Blood Ties (37 page)

Letourneau didn't meet my eyes. “We'd heard. About him following Beth around. A few of the guys . . . Anyway, it was lucky the cops got there when they did.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Real lucky. I think his photo was on Paul Niebuhr's desk.”

Letourneau said, “His photo?”

“From the paper.”

“Shit. Denise, the file on the Victor case—”

“It's on my desk,” Sullivan said.

His chief stared at him. “What—?”

Sullivan didn't answer. Denise left, to get the file.

What followed were two conversations in which Letourneau and I had no part. In the first, Sullivan explained to a detective at the 108th Precinct in Queens that he'd identified Premador as a Warrenstown High School senior named Paul Niebuhr, that they should run the photo he was about to receive by Sting Ray, that Paul Niebuhr should be considered armed and dangerous. “The kid with him, too,” Sullivan said. “Gary Russell . . . Yeah, our runaway, you have that photo already. . . . I don't know. . . . They could be, or maybe they've split up. . . . Monday . . . Yeah, I know. Okay, thanks, I'll keep in touch.”

Next Sullivan called the state police in Newark, explained the situation, asked for a computer expert. “No, off-site. We'll bring it here, soon as I get a subpoena. . . . Right . . . Far as I know, maybe one other kid . . . Yeah, and his'll be here, too, right . . . They might, I don't know. . . . And the car, at Bear Mountain? Yeah, good. Thanks.”

He replaced the receiver, looked from his chief to me.

“You keep saying
they
,” I said. “Gary may have nothing to do with this.”

“Yeah, and pigs may fly. Until I see it, I'm operating on the assumption. What were you doing in Warrenstown, Smith? You, and your partner?”

I shook my head. “Later. We had a deal.”

Sullivan held my eyes; then he nodded and stood. “I'm going to do the paperwork, get it over to Judge Wright. Back in fifteen minutes.”

“You're that fast with paperwork?” I said. “I'm impressed.”

“Small town, emergency situation. Judge'll cut me some slack. And,” he added, “chambers are right next door.”

He left, shutting the door behind him. It was true he needed to fill out the forms, swear out the statements, do what cops did to get warrants from judges. The Warrenstown PD would want to search the Cooper-Niebuhrs' house, and, at this point, my sister's, take the kids' computers to the station, see if they could find a way to track Paul and Gary down. But I had the feeling he was glad to leave the room before Letourneau answered my questions, in case anything came out that it would bother Letourneau for years to know that Sullivan knew.

Nothing did that I could see. After Sullivan left I turned to Letourneau, waited; Letourneau scowled, but we had a deal. Letourneau's story was short, not much I hadn't read, heard from Sullivan, or filled in myself.

“All that,” Letourneau said. “Back then. It was no big deal. I didn't commit a crime. I was trying to help out.”

“You tried to give Al Macpherson a bullshit alibi,” I said.

“Because it was a bullshit rap! That asshole Scott Russell—your brother-in-law,” he added with weight, “—what the hell did he have to open his fat mouth for? He saw Al arguing with Beth. Or maybe not. Or maybe it was someone else. Or maybe it was later. Or earlier. Or in his dreams.”

“Did he see them?” I said.

“How the hell do I know what he saw? He didn't know either, he should have kept his mouth shut.”

“In the end he did.”

Letourneau gave me the smile he probably gave, in his football days, to the player lined up against him.

“You told him to, didn't you?” I said slowly. “You told him he'd better take it back, say he didn't know what he saw. You threaten him? You beat him up?”

Letourneau shook his head. “Didn't have to.”

“Meaning?”

“Russell was a benchwarmer. He was a senior.”

“So?”

“He'd never started. Two years on JV, two years varsity, some games he never got in at all. Homecoming game was coming up.”

It took me a minute. “And if he took back his story, he'd get to start? The Homecoming game?”

“Wouldn't have been much of a game,” Letourneau said, “without Al.”

Letourneau took out a pack of cigarettes, so I did, too. Like most places these days, the Warrenstown PD was officially smoke-free; like most cop houses I've ever been in, that extended no farther than the front desk, and the desk sergeants usually complained about having to wait until their break for theirs.

I said, “Al Macpherson left the party in time. He could have raped Beth Victor.”

“He left in time,” Letourneau said, cigarette between thick lips. “Eight other kids said that back then. But Al didn't do it, Jared Beltran did.”

“Eight other kids,” I said. “A lot of pressure on you and your phony alibi.”

“Wrong. There was no pressure. Everyone in Warrenstown
wanted
to believe me. They did, until there was just too much on the other side.”

“Then what?”

“Then I said gee, I must have been so drunk I couldn't tell time, sorry about that.”

“And that was that?”

“Sure. Even people who knew I was lying thought I was the good guy, out to save Al's ass. And as it turned out, Al wasn't the only one with a bullshit alibi. Jared Beltran had one, too.”

“From Nicky the Nerd.”

Letourneau's eyebrows went up. “You have been working this, haven't you? What the hell for? It was twenty-three years ago.”

“I'm looking for Gary Russell,” I said. “That's all I wanted, when I started. All the rest of this keeps getting in front of me. I couldn't go around it so I'm looking for a way through.” Letourneau, without an answer, pushed a paper coffee cup across the desk for me to use as an ashtray. I tapped my cigarette against it, said, “Jared Beltran had been stalking Beth Victor?”

“Yeah. When we found that out—”

“Found it out? I thought it was well known.”

“Maybe. I didn't know it. Anyway, they picked him up and he denied raping her and Nicky alibied him. But then he killed himself so there you go.”

There you go. “How did they find out he'd been stalking her?”

“One of the teachers tipped off the police. Said they'd heard the kids talking about it, and they'd seen Jared in the halls, sort of sneaking around after her. Said one of the kids said he'd left creepy things outside her locker. Dead flowers, shit like that.”

“Which teacher?”

“They kept that a secret. Teacher wanted the kids to feel like it was safe to talk to her, or him. None of those people's names ever came out, the teacher or the kids who reported that stuff, either.”

“What if they'd arrested Jared Beltran and it had gone to trial?”

“Then I guess the teacher would have had to testify, and probably the kids. But it didn't get that far.”

“Do you know who any of them were, the kids?”

“The ones who said they'd noticed stuff? A couple of guys told me afterwards they'd seen him in class, kind of drooling in her direction.”

“Afterwards. But you'd never heard anything like this before the rape?”

Letourneau shrugged, said nothing. He tapped his cigarette against a heavy glass ashtray.

“What happened to Nick Dalton?” I asked.

“Nicky? He was a pain in the ass. He kept saying Jared really had been with him, that the alibi was good. I mean, the kid was dead, what the hell difference did it make?” He flushed. “I think some of the guys gave him a hard time for a while.”

“Some of the guys. The jocks, you mean?”

He nodded, didn't look at me. “Anyway, he left town as soon as school got out. Didn't even go to graduation.”

“Any idea where he is now?”

“No. Haven't heard anything about him since.”

I asked about a few more things, including why Letourneau thought Macpherson might have gone to see Bethany Victor last night. He had no answer.

Just before Sullivan came back, Letourneau told me this: “I want you to understand something, Smith. Warrenstown football, it's like a family. What I did, I was trying to help out a friend. A brother. Yeah, it was a lie, yeah, it was wrong. And it probably sounds stupid to you, but I became a cop to sort of make up for it. Do the right thing, you know? But I knew that rap on Al was bullshit. We were co-captains, I knew the guy. I knew he wouldn't do shit like that.”

“Did you really know that?” I asked. “Or did you just know you couldn't win the Homecoming game without him?”

Letourneau said nothing, just looked at me.

Two quick raps on the door, and Sullivan put his head in, paused to see if he should enter. I shrugged. Letourneau nodded.

Sullivan shut the door behind himself. “It's done,” he said. “Warrants'll be issued in ten minutes. I'll pick them up and roll. I already sent Chávez and Huber down to talk to any kids they could find, see if anyone knows where Paul Niebuhr might be. The state'll bring Paul's car back from Bear Mountain, take it to the lab in Newark. I have rangers looking at likely campsites there, in case he's hiding up there until whatever it is he's planning.” He handed me picture out of a file folder he held. “Jared Beltran.”

I fingered it, a newspaper photo of a skinny, grinning kid. I put it down on Letourneau's desk, nodded.

“That was Beltran's junior yearbook picture,” Sullivan said. Letourneau, silent, stared at the photo.

Sullivan looked from his boss to me. “Your curiosity all satisfied, Smith?”

“No,” I said. “But it'll do for now.”

Sullivan perched on the arm of the next chair. “Okay, then, satisfy mine. What the hell were you doing in Warrenstown today?”

I dropped my cigarette into the coffee cup, listened to the sizzle. “I needed to talk to Morgan Reed.”

“After I told you to keep away from my witnesses?”

“You weren't using them.”

A long look; then he said, “What did you want from Morgan?”

“I wanted to know where the steroids were coming from.”

Sullivan nodded slowly. “All those thick-necked football players.”

“You know?”

“Know they're on them? Just look at 'em. They're not twice as big as we were because they drink more milk. But they all deny it.”

“What about urine tests?”

He glanced at Letourneau, gave me the small smile. “Warrenstown won't allow them. Interferes with the boys' right to privacy.”

“Or with Warrenstown's right to grow huge football players.”

“Uh-huh. Why did you want to know and what made you think Morgan would tell you? And did he?”

“He said he didn't know but he's lying. I wanted to know because one of the other kids said Tory Wesley was killed because she didn't come through with ecstasy for her party. That kid didn't know where that was coming from either and I thought the source might be the same.”

“Ecstasy?” Sullivan looked to his chief again, then back to me. “You didn't tell me that yesterday.”

“Sullivan,” I said, “I'm dealing with kids who're afraid of you, and more afraid of the other kids. I'm trying to use what they're giving me and protect them at the same time. The only reason they're talking is that, with all due respect, they feel like the situation has gotten out of hand and they can't take it anymore.”

“What the hell do you mean, situation?” Letourneau demanded.

“The jocks,” I said. “The jocks who run Warrenstown High. The other kids live in the shadows. They go where the jocks let them and do what they tell them. When you're that age high school is your world and here, the jocks run that world.”

“This is bullshit,” Letourneau growled. “This is a football town. Same as half the towns in America. So people look up to athletes. So what?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Like they looked up to Al Macpherson when you were in school.”

“Okay,” Sullivan said, in an even, quiet way. “That's why you came to town. But it doesn't explain what made you go out to Paul Niebuhr's. His mother told you on Wednesday he was at Bear Mountain until day after tomorrow.”

I looked at him. “Morgan told me he'd seen Paul in town Saturday night. Parked outside Tory Wesley's house.”

“He was at that party?” Letourneau leaned toward me.

“The kids say no. Outside.”

“A freak like that—”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Here it comes.”

“What?”

“You'll do anything in this town to avoid making trouble for your jocks. You'd love to pin Tory Wesley's death on Paul Niebuhr. A freak like that.”

“For Christ's sake, the kid went to Queens to buy guns!”

“I'm not denying he's dangerous, Letourneau, maybe even crazy. But there was a lack of enthusiasm around here for investigating any of the jocks before Paul Niebuhr's name ever came up. Warrenstown has a history of that.”

“Oh, for shit's sake! That history crap, that's bullshit! That freak Jared Beltran raped Beth Victor and that's all there was to it! It has nothing to do with this!”

“Yeah,” I said. I stood. “You guys have work to do. So do I. See you around.”

“Smith—” said Sullivan.

“Yeah,” I said, and I left.

twenty-two

I walked a block from the police station, took out the phone and called Lydia. “Law's a-coming,” I said. “To talk to the kids. You want to buy me a cup of coffee?”