by David Archer
“I agree,” Grace said. “And I’m going with you.”
Sam looked at her. “Mom, you need to remember one thing,” he said. “It’s possible that Mrs. Willis has no idea that the boy she raised is not her own son. If Beauregard is right, this may have been just a matter of someone at the hospital feeling sorry for her. She honestly could be innocent.”
“I don’t care,” Grace said. “I want to be there when you talk to her. I want to look in her eyes when you tell her that you know that her son is actually your brother, my son. I don’t want to be mean to her, but I want to know for my own peace of mind whether she knew it or not. I also want to know what he was like as a child, and she’s the only one who can tell me that.”
“That’s a good point,” Darren said. “We also need to know who was working at the hospital that night. Somebody was responsible for this switch, and if they did it once, they may have done it again.”
Indie went to the computer, but shrugged a moment later. “I’m not seeing anything about who might have been on duty, other than doctors. The birth record tells which doctor delivered babies, but that’s all. They don’t seem to have any employee records from back then online.”
“I’ll take that job,” Jade said. “Ron can get a court order for that information, and I’ll go out to the hospital and dig it out myself. If it’s not in the computers, it could be stashed in boxes somewhere, or maybe on microfilm.” She took out her phone and headed toward the dining room to call the boss, but she was back less than two minutes later. “Ron is calling Judge Voorhees to see about getting an order to get those records. As soon as the judge gets it signed, I’ll go pick it up and head out there. Don’t worry, Sam, I’ll find out who did this.”
“Now, let’s talk about something else,” Denny said. “Sam, mate, while we have plenty of evidence now that you aren’t guilty, that doesn’t mean we can pop your ankle bracelet off just yet. That might take a couple of days, to get the judge to sign off. How about letting me take that little trip to Florida?”
Sam looked at Denny, who was probably his closest friend among the Windlass investigators. “Sorry, Denny,” he said. “That’s one I need to do for myself. Besides, you heard Mom; she’ll be going with me.”
Denny shrugged. “Worth a shot,” he said. “I’m just thinking of how long it will take to get the prosecutor and judge to agree. You’re not supposed to be leaving the area while you got that on.”
“I know that, but I don’t think it will take that long to convince O’Rourke and Jamison that they’ve got the wrong guy. As good as their case looked to them yesterday, I think we’ve got everything we need to shoot holes in it. They aren’t stupid, and even I can admit that the evidence looked pretty overwhelming up until now.”
“Yeah, and speaking of evidence,” Denny went on, “we need to start looking for that Chevy van. If O’Rourke is willing to listen, we can give him an absolute description now. Somebody needs to get a BOLO out on that.”
“Not to mention a description of the suspect,” Sam said. “At least we know what he looks like.” He gave them all a goofy grin. “He looks a lot like me.”
They talked for several more minutes about different possibilities, and then Jade’s phone rang. Ron had gotten the court order for her, so she hurried out the door. Karen Parks arrived a few minutes later, and Indie opened the door for her. She stepped inside, her face looking grim.
“Sam,” she said. “Hey, guys. Sam says you found something that might clear him?”
“Too bloody right,” Denny said. “But you better sit down. I’d hate to see you fall out when you find out what it is.”
She sneered at him. “Somebody just tell me,” she said.
“Karen,” Indie said suddenly, “lose your damned attitude. Of all the people who should believe Sam is innocent, you ought to be right up near the top of the list. We know exactly how bad it looked, but we also knew that Sam wouldn’t ever do such a thing, and you should know that, too.”
“It’s like I told you,” she said. “I want to believe that, I really do, but I have never seen so much compelling DNA evidence.”
“Then sit your ass down and we’ll explain it! Karen, trust me, this is the craziest thing you’ve ever heard, but it’s also absolutely and obviously true.”
Karen looked at her sadly, then lowered herself into one of the dining room chairs. “Okay,” she said, “I’m sitting and I’m listening. Would one of you tell me what this new evidence is?”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” Denny said. “Detective Parks, are you familiar with Caldwell Laboratory?”
Karen’s eyes narrowed suddenly. “Caldwell? Of course.”
“Bloody good, then. Because this morning, we received evidence from four cold cases from other parts of the country, which we took out to them for testing and analysis. Each of the cases involved the murder of a young girl in a manner similar to the murder of Brenda Starling. All four girls were murdered by the same man, in exactly the same way that Brenda died. We know this because DNA evidence was collected from three of them, and when it was tested today and run through the database, it matched up to Sam, just like the Brenda Starling samples. Trouble is, we can account for where Sam was when each of those girls was killed, and it is absolutely impossible for him to have been anywhere near them. In fact, when one of them was being murdered, you and he were working together to testify in a big case right here in Denver.”
Karen glanced at Sam, who nodded. “Latin Kings, when they were recruiting kids for drug mules.”
She stared at Denny for a moment, then turned to Sam. “Is this for real?”
Sam and Denny worked together to explain all of Jeremy’s findings, and then Denny produced a copy of the report and handed it to her. Karen read through it without blinking, but then she looked at Sam and tears were running down her cheeks.
“Sam,” she said, “Indie… I am so sorry. When O’Rourke showed me everything he had, and how it all led back to you, Sam…”
“Karen, don’t worry about it,” Sam said. “I said it myself. If someone came to me with that much evidence, even if it was against someone I knew very well, I would’ve thought the same thing you did. I would’ve thought they were guilty.” He cleared his throat. “You and me, we were cops together. We learned to rely on the evidence, and to draw our conclusions based on facts rather than feelings. The facts that were presented to you looked absolutely conclusive.”
“But I should have believed you. I should have…”
“You should have done exactly what you did,” Sam said. “Based on the evidence in front of you, you did exactly what a police detective is expected to do.” He grinned. “I’m just glad we were able to find a way to prove I didn’t do it.”
Karen turned to Indie. “Can you forgive me?”
Indie glared at her for a couple of seconds, then broke into a smile. “It’s like Sam said,” she said. “You were doing what a cop had to do. Of course we forgive you.”
Karen looked at her for a moment, then turned back to Sam. “Okay. I’m in, now how can I help?”
“We have the make and model of my brother’s van, and a pretty good description of it. We also have the picture that was taken of him a few years ago, which shows that he does look a lot like me, except for a couple scars. We need to get both of those out on the wire, spread it all over the country. We don’t know where he is, but he’s got to be found and he’s got to be stopped.” He glanced at his mother-in-law. “Karen, Beauregard says two more victims are going to be found sometime today.”
Karen looked at him and her eyes widened. “Oh my God,” she said. “I think they already were. There was something on the wire an hour ago, an inquiry about murders involving young girls being raped and stabbed to death. I didn’t put it together because it said there were two of them. It was somewhere in Illinois, I remember that.”
Sam’s eyes grew dark. “Then he’s already struck again,” he said. “Illinois? We need to get a BOLO out on
him and his vehicle immediately, and we should probably start in the Midwest. If you can find out where the victims were found, I’d concentrate on the area within two hundred, maybe two hundred and fifty miles in all directions.”
Karen got to her feet. “I’ll get on that,” she said. “Sam, call me if there’s anything else I can do. I mean it, anything.” She hurried out the door, already speaking into the walkie-talkie she carried on her belt.
“That’s one hurdle down,” Denny said. “We’ve got a couple hours before we see O’Rourke. What else do we need to do?”
Heavy footsteps were suddenly heard on the front porch, and Steve Beck turned to look out the window. He let out a loud guffaw and looked back at Sam as he pulled the door open.
“Sam, boy,” Harry Winslow said. “How in the hell do you get yourself in so much trouble?”
“Harry, what are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? I’m here to help, what do you think?” He stepped inside and dropped a carry-on bag on the floor, then flopped into the chair Karen had vacated. “You made the news all the way down to Florida. Did you honestly think I wasn’t going to come see what the hell was going on?”
“Well, I’m glad you got here now,” Sam said. “We actually found a way to prove that I didn’t murder this girl.”
“I never believed you did, not for a second. First time I ever met you, Sam, you risked your life over and over because of a little girl, remember that? You got her back safe, and then you walked right into my trap when you thought I had kidnapped Indie and Kenzie. There’s no way on God’s green Earth I could believe you would ever hurt a young girl. I figured somebody was trying to frame you up. Am I right?”
“No,” Sam said. “This time, Harry, you are way off the mark.”
“Then somebody better get to explaining all this to me,” Harry said. “And while they’re doing that, Indie, could I trouble you for a glass of tea?”
Indie burst out laughing, then motioned for Carrie to follow her to the kitchen. They came back a few moments later with glasses of tea and bottles of root beer and passed them out while Sam and Denny explained Sam’s long-lost psychopathic twin brother.
FOURTEEN
It was amazing what you could learn through the Internet. C.J. had googled Sam Prichard right after watching the news story the night before, and was amazed to find so much information. Prichard’s Wikipedia page was packed full of information, including the interesting fact that he and C.J. shared a birthday, and both were born at the same hospital in Denver.
In the section on Prichard’s early life, there were a couple of photos of him from his high school days. C.J. stared hard at them, almost feeling like he was looking into his own yearbook. If it hadn’t been for the difference in football uniforms, he would have sworn that he was looking at his own photo.
They looked almost exactly alike, they had the same birthday, were born at the same place and time, and Prichard’s DNA matched the samples they had found on C.J.’s latest victim. There was only one possible explanation, but how in the hell do you ask your mother if you have a secret twin?
The Google search had turned up other links as well, including the blog about Sam’s adventures. Some of those blogs had photos, and one of them showed a photo of Sam with his mother. C.J. stared at that one for several moments, seeing the strong resemblance between Sam and the older woman. One of the things that always had bothered him was that he didn’t look anything like either of his parents. Both of them were blond, as were all of their siblings, but C.J.’s hair was a deep brown. Both of his parents were quite small, just over five feet tall, but C.J. stood just over six feet. He had often wondered as a teenager whether he might be adopted, but his mother had laughed the one time he got the courage to ask.
“Adopted? Oh, don’t I wish. I was in labor for nineteen hours with you, and I thought you were going to split me wide open. That was one of the reasons we never bothered having any more kids, because I’m so tiny. My doctor said it wouldn’t be good for me to try to have more. No, son, you’re all mine.”
He believed her, of course. Even with as much as he hated his dad, C.J. had always loved his mother. She went out of the way to try to make him happy, and he could tell. The old man, on the other hand, only seemed to care about himself. He’d been abusive to both of them, which was another reason C.J. had decided to let the jack fall. He’d gotten tired of seeing his mother with black eyes and broken fingers.
Now, however, looking at almost incontrovertible evidence right before his eyes, he knew that there was more to the story. Somehow, Sam Prichard had to be his twin. There was no other possible explanation, at least from the standpoint of the DNA. He knew enough about the subject to realize that identical twins share enough common DNA for such a match. There had even been a case in the past where the wrong brother was arrested for a murder that the other one had committed.
A twin brother… C.J. had often felt like something was missing from his life, but he’d simply chalked it up to the loneliness of being an only child. He’d made up an imaginary brother when he was very young, maybe six or seven years old. He pretended that he had a twin brother, just like Timmy and Tommy Davis down the street. They were identical twins, and C.J. dreamed up his own identical twin brother. Until he was nearly ten years old, he could entertain himself for hours by pretending that he and his brother were playing together in the rare times when he wasn’t working in the shop.
What was it he named his twin? Ironically, he remembered, he had called his imaginary brother Sammy. How strange was that? He made his twin up out of thin air, but then gave him a name that was almost exactly the name his real, unknown twin had been given by their parents.
Some of the websites about twins said they shared a telepathic bond, and there were many cases of separated twins who lived lives that were strikingly similar. There were elements of C.J.’s and Sam’s own lives that had some of that effect, like the fact that both of their fathers were dead, both of them studied Criminal Justice in school, and both joined the Army and became MPs. They were even at Fort Leonard Wood at the same time, although in different battalions. It was almost surprising that they’d never met.
That was where the resemblance seemed to end, though. Sam had come back from the Army and become a cop in Denver, where he’d remained for a decade. It wasn’t until he was wounded in the line of duty that he’d stumbled into PI work.
C.J., on the other hand, hadn’t been able to fulfill that dream after his DD. He’d had to settle for a regular job, even if it was a good one. Sam had done everything C.J. had dreamed of, while C.J. had been nothing in his own mind but a failure.
It wasn’t fair. Sam had actually known their real father, who had also been a cop. He’d grown up with their real mother and sister, while C.J. had only his mom. Sam had a family, while C.J. couldn’t let anyone get close to him for fear of his secrets becoming known.
“Son of a bitch,” C.J. muttered to himself. “Sam, you son of a bitch! If we’d’a met years ago, if we’d known about each other, maybe I wouldn’t be so messed up.”
He went back to the blog page and looked at the photo of Sam and his mother again. He focused on their mother’s face, wondering why she had given him up. What had been wrong with him that made her want to keep Sam, but get rid of his twin brother?
Unfortunately, the page did not mention Sam’s twin at all, so there was no information about how the twin had allegedly died shortly after he was born. To C.J., the fact he wasn’t included at all meant that Grace Prichard and her husband must have decided they only wanted one of the boys, and had chosen Sam.
He picked up his phone and dialed his mother’s number, but then cut it off before it could ring. He wasn’t ready to confront her about this, not yet. He’d wait until they were face to face, but there were some things he was going to need to do, first.
And one of them was to feed the need. This had been such a shock that it was rearing its head once more, even though he
’d just had such a good rush the night before. This time, though, he was going to be picky. This time it wasn’t going to be a random girl off the street.
Sam Prichard had everything, while C.J. had nothing but broken dreams. It was time for things to turn around.
* * * * *
Jade Miller had gone straight to Judge Voorhees’ clerk and picked up the order that would allow her to review records at St. Thomas’ Hospital, then drove straight there. The personnel clerk, Jaynee Lang, looked it over and shrugged.
“Sure,” she said. “What is it you’re looking for?”
“I need to know who was working in the newborn nursery on July thirtieth, thirty-six years ago.”
Jaynee pursed her lips for a moment. “That’s a ways back,” she said. “Those old records will be back in storage, I don’t think they ever got digitized. Come with me.”
She turned and led Jade down a long hallway and to a room filled with shelves. Most of the shelves held file boxes, and she looked at index boards on the ends of each rack before turning down one aisle. The box she was looking for, marked “July/August,” was on the top shelf about halfway down the aisle, and she dragged a small stepladder over to get it down.
“It should be in here,” she said as she carried it to a table. “Let’s see.”
The two of them stood side by side as she opened the box and started flipping through file folders. “July thirty, here we go.” Jaynee took out a folder and laid it on the table, then they looked at the different forms inside it.
“Nursery,” she said. “Here it is. What shift are we looking for?”
“Night shift,” Jade said. “The case I’m working on is about twins born at just after eleven PM.”
Jaynee ran a finger down the form in front of her. “There were three people in the nursery that night. Carol Brown, Sandra Lewis and May Benjamin. May still works here, she was brand new back then. Carol Brown died about two years ago, I heard, but Sandy Lewis is still around. She doesn’t work here, but she volunteers sometimes.”