Walk in Darkness - A Thriller (Jon Stanton Mysteries) Page 19
“Did you find any of the girls?”
“No.”
“Did you find remains for any of the girls?”
“No.”
“Any items of clothing, jewelry, a note, a phone call, anything like that?”
“No, nothing.”
“So you had nothing from the case, no evidence, but you identified a suspect, isn’t that true?”
“I wouldn’t say we had no evidence. As I said, the crimes were nearly identical. You can also extrapolate from the methods used in the abductions. The perpetrator knew which bedroom was the victim’s. That meant he watched the houses beforehand. It had to have been someone that wouldn’t stand out in a predominantly white, upper-middle class neighborhood. We could assume he’s white from that. Most pedophiles of this type tend to stick within their own races as well, and all the girls were white.”
“So you guessed he was white, what else did you guess about him?”
“He had to have a car and be reasonably physically fit. One of the girl’s rooms was on the second floor and he climbed up and then back down with her.”
“Couldn’t there have been two of them doing the work?”
“Yeah, and we never ruled that out. But there was only one set of shoeprints found in the Reynolds’ garden underneath their daughter’s window. If there was a second person, he would just have been the driver.”
“So he’s white and works out. Anything else?”
“He likely lived nearby as well. He fit into the donut model of the crimes.”
“What’s the donut model?”
“Most offenders of this type commit crimes away from their homes to try and throw off the police. If they commit the crimes in enough locations, you see a pattern. All of the locations end up being nearly identical distances from a few locations. Sometimes only one. That location is their home or their neighborhood or their city if they operate statewide. You get all the locations of the crimes up on a map and you connect them, it can resemble a circle. Their home or city is in the middle, like the center of a donut.”
“Interesting theory. Is there any research to back that up?”
“I couldn’t quote it off the top of my head but I’m sure—”
“So the answer’s ‘no’ as far as you know?”
“I suppose that’s accurate to say.”
“Now, did you have anything else that you were assuming about the perpetrator of these crimes?”
“No, other than he may have had some burglaries or voyeurism charges on his record.”
“And why do you say that?”
“Most sex offenders, especially ones that move to kidnappings within homes, begin as burglars. One night, they find someone home and sexually assault them and then—”
“Is there any evidence in this case that any of the victims were sexually assaulted?”
“No.”
“So it’s another guess?”
“I suppose you could call it that.”
“Now based on these guesses, you identified somebody as a suspect; is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And who was that person?”
“Darrell Putnam.”
“And it’s true that you didn’t have any direct evidence linking Mr. Putnam to any of these crimes?”
“Direct evidence? If you mean a note from him saying ‘I did it,’ no, we didn’t have that.”
Taylor Rowe smirked.
“What did you have?”
“He was a registered sex offender living within a few miles of each of the victims.”
“So did you confront him about these allegations you made?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘confront,’ that’s not the right word. We followed him for a few days and then I came to his house to talk to him.”
“Who followed him?”
“We had a unit from Sex Crimes trail him.”
“And what did they find?”
“As far as?”
“As far as anything linking this man to any of the crimes. Did they find anything? Did they hear him utter a single word about these kidnappings?”
“No, they did not.”
“And so your surveillance turned up nothing and you went over to his house, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what happened when you went to his house.”
“It was an older house; he lived with his elderly mother. I parked my car in front of the house and instantly one of the neighbors was out asking me what I was doing there. I explained that I was a police officer and that he should go back inside. That I was just following up on a few things.
“When I got to the door his mother came out. We talked for a few minutes about Darrell. I asked her if he was home and the first thing she said was, ‘What did he do now? He didn’t hurt no kids, did he?’”
“Let me stop you there, Detective. I’m going to object to that and ask that it be stricken from the record as hearsay.”
“Hearsay my ass,” Rowe responded. “You opened the door and asked it. We’ll run a motion in limine with the judge about it later. And this is just a deposition. Move on, Gary.”
“Just to note for the record, I don’t appreciate the use of your language, Ms. Rowe.”
“You didn’t mind it when you asked me out on a date a couple months ago and I turned you down.”
Cooper shifted in his seat. His jaw clenched once and then released. “So you meet his mom . . . then what happens?”
“She says he’s up in his room, so I went into the house.”
“Is that procedure?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re about to confront a man suspected of three child kidnappings. Is that procedure to go alone into his house?”
“Technically, no. I should’ve called for backup.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t. As I said, I was just there to talk. At this point he wasn’t even really a suspect, more a person of interest. I just wanted to see what he had to say about the whole thing.”
“So you made a mistake?”
“I guess you could call it that. I should’ve called for backup.”
“And what did he say when you confronted him?”
“I don’t know. When I got up to his room the window was open and I saw him running across the backyard.”
“What did you do?”
“I sprinted down out of the house and called dispatch on my phone. We ran through his yard and I hopped a fence after him. He got to the curb and there was a car there. He jumped in and took off and I had to run back to my car to keep up with him. I caught up somewhere down the block and had to chase him down the freeway to downtown. He got cut off by a group of motorcyclists down by One American Plaza.”
“What happened then?”
“I jumped out of my car because he was running by the time I got there. He headed into the building and I went after him. I caught up to him on the roof—”
“How’d you know he was going to the roof?”
“The security guard station had cameras on all the elevators. I went over there and had them track him. Then I followed.”
“So you’re riding the elevator up to the roof. Was your firearm out at this point?”
“No.”
“Where was it?”
“Holstered to my side.”
“When did it come out?”
“When I got to the roof Darrell was standing around, I don’t think he expected me to find him so fast. He ran to the edge of the building and looked down like he was going to jump and then he reached behind him. That’s when I pulled out my sidearm. I thought he might be reaching for a weapon.”
“Did you see a weapon?”
“No.”
“In fact he didn’t have a weapon on him, is that correct?”
“Unless it got lost on the way down, no.”
“So you pull out your firearm on a weaponless ‘person of interest’ and then what?”
“
I told him that he needed to turn himself in. He told me he knew what this was about and that he was innocent. I said if that was the case then he would be cleared and free to go. Then he jumped.”
“How did he jump?”
“He looked over the edge and then fell backward.”
“Did you startle him?”
“No.”
“Did you intimidate him?”
“No.”
“Would you say it’s reasonable to assume that if someone has a gun pointed at your head and you’re standing on a ledge that you might be intimidated?”
“I suppose. But that wasn’t my intent.”
“Was your intent to have him fly off that roof?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay, well, let me stop there for a second.” Coop turned to the stenographer. “I need to run out to the restroom for about half a minute.”
“Coop,” Rowe said, “I know this trick.” She turned to Stanton. “He wants us to talk while he’s gone and then attorney-client privilege doesn’t apply because there are other people in the room. He can get us to reveal what was said between us.”
“No,” Coop said, “I just gotta piss. You wanna come with me?”
“For the record, I don’t appreciate your language.”
Coop heard Stanton’s phone buzz. Stanton looked down and his face changed. He looked to Rowe and said, “I need to leave.”
“What?” Rowe said. “You can’t leave we’re in the middle—”
Stanton rose and began to walk out. “Reschedule. I’m really sorry, I have to go.”
Coop watched him walk out and then turned back to Rowe. The stenographer had turned off the record and was packing up.
“Thought you had to piss?” Rowe said.
Coop shrugged and took another sip of water. “I want him back as soon as possible. I’m not done with him yet.”
Stanton raced down the freeway but came to a standstill near an accident. He got over past the white line and held up his badge to the officers handling the scene and they let him pass. He shot down the nearest exit and over to the Northern precinct.
When he ran inside he went to the ready-room and saw Childs, Danielle, and Slim Jim standing over some documents and photos. Slim Jim glanced at him and then away.
“Heard you back from the dead,” Childs said.
“For now. I got the text. What’d we got?”
Childs lifted a few photos and laid them on the table. They were of Yvette, Sarah, and Beth. Another photo of a storefront and he pushed that near Stanton.
“Danielle followed up on your lead and then brought me in. Looks like you were right, Detective Stanton. There’s an association with all three vics: Taylor Drugs.
47
Calvin Riley finished his sandwich and threw everything away into the trashbin. Jersey Subs was the closest sandwich shop to his work but their chicken was always too soggy. He went to the front counter and complained to the manager who said there was nothing he could do except issue a refund. Calvin let him keep the money but said he wanted the chicken grilled next time.
As he left and got into his car, he smiled. He hadn’t felt this good in a long time. There was something to being efficacious that brought about a sense of fulfillment. He had taken care of his business without the help of his father or Stanton. He felt like a real man, the type he had watched in movies as a kid.
He drove down to work and was about to pass by the front entrance to go to employee parking when he saw two police cruisers out front. He stopped, his heart sinking in his chest, and looked through the glass. A lot of activity was going on inside the store and he saw his manager speaking with a few different people. Probably about Karen, he guessed. She had been missing a few days and had not called into work.
Then, he saw Stanton’s face. Stanton was sex crimes; he wouldn’t be here for a missing person.
He was here for him.
Calvin felt vomit rise in his throat and before he could stop it, it spewed over the window and the driver side door. He pulled out of the parking lot and sped down the road until he came to a small park near some old factory buildings. He got out and ran to the bathroom. It stunk of piss and feces and he puked over the sink and mirror.
When he was through, he sucked down some water out of the faucet and then looked at himself in the mirror. How had he been found? Had he been careless? Only one explanation that he could think of: Jon Stanton had found him. He was a demon. Calvin knew he should’ve killed him as soon as Stanton had put his guard down and let him into his home. He’d had the gun tucked away in the small of his back: he should’ve put a few rounds into his head when he had the chance.
Calvin stepped out of the bathroom and had to lean against the building. Everything seemed blurry, like it had an edge of white around it, and he felt he couldn’t breathe. His chest hurt and his hands felt numb. He held them up in front of his face and they felt like someone else’s hands. His body felt like someone else’s body; as if he were watching what was happening from a distance.
“Hey asshole, you got some cash?”
Calvin turned to the man. He was young with tattoos on his neck and hands. A cigarette dangled from his mouth.
“I’m talkin’ to you, faggot. You got some cash?”
“No,” Calvin mumbled.
The man looked at him a moment, sensing something wrong. “What’s the matter with you?” He waited a few seconds and when he didn’t receive a response he walked to Calvin and began going through his pockets. Calvin didn’t resist; he watched the man with a detached curiosity. Like someone watching an animal at the zoo.
In a single motion, he pulled out the hunting knife strapped to his leg and ran it across the man’s throat. Blood spattered over him and the man began to choke and wheeze. He fell to his back in front of the bathroom. Calvin leaned over him and watched him die, looking into his eyes.
He put the knife away and headed to his car. Jon Stanton was too dangerous. He would find him no matter where he went. The only way to get out of this was to barrel through him.
48
Stanton stood inside Taylor Drugs looking at a display for lotion. It had been organized based on color and in the middle was a single bottle out of sync with the rest. He had the urge to grab it and put it back in its place, but resisted and instead just read the sign next to the display talking about the benefits of that particular brand.
“Detective,” the manager said as he stepped out from the back room, “I have the list you wanted.”
Stanton and Childs came over to the counter as the manager pulled out a spreadsheet he had printed off of all the employees.
“Okay,” the manager said, “what are you looking for?”
“White male, late twenties or early thirties.”
“Um, well you should probably talk to Spencer over there first.”
Stanton saw an overweight man pushing a mop. “No, he would be physically fit. Probably not in any sort of relationship or very social. But he might be a meticulous employee.”
The manager went through the list, mumbling to himself and occasionally shaking his head as he crossed off names. “There’s only two I can think of that are like that: Wes Bell and Calvin Riley.”
“I need their contact information immediately. If you hear from them you need to tell them that there’s a glitch in their payroll paperwork and you need them to come in and sign some new tax forms. I’m going to leave a couple of men here and you point them out when they show up.”
“Okay, okay, hold on, I’ll get you that information.”
Stanton turned to Childs who had his arms folded and a grin on his face.
“You live for this shit, huh?”
“Danny, I never thought that—”
“No need, brother. I don’t believe a word them IAD motherfucka’s are saying. You ain’t got to explain anything to me. But I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I should’a had your back.”
The manager came o
ut and handed them a computer printout with addresses and phone numbers listed for the two men.
“Do you need anything else, Detective?”
“No, that’s it for now, thank you. Just make sure not to act out of the ordinary if they come in. This man is going to be extremely dangerous when he’s cornered.”
“I can’t imagine either of them that way. I wish Karen was here, she would tell you too. She was dating Calvin.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t come into work this week. I tried calling but her roommate doesn’t know where she is either.”
Stanton looked to Childs and then back to the manager. “I need her address too.”
After getting what they needed, Stanton and Childs got into a car and pulled away from the drugstore. Danielle had a shift and since this wasn’t her unit she hadn’t been brought in. Slim Jim had stayed behind in the store in plainclothes, waiting for the signal from the manager. Two uniforms were waiting in the break room with him.
“IAD’s really got you by the balls, I hear,” Childs said as he pulled onto the road and cut off another car.
“I don’t think I’ll be a cop much longer. After the lawsuit’s done and they don’t need me anymore, they’ll force me to retire.”
“You talked to your union rep yet?”
“No.”
“Union should know about this shit. They hate that fucker Talano. I think they could really help you with this.”
“I’m not sure I want to stick around.”
His cell phone rang and Stanton checked the ID: Kyle.
“Hey, Kyle, I’m busy right now, I’ll call you—”
“I need help, Jon. Please.”
His voice sounded frantic and he was sobbing.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m hurt. I think I broke my leg. I’m fixing the fucking roof in the kitchen and I fucking fell and—”
“I’m calling 911 right now. What’s your address?”
“No, no, I don’t have insurance. I can’t afford the ambulance, man. I need you to come get me. Please, Jon, I don’t have any family here. I don’t have anyone but you. Please don’t leave me, please.”