Burning Proof

by Janice Cantore

  “Can I get you something to drink, Abby?” Julia asked. “Tea? Soda? Molly, do you want anything?”

  “I’m fine.” Abby moved to take a seat.

  But Molly stopped her and pushed herself up. “I feel like a walk, like being outside. Do you want to take a walk, Detec—uh, Abby?”

  “That would be great. But your cast?”

  “I’ve got a kneeling walker.” She pointed and Abby noticed the walker by the side of the couch. “It finally doesn’t hurt so much. I just need to go slow.”

  Julia wrung her hands. “I think that means she’d like to just talk to you and not have Mom hovering. It’s a nice day. Go; have a good talk.” She smiled nervously and motioned for Abby and Molly to leave.

  Abby was unsure for a minute, but when Molly moved past her, grabbed the walker, set her knee on it, and pushed toward the front door, she followed, deciding to let the young woman set the tone of the meeting and the speed of the walk. She agreed with Julia; it was a nice day. But the wind was annoying.

  “It’s always windy here,” Molly said as if reading Abby’s mind.

  “I guess I’ll have to get used to eggbeater hair.” Her comment got no reaction, and Abby wondered if she could reach this girl, if Molly would open up.

  They were almost to the park when Abby saw Molly’s frown, the anger in the close-knit brows.

  “What is it, Molly? Are you in pain?”

  “Pain?” She huffed derisively. “Lately, I don’t know what it’s like not to be in pain.”

  Struggling to find words, the right response, Abby was surprised when Molly turned and opened up, venting with both barrels.

  “My mom thinks you can help me. Well, everything in my life sucks.” She hopped on one leg and turned the walker to better face Abby. “You can help with that? Good luck. My mom keeps praying for me, keeps calling on the prayer chain to lift me up.” She raised one hand in a mocking gesture and rolled her eyes. “I just don’t believe all that anymore. God is not good. He’s supposed to be all-powerful. Then why did he let what happened to me happen? I was a good kid; I believed in all the God malarkey then; I even wore a purity ring. Then out of the blue I’m kidnapped and raped. And on top of all that, a car hits me. Talk about piling on! If you believe all the stuff my mom does, then tell me: Why has he deserted me? Why doesn’t he care?”

  Taken aback by the vehemence but not the questions, Abby motioned to a bench. “Why don’t we have a seat?”

  She’d asked the same questions herself but made peace with not knowing all the answers. She tried to think of what to say to this angry victim. What would Dede say?

  She realized in an instant that for her answer to matter, to mean anything at all, it had to be hers. It had to come from Abby and from her own struggle and solution or it would mean squat to Molly.

  “Molly, I asked those same questions when I lost my parents. I barely understood the concept of God then, but I thought he was someone who helped good people, and as far as I was concerned, my parents were good.”

  “I made one mistake, accepting that ride. And I paid. God punished me.”

  “Sweetie, God doesn’t work that way. I was only six when my parents died. Do you think he was punishing me?”

  Molly looked at her, sniffling, but not crying.

  “What horrible sin could a six-year-old commit that would make God punish her with the loss of her parents?” Abby asked.

  Voice dripping with bitterness, Molly asked, “But what happened to me feels like punishment, like God was mad. If he wasn’t mad, why did that guy get away? And since God was so quick to punish me, why has he taken so long to punish the bad guy?”

  Abby pushed her hair back from her face, working to keep her tone calm, her posture relaxed. Molly was spoiling for a fight, but that wasn’t why Abby was here. “What happened to you was evil, period. The man who kidnapped you deserves to be in jail. Why is he still free?” She threw her hands up. “I can’t answer the why questions for you any more than I can answer the why questions for me. But I’ve learned so much in the last twenty-five years about God. He is good; he loves us; he sent his Son to die for us before we were even ready to repent from our own evil.”

  Molly raised the front wheel of the walker and slammed it down. “I’ve heard that so often that it makes me want to puke. After I was rescued and home safe, I prayed for justice, for that man to be caught so I could see him get what he deserved and feel better. God failed me. He didn’t listen then, and he’s not listening now.”

  Abby shifted gears. “I read the report. You told the officers when you were rescued that you prayed for God to save you and then the trunk popped open. At the time you said you thought it was an answered prayer, a miracle.”

  “I remember.” She made a face as if smelling something bad. “But over the years I’ve decided that there’s no such thing as miracles. I was just lucky he had a newer car with a latch inside to pop the trunk, and I was fortunate enough to hit the latch.”

  The wind whipped and Abby paused, unsure how to reach this girl who seemed content in her self-pity, her anger at God. Althea came to mind. Althea, who had lost so much yet stepped out of her pain to forgive Abby. What was it she’d said? She couldn’t honor her loved ones’ memories by staying bitter. Molly had lost her innocence, any illusion that the world was a safe place, and her faith in God. Staying bitter would only make it worse for her. But how to get through to her?

  Dede didn’t pull any punches to get to me. Maybe that’s the tack I need to take. Praying she was right, Abby stared at Molly, who was looking away.

  “Why do you want the bad guy to win?”

  Molly jerked around, her face scrunched in disbelief. “What? I don’t want him to win. I want him in jail, punished for what he did to me.”

  “Every day you’re stuck in the past, whining about how God failed you by letting that man get away, you’re letting him win.”

  “He’s already won because he got away scot-free. That’s not fair.”

  “I agree it’s not fair. I agree it sucks. It makes me angry. When I was a kid, I used to scream and yell at God all the time, demand to know why he let my parents be taken.”

  “And you got your answers? Is that why you’re fine now?” Her tone was brittle, dripping with sarcasm.

  “No. I didn’t get any answers, at least not the ones I wanted.”

  “Now you’re going to tell me I just have to learn to deal with it? I don’t want to!”

  Abby shook her head. “What’s the alternative? Are you going to stay a prisoner in the trunk of the car? Are you going to let him keep you tied up and cowering for the rest of your life? If so, then he’s won the Publishers Clearing House of life.”

  “What do you mean? I’m nobody’s prisoner.”

  Abby stood and grabbed her wrist. “Look at this. Look at you. Staying here in your parents’ house, hiding from the world. I know what happened to you is awful. I understand it’s easy for your parents to protect you, to allow this to go on because they love you and want to keep you safe. News flash: the world is out there. It’s not pretty at times and it’s not safe. But you have a life to live, and every day you waste by hiding, you’re letting that man take away from you.”

  Molly yanked her hand out of Abby’s grasp and said nothing.

  Abby tried again. “Molly, people who say they believe in God need to know the God they believe in. He never promised life in this world would be easy or pain free. What he did promise was that he would be with us, no matter what. He was with you in that car ten years ago and he’s with you now. He may tell you why it all happened. He may not. He will judge the man who hurt you whether we catch him or not.”

  “I’m tired of hearing what will happen. I want it to happen now. I’m tired of hearing everything works together for good sometime in the future. I don’t deserve to be forgotten.” Molly stood scowling, arms folded.

  Abby saw herself in Molly but knew she was losing the battle with this girl.


  “Every step you take away from God is letting the bad guy win. Throwing a temper tantrum and stomping your feet is letting the evil win. We may catch this bad guy; we may not. You have no control over that. You do have control over how you live the life you have in front of you.”

  “I was wrong,” Molly said. “I thought you would be different. I thought you would understand, but you’re just like everyone else. God failed me; that’s it.” She wrenched the walker around so she could stand and rest her knee on it and leave.

  Abby grabbed one side of the handlebar to stop her. “God doesn’t fail. I’m sorry I can’t answer the why questions you have. But I do know that God is still God. No one escapes his justice. There is nowhere to run, nowhere for anyone to hide. You need to stand up straight, beat the man that hurt you by living your life, stepping forward with your head up no matter what you face.”

  Molly looked away, but Abby didn’t let go. “You proved that you could do that when you ran into the flames to pull that person out of the car. Stuff like that beats the man who hurt you. Stuff like that honors all you lost and smashes all the evil done to you.”

  Still no response.

  Abby let go. “I’m staying at the La Quinta. I’ll be there at least until tomorrow. Call me if you want to talk any more.”

  Molly hopped away with a determined push of the walker.

  Abby watched her go, and her heart broke with the failure she felt.

  CHAPTER

  -55-

  GIL WAS CLOSING UP SHOP. Bart had already left with the day’s earnings to make a deposit at the bank. A couple minutes before he could get to the front door to lock it, a big man in a suit walked in. He looked to Gil like a cop. Gil moved to the counter, where he had a gun within reach. He didn’t want to go out that way, but if this guy—he might even be a fed—forced his hand, so be it.

  “We’re just closing,” Gil told the man.

  “I won’t be a minute. Are you Gil?”

  The British accent threw Gil. This guy wasn’t a fed; was he?

  “Who’s asking?”

  “My name’s not important. Your friend Jerry sent me.” He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and from that counted out some bills, five hundred-dollar bills. “I need something.”

  “You look like a cop.”

  “I’m no cop. I’m looking for some things. Jerry says you can help.” He put a handwritten list on top of the bills.

  Gil read the list. It was all stuff he had, but he didn’t trust this guy at all. And he didn’t have time to play games with anyone, much less someone who was probably a bad undercover cop. He needed to stall, give himself time to think.

  “When do you need it by?”

  “ASAP, Ace. ASAP.”

  “Soonest I can do it would be tomorrow morning.”

  “First thing?”

  “Around ten.”

  “Nine?”

  “Fine, nine.”

  “This money is a down payment.” The Brit slid the money to Gil. “There’ll be five more when you deliver.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  The guy nodded and left Gil alone in the shop. Gil crumpled up the list and tossed it in the trash. The money he shoved into a drawer before he rolled himself to the door to lock up and head home.

  CHAPTER

  -56-

  ORSON RETURNED LUKE’S CALL about ACME a short time after Lucy’s daughter called.

  “I do have the name of someone from ACME. The CEO is retired now, but I met him once. He did some logistics consulting after the company failed. I’m not sure if he’ll be able to help you with simple personnel matters, but he might be able to put you in touch with someone who can.”

  Luke thanked Orson and then spent the better part of an hour on the phone before he hit pay dirt. After three referrals, he reached a man who had been Gil Barone’s immediate supervisor.

  “Barone, yeah. I remember that jerk.”

  “Great. I’m trying to figure out the exact dates he was in Iraq and exactly how he was injured.”

  “You’re lucky. I kept a file on the guy. I expected a big lawsuit from him, so I documented everything. He was gearing up to sue, but I remember that his dad died and left him some cash. I kept the file because guys like him never go away completely.”

  “Why would he sue you? Rolling over an IED is hardly your fault.”

  “IED? Is that what he told you? Ha!” The guy laughed for a moment; then he continued. “That’s rich. That coward didn’t get anywhere near any IEDs. The first week we were in Qatar, he got liquored up and crashed a company truck. Karma bit his butt. He ended up paralyzed. He was mad at me because there was a clause in his contract that said if he did get hurt in a combat-related situation, like an IED, he’d get a cash settlement. He wanted me to lie and not write the real reason for his crash on the paperwork that went home with him. Fat chance. I wasn’t putting my job in jeopardy lying for the likes of him.”

  “I see.” Luke knew they were on the right track looking into Barone. Just one thing needed to be nailed down. “What day, exactly, did you leave for Qatar?”

  “May 17, 2005. It’s funny, but back then Barone was a pain in my backside. He was only given the job because his dad knew the owner. Anyway, I’d have bet money he wasn’t going to show up. The closer our departure date got, the more squirrelly he was. But when it was time to stage for the flight, he was the first one at the warehouse all shiny and eager to go.”

  Luke gave the man his e-mail and asked that he send him what he could about Barone. He’d forward everything to Jones at the Los Angeles County sheriff’s office. He thanked the man and disconnected. He grinned at Woody. “He left the day after Molly’s rape.”

  “So he is a good suspect, looking better and better now. Are we going to give all that to Jones?”

  “Yeah, he’ll have the power to pull Barone into an interrogation and pin him down about his whereabouts that day.” Luke checked the clock. “Why don’t you call him first thing in the morning and tell him what we’ve found. My meeting with Lucy’s daughter is early.”

  “Will do. Not sure he’ll have enough to order a DNA swab, though.”

  “Even with all the lies the guy has told?”

  “I’m no lawyer. We could still try to pick up an opportunity sample.”

  “Maybe.” Luke drummed his fingers on the desk. “It bothers me that he’s so close to Molly. Remember that her sister, Callie, seemed to think a lot of the guy.”

  “Well, he’s not the same guy he was ten years ago, and he has a lot to lose now. He’s a businessman, ties to the community and all that. Going after Callie would be stupid. My guess is he’ll lawyer up and stonewall us and the sheriff.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but what if we just spook him and he runs?”

  Woody shrugged. “Not a whole lot we can do. We found a viable lead to give to the locals. We can warn Molly and her family.”

  “Which reminds me—have you heard from Abby?”

  “Yeah, while you were on the phone, she texted she was tired and turning in early.”

  “Did she say how it went with Molly?”

  “Nope, sorry. I did make plans to meet her for breakfast around eight or eight thirty. We’ll eat next door.” There was a restaurant adjacent to the hotel.

  “Good idea. I might be back in time to grab a cup of coffee.”

  When he went to sleep, Luke thought about Abby and Molly and winced inside for Abby as much as for Molly at the thought that the meeting might not have gone well. They all wanted to help the girl, especially Abby, but maybe it was all too much for Molly to recover from. Like that soldier he and Woody had found living under a bridge. At the time he’d wondered if the man would ever recover. The soldier’s mom didn’t think so, but she was committed to caring for him.

  Maybe with Molly it was the same. She was lost and would need to be cared for by her parents. Luke fell asleep praying that whatever Lucy’s daughter had to give him would be helpful, at least to Abby.r />
  “I’m not certain I helped her at all,” Abby said when she and Woody met for breakfast. She played with her eggs, sipped her coffee, and felt utterly defeated. “I tried a little tough love, but . . .” She threw her hands up. “So where’s Luke?”

  She wouldn’t admit to Woody how disappointed she was to not see Luke with him. She wanted to talk to Luke, go over the discussion with Molly. For some reason she was sure Luke would understand more than Woody did. Maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe in reality she just wanted to see Luke.

  What about Faye?

  “He had an appointment to keep. Let me tell you about this guy Barone. He’s as dirty as they come.” Woody told her what they had found out, but Abby wondered why he dodged the question about Luke. Woody’s description of Barone sidetracked her for a minute.

  “That sounds great, gold. If it were my case, I’d be all over him.”

  “I called and left a message for the sheriff about all that we found.” His phone buzzed with a text.

  “Is that Luke?”

  “No, it’s that dog rescue lady, Carol. She’s found me a dog to look at. I figured since I was up here, if I had time, I’d look into adopting a rescued dog. Never thought she’d find one so quickly.”

  “Woody, that’s great. What kind of dog?”

  “Lab mix. If you guys don’t think you’ll need me, I’m going to head out there and take a look.”

  “I think that would be fine. You’ve done all you can do by forwarding what you found to the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. Go get a dog. I’m happy for you.”

  Woody smiled. He bent to text. “There, we’re set. As soon as Luke is back, I’m going to see a woman about a dog.”

  His grin brightened Abby’s day, but it still bugged her. Where was Luke?

  CHAPTER

  -57-

  KELSEY BARELY SLEPT. When they’d arrived in Tehachapi, they’d found the hotel easily enough. They even located Murphy’s car. Kudos to Jerry for giving them the license plate. That was when the fight started with Quinn.