Hollywood Prisoner: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Page 17

She shook her head. “I’ll be sending the reports to Markley and Waters, but thought you might want to talk to him first.”

  I smiled. “You think the case should stay in Section One.”

  “You and I both know if it goes to RHD, and with their workload…” She took a breath. “I’m just afraid the reports will get lost in the shuffle, there won’t be much follow-up.”

  “Understood. I’ll talk to the lieutenant after we meet on Campbell…” I lost my train of thought, seeing that Charlie was dragging himself into the station. He looked like he’d slept in his clothes. “See you at the meeting,” I said. “I’m going to check on my former partner.”

  Bernie and I walked over to the workstation Charlie occupied in a corner of the office, away from other staff. As I took a seat across from him, I saw that his eyes were bloodshot and he hadn’t shaved. So much for his attempt to change his image and take care of himself.

  “How goes it, partner?” I said.

  He glanced at me, set a bag of fast food on his desk, and opened a container of coffee. This time there was no smile. “It’s been better.”

  “What’s going on?”

  He sipped his coffee. “Suzie and me broke up.”

  “I’m sorry.” Bernie intently watched him as he removed a breakfast sandwich from his bag and took a bite. I was about to ask him about the breakup when he said, “That medical problem I had went away.”

  I nodded. “That’s a good thing.”

  “But…” He chewed, “now I can’t…” He swallowed. “...you know.”

  I didn’t know, but I thought I might know, and I didn’t want to know.

  He went on. “Maybe I should see a doc, after all.”

  “I think that’s probably a good idea.”

  “Can you recommend someone…maybe your doctor?”

  “My doctor’s a woman.”

  “Oh.” He took another bite, chewed. “I haven’t been to a doctor in about ten years, except for my heart attack.”

  I heard Selfie calling out, telling me that the lieutenant was ready to meet.

  I turned to her. “Be right there.” I rose and said to Charlie, “I’m sure if you check the Internet, you can find someone.”

  “Maybe I should get one of them pumps.”

  “A pump?” Even as I asked, it dawned on me what he meant.

  “You know, to get things going down there.”

  Sure. Maybe you should call the auto club, get a jump start, a new battery, some spark plugs, and a pump.

  I exhaled. “Charlie…” I tried to choose my words carefully. “Maybe it’s time…maybe you should worry less about your privates and more about…everything else in your life.”

  I did my best to put Charlie and his pump desires out of my mind as the meeting with Edna began.

  The lieutenant didn’t waste any time, telling us that he’d met with the brass late in the day yesterday, and they weren’t happy. “I hope you’ve got something worthwhile to tell me. Dunbar’s holding a press conference this afternoon and he wants something positive to report.”

  “Then he’s going to have to make it up,” Darby said. “We’ve got squat.”

  “I wouldn’t call it squat,” I said, annoyed with his constant negativity.

  Mel agreed with me. “We’re starting to get a bigger picture of things, and a lot of it points to Campbell Turner’s father.”

  Edna exhaled and dragged a hand through hair that looked like it had been in a wind tunnel. “Let’s hear it.”

  Mel went over our meeting with Norma Morgan, telling Edna that her son had a mild form of a bipolar disorder and that we believed his relationship with Campbell was platonic.

  “Morgan said that Luke talked about Campbell on a few occasions and he described her as being sad,” Mel said. “She thought that sadness was similar to the depressive episodes he suffered from because of his mental illness.”

  “We all get sad from time to time,” Darby said. “It doesn’t mean she was mentally ill.”

  Edna ignored him. “What else?”

  I told him about our meeting with Adriana Montoya. “She said Campbell was using everything from marijuana to crank, and maybe heroin, before entering the drug program. She attributed her drug problems to her relationship with her father. She said Campbell told her that her father’s life was one big lie and she hated him. She also said that Campbell’s mother was an alcoholic and was cheating on her father, but didn’t know who she was involved with.”

  “We also talked to Campbell’s makeup artist, Donna McBride, at Klondike Studios,” Mel told him. “She and Campbell were pretty close. She said Blake Lambert was still seeing his old girlfriend, Alexis Teller. She said Campbell was also seeing someone from her past, but didn’t know who. Campbell confided in her that she became pregnant about three months before her death, but miscarried.”

  “Who was the father?” Edna asked.

  “McBride didn’t know.”

  “Maybe it was Morgan,” Darby suggested.

  “What makes you think that?” I asked.

  “He obviously had the hots for her. He gets her pregnant and maybe she didn’t lose the baby. Maybe she got rid of it and Morgan paid her back.”

  “There’s nothing to substantiate what you’re saying,” Mel said.

  Darby glared at his partner. “There’s nothing to substantiate anything. All we’ve got on this case is speculation.” He looked at me. “And a shitload of it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Why don’t you ask your crazy friends? They seem to have all the answers, or think they do.”

  “Enough,” Edna said. “This constant bickering doesn’t solve anything.”

  “What about going back to Jimmy Castello?” I said, doing my best to put what Darby said out of my mind. “Everything points to Campbell having issues with him.”

  Edna locked eyes with me and slowly nodded. He turned to Darby and Mel. “You two go have a conversation with Castello.” He looked at Darby. “But keep it civil.” He wagged a finger at his employee. “In fact, I want Mel to do all the talking.”

  “Why is that?” Darby said, jutting out his chin.

  “Let’s just say that your partner has certain skills she acquired in Media Relations. I want her to use them.” Darby scoffed as the lieutenant went on. “I also want you to talk to Alexis Teller, see what she knows about this shit storm.”

  “What about me?” I said.

  Edna’s dark eyes shifted and fixed on me. “You and I need to talk.” He looked at Selfie and Molly. “You two have anything?”

  “Molly and I worked up a bio on Teller,” Selfie said. “I can send it to everyone’s phone.”

  Edna nodded. “Everyone’s dismissed, but Sexton.”

  After the room cleared out, Edna leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “You really blew it this time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That interview you did in front of the courthouse last night. The brass, in particular Dunbar, saw it. He wants you held back while he considers his options.”

  “Held back. What exactly does that mean?”

  “For now, you work your backlog of cases. Darby and Mel have the lead on Turner and the other homicides.”

  I did a slow burn—no, make that a fast burn. “I was off duty when I gave that interview and I have a right to my opinion.”

  “You know it’s against policy to talk to the press unless it’s cleared.”

  “The protest against that rapist was the right thing...”

  Edna cut me off. “I agree with you, but it doesn’t matter.” He took a moment, then softened his tone. “You and I both know Dunbar’s been looking for something to hang on you for using his past issues against him. You just handed it to him.”

  I tried to steady my voice, but it kicked up a notch. “Those issues, as you call them, involved our chief using a date rape drug on women he slept with against their will.”

  The lines on the lieute
nant’s forehead deepened. “How do you know that?”

  I didn’t want to betray Mel’s confidence without her approval. “I can’t say. All I can tell you is that I have it on good authority.”

  Edna dragged a hand through his hair and made huffing sounds. After a long moment, he said, “Let me work things behind the scenes with Dembowski. Maybe, after a couple of days, things will calm down and you can go back to your regular duties. For now...like I said, work your backlog.”

  I was mad as hell, but knew Edna’s orders were coming from downtown. Yesterday’s meeting with Francesca came to mind. Despite everything that happened, I knew I had done the right thing by talking to the reporter.

  “Can I work the Slayer?”

  “What?”

  “Molly pulled up some reports on a homicide in the city of Taft from 2012. It looks like there are parallels to our case. Since it’s now a regular RHD case and part of the backlog, I’d like to take another look at everything.”

  RHD was the department’s Robbery Homicide Division, which handled routine homicide cases.

  Edna sighed and shook his head. “Just be sure you run what you’re doing past Markley and Waters, and keep me in the loop.”

  I called over to Bernie, and he came up from his nap. As I put the leash on his collar, I said to Edna, “You might want to keep an eye on Darby and Mel. I think he’s finally wearing on her. They might even come to blows.”

  “I can’t blame her. He’s wearing on everybody, including yours truly.” I saw his features soften. “I’m sorry things went like this, Kate. None of it was my call.”

  I tugged on Bernie’s leash as an idea came to mind. In that moment, I realized that finding my power was all about learning to use it in the right way.

  “Some things are probably meant to be,” I said.

  FORTY-TWO

  I got approval from Lieutenant Edna and the two detectives assigned to the Slayer case to take a drive to Taft to talk to the detective assigned to the murder of Valerie Quail. When I told Edna that Molly had done the legwork, pulling the reports together, he agreed to let me take her along.

  The city of Taft was located in the San Joaquin Valley, about two hours from Hollywood. The area was part of the largest petroleum and natural gas reserve in the state, and most of the inhabitants worked in the oil industry.

  It was also in the middle of nowhere, something that Molly commented on. “This must be what it’s like living on the moon.”

  The analogy wasn’t far off. The desert landscape was barren, giving the impression we were a million miles from civilization.

  “What do you suppose the Slayer was doing in this area?” I said.

  “Maybe he worked for an oil company.” She swept her red hair behind one shoulder and crinkled up her nose. “It even smells like oil around here.” She glanced at me. “By the way, thanks for bringing me along. It’s nice to have a change of scenery, even if it is a lunar landscape.

  I laughed. “You’re welcome. I’ll be working with the feds, starting next week, but when I’m not with them you might be seeing me around the office more often.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I gave an interview to a reporter named Cynthia McFadden and I’m paying for it by sitting in the Chief Dunbar penalty box.”

  “I happened to see it. You did the right thing.”

  “Thanks. Do you know anything about the reporter?”

  “I’ve talked to her a couple of times when she’s called for background on our cases. She seems nice enough.”

  If I was to honor the path Francesca had talked about, I knew I would need to learn to use my power in the right way. I decided the reporter might come in handy in that regard. We drove on in silence for a couple minutes before Molly asked about my weekend plans.

  I pushed down my anxiety about meeting with Jenson Moore tonight. “Joe Dawson, that FBI agent I’ve worked with before, is coming to town. We’re supposed to have dinner.”

  “I met him once.” She smiled. “He seems nice, not to mention he’s not bad to look at, either.”

  “We’re just friends.” Molly knew all about my past relationships, including what happened with Noah. “Believe me, I’m not ready to become involved with anyone again.” I glanced at her. “What about you? Any plans?”

  “I’m actually seeing someone. He’s a teacher where Ben and Carly go to school.”

  “Really? Good for you.” I smiled. “Is it serious?”

  “Not sure.” She chuckled. “As you know, I come with some baggage in the way of a four-and seven-year-old, but he’s nice. I’m taking things slow.”

  “I hope it works out.”

  Ten minutes later, we arrived in the small city of Taft and went directly to the police station. After checking in and waiting a couple minutes, we were met by Ross Adams, the detective assigned to the Valerie Quail murder case.

  After introductions, we followed Adams to his office, Molly nudging me and smiling along the way. Adams looked like he was in his mid-thirties. He was solidly built and handsome, with black hair and green eyes. I remembered my earlier comment to Molly, about not being ready for a relationship, as I returned her smile.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Adams asked, after we took seats in his office and he set out a bowl of water for Bernie.

  “We’re fine,” I said, looking at Bernie. “However, my dog appreciates the offer.”

  Adams brushed a hand through Bernie’s fur after my partner came up for air. “He’s welcome. I always wished our department was large enough to have canines.” He smiled. “My partner is off today and he isn’t nearly as good looking, or have as much hair, as yours.”

  After chatting about Bernie for a few minutes, we got down to business. “As I mentioned when I called, the Quail case appears to have some things in common with several murders in and around LA. We have four victims where the circumstances of their homicides look similar to yours.”

  “What can you tell us about your victim?” Molly asked, with a notepad in hand.

  “Valerie Quail was twenty-three, single. She worked for Sheffield Oil. It’s a small company about five miles out of town. She went missing...” He checked a file in front of him. “April 17th, 2012. Left work at five, stopped at the Albertsons on the highway, and was never seen again until...” He exhaled. “I was one of the detectives that worked the scene. It was as bad as anything I’ve ever encountered.”

  I knew that sometimes there were details left out of reports that could be instrumental to breaking a case. “Tell us about what you found.”

  He took a moment, massaging his brow. “Our victim was found by a couple of boys who were playing in the area. The body was in a shallow grave near an oil field. There was lots of decomp. She was in her bra and panties, and there were numerous cuts and abrasions. It was apparent from the autopsy that she’d been bound at the ankles and hands during what were probably multiple sexual assaults. He used a condom, no DNA."

  “Did you find anything that looked like this near the body?” I showed him the photographs of our crime scene in Runyon Canyon. The body of the woman we’d found had since been identified as Carolyn Johnson, a prostitute. “The wooden device was a replica of a pillory, like they used in medieval times to hold someone’s head and hands in place.”

  He examined the photo and shook his head. “Nothing like this was found, but I suppose he could have used it and then took it down.”

  “But you did find a hook, like one that’s sometimes used to move bales of hay,” Molly said.

  Adams nodded. “The girl’s blood was found on it. We assume he used it as part of whatever he did to her.”

  “Where exactly was it found?” I asked.

  “Just beyond a deserted building, above the...” Adams took a moment. “If y’all have some time, it might be good if I showed you the area. It would give you a better idea of what the gulch looks like.”

  “The gulch?”

  “That’s the name of the area
where our victim was found. It’s known as Devil’s Gulch.”

  FORTY-THREE

  “The creek bed is dry most of the year,” Detective Adams told us, “unless we get flash floods, then the whole area can be washed out.”

  We were in his four-wheel-drive SUV, about two miles off the main highway. If the area we’d seen earlier looked like the moon, Devil’s Gulch was an asteroid. The vegetation here was almost non-existent, the soil rocky and barren.

  “The girl’s body was found near that abandoned building.” Adam’s pointed to an area a couple hundred yards off the dirt road. “It was used by an oil company that abandoned the wells in this area a few years back.”

  The big SUV rocked back and forth as we went off road before stopping near the building. The same foul petroleum-filled air greeted us when we left the vehicle.

  Molly put her hand against her mouth and nose. “Does it always smell this bad around here?”

  Adams’ full lips turned up. “Depends on which way the wind’s blowing.”

  Bernie sniffed along the rocky path as he led us over to the building, but stopped a few feet away. “The grave was right about here,” Adams said, pointing to the rocky ground. “Like you saw in the photographs, some timbers were used to outline the gravesite.”

  I stopped and bent down to the rocky soil. The area was about as desolate and lonely as any I could imagine. Valerie Quail being held here for weeks, raped and tortured, made bile rise in my throat. The only sound I heard was the soft howl of the dusty, dry wind raking the area. Bernie came over and pushed his muzzle into my hand, his way of asking what we were doing here.

  I stood and said to Adams, “Let’s take a look at the building.”

  He waved a hand. “Not much to see.”

  We followed him into the aluminum-sided building. It was empty, except for some large oil containers and wood pallets. I looked up, seeing there was a loft. “Anything up there?”

  Adams shook his head. “We had our crime scene people go through the place. Nothing was found.”

  “Mind if I take a look?”

  “Only way up is a ladder.”

  I gave Molly my satchel and made my way up the ladder. The loft area was about the size of a bedroom, with plywood flooring. I stood at the railing and looked down at Molly and Bernie.