy off. Bill called me this morning.” Woody fastened his seat belt.

  But Luke stopped the car in the driveway. “Does Jessica know what the guy was after?”

  “She caught him in Abby’s office. As far as she can tell, nothing was removed.”

  “What does Abby say?”

  “I told Bill not to tell her.”

  “What? Is that a good idea?” Luke was beginning to wonder if Woody was going overboard on the “protect Abby” angle.

  “I don’t want her rushing back for no reason. Do you think we should call her?”

  “Uh . . .” Now Luke stammered with the ball in his court. “I guess I’m not sure. I want her to get the rest and relaxation she needs away from all the bad stuff here, but . . .”

  “When she calls Jessica to check in, Jessica will tell her.”

  Luke had to be content with that response. He put the car into drive and they started the long trek to Lancaster. Traffic was light, and for the first part of the drive they bounced possible reasons Abby’s house was burglarized. It all circled back to the Triple Seven.

  But who still had a stake in that investigation?

  They talked themselves out after an hour and rode the rest of the way in silence. It wasn’t until they’d parked in the SD lot that Luke’s mind fully returned to the task at hand.

  “Where do you want to start?”

  In the conference room they had before them all the materials pertinent to Molly’s case.

  “I’ll take the official police reports,” Woody said. “I’ll be able to read between the lines and sift out what is important.”

  “Good idea.” Luke nodded. “I’ll go through the tip line files and the follow-ups.”

  They sat for several hours and got through a good bit of the paperwork. After lunch they took a break to go over what they’d found so far.

  The first step in opening a cold case was reconstructing the investigation from the beginning. So they’d drawn a time line of the investigation on the whiteboard. Point one was the date of the attack, and the last point was the most recent due diligence review done by Steve Jones on the tenth anniversary.

  The due diligence reviews were extremely helpful. Many of these reviews were brief, noting only another check with CODIS, but it was useful to know that the case had not been buried away and never reviewed.

  Luke stood in front of the board. The first point was the bus stop where Molly and her assailant had their fateful meeting. Also on the board was a map of the entire area, with pushpins of all the relevant locations in place: the Antelope Valley Mall, the strip mall where the assault occurred, and the road where Molly got away. Additionally they had a box of various reports, pages from the tip line logs, and all the follow-ups to the initial investigation. There were also pages of notes written by the investigators regarding Molly herself.

  It was as important to understand the victim as it was to understand the crime. The original investigators had looked at Molly to ascertain her veracity and discovered that she was the proverbial good kid. She had no history of running away or fights or problems with high school classmates. She was an average student, on the swim team, and the day she was abducted, she’d had permission to be at the mall.

  Particularly interesting to Luke were the girl’s references to God and prayer. The investigator asked her how she got out of the trunk.

  “I prayed and prayed for God to help me with the rope. It was really tight at first, but the more I prayed, the looser it got. When my legs got loose, I thanked God and kicked something and it released the latch. I believe Jesus opened the trunk. He saved me.”

  When Luke looked over the photos taken of Molly and saw the marks the tight ropes made on her wrists and ankles, especially on her wrists where the securely tied bonds had broken the skin, he didn’t have any problem entertaining the thought of a miracle freeing her. He wondered, looking at the reports on the girl’s struggles now, what had destroyed her faith over time, since it was obviously very strong ten years ago even after the horrible rape and kidnapping.

  “Well, I’m not sure.” Woody studied the board. “As far as the crime scene or scenes, the strip mall where the rape occurred is no longer there, and there’s a big-box store there now. But it looks like not much else has changed in the area.”

  “Yeah,” Luke said. “Not sure we could learn much from the mall even if it were still there. And the two servicemen who saved Molly were interviewed three times. Their stories were consistent. I’m not sure we need to recontact them.”

  “Good call. They seemed squared away and innocent.”

  “I’m drawn to a couple of other things,” he said, tapping on the table. “The most interesting stuff I found revolves around the composite drawing of the suspect.” He taped the picture up on the whiteboard. “I think the guy looks like Johnny Depp with short hair. All he needs is a little mustache.”

  “I’ll take your word on that,” Woody said. “You think by focusing on this picture, maybe seeing if we can get it rebroadcast, we’d find the guy after all this time?”

  “Maybe. The tip line logs document a call from a woman convinced she knew the guy. She said he looked exactly like her old neighbor, even named him. I’d like to connect with her, find out why she was so certain before we run to the media with the photo. My instincts are telling me this is our best bet.”

  “Didn’t the original guys follow up?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not clear what they found.” Luke pulled out a piece of paper. “See, here’s the guy’s name and address and a note that says Iraq, with a question mark.”

  “Did you ask Jones about that?”

  “I did, but he wasn’t familiar with it. He remembered the tip, that it went nowhere, but doesn’t recall exactly why. Other than this tip sheet, I don’t find any more references to this guy. Does his name ring a bell with you?”

  “Nope, I didn’t see this name in anything I looked at. Maybe the note ‘Iraq’ means he was serving and it wasn’t possible for him to be our guy.”

  “I thought that, so I asked Orson to check enlistment records. Once we hear back from him and know one way or another, I’ll have a better idea of the next step I want to take.”

  As if on cue, Luke’s cell phone rang and he answered. It was Orson.

  Luke put the call on speaker. “Speak of the devil, we were just talking about you. Were your ears burning?”

  “Only if you really sit around and think of me as the devil. I have info for you. I got no match on that name you gave me. The guy never served.”

  “Thanks; that helps.”

  “Is he a suspect already?”

  “Just an avenue to investigate. There’s a question as to why he was crossed off the list ten years ago.”

  “Cool. I’m glad to hear it. If you do a great job on this case, it may clear the bottleneck no matter how the sponsors’ legal issues play out.”

  “Sounds great. Thanks again for your help.” Luke hung up and lo
oked at Woody. “Not in the service. I think I need to ask Faye if she’s heard of this guy.” He ignored Woody’s raised eyebrow and the flush he felt in his own face at the excuse to talk to Faye again.

  Luke had spoken at length with Faye about Molly, and at the same time he learned more about the victim, he also learned a lot about Faye. He could tell she was still hurting over the loss of her husband. But she had strong faith and a strong sense of purpose, and Luke found that very appealing.

  He cleared his throat and got back on track. “She might know something not in the notes. And I’m going to set up an appointment with the tipster. Her name is Brenda Harris. I’m pretty sure I can find her.”

  “Tell Faye I said hello when you talk to her,” Woody said with a smile in his voice.

  Luke ignored him and phoned Faye to ask if she remembered the tip from a woman who was certain she knew the face in the composite.

  “No, I don’t. Did she have a name to put to the face?”

  “Barone. Gil Barone from Northridge.”

  “I don’t remember that, and if someone had mentioned that to me five years ago, I would have remembered.” Her voice turned hopeful. “It sounds like you’re already making progress. I’m impressed.”

  “I don’t want to get your hopes up. This may just be a miscommunication, but I will set up a meeting with Harris if I can find her.”

  “Well, miscommunication or not, I can tell you’re working hard. Thank you for that.”

  “It’s what we do. Thank you for the time you put into this before us.” He wanted to say more, but Woody was watching, and there really wasn’t more to say. So he thanked her again and said good-bye.

  Turning to Woody, “She doesn’t remember the name.”

  Woody nodded, pensive. “That Faye sure is a looker. Too bad I’m not twenty years younger.”

  “This from the guy who’s been divorced three times?”

  “Not thinking of me, thinking of you. She took a shine to you. I could see it.”

  Luke was sure his face flushed crimson. “Ah, Woody, don’t try to be a matchmaker here.”

  “Just saying. I’ve been working with you for a while and you seem to live like a monk. No reason for that when there are women like Faye out there worth dating.” He held his hands up as Luke started to protest. “I’m a trained observer. I know what I see.”

  “The woman still misses her husband,” Luke said, trying to ignore the “she took a shine to you” comment.

  “Maybe you could give her a good reason to move on.”

  Shaking his head, Luke tried to change the subject. “I did some poking around about Lucy Harper. She graduated from Jordan, so I talked to some people I know from church who were in her class. She was Simon’s girlfriend, on and off, from what the two people who remembered her said. I’ve also been searching the Web, but the name is common, and she could have married and now have a completely different name. Not sure if I’ll get anything anytime soon.”

  “I wish I could help, but I didn’t know Simon at all. He didn’t hang around with his brother, and his actual arrest was in San Diego.”

  “I’ll find her, I’m sure. That’s what I do.”

  “I have faith in you.”

  “I still think we should let Abby in on this.”

  “Not unless we get something solid. Trust me, she’ll need a solid connection, not another wisp of smoke like she’s gotten all these years.”

  Luke said nothing and prayed that Woody was right.

  CHAPTER

  -28-

  WHEN THEY GOT BACK TO DEDE’S, Abby wandered out to the porch with her Bible. She sat on the porch swing. She’d been out there for only minutes when Aunt Dede joined her.

  “Ethan will be here for dinner,” she said.

  Abby nodded. “That sounds good.”

  Dede had a fleece throw with her and sat down next to Abby and arranged the throw over both of them. She reached over and put a hand on Abby’s. “You’ve had a rough summer. I know that. I’ve been praying for you.”

  Abby felt a lump in her throat and it surprised her. People praying for her when she couldn’t seem to pray for herself touched her deeply.

  Dede patted her hand. “Feel like talking?”

  For some reason the thought of baring her soul to her aunt brought the threat of tears. Dede might not understand her as well as Luke, but she was always a source of comfort and guidance.

  Swallowing the lump, she said, “I feel so off-balance right now. This shooting has thrown me into a tailspin. I’m not sure I can go back to work. That’s what makes me want to hide.” Her voice broke and she grabbed a Kleenex, unable to stop the tears.

  “Give it time and prayer. I can’t imagine going through what you just did. Confusion and second-guessing is human. You work a job that requires you to make hard choices.” Dede leaned over and pulled Abby into a hug. “I haven’t always agreed with your choice of profession, but I do know that you are good at it.”

  “But I’m just not sure of anything anymore. Not my job, not my life, not anything.” The words came out in a tumble she couldn’t stop. “I shot an innocent man. Before that I let a guilty man shoot himself in front of me. And the worst of it is, I almost shot that guilty man in anger, not because he was a threat to me. I only wanted justice, for things to be put right, and everything has gone wrong. I feel like God doesn’t listen to me anymore.” She hated the whine in her voice. Her fist clenched on the Kleenex as she ran it under her nose.

  “God always listens.” Dede sat back but kept Abby’s hand in hers, gently patting it. “And I’m listening. But I don’t think that’s what’s at the root of your angst. Tell me about the man you shot.”

  Abby turned to stare at Dede and saw love and understanding in her eyes. She’d been trying to forget Clayton, had been overjoyed that she slept the night before without dreaming of him. Now Dede wanted to hear about that awful day? “Why do you want to hear that story?”

  “It has everything to do with why you feel off-balance, as if God has forsaken you. Which, by the way, is something he would never do.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve talked it out with the PD psychologist. We’ve spoken several times.” Abby looked down at Bandit sitting at her feet.

  “Did that help you get your balance back?”

  Abby couldn’t answer. The talks with the psychologist had been impersonally clinical. He was a nice man, and Abby had nothing against him, but no, he hadn’t helped her get her balance back.

  “Indulge me,” her aunt insisted. “I promise, it may be painful, but it will be like tearing off an old bandage, letting fresh air into the wound to heal it.”

  Abby looked away and took a deep breath. After a long moment, she mustered up the best cop voice she could and dispassionately told Dede about the death of Clayton Joiner.

  Dede listened without interrupting.

  When Abby finished, she turned to her aunt. “It was the worst day of my life.”

  “I believe that. And even though you know you did the right thing, it still lacerates your heart.” She gripped Abby’s hand with her right and squeezed, holding tight.

  “I can’t get the image out of my mind.” Abby sniffled as tears ran down her face again. “That’s why I took the leave. It was interfering with my work, with my ability to do my job. Am I finished as a cop?” The last sentence tore at Abby’s throat, and she fought to keep from sobbing. This was her biggest fear.

  “Like tearing off an old bandage.” It stung to realize the real fear she had that her career was over.

  “I can’t answer that question; only you and God can. But I will tell you what I believe.” Dede let go of Abby’s hand and placed an arm over her shoulder, pulling her close again as the bench swung gently. “Your parents’ case defined you, dictated your choices for most of your life.”

  Abby flinched to pull away, but Dede held her tight. “I’m not condemning. You know I never wanted that case to be an obsession for you. You be
came an officer because of it, and a dedicated one, with a single goal always in your mind: find the killers. Now you’ve come to the end, the final chapter in that horrible case, and it only brought more questions, not the black-and-white answers you wanted. Your foundation was sand, and the sand has washed away.”

  Abby sagged into her aunt. “You’re saying I’m done?”

  “No, I’m saying you need to go back, set your life on the right foundation, first and foremost. Pastor Cliff told you how important a foundation is for a building . . . and for your faith. Once your faith foundation is firmly set, then I think everything else in your life will become clearer.”

  Abby couldn’t argue with that. It made a lot of sense. But she’d always thought her faith was strong. Had she really let it get so weak?

  Abby felt somewhat better when Ethan arrived for dinner; at least she felt normal enough to converse with and listen to Ethan. He was excited about the church build and equally excited about his next mission trip. In a couple weeks he was headed to Malawi.

  “There’s so much to do there. I’m teaming up with an organization that is working to build chicken farms.”

  “Chicken farms?” Dede asked. “Not churches?”

  Ethan shook his head and swallowed his bite before answering. “No, the need there is for food. There’s been a severe blight to many crops and people are in danger of starving. They need food sources, and right now they love the idea of chickens and chicken farms.”

  Abby wondered if Malawi was a place of unrest, of war and persecution. She didn’t remember if she’d read about it in the news. She knew that the threat of danger wouldn’t stop Ethan, and she realized she was clearly seeing his heart. He loved to travel and build and help those who really needed the help. He never feared, even when the papers were filled with stories about bad things happening where he planned to go. He trusted God and he went.

  She thought of what Dede had said about the mission field, about being called.