(2011) The Gift of Death (17 page)

‘
No, she died giving birth to me.’

‘
And you were brought up by your father?’

‘
Yes, and my older brother, Ryan,’ she said, looking down. There was an embarrassed silence. ‘I know on the phone you said I might be able to help with something. You mentioned Mr Vaughan’s name, but he passed away some time ago, didn’t he?’

‘
Yes, ten years ago now.’

‘
He was a nice man,’ said Roberta. ‘Sometimes I think how differently my life would have turned out if I’d had him for a father, instead of –‘

‘
It’s about your father we need to speak to you about,’ said Kate.

‘
What do you mean?’

‘
Just over three weeks ago I found a baby girl floating in the sea outside my house.’

‘
Oh my God.’ Obviously she hadn’t read the piece in the
Times
.

‘
About two weeks ago Cassie was sent a package containing a number of human fingertips.’

Blood seemed to drain from Roberta’s thin lips and her already pale face turned a ghostly white.

‘
And then Jordan Weislander – who led the prosecution against your father - found a human tongue in his icebox.’

‘
What? Why?’ Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

‘
That’s what we’re trying to find out. Obviously, the link between Jordan, Cassie and me is – was – your father.’

Panic invaded her eyes. ‘You’re not trying to suggest -?’

‘
No, no. It’s not that.’

‘
But then who -?’

‘
We think it could be someone your father went to prison with. Maybe somebody he helped when he was inside. Or it could be some psychopath who feels some kind of affinity with Gleason. Sees him as some kind of hero figure or whatever.’

‘
God forbid.’

‘
But we just wondered if there was anything – or anybody – you could think of. Any kind of link or motivation?’

‘
No, no. Nothing. As you know I never saw my – him – since the day I left for college.’

‘
And there’s nobody from your childhood that could be behind this?’

‘
What do you mean?’ Tears started to form in her eyes.

‘
I realise this is difficult for you to talk about, Roberta. And I’m sorry. But it really is extremely important.’ Kate took a deep breath. ‘Roberta, I know about the abuse. Bill Vaughan told me. God only knows, it must have been awful for you.’

Roberta nodded her head as tears began to form in her eyes.

‘
But was he the only one? Your dad, I mean. We know what he was capable of.’ Kate swept her hand through her silver hair. ‘Do you remember him bringing any of his friends to see you?’

‘
No.’

‘
Are you sure?’

‘
Yes, I’m sure.’

‘
I’m sorry to have to ask these questions, Roberta. I really am.’

‘
No, it’s okay. Honestly.’ Her face was creased by pain now, as if each of the questions was a stab in her heart.

Cassie stood up and, using her hand to guide her, moved across the room towards Roberta. She reached out her hands and gently placed them on Roberta’s shoulder and neck.

‘
Hush,’ said Cassie. ‘It’s all in the past now. He’s gone.’

‘
I’m so sorry,’ she said, looking up at Cassie’s blank eyes. ‘I’m sorry for what he did to you.’

‘
It’s not your fault,’ said Kate. ‘You shouldn’t blame yourself.’

‘
Sometimes I think if only I had stayed at home with him then none of it would have happened.’

‘
You can’t think like that,’ said Cassie.

‘
Then he wouldn’t have needed to seek out those other girls. All those lives taken. What a waste. If I had stayed with him at least it would only have been one life, my life.’

‘
Do you have any surviving relatives?’ asked Kate, in an effort to change the direction of the conversation.

‘
An aunt in Oklahoma, my mom’s sister,’ she said. ‘We speak on the phone and send cards, things like that. But apart from that, no, no-one.’

‘
If anything occurs to you you’ll let me know, won’t you?’ said Kate, drinking the last of her coffee and standing up.

‘
Yes, of course,’ said Roberta, wiping her eyes. ‘I’m sorry not to be of more help to you.’ She stood up from the rocking chair to face Cassie. ‘But it was good to see you. Difficult, but good. At least I know he didn’t ruin your life completely. You’ve survived. That’s wonderful.’

Cassie thought of the nightmares, the blackness that grew inside of her like a mutant child, but she pushed it from her mind.

‘
Yes, I’m a survivor,’ she said, and smiled.

She touched Roberta’s face, and felt a wetness on her hand. She ran her fingers down her cheek to her jaw. She remembered the feel of Gleason’s pock-marked skin and the rough contours of his face. Father and daughter shared a similar bone structure, the same square face, high forehead and strong jawline. An irrational fear clawed the back of her neck. Then she felt a sense of pity. Imagine what it must be like, she thought, to look like the mass murderer that was your father. Much better to be one of Gleason’s victims than his daughter. She felt a sting of guilt inside her.

‘
Goodbye,’ said Cassie, squeezing Roberta’s hand. As she left she regretted she had not wished her good luck too.

18

There was an air of expectation in the investigation room. Harper had scheduled an urgent meeting to discuss the Gleason case and its poisonous fall-out. He had his own theory – something he had been discussing with Jennifer Curtis - but he wanted everyone present to share the information they had gathered over the last 48 hours. He looked at his team and felt a sense of pride. They were, he knew, the best in the business. But would they be able to work out what the fuck was going on? A wave of anxiety, compounded by an overwhelming tiredness, swept over him. He took another swig of his black coffee and cleared his throat.

‘
Okay, Lansing,’ he said. ‘What have you got?’

Lansing stood up and addressed the room.

‘
As you know I flew up to San Quentin and spent a day interviewing the governor, staff and some of the inmates.’

‘
And?’

‘
It seems that during his time there – those two years between 1998 and 2000 – Gleason was very much a loner. Of course, he was confined to his cell for most of the day, but when he was allowed out he didn’t seek company. It seems, from what I can gather, that most of the other prisoners were afraid of him. One of them, a,’ he looked down to consult his notebook, ‘a man called Lee James – who by the way was one tough guy – described Gleason as pure evil. I asked him how he knew this and he said that he could just sense it. Bear in mind that James had spent most of his adult life in prison – he was a serial rapist – but even he said he was afraid of Gleason. Said there was something about his eyes, like he was looking into the face of something that was not human.’

‘
And what about these other men? Garrison? Lomax? Federline? Hornbeck and Tomlin? By the way, Helen, they’ve all been located now, haven’t they?’

‘
Yes, sir,’ she said. ‘Officers have been sent out to bring them in. I’ll let you know when they are in custody.’

‘
Thanks, Helen. Lansing, about Gleason and his fellow inmates.’

‘
I asked around and everyone told me the same thing. Gleason did not talk to anyone. He made it his business not to make friends, or acquaintances even. Jim Abend, the governor, reiterated this. I asked him about what James had said – about Gleason being the embodiment of evil – but he dismissed it. ‘Nine out of ten of the men in my prison are evil,’ he said. ‘What other word can you use to describe their behaviour?’ He then called in one of the guards, Henry Dean, who has been working at the prison for the last 15 years. Dean told me that Gleason did not speak a word to him during the two years he was there. Not a good morning or a goodnight. And he never saw him talking to any of the other prisoners, including the five men on our list.’

‘
Did he get any visitors? Letters? Packages?’

‘
According to the records no-one came to see him during his time there. He received no letters and no packages. And as far as drugs are concerned he was clean, apparently.’

‘
And his death?’ asked Jennifer Curtis. ‘They are sure it was a suicide?’

‘
The governor seems certain,’ he said, turning towards her. ‘It was Dean who found him. He went to unlock Gleason’s cell early on the morning of July 7 2000 and walked in to find it dripping with blood. Using a razor blade, Gleason had cut his wrists and the carotid artery in the neck, which explains the mess. On one of the walls, above his bed, he had started to scrawl the words NO REGRETS. But by the time he had gotten to the second R he must have lost consciousness.’

‘
Jesus,’ mumbled Curtis under her breath.

‘
There was, of course, an inquiry after the death, but they couldn’t trace how the razor blade got into the prison. They interviewed their inmates but nobody owned up. Why would they? My impression is that the prisoners were pleased Gleason had killed himself. For whatever reason he freaked them out.’

‘
And there was no indication he was about to do it?’ asked Curtis.

‘
No, nothing out of the ordinary. He didn’t give any clues or leave anything behind to explain his actions apart from that half-completed scrawl written in his blood.’

‘
And the funeral?’ asked Harper.

‘
It was arranged by the Evergreen Group, a bereavement home often used by the prison. After the post-mortem Gleason’s body was released and he was cremated on July 17. I checked with the funeral home about who attended. Apart from those who were there in an official capacity – Dean, and a couple of other prison employees, and the staff of Evergreen – there was only one other guest. Ryan, Gleason’s son.’

‘
Who’d never visited him in prison?’ It was Harper again.

‘
Apparently not. Dean told me that at the cremation Ryan was besides himself. Sobbing. A real wreck. Felt guilty that he’d never been to see his dad, he said. Dean heard that Ryan was never the same again. Took to drink and drugs in a big way. Which I suppose explains his death. I spoke to the sergeant up in Riverside County who was called to the scene. It seems Ryan drove his truck off a deserted road in the mountainous terrain somewhere between Moreno Valley and Banning, and into a 300-foot-deep canyon. When the post-mortem was done his body contained a high level of alcohol. So it seems like -’

‘
Gleason not only destroyed the lives of his victims,’ interrupted Helen, in a bid to make herself heard. ‘He fucked over his children too. I spoke to Roberta this morning again. I could tell she was trying to hold it together, but since her visit from Dr Cramer and –‘

‘
Excuse me?’ said Harper.

‘
You know you asked me to check in on her. Well, I –‘

‘
Yes, but you said she had been paid a visit by K – Cramer?’

‘
Yes, along with Cassie Veringer. I thought you must have known about it.’

Harper did not say anything. Anger burned inside him, but he couldn’t let his team witness how he was feeling. He would have to talk to Kate later. What the fuck did she think she was doing? She’d always been like this. Curious to the point where sometimes it became a danger to herself. And what was she thinking dragging poor Cassie along, as if she hadn’t enough problems to deal with besides being forced to introduce herself to the daughter of the man who had almost killed her. He bit the inside of his cheek and tasted blood.

He looked over to a handsome man in his mid-thirties with silver wire framed glasses and thinning brown hair.

‘
Reeves, what’s the latest with the forensic reports?’

‘
Fibres have been examined. DNA has been tested. Everything has been fingerprinted. But all the different analyses point to one thing – an absence of forensics.’

‘
You can’t be telling me you found nothing? Still?’ Harper’s voice began to rise. He was still angry with what Kate had done. ‘I can’t believe it. There was no forensic evidence whatsoever?’

‘
Obviously there was forensic evidence – hairs, skin, blood, bodily fluids and so on – but only so far as it matches the individuals already mentioned. For instance, from under the fingernails of Sara-Jane we found some skin that matched the DNA of her parents. In Dr Cramer’s house we found some hairs from Sara-Jane. In Cassie Veringer’s apartment we found her blood, her skin, and in Jordan Weislander’s home there was –‘