“Yes, ma’am. She’s fine, although she may be in a lot of trouble. We’re trying to get down to that now. Coffee?”
“No, thank you. Please, tell me what’s going on?”
He waited until she was sitting and took a seat adjacent to hers. “So Chelsea is your daughter?”
“Yes, sir,” she sniffled. “She’s nineteen. A student at Murray State.”
“I see. And who’s Lionel?”
“He’s my nephew. He’s twenty-one, and he goes to school at Murray State too. I thought they were with Tamara. Have you seen her?”
There’s no easy way to do this, Carter thought. “Ma’am, if you’re talking about Tamara Kent, she’s deceased.”
“What? Was there an accident? I don’t understand!” she cried out.
“She shot a Kentucky State Trooper.”
Her sobbing stopped, her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline, and her jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious! There must be some mistake!”
“Unfortunately, ma’am, I’m dead serious. She shot a Kentucky State Trooper at point-blank range.”
“Will the trooper be okay?”
“He’s deceased also, ma’am.”
“Oh my god.” He could see the terror on her face, the difficulty in accepting what she’d just heard. “Oh my god, why would she do that?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“And Chelsea? And Lionel? Are they okay?”
“Physically, yes, ma’am. They are. But we’re trying to determine what role, if any, they played in the crime.”
“None! I’m sure of it! I just don’t understand! Tamara is a gentle young woman. She’d never do anything like that! I can’t understand … Did the trooper threaten her in some way?”
Carter fought a feeling of offense by telling himself that the woman was upset and not thinking clearly. “No, ma’am. Why would you think that?”
“I’m just trying to understand. Nothing makes sense about this―nothing. Oh my god. I just … Why would she do that? And why is she dead?”
“She pointed her weapon at all of us as we surrounded her and we opened fire.”
Her expression changed to one of total disbelief. “No. No, Tamara would never do that. I don’t believe you. She wouldn’t point a firearm at anybody, not the Tamara I know. Where did she even get a gun? She doesn’t have a gun.”
“Yes, ma’am. She had a gun, and she used it.”
The woman sat quietly, and Carter didn’t know what else to say to her. It was a mess, that was sure. Finally, she asked with a sniffle, “Could I please see my daughter? Maybe I can find out what happened. I mean, if this is real, if it really happened the way you say it did, I’d like to know what happened too. I’m sure Chelsea had nothing to do with this.”
What the hell could it hurt? Carter thought. “Okay. Let’s go talk to her.” He rose, held the door for the woman, and followed her up the hallway. When they reached the door of the interrogation room, he opened it and swept his arm inward.
“Mom! Oh my god! Mommy!” the girl shrieked and jumped up. In a split second, the woman was embracing the girl, smoothing her hair and hugging her tight.
“Hush, baby. It’s all gonna be okay. I promise. Calm down, Chelsea. I’m here now. Let’s sit down and talk, okay?”
“Mom, I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t know Tam was going to do that!”
“I know, honey. Come on. Let’s talk about it.” Carter waited until both women were seated, then nodded to the officer who’d been watching Chelsea. The younger man rose and left the room, closing the door softly behind him, but Carter knew there were at least three officers watching them through the big one-way mirror on the far side of the room.
“Thank you for bringing my mom,” Chelsea said to Carter, her tears starting again.
“You’re welcome. Chelsea, we just want to know what happened. Can you tell us what happened? Why Tamara did this?”
“We’d been at this rally on campus. It was for gay students, you know.”
Carter shot a look at the girl’s mother. “Tamara is openly gay,” she said in explanation.
“What kind of rally was this?” Carter asked.
“It was all about protecting yourself from hate speech. I’m not gay. Lionel and I were just there to support Tam, you know. She gets picked on all the time.”
“I see. So what were they teaching, self-defense and things like that?”
“That’s what I thought they’d be talking about, and they did for a while. But then a couple of guys got up there and started talking about arming themselves, about how it was the only way to stay safe. They were flashing guns around, and Lionel and I wanted to leave, but Tam wouldn’t. That’s when she showed us her gun.”
“She had a gun?” her mother gasped.
“Yeah. We asked her where she got it and she said, ‘From a guy’. She wouldn’t tell us anything else. Then another guy got up and started talking about defending yourself, how people wanted to hurt gay students, and how the police wouldn’t protect them. He even talked about how the police wanted to kill them and get rid of them.”
That got Carter’s attention. “Who was this guy?”
Chelsea shrugged. “I have no idea. I’d never seen him before.”
“Was he a student?”
She shrugged again. “I don’t know, but if he was, he was an upper classman. He was older than us, or at least he looked older.”
“I see.” He thought for a minute. “If you saw a picture of this guy, or of the other two guys, would you recognize them?”
“Yeah. At least I think so.”
“Okay. We may try to get some pictures for you to look at. So how did Tamara come to shoot Trooper Palmer?”
“Officer Palmer? That was his name? Oh, god. I’m so sorry, officer …”
“Sheriff Melton,” Carter corrected.
“Sheriff. I hope he didn’t have little kids or anything like that,” Chelsea said, tears coursing down her cheeks again.
“I don’t know, but regardless, he didn’t deserve to die. Do you know why he tried to stop you?” Chelsea shook her head. “Because you had a taillight out.”
“Oh, god.” The girl looked completely broken, and Carter felt sorry for her. And he believed her too. They’d known there were some radical groups on campus, but this was worse than he’d ever imagined. “But there was something else.”
Carter perked up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. There was a lot of drinking going on at the rally. And when we got into the car, I offered to drive because Tam was kinda tipsy. She told me to get in the back seat, that she was fine to drive. I didn’t want to, but she was acting strange. And as we drove along, I could tell there was something wrong. She wasn’t talking like herself. She was, like, loud and weird.”
That was confusing. “Like she was drunk?”
“No. Something else. I’m not sure what, but something else. Something I don’t understand. Oh, and she had money.”
“What do you mean, she had money?”
“She had money. Lots of money. Like a roll of bills in her pocket. Lionel asked her where she got it and she said it was none of our business. Answering us that way? That wasn’t like her either.”
If he was lucky, by the time he left the room somebody else was already checking on this so-called rally and the people involved. He certainly hoped so. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”
“No, but if I think of anything, I’ll be sure to tell you. I promise.” Chelsea looked to her mother. “Can I please go home now? Please?”
He thought for a minute. “Let me go out and talk to somebody and I’ll be right back.” Before either of them had a chance to answer him, Carter slipped out the door and found two Kentucky Department of Criminal Investigation agents standing right there. “You guys getting all this?”
“Yeah. Duffy and Atkins are on their way to the university to talk to administration to see what they know about this rally. Oh, and by
the way, her story and the boy’s story? Perfect match. They’re telling the truth. They had nothing to do with this.”
Carter checked the guy’s badge. Fletcher. “Thanks for letting me know. You guys have a problem with me cutting this girl loose to go with her mother?”
“Nope. And according to the boy, the girl’s mother is his aunt and his mother is dead. No father. This aunt, Sharla Barker? She’s all the boy’s got. I guess he’ll be going with them too.”
“Gotcha. I’ll go in and talk to them, explain that we’re going to need them to be available to us when we start sifting through more of this stuff. Did he think he could identify the guys from the rally?”
“Said he thought he could, although I’m not sure. He’s pretty torn up. That sister was the last of his family of origin,” Fletcher said with a nod. The other agent, Talbert, nodded as well.
“It’s somewhere to start. Thanks, guys.”
“Thank you, sheriff.”
Carter stepped back inside the room and looked from one woman to the other. “Okay. They say you can go, but make sure if you leave town you let us know. As this investigation continues, they’ll want to talk to you more, Chelsea, and I have a feeling we’ll have photos for you to look at. And, Mrs., um …”
“Ms. It’s Ms. Barker.”
“Ms. Barker, Mr. Kent is free to go with you too. Same admonishment. But as of right now, they aren’t being charged with anything.”
“Thank you, sir. Thank you so much. I’ll take them home to Hopkinsville and then maybe they can be back at school by Wednesday,” Sharla Barker said, rising to leave. “Chelsea, baby, let’s go get Lionel and get you two home. Go on out.” Chelsea opened the door and looked back at her mother. “Go on. I’ll be right there. Close the door.” As soon as it closed, Sharla turned back to Carter. “What about Tamara? I mean, I’ll be responsible for … you know.”
“The medical examiner will have the body for several days while the forensic investigation is being conducted, and then it’ll be released. We’ll get in touch with you and let you know what arrangements you’ll need to make to transfer it and do whatever you need to do.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it. And I wasn’t kidding―this isn’t something Tamara would do, sir. Really. I don’t understand what happened, but I hope you figure it out, for us and for Trooper Palmer’s family.”
“Thanks. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from us. Take them home and try to get them calmed down.” Carter opened the door and waited as the woman stepped out and met her daughter and Lionel at the front door. He hadn’t missed the fact that she was a striking woman. He wouldn’t mind getting to know her better, but that couldn’t happen.
At least not until the investigation was over.
“Well, whaddya got?”
“Twenty-two-year-old biracial female. Brown hair, brown eyes, five feet, five inches, weight one thirty-four. Unremarkable for any childhood trauma or signs of serious disease. Tattoo on right upper arm, strawberry mark on right cheek approximately ten centimeters across. Cause of death, gunshot wound to the chest. Nine millimeter hollow-point glanced off a rib and went straight up into the heart, perforating the left ventricle and the pulmonary artery. Death was instantaneous.”
The three men standing over the body on the medical examiner’s table let out a collective sigh, and Carter knew what the next question was going to be, so he figured he might as well go ahead and ask it. “And which weapon?”
The examiner dipped his head and looked up at them over the top of his glasses. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Agent Fletcher nodded. “Yes. We do.”
“It came from a nine millimeter Glock, model nineteen, generation four, serial number seven nine seven three …”
“You can stop. It’s mine,” Carter said with a sigh.
“You know there’s a recall on them, right? Bad springs from the supplier,” the examiner added.
“No, sir. Did not know that but thank you for telling me.” Fuck it all, guess I’m stuck carrying this damn Ruger for a while longer, Carter silently cursed. It was reliable even though it was old, but it was heavy as lead. The Glock was a lot lighter, but he couldn’t carry around a gun with a recall, not knowingly anyway.
Carter watched Fletcher shift his stance, his face slack in boredom. “Anything else?”
“I am glad you asked that question,” the examiner said, with a sly smile. “I found something very interesting. There were significant levels of three drugs in the subject’s toxicology screening. Odd drugs. One was MDVP, a synthetic cathinone.”
“Bath salts,” Carter mumbled. He knew all about that mess. They’d had several convenience stores in the county that had sold the stuff until somebody caught on.
“Yes. There was also a fair amount of cocaine.”
Fletcher’s eyebrows shot up. “That is odd.”
“Oh, it gets odder still. You won’t believe what else was in the mix.” When none of the officers spoke, the examiner said, “Adderall.”
Carter thought he’d misunderstood. “The ADHD drug?”
“Yes. And if that’s not odd enough, here’s the kicker. Snorted, smoked, injected? Nope.” He walked around the corpse and rolled it up slightly off the table until the right shoulder blade was exposed. “Fresh tattoo.”
The state police had insisted on a detective from Calloway County, since the university was there, and for the first time, Detective Sam Curry spoke up. “So you’re telling us it was tattooed into the skin?”
“No.” Reaching to the tray, the examiner picked up a plastic specimen bag. “It was delivered via rapid transdermal absorption, placed in the dressing that was put over the tattoo. Between the way the delivery chemicals were made and the open wound of the tattoo, it worked like a charm.”
“You mean like Fentanyl patches?” Carter asked, thinking about the drugs his dad had been given by hospice.
The examiner nodded. “Exactly like that.”
“So this was no accidental overdose,” Agent Fletcher murmured.
“Absolutely not. This was deliberate, and most likely the subject didn’t even know it was being administered. And the drugs were chosen carefully. One kicks in fast, another lasts longer, and the third intensifies the first two.”
“Wow. So we’ve got somebody who knows how to take a cocktail of drugs and deliver them through the skin. Can we get a shot of that tattoo?” Fletcher asked.
“Thought you’d want that.” The examiner stepped to his desk and came back with a picture of the tattoo printed on a piece of photo paper. “There ya go. That should help. If I were you, I’d be finding out who did that tattoo.”
“Thanks. Oh, and based on the findings, when would you say it was administered?” Carter asked.
“Hard to say. I’ve never seen anything quite like this, so I’m not sure what the absorption rate would be. Not only that, but some people’s skin is more absorbent than others, not to mention a fresh tattoo wound for it to enter through. Somebody saw this girl coming and figured it out fast. I guess the biggest question is why.”
“Thanks for the information. Email the report to the three of us?” Curry asked.
“Certainly. Let me know if there are any other questions I can answer, gentlemen.” With that, the examiner pulled up the sheet and covered the corpse’s face again.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Fletcher turned to the other two men. “You know we’ve got a huge problem on our hands.”
Carter nodded. “Yeah. We’ve got someone out there who’s figured out how to dope victims without their knowledge. The potential for abuse here is huge.”
Curry nodded in agreement. “Duffy and Atkins are already working with the university. Let me get with them and see if we can track down the tattoo artist who did this ink.”
“Sounds good. I’ll go brief Griffin and see if he’s got some ideas for direction,” Fletcher added.
“And I’m going back to talk to those kids. I’m betting they
know who did that tattoo.” Carter had to believe they did. Not only the who, but the when. And the why.
There had to be a why.
“Hello?” The female voice seemed timid and distant.
“Ms. Barker? It’s Sheriff Melton.”
“Yes, sheriff. Can I help you?”
“Are you in the middle of something, or can you talk?”
“Can you hold on just a second?” There was a sound he couldn’t identify before her voice came through the phone again, at once louder and stronger. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to color my hair and it’s hard to talk on the phone with a plastic bag over my head,” she said, a nervous giggle following.
“Oh! I’m so sorry. Should I call back later―”
“No, no. It’s fine. How can I help you?”
“Ms. Barker, did you know Tamara had a tattoo?”
“No, but I’m not surprised. All the college kids love them.”
“So you didn’t know she had a new one?”
“No, sir.”
“Could we set up a time for me to talk to your daughter and your nephew?”
“Certainly. I mean, can’t it wait, though? We’re going to have a funeral to do and―”
“No, ma’am. It can’t.” Carter knew she was going to start asking questions, and he really didn’t want to have to answer them. “There’s a bit of urgency in this request.”
“I see. Well, they’re at the school now, but they’ll both be coming home tomorrow and staying the weekend.” The phone was silent for a few seconds and then she asked, “Have you found out anything about Tamara? I mean, her death? Why she was acting that way and why she did the stuff she did?”
“Actually, yes, but I’d rather not get into that on the phone.” Not only did he not want to talk about it on the phone, he didn’t want her to be able to tell Chelsea and Lionel what had been found before he got the chance. If they did actually have something to do with it, that would give them time to tip off the person or people involved. He couldn’t risk that.
“Okay. So maybe tomorrow evening after seven?”
“I’ll be there. Thank you, Ms. Barker.”
“You’re welcome, sheriff. Goodbye.”
Shelter for Sharla Page 2