Last Light (22 page)

“No, because Roscoe Blackwell committed suicide on the first anniversary of the killings.”

Ruiz slumped against the bathroom doorframe, his face dropping.

“Which means we’d have to get a warrant and collect DNA some other way,” Lucy translated for Tommy and Wash.

“Even so, it’s still not evidence that he killed them,” Ruiz said, his monotone pronouncement sounding more forlorn than ever. “We’ll never be able to prove my father was innocent.”

“Don’t give up yet. It’s the first real motive we have,” Lucy answered, now sketching a time line on the wall. TK liked how she didn’t waste time on commiserating, but focused on the mission. “Wash,” she called over her shoulder, “any luck on narrowing the gaps in our subjects’ movements?”

“Not much,” he said. “Everything points to Lily getting home around five o’clock on Friday but we weren’t able to trace Peter Martin’s movements after he left the feed store. I did find some activity on his bank statements that correlate to what the police report alluded to as ‘a history of illicit gambling.’ Those took place outside of Canterville, in San Angelo as well as in Abilene.”

“But none on the night in question?”

“Nope, sorry. He could have gotten home on time right after Lily or he could have been anywhere. Impossible to say.”

Lucy put a question mark on her time line under Peter’s name and circled it. “Tommy, how about our times of death?”

“Were you able to talk with the original coroner who was on scene?”

“No. He died years ago. But I did speak with the daughter who took over and she’s pretty sharp. Said she learned everything from her dad, so I’m guessing he knew what he was doing.”

“His report reads that way. I was hoping to learn more about the different dry times of the various blood evidence,” Tommy explained to TK and Ruiz. “Sometimes that can be more accurate than core body temp or vitreous fluid to pinpoint TOD.”

“Give it to us, Tommy,” Lucy said, her pen poised over her time line. “What kind of window are we looking at?”

“It’s different for each victim. Best I can tell, Peter Martin died first, not last. Between twelve and sixteen hours before his body was found.”

“Someone do the math for me,” Lucy asked.

Ruiz spoke up. “Between three-thirty and seven-thirty Friday night.” His voice was flat as always but his face lit up with excitement and his posture straightened as fresh energy shot through him. “Which means my dad couldn’t have done it.”

“Probably still not enough for an appeal,” Tommy cautioned. “Not with the state pathologist’s report contradicting it. You’ll end up with a battle of dueling expert witnesses.”

“Did your father explain what happened?” TK asked. “Why did he confess if he was innocent?”

“He thought it was the only way to save his brother. At the time, he thought Dicky was guilty and would either get the death penalty or maybe even be lynched. The sheriff convinced him that if they both pled guilty, it would save Dicky’s life—and neither would get the chair.”

TK frowned. “Still, why not fight it?”

“With what? The only evidence pointed to my father. That damn gun. But if the Blackwells were involved, they could have easily planted it.”

“If so, I don’t think the sheriff was part of any cover-up.” Lucy turned and fished out a set of papers and a tape cassette from the cascade of reports scattered across her bed. “The sheriff—the old sheriff, Saylor—truly believed he was saving their lives. From a lynch mob. But your father did ask for a lawyer and never received one. Plus, Saylor pretty much fed your father everything he needed to confess.”

“You found the missing hour,” TK said.

Lucy nodded. “And one of our missing witnesses. Alan Martin was adopted by Saylor. They live out past the Martin place, near the river.”

Ruiz scanned the transcript. “Saylor knew and he kept this hidden? My father could have been free years ago—”

“He knows. That’s why I don’t think he knew anything about Roscoe Blackwell’s possible involvement. Saylor was trying to protect Alan—was afraid if your uncle went free, either he or his buddy, Ronnie Powell, would come after Alan to silence him. I think he’s trying to make amends now.”

TK was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of Ruiz’s glare. “A little too late for that.”

“What about Alan?” she asked. “Did he see anything?”

Lucy shrugged. “He’s got some pretty severe cognitive dysfunction. Plus elective mutism.”

“What’s that?”

“He doesn’t speak,” Tommy answered. “Often the result of psychological trauma, the child simply shuts down any effort to talk about anything, especially the event that triggered it.”

“Is there a treatment?”

“Counseling and time are usually the best ones. If he hasn’t spoken in thirty years, he probably won’t.”

“What about something that doesn’t involve talking?” TK asked Tommy. She could get a photo of Caleb’s father, show it to Alan. As well as photos of Ruiz’s uncle and Ronald Powell. After all, just because Ruiz’s father might have falsely confessed, that didn’t mean Dicky Manning was also innocent. “Maybe we could try a photo array?”

“Hard to tell. Remember, this kid is severely delayed. I’d have to assess him before I could make a determination.”

“Saylor is very protective of Alan,” Lucy added. “He’s pretty much made sure the kid has had no exposure to anything to do with the case for the past twenty-nine years. I doubt he’ll allow it.”

“We could try,” TK protested. “What’s the harm?”

“Let’s move back to our timeline,” Lucy said, obviously tabling the idea of approaching Alan for now. “We have a window for Peter’s death, what about Lily and the baby? We know Lily arrived home before Peter, but if he was killed first, then the killers must have been in the house for quite some time, right?”

“I think your coroner was right, they died after Peter. Probably around two to six hours after.” Tommy paused, his voice clouding with sadness. “It took them a long time to die, too. The baby went first. Lily lasted a bit longer—hard to say exactly how long.”

Everyone fell silent, no one making eye contact. Finally, Lucy heaved her shoulders and added the data to her time line. She stepped back. “Given what we know now, is everyone ready to eliminate Michael Manning as a suspect?”

She turned around and gazed at each of the team in turn. First, Wash, who simply nodded, then Tommy, who said, “Yes,” and finally TK. TK looked at Ruiz, who for the first time since she’d met him, appeared hopeful, invested in his father’s innocence. “Yes.”

Ruiz met her gaze and nodded. “Yes,” he said in his gravelly voice. “My mother was right all along, God help us.”

“Okay, then,” Lucy said. “Where do we look next?”

Silence ruled the room for several moments. Finally, TK spoke up. “I still think we need to find Ronald Powell. If he was involved, whether it was with Dicky Manning or someone else, or if he can supply an alibi for the Mannings, it could help Michael’s appeal.”

“Wash, where are you on that?” Lucy asked.

“I traced him to Mexico—he did two years in a prison there for narcotics possession back in the 1990s. But I haven’t been able to find where he went after that. There’s no further record of him in Mexico.”

“Maybe he came home?”

“I’m checking the best I can, but we’re talking records dating back a quarter of a century.”

“He’s no good to us if he’s dead,” TK said.

“She’s right. Start with current databases: vehicle registration, tax records, social media, death certificates.” Lucy stared at the time line, hands on hips. “Don’t talk to him yet, though. I want to take that interview myself. Because I’m pretty certain it wasn’t Dicky Manning and Ronnie Powell. The wounds, they don’t read ‘mindless drug-induced frenzy.’ To me, they read like deliberate, cold-hearted torture.”

“Maybe,” Tommy said. “But I can understand why they ignored the coroner’s findings after the Mannings confessed. I mean, who the hell would want to torture a mother and her seven-month-old baby?”

Lucy spun to face the computer. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?”

“Caleb said there was a possibility his father was there that night,” TK said.

“Possibility? So he has no firsthand knowledge?” Lucy turned her gaze on TK.

“No, sorry. Remember, he was just a kid at the time. Overhearing bits and pieces of his parents’ arguments.”

“You spent the day with the Blackwells. Why would they suddenly dangle the suggestion of Roscoe’s involvement now? Even if Michael Manning wins his appeal, there’s no need to provide us with an alternative theory of the crime. It’s not as if anyone would be re-opening the investigation, especially not with Caleb Blackwell as sheriff. What do they stand to gain?”

It was the same question TK had been asking herself all afternoon. “Maybe they’re not pointing to Roscoe so much as away from someone else?”

“Like who?” Ruiz demanded.

TK shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe his mother?”

Wash chimed in from the computer. “There’s no way a woman could have done this, right? I mean everyone was assuming it was at least two men, so how could a single woman—”

“If Carole Blackwell thought her family was threatened by Roscoe’s affair with Lily, of course she would take whatever measures she thought necessary to eliminate that threat,” Lucy answered.

“But the sheer violence—”

“Profilers call it ‘overkill.’ And it’s actually more reflective of a woman driven to kill than how a man probably would have done it,” Lucy explained. “If we’re talking simple problem-solving, a man would have just shot whoever needed killing and walk away. Or if he was worried that the crime might point to him, he might try to mask his involvement by making it look like something it wasn’t.”

“Like a drug-induced frenzied attack,” Ruiz said.

“Exactly. But the way the killer took extra time with Lily and the baby—way more time than necessary to fulfill their objective, also increasing their risk of exposure—that means it was deeply personal. They just didn’t want them dead, they needed to see them suffer, needed to, in effect, erase them from existence.”

LUCY SENT TOMMY
and Wash to continue their work while David went to call his mother with an update. Leaving her with only TK to deal with. “Good work with the evidence,” she started. “But what else happened with Blackwell?”

“I got to see the crime scene. He gave me a tour of what he saw as a kid.”

Now Lucy was intrigued. “Any new insights?”

To her surprise, TK hesitated. “No, not really. It’s just hard to understand that kind of experience—the horror, the impact—from reading the reports. It wasn’t what I expected.”

“The human side of every crime. For me it’s the most difficult part to handle. The real face, real lives impacted, whether victim or witness, or in David’s father’s case, accused.”

“I think it was somehow cathartic for Caleb, walking through it. We’re going out to dinner tonight.”

“Really?” Lucy tried and failed to keep her tone neutral. It hadn’t escaped her attention that TK was now calling the sheriff by his first name. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Why not? Not like he’s a potential suspect, even if his parents are. Since he was a witness, we need to interview him anyway. Nothing says it has to be done in an office. In fact, I might get more out of him in a less formal setting.”

Lucy wasn’t convinced but also couldn’t argue against it. She had no hard evidence that Caleb Blackwell was involved in any wrongdoing, either with the forfeitures or the missing women. “Did he happen to mention his forfeiture program?”

“Said it helped the department buy a helicopter—he’s the pilot. Promised me a ride, so I could get a feel for the land.”

“A county this size with its own helicopter?” Lucy frowned. “There’s no way those forfeitures can all be legit.”

“Why not? Maybe Caleb simply is more efficient and thorough about using the forfeiture laws than most rural departments. Big cities like Philly use forfeitures for funding all the time.”

“You mean the program that ended with them in federal court? And that is heading to a multi-million dollar class action suit?”

“Bad example. Still doesn’t mean Caleb is doing anything wrong.”

“There might be more going on.” Lucy explained about the missing women.

“But we don’t have any evidence that police are involved,” TK protested. “Much less Caleb. Could be that someone realized Blackwell County is a good dumping ground for vehicles they want disappeared?”

Lucy doubted that—and from the way TK’s eyebrows had knotted, she knew the younger woman did as well. “I’m just saying. Be careful.”

“I am. I will.” TK paced the space in front of Lucy’s makeshift timeline.

“I had a question about one piece of evidence. I couldn’t find any report of fingerprints being taken from the bullets. Did you see one?”

“No. The evidence log showed that they sent the revolver to the state lab for analysis, but not the bullets. Probably not in their budget—plus, why bother when they had the other prints in the victims’ blood?” She turned to Lucy. “Unless you’re wrong about Saylor and he was trying to cover for someone else.”

“I’m tired of conspiracy theories and gossip. The lawyers are going to need more than a coerced confession to get Michael Manning out of prison.”

“Really? Why wouldn’t that be enough?”

“If he had appealed right away, it probably would have been, but now after so long, it’s another story. The most the courts would do with what we have so far would be to grant him a new trial. If that.”

“Maria doesn’t have that long.”

“No, she doesn’t. We need real evidence.”

“We only have one witness, Alan Martin. But at least we have new suspects we can show him.”

“Your photo array idea?”

“I used it in Afghanistan with women and children too scared to talk. I know how to do it, make it non-threatening. Hell, I was a Marine in full combat gear carrying weapons uninvited in their homes in the middle of the night, barely able to speak their language, and I still got good intel. At least let me try.”