Crimes of Memory (A Detective Jackson Mystery) (22 page)

The second message was from Kera: “I love you, Wade. And so does Katie. Don’t work too hard. Call me when you have time.”

A little of the darkness cleared. He planned to return both calls on the drive across town. But first, he had to contact Schak. They had to go back out to the storage business and confront Todd Sheppard. Jackson remembered the suspect had said he spent his days at the library and only went home to his little enclosed space in the evening.

Jackson started the car, remembering he also had to call the DA’s office and find out about the warrant to search Patrick’s home. Some days he made as many as twenty or thirty calls. It wasn’t what he’d envisioned when he’d taken the test to become a detective.

The therapist’s office was in a small complex not far from the Serbu juvenile campus. Jackson parked and checked his watch:
2:45
.
Katie’s session should be ending any moment. He looked around and spotted a black jeep. McCray was waiting for Katie and would probably give her a ride somewhere. Jealousy stabbed at his heart. The role of being a spectator—an unwanted nuisance—in Katie’s life was disturbing. He wanted to pray for a quick resolution, but he never asked God for personal favors, so he prayed for Katie’s safety and happiness instead, even if it meant she would be separate from him.

Katie came out of the office, looking grim, and glanced over at him. He nodded and she shook her head. His daughter turned away and ran toward McCray’s vehicle. Jackson tried to feel numb.

After they’d left, he hurried into the building. A teenage boy of about fourteen sat in the lobby with his mother. The receptionist took Jackson’s name and stepped into a second room. She was gone only a few seconds.

“Charlotte will see you for just a minute. She has a patient waiting.”

Jackson only had a few minutes too. He strode through the open door.

The therapist stood to greet him and he was aware of the effort it took for her. He guessed her to be at least a hundred pounds overweight, and he had second thoughts about choosing her. Did she have issues of her own? Was she the best person to help his daughter? Jackson thought he might have made the decision too quickly.

Charlotte Diebold smiled and shook his hand. “Thank you for coming. I have the greatest respect for law enforcement officers.”

Jackson felt a stab of shame. Her body size was irrelevant. She’d been recommended by Katie’s social worker. She could be brilliant, for all he knew. “Thank you for making time for Katie. She’s in crisis.”

“I can’t discuss her therapy with you. She’s fifteen, and I recognize her as an adult with all the confidentiality that implies.”

“I understand. I just wanted to make arrangements to pay for her sessions.”

“Thank you. You can leave a check with my receptionist.”

That was it. She expected him to simply leave. Jackson nodded and turned, glad to have a compelling case to keep him busy.

CHAPTER 20

Thursday, March 14, 2:30 p.m.

Sophie Speranza finished her news story about the firebomb, wishing she had more information. She’d made a ton of calls, but no one had called back and she had nothing so far. A trip to the factory with a photographer had netted some images for the story and a couple of bland quotes from the foreman, but she needed something that would make readers sit up and say,
What the hell?

“Hey, Sophie. How’s my favorite little redhead?” Carl Hoogstad, her editor, had tracked her to the corner area that served as a break room now that the newspaper leased its lower floor to an insurance company.

She tried not to cringe. He only called her that when he’d had a beer at lunch. “I’m good. What’s up?”

“What have you got on the firebomb?”

“I have some quotes from the factory foreman, and Brian got shots of the burned area, so we’ll have a story for tomorrow.”
The TV stations would have a segment that evening, and it killed Sophie to always be a day behind. She should have gone into broadcast journalism.

“Any idea who’s responsible?” Hoogstad moved closer. He was round and balding, with a strip of long gray hair on the back of his neck. Sophie never got used to looking at him.

“Not yet. I have a call in to a member of Love the Earth, but I don’t expect them to take credit even if they did do it.”

“Resurrect all the old Earth Liberation bullshit if you have to. That’ll get readers fired up.”

“I’ll look at the coverage.”

Her boss waddled away, and Sophie took her tea back to her desk. She opened the online archive of Willamette News articles and keyed in
Earth Liberation Front
. A dozen links displayed and they were all years old.

Her cell phone rang and it was Jasmine Parker. Seeing the name made Sophie smile. “Hey, Jaz. I hope this means you plan to spend time with me later.” Her lover rarely called her at the newspaper.

“Sorry, but I can’t. I’m working late. I sent the bomb scene fingerprints to Quantico, but Joe needs help with a homicide.”

Sophie’s interest piqued. “What homicide?”

Jasmine lowered her voice. “Some guy who lived in a storage unit. An ex-con who robbed a bank here long ago.”

“His name?” It was greedy and wrong to ask, but Sophie couldn’t help herself. She wanted to know everything.

“You have to call the department spokesperson. They haven’t released anything yet, and I can’t have a leak traced to me.”

“I know. Thanks for the tip. I love you for it.” Sophie said it casually, the way you would appreciate someone bringing you chocolate on a bad day, but it was the first time either of them had used the word
love
. Sophie hoped Jasmine didn’t freak out. The
last person Sophie had been this serious about was a man, and he’d dumped her when she mentioned love.

Jasmine laughed instead. “I know that’s the main reason you date me. You’re a whore for inside information.”

“We all sell out for something. I’m just lucky that my source is so damn beautiful.” Sophie cringed, realizing her voice was too loud and her cube neighbors were probably listening.

“I’ll call you if I manage to get out of here before nine. Later.”

Sophie hung up, feeling energized again. She called Jackie Matthews, the EPD spokesperson, and left a message, asking about the homicide victim, then called the FBI again. This time, the person who answered told her she needed to speak with Agent Carla River and gave her a cell phone number. Sophie called and left a message, feeling like she was at least a step closer.

On a roll, she called Ted Rockman again too.

His receptionist picked up this time. “R and L Enterprises.”

“Hello, this is Sophie Speranza. I’m a reporter for the Willamette News. I’d love to set up an interview with Ted Rockman to talk about his campaign for the state senate.”
And a few other things.

“Yes. I got the message you left this morning. Mr. Rockman can meet with you tomorrow morning at ten.”

Yes!
“Thank you. Should I come to his office?”

“Please. We’re near the corner of Mill and Fifteenth.” A short pause. “Mr. Rockman doesn’t want to talk about the arson at his bottled water business, but he did give me a statement you can use.”

Sophie grabbed a pen. She didn’t have her headphones on and couldn’t type with one hand. “Thank you. I’m ready.”

The receptionist cleared her throat, as if taking on a new role. “I will not let an individual’s criminal actions endanger my business or my employees. Rock Spring will continue to produce a
valuable product, and as its owner, I’ll continue to look for ways to be sustainable and eco-friendly.”

Sophie asked her to repeat it. She had to get this right if she wanted Rockman’s interview. “Thanks. I’ll see you Friday.”

She read the quote again. Rockman was sending the bomber a message that he would not back down.

Stuck for her next move, she called ATF and Homeland Security, which turned out to be as productive as randomly dialing numbers.

Her thoughts returned to a local environmental group called Love the Earth that had staged a protest at Rock Spring the previous year. She keyed the group’s name into the newspaper’s archives and learned that some of its members had been arrested during protests. Sophie wanted to talk to a LTE member and see what they had to say about the Rock Spring incident.

She started calling friends and acquaintances and asking if they knew anyone involved with Love the Earth. After contacting several of the people they’d suggested, Sophie finally connected with a woman named Melody Light, who supposedly dated Cricket, aka Chris Noonaz, the LTE founder.

“Melody, this is Sophie Speranza of the Willamette News. Do you have a few minutes?” She knew better than to just jump in and ask about a federal investigation.

“Maybe. Why?” Melody sounded worried.

“I’d like to ask you about Love the Earth. Some people are speculating that the group is responsible for the firebomb at Rock Spring bottled water. But I was under the impression that LTE advocated nonviolent methods for political change.”

“We are nonviolent. I don’t know why the FBI is after Cricket.”

Sophie’s pulse quickened and she clicked on her recorder. “Has the bureau contacted you?”

“Agent River was just here asking about the firebomb. I told her Cricket wasn’t involved.” Melody suddenly yelled, “Put that down!” followed by a slapping sound and a little kid crying.

Sophie waited it out. She wanted an interview with Cricket, but would settle for a usable quote from his girlfriend. “Do you know who committed the Rock Spring arson?”

“No, but like I told the FBI woman, it might be a new member, a young guy.”

“What’s his name?”

“I think it’s Russell something. He might have worked at Rock Spring for a while, but I’m not sure. I’m having a bad day.”

Sophie wrote it down out of habit, but she’d never forget it now. “Tell me more about Love the Earth. Like how many members are there, and what are your political goals?”

“I’m not the right person to ask, but I think there’s about twenty core members.”

“Who should I talk to? Can you give me a name and phone number?”

“We have a website with basic information about our causes.” Melody shifted into a less flaky tone. “Look, I really shouldn’t be talking to you. And I’m waiting for Cricket to call me back.”

“I’d love to talk to Cricket and get his side of the story. It’s his chance to get some media exposure for his cause.” Crusaders couldn’t resist that. “Will you ask him to call me? Or just give me a time and place to meet him?”

“I’ll give him the message, but he’s laying low. He knows the feds are looking for him.”

“But if he didn’t commit the arson, this is his chance to win some public sympathy.” Depending on how she wrote the story. But she would be open-minded, as always.

“I’ll give him the message.”

“Thank you.” Sophie reluctantly hung up. Cricket would never call her. But she had some quotes and a first name now. If she ran a partial ID in the next story, someone might come forward.

Humming with renewed energy, she started crafting her story, one that she hoped would run on the front page. When she had the lead and a few bare bones paragraphs, she googled Rock Spring, found the website, and called the number listed. A recording thanked her for calling and asked her to leave a message. Instead, Sophie grabbed her red leather handbag and headed out. She would talk to employees at the factory until someone gave her Russell’s last name or they kicked her out.

In the car, she called Detective Jackson. She wanted to run a story about the storage unit murder, but she didn’t have a damn thing to go on.

Jackson surprised her by picking up. “Sophie, I’m busy. Can we talk later?”

“Just give me the name of the guy who was killed at the storage business.”

“Tell me who your source is and I will.” He sounded irritated.

She laughed softly. “You know I can’t do that. But I can ask the public for help if you need it.”

“I don’t. We have a suspect.”

“Great to hear.” Sophie scrambled for an angle that Jackson wouldn’t be able to resist. “I want to write about the issue of homeless people living in storage units. The public needs to know about this. It may help get a homeless camp funded.”

A pause. “Craig Cooper. He was released from prison about six weeks ago and was trying to start a new life.”

Yes!
“Thanks, Jackson. Which storage business was he found in?”

“Safe and Secure.” He made a funny sound. “The irony is a little much. I have to go now.”

Delighted, Sophie jotted down the information. She loved exclusives. The TV stations had already stopped reporting on the murder because they didn’t have anything new. She texted Jackson a capitalized
THANK YOU!

Ex-prisoner, huh?
She’d have to search the archives and see what crime Cooper had committed. Sophie changed her mind about going out to Rock Spring and decided to call the owners of Safe and Secure instead. She might even make a trip out there if she could find a photographer.

CHAPTER 21