Dying for Justice (20 page)

Chapter 25

Thursday, September 9, 6:00 a.m.

Sophie woke to warm breath on her neck and the sound of a rushing river outside her window. She took a moment to enjoy the sensual beauty of both before crawling out of bed. Jasmine Parker, a lean and luscious crime scene technician, slept soundly next to her. Sophie was surprised and pleased Jasmine had called late yesterday and suggested they get together. They’d dated for a while earlier that spring, then drifted apart when Jasmine got overwhelmed at work. Over the summer, Sophie had briefly dated a young college professor named Mark, but soon remembered why she’d given up on men. They could be great sexual partners, but emotionally they always held back. Jasmine, on the other hand, was both brilliant and giving. Sophie loved the way her mind constantly analyzed everything. She was also an uninhibited lover. No one who knew Jasmine casually would ever guess that about her. Her co-workers also had no idea she was gay.

Sophie headed for the shower, hoping the noise would wake Jasmine. They both had to be at work by eight, and Jasmine might want to stop at home first.

While driving on Beltline to work, Sophie turned on the radio to listen to the news. The announcer mentioned a shooting in west Eugene and Sophie cranked up the volume. She heard the newsman say, “Gina Stahl had been in a coma for two years. Last Sunday, she came out of her coma and claimed someone had attacked and drugged her. Yesterday, as she arrived home to start her life over, she was gunned down by a masked man.”

Sophie’s heart missed a beat and her hands shook on the wheel.
Gina was dead? How?
Gary Bekker had been arrested. What the hell had happened? Sophie longed for a place to pull off the road, but she was on the freeway and had to keep driving.

She took the Coburg Road exit and gratefully came to a stop at the light. Gina was dead. Her mind didn’t want to accept it. She had spent almost two hours with Gina yesterday. They’d talked about everything, including Gina’s clothing design business and the story Sophie would write to help her get it up and running again. Gina had said Detective Evans would be there to escort her home. Why hadn’t the cop protected her?

Someone honked and Sophie jerked her attention back to driving. She eased through the intersection and wondered: Did Bekker learn Gina was out of her coma from reading her story? Was it her fault Gina was dead?

Feeling rattled, Sophie drove the last mile to work on autopilot. She needed to call Detective Evans and find out what had happened. This was still her story and she had to write a follow-up, even if it was difficult for her.

Sophie called Evans from the Willamette News parking lot and left her a message. She hurried into the building, feeling strangely guilty, an emotion she rarely experienced. She decided to distract herself with Jackson’s research project. She’d planned to stay late the day before and search the microfiche for news items, then Jasmine had called and asked to meet for drinks. Sophie had decided the task could wait for the morning. She and Jasmine had been so absorbed with each other that Sophie missed the late night news, which had probably reported Gina’s murder.

A senior editor stopped her on the stairs. “I saw that the coma woman you wrote about was killed yesterday,” she said. “Have you found out anything?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

“Are you okay?”

“Once I get the details, I’ll be fine.”

Sophie regretted spending the evening with Jasmine instead of talking to Gary Bekker’s victims. Now she had to do this favor for Jackson before digging farther into the backstory. She hurried to her desk and checked her email. Nothing looked critical. She stopped at her editor’s office, but he was out. Probably at another meeting about how to cut costs and keep the paper afloat.

Taking her cell phone and notepad, Sophie strode over to the area where they stored the microfiche. The file cabinets were filled with scanned, compressed newspaper stories that dated back nearly twenty years. Newspapers published before that were archived in a basement storage area. Sophie checked her notes for the dates Jackson had given her, then started pulling film for September 2000.

She took a seat at the monitor, fed in the first roll of film, and started scanning. After five minutes, Sophie wished she’d made a cup of tea to keep her company. Eugene was a midsized college town and its front-page news leaned toward crime, sports, and local businesses. Except during election periods. In the year 2000, the Bush-Gore contest for the presidency had dominated the front-page news. What had Jackson said?
Look for something a middle-aged woman might react to emotionally
. A George W. Bush presidency would qualify, but Sophie theorized she was looking for something more personal, more specific. She scanned the first couple of pages of each City section as well, just to cover the bases.

She skipped over stories about the 2000 Census and the USS Cole bombing, looking for something more local. She found a news article about a couple in Springfield who’d won a $140-million lottery and a story about the arrest of a man who’d killed his wife and children and dumped their bodies in the ocean. The family had washed up near Newport. Everyone had reacted emotionally to that heinous crime. Next, a series of juicy political stories caught her attention and she sent the three news clippings to the printer. She was skeptical about their connection to Jackson’s case, but he could read them and decide for himself.

Sophie spent another ten minutes scanning the last two days before September 23 and only came up with one other possibility for Jackson. A young local comedian had died of brain cancer after spending a year teaching middle school students about comedy. She printed the story and went to the employee sink to make a cup of jasmine tea. She faxed the news stories to Jackson, emailed her boss to give him an update, then called Detective Evans about Gina’s shooting.

* * *

Evans pushed out through the jail doors and sucked in a long breath of summer air. A group of scruffy young men loitering nearby stared as she strode past. Evans resisted the urge to give them the finger. She didn’t need any more conflict. The judge’s decision annoyed her, but she decided she could live with it. Technically, the monitor wouldn’t keep Bekker from leaving his house, but if he did, a jail deputy would pick him up soon after.

She climbed in her car and checked her cell phone. The Stahls had not returned her call but she intended to see them anyway. It was pushy and unpleasant to barge in on people who had just experienced the violent death of a loved one, but it was also the nature of her job. She could only hope the bereaved parents would understand that she was trying to bring Gina’s killer to justice.

As she drove west, Evans called Jackson. “Hey, I wanted to update you. I attended Bekker’s arraignment this morning and asked the judge to deny bail. His scummy lawyer convinced Cranston to release him, but on house arrest with an ankle bracelet.”

“At least we’ll know exactly where Bekker is.”

“That’s assuming the jail deputies do their job and monitor him.” Evans started to say more, then changed her mind. “I’m headed out to see Gina’s parents to ask about the letter we found. Do you want to join me? I’ll wait if you do.”

“I think it’s fine that you handle it. You’ve talked to them before and they’re probably comfortable with you.”

“They
were
comfortable with me. That was before I let their daughter get killed.”

“Stop blaming yourself.”

Evans didn’t think she would ever completely forgive herself for Gina’s death. She made a left on Royal Avenue. “What have you got going this morning?”

“A state trooper brought in Ray Durkin, the suspect in my parents’ case. I interrogated him but got nowhere. He admits to being in the house the day before the murders, but that’s it.”

“He must be worried he left some DNA. Smart move.”

“I’m a little frustrated with this investigation. If Durkin’s DNA doesn’t match the crime scene evidence, I’m at a dead end.”

“Why don’t you spend some time on it this morning? We’ll meet this afternoon to brainstorm Gina’s scenario. Maybe the crime lab will have something for us by then.”

Jackson let out a small laugh. “Don’t count on it. Call me if you learn anything significant.”

The Stahls’ minivan was in the driveway exactly where it had been the day before. The sage green mobile home, the tidy yard, the quiet kidless neighborhood—it all looked the same as the first time Evans had visited. She would never have known a violent crime had recently been committed here…except for the huge bloodstain in the driveway.

Evans went around it and strode to the front door. Sharon opened it before she could knock and silently motioned her to come in. Unlike yesterday, the woman’s shoulders slumped, her hair was unbrushed, and she looked every day of her age. Evans thought Sharon might never recover her vivaciousness.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I have something important to ask. It may help us find Gina’s killer.”

“Come sit at the table with us. We were having coffee.”

In the kitchen, Sharon poured her a cup without asking and they joined George at the table. He held a newspaper in his hands, but Evans suspected he wasn’t processing much information.

“I’m sorry to barge in,” Evans said to the old man. “And I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of protecting Gina.” She started to say more, then heard Lammers’ voice in her head, telling her to shut up. Admitting any kind of responsibility could lead to a lawsuit.

Evans pulled Gina’s practice letter from her case file. “We found this in Gina’s personal papers last night. First, I need to know if this is your daughter’s handwriting. Second, I hope you can help me understand what it’s about.”

Evans set the wrinkled sheet of paper on the table and Sharon reached for it, scowling over her glasses. As she read, her lips moved. Finally Sharon said with trembling voice, “It’s Gina’s handwriting but I have no idea what this means.” She handed the letter to her husband, looked up at Evans, and fought back tears. “Who was Gina trying to borrow so much money from?”

“I hoped you could tell me.”

George folded the letter. “I think I know who she wrote this to.” His closed his eyes, as if to block out the pain. “Gina must have discovered who her biological mother was. That’s what she meant by ‘I’ve known who you are.’” He took his wife’s hand. “I assume Gina didn’t tell us because she didn’t want to hurt us.”

Evans cut in. “What are you saying? Was Gina adopted?”

“Yes.” Sharon spoke but they both nodded.

“And she knew it?” The information was so unexpected.

“We told her when she ten years old. It seemed like the right age for understanding.”

“Did she ever mention she was looking for her biological mother?”

“No. She always said she didn’t want to know.” Sharon burst into tears. “We didn’t know she was in that much financial trouble. We would have helped her. She could have lived with us after her divorce.”

Evans braced herself against the crying and plowed ahead. “The letter mentions keeping a secret, in exchange for twenty thousand dollars. If Gina mailed a letter like this to her biological mother, the woman might have considered it a threat.”

George looked up, startled. “You mean like blackmail?”

“Yes. This letter may be connected to both attacks on Gina.”

A long silence followed, interrupted by sniffling sobs from Sharon. Evans couldn’t believe Gina hadn’t mentioned she was adopted. Had she deliberately kept it from her because of the blackmail attempt? Damn! How could she do her job without adequate information?

“We don’t know if Gina followed through and mailed the letter,” Sharon said, sucking in a huge breath. “She may have just been thinking about it.”

“But if she did, I need to find out who her biological parents are. You have to help me.”

“How?”

“Tell me about the adoption. Where did it take place?”

“Right here in Eugene,” Sharon said. “The mother was a young girl who couldn’t keep the baby. Our lawyer knew her parents.”

“What’s your lawyer’s name?” Evans dug out her notepad.

“He died years ago. The adoption took place in 1965.”

The date was crushing. How would she ever find the information? “I still need to know his name.”

“Michael Walburg. He had his own law firm.” Sharon kept speaking for the couple, but it was taking a toll as she struggled with grief.

Evans wrote down the lawyer’s name and gave herself a moment to process. “How do you think Gina found the information? What would she do to track down her birth mother?”

“There are services that help people with these things,” Sharon offered.

They had not come across anything in Gina’s papers related to adoption or finding biological parents. “Does Gina have more boxes here I haven’t looked through? This could be important.”

“I don’t think so.” Sharon seemed uncertain.

George spoke up. “What about the person who shot her? It looked like a man. What are you doing to find him?”

“Everything we can.” Evans sat down and forced herself to be patient. “I found a bullet casing in the driveway and the lab will check to see if it matches other crimes. The shooter also dropped his ski mask on the bike path. The lab will extract any hair or skin cells and analyze the DNA. If the suspect is in the criminal database, they’ll find the match.”

“What if he’s not there?”

“That’s why we’re looking for someone with motive to kill Gina.”

“What about car he was driving?” George asked, still demanding answers. “Was there any evidence there?”

“It’s been towed to the lab. We believe the suspect bought it just a few hours before showing up here. The man who sold it to him should be at the police department, working with a sketch artist.” Evans cringed, hoping it was true. She’d forgotten to check in with Greer this morning. “When we have a sketch of the shooter, we’ll put it on the news. Someone will identify him.”

“What’s your theory? How is the killer connected to this?” George picked up the blackmail letter and shook it. His anger surprised her.