Chapter 24
J ohn said, “Thank you for calling me back.”
Deputy Sanchez’s voice was breathy and faint. “When my husband got home from work, I couldn’t hide how upset I was. I told him what had happened today. He wanted to go straight to the police.” She laughed shakily. “I told him that’s the last thing we should do. He insisted that I call you. He’s here with me.”
John put his phone on speaker but indicated to Beth that she shouldn’t make her presence known. Introducing her now and explaining why she was in Auclair might rattle Isabel. He didn’t want to give her any cause to hang up.
He said, “Who got to you, Isabel?”
She didn’t pretend not to understand the question. “Frank Gray.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“You know how intimidating that man can be before he says a word. When I opened the door, I recoiled at the sight of him.”
“Why did you even open your door?”
“He said it would be a bad judgment call not to.”
“So he began with a veiled threat.”
“Yes, but after I complied, he turned casual and chatty. He asked how I’d been. Did I miss my old job and all my cronies in the sheriff’s office? Then, as though in passing, he asked me about my children. What grades were they in, did they like sports, music, what? That made my blood run cold. I knew he was leading up to something.
“Then he asked if I’d heard that you’d been fired. I told him no. How would I have heard? I hadn’t had contact with you in years. He said that was good, because you had threatened retribution against Tom Barker and that any friend of yours was an enemy of Barker’s and, by extension, of the entire PD. He advised me to play it smart and not to talk to you. An or else was implied. Then he left. Not long after that, you called. I was still shaking.”
“Did he say what not to talk to me about? Was it Billy Oliver?”
She began to cry. In the background, her husband could be heard speaking softly, lending encouragement.
John kept his voice soft. He didn’t want her to feel pressured. “Isabel, did you know that Billy was dyslexic?”
“Dyslexic? No.”
“I learned that today from Carla Mellin. The odds that Billy wrote that confession are practically nil.”
“He couldn’t have written it if he’d been Shakespeare,” she said. “He didn’t have anything to write with.”
“That came up when we were investigating his suicide,” John said. “How the hell did Billy get access to pencil and paper? The only explanation offered was that he’d sneaked them past all of you guards.”
“John, he didn’t. I and all the other deputies in the rotation were being scrupulous. Billy was so distraught over his missing friend, and being accused of taking her, we were afraid he would harm himself. Anytime he was returned to his cell after being out, we made sure he wasn’t bringing anything in.”
“Why wasn’t he on suicide watch?”
“We suggested it, then requested it, but it was never implemented.”
“Christ,” John said under his breath. Beth was shaking her head in disbelief.
“But it started before that,” Isabel said.
“What started?” John asked.
“The irregularities.”
“Give me a ‘for instance.’”
“The camera that monitored several cells, including Billy’s, wasn’t working. I reported it. A day went by. Nobody came to check it. I reported it again and suggested that Billy be moved to another cell until it was repaired.
“One of the building maintenance men finally appeared. He looked at it, did some tinkering, told me that it needed a part, which he couldn’t get until the next day. That was the night Billy hanged himself.”
“Talk me through what happened that night, Isabel. Take your time.”
Again he heard her husband speaking softly, but urging her. She said, “After his evening meal, Billy was taken out to be interrogated.”
“By the ogre?”
“He said he was fetching him for Tom Barker. Billy was gone for hours. When he was returned, he wasn’t even crying. His eyes were vacant. It was like his soul had been sucked out of him.” She paused for several seconds. “I escorted him to his cell and locked him in. Shortly after, I went to check on him. That’s when I found him. You know the rest. You were there almost immediately.”
“That poor kid didn’t stand a chance against Barker and the ogre. They did a real number on him.”
“The interrogation sessions were recorded, weren’t they?” Isabel asked.
“Yes, and I’ve seen them,” John said. “In all of them, it’s obvious that the ogre bullied the kid, terrified him until he finally broke and gave them answers he knew they wanted.”
“Just to make it stop,” she said.
“Yes.” John picked up from where he’d left off. “After days of talking to Carla, Gracie Oliver, and Billy himself, Mitch Haskell and I were almost certain he was incapable of pulling off an abduction that flawless. When we told Barker that, he called us softies and turned Billy over to the ogre.”
He paused, then asked softly, “Isabel, when he was returned from that final interrogation, did you pat him down before returning him to his cell?”
“That’s the one time I didn’t. He was so pathetic.” With that, the dam burst. She began weeping in wracking sobs that were difficult to listen to. Beth looked anguished. John let Isabel cry uninterrupted and, even after the weeping subsided, gave her time to compose herself.
Finally, she said in a frail voice, “I didn’t pat him down because I felt sorry for him and didn’t want to contribute to his humiliation.”
“I understand,” John said. “His soul had been sucked out of him, Isabel. He couldn’t even read the suicide note that was planted on him. I think we all know who did it.”
With repugnance, she said, “The ogre.”
“Who coincidentally was the one who found the note on Billy after I’d cut him down.”
“I don’t remember that. I was hysterical.”
“The ogre got to that cell in record time. Almost knocked the attorney down in his rush.”
“Like he had been standing by, expecting a crisis.”
“Yes, just like that.” John felt like shit for resurrecting the turmoil she had been through. “Forgive me, Isabel.”
“For what?”
“Did the ogre tell you how this started?”
“No.”
“I busted Barker’s nose all to hell.” She actually laughed, but John added, “His heavy was dispatched to your house today because of me.”
“Lord, John, don’t apologize. Telling you the truth has done more for me than years of counseling. Fear kept me bottled up about those two. I needed this catharsis. So I don’t blame you. I thank you.”
“I swear to you that I’m gonna get the sons of bitches.”
“How?”
He huffed a dry laugh. “I have no idea. But, listen, it might get hairy for anybody even remotely connected, so stay vigilant.”
“Actually we’re leaving town for a few days.”
“Good idea. But if the ogre and Barker are ever brought up on charges, I could use your backing. Would you be willing to tell a prosecutor everything you’ve told me?”
“With pleasure.”
After hearing Isabel’s account of Billy Oliver’s last few hours, neither John nor Beth had much of an appetite, but when the lasagna was ready, they sat down at the table and went through the motions of eating.
With half his portion still left, he pushed his plate aside, propped his elbows on the table, and pushed all ten fingers into his hair, holding his head between his palms. “I’ve got the same problem I had this morning after learning about Billy’s dyslexia. Who do I go to with this information about what led to his suicide?
“If I confront Barker and the ogre, they’ll know it was Isabel who talked, and that could mean serious repercussions for her. In addition to concern about Carla, now I’ve got the safety of Isabel’s family to worry about, too. I should wear one of those international signs around my neck, warning anybody I approach that I’m a biohazard.”
“You can’t take all this on by yourself, John. You’ve got to bring someone else onboard.”
“Who do you suggest?”
“The police superintendent.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Then the FBI.”
He scoffed. “The feds wouldn’t put much stock in anything I have to say. I’m a hot-headed burnout who assaulted his superior, and I’m on the hunt for an unidentified suspect who gets off on all things mystical.” He imitated the professor’s finger waggling. “I’m sure that would inspire the feds’ confidence.”
He tilted his chair back on two legs and looked up at the ceiling. “What a damn mess. Barker will go to any lengths to protect his hide. He’s without scruple. And the ogre is cutthroat, literally. I don’t see a way out that doesn’t put other people in jeopardy.”
She looked down into her plate of lasagna, which didn’t look anything like the picture on the box. Slowly, softly, she said, “If you had it to do over again, would you stop me from boarding that flight back to New York?”
The front legs of his chair hit the floor. “No. No. That’s not—”
“Or going farther back, would you decide to stay in bed and forgo meeting me in the bar?”
“Beth, I regret my inability to nail this fucking case shut and get justice for the people who deserve it. I don’t regret that meeting.”
Even more slowly, more softly, she said, “I think you do, John. I think I do because I dragged you into this damn mess.” She picked up her phone and pushed back her chair. “I’m going to try Max one more time before it gets any later.”
He didn’t say or do anything to stop her from leaving the room. That was telling. He’d denied having regrets, but how could he not wish he’d stuck to his guns and refused to get involved. He’d told her the Crissy Mellin case had had an H-bomb effect on his life. It hadn’t been going great guns when she’d appeared on the scene, but since her intrusion, his situation had become a thousand times worse. That pained her.
In the bedroom, she sat down on the bed and took a moment to lay aside her personal dilemma and to organize her thoughts about the Crisis Point episode. If she got through to Max, there was much to catch him up on. She decided to start by giving him bullet points, so he would have the whole picture immediately, then go back and provide details as he asked for them.
She tapped in his number. As soon as he answered, she didn’t even give him time to speak before demanding, “Why haven’t you called me back?”
“Beth?”
“ Richard? ”
“Whose number is this?”
“None of your business. What are you doing with Max’s phone?”