Out For Justice (3 page)

Chapter Three

Using her toe, Karen nudged the hot water handle to the on position then leaned back and let the warm steamy water swirl about her body.

It had been a long day.

Shifting slightly, she let her head loll to one side of the inflatable plastic pillow shaped like a shell. Warm water rushed in to replace the cooler water along her back. Bubbles floated lazily along the top of the bath. The light scent of coconut drifted and settled around her in the humid air. As if her arm weighed a ton, Karen slowly lifted it to scoop a handful of bubbles and rub them along her right arm, from wrist to elbow. The ache in her arm subsided a bit while she massaged it. She never felt writer’s cramp like this, not even in the academy when she took hundreds of pages of notes during lectures. Today, not wanting to miss a single thing while they worked the scene and interviewed the witnesses, she wrote until she couldn’t write anymore. She took so many notes that by the end of the day she filled up two of her notebooks and Sam’s.

With a twist of her foot, she turned the water off. Sam had told her she did a great job. She hoped so. She didn’t want to let her partner down and for some strange reason she wanted to show that condescending Mike Connelly she could do her job just as well as anyone else.

As if he would really be interested in her. Susan didn’t know what she was talking about. Or did she? She was Mike’s partner. She probably knew him better than most people. Even though he acted tough, she sensed a softer side beneath the surface. She didn’t know how, but instinct told her he wasn’t always so grumpy.

Karen smiled. She knew she got lucky with the snap on the overalls. She could still hear Sam telling her it was a nice catch. Her head swelled just a little. So this was what it felt like to be a real detective. She was going to keep her fingers crossed that the fingerprint on the metal clasp led them to a suspect.

Karen closed her eyes and remembered the look on the parents’ faces. They seemed sincere enough in their grief. It was always hard to tell though, until the case was solved. Sam told her not to be so trusting, to remember the sensationalized stories of parents grieving on television news shows for a child that they themselves killed. They had to be prepared for the worst until the evidence showed otherwise. Karen had her doubts about the boy’s father. He was a class A jerk and should be hauled away on domestic abuse charges immediately. But she wasn’t as sure about the mother. She reminded herself that the mother could be just as guilty as the father. Parents could be a child’s greatest protector or their worst enemy.

There was something in the mother’s eyes that still haunted Karen. The anguish and pain struck deep into her soul. If this mother was lying she was doing a damn good job of hiding it from the authorities.

What did those eyes remind her of? Then it hit her. Her own mother’s eyes.

Her mother’s grieving, sad eyes.

And another murder. So long ago. But never completely forgotten.

Karen caught her breath as if it had been knocked out of her. Through all the pressure of working her first homicide, she didn’t let the memories of her sister’s death distract her but, now, sitting here in her bath, relaxing, she was overwhelmed with memories.

Her little sister Sarah was only a couple years older than the boy they found today. Karen wondered if there would ever be a time when she would be able to think about her little sister without that “fist to the gut” sensation. It took her a lot of years to pull through the despair and anguish surrounding her sister’s death. A lot of years to recover in a family that never forgot how special her sister was, and how important it was to never forget what a joy Sarah was to the family. Karen’s eyes welled with tears as she felt the chilling horror this mother must feel knowing that someone killed her little boy and took away her most precious reason for living.

In her own instinctive way, Karen knew that the mother at least had nothing to do with the murder. She couldn’t. But if she didn’t, who did? The father? Possible. He was less than convincing with his alibi and it looked as if the parents didn’t get along that well. Not only did they argue about who was supposed to be watching the boy, they argued about who was more upset.

It didn’t make sense. Karen wondered why one child and not the others. She knew of cases where parents abused one child but not another. Unfortunately, Tampa had seen too much of it in the past couple of years. Maybe this child wasn’t his? Extramarital affairs have produced unwanted children before, why not in this case?

Karen pulled herself back a bit and reined in the flow of her thoughts. She didn’t even have the results of the fingerprint yet, or the Crime Scene Tech’s report. Susan promised to call her as soon as it was available. Before she spent too much energy chasing down imaginary leads, she’d better concentrate on what she knew.

She ticked off the items on her fingers. She had a strangled boy found outdoors in a concealed part of a popular campground that had approximately one hundred people in the area; about half of them overnight campers. She had a fingerprint. She had a footprint. She had parents who claim to have had nothing to do with their son’s death and about twenty witnesses who so far saw nothing.

Karen laughed at herself. She didn’t have much.

Later, wrapped in a light robe and a cup of tea in hand, Karen sat on a patio chair on the balcony of her townhouse. The afternoon rain had cooled the temperatures and for once, the mosquitoes weren’t targeting her like miniature kamikaze planes.

It was moments like this when she wondered if she’d ever find someone to share her life with on a more intimate level. Sure, she had friends, and even a few short-term relationships. But nothing lasting. Nothing that tugged at her heart and made her want to open her soul to another person.

She sat her cup down on a small table next to her chair and rested her chin on the tips of her fingers. Be serious, she told herself. When would she ever find the time to have a lasting relationship? She lived and breathed her job now. What made her think that there would be room in her life for another person?

Statistics showed that she’d more than likely end up with someone in the same field of work, only because she had a better chance of meeting someone during her working hours. Karen thought about that and figured it might be true. She sure as hell wasn’t going to troll for someone in a bar. She had her share of one-night stands when she was younger and that just wasn’t part of her life anymore. Not since she turned thirty a couple of years ago. She hoped she’d grown more since then and at least matured enough to get to know someone a little bit longer before jumping into bed with them. Her job was dangerous enough; she didn’t need to live her life dangerously as well.

Chapter Four

“Sykes here.” Karen absently picked up her telephone on its second ring while trying to concentrate on the file in front of her.

“Susan Parker. You ready for this?”

“Whatcha got?” Karen sat up straighter in her chair and covered her other ear with her hand. Even though the office wasn’t crowded, she wanted to make sure she heard every word.

“We got a hit in our local database, girlfriend. We got a hit.”

“Can you fax me the report?”

“Already on its way.”

“Awesome. So it wasn’t one of the parents.” Karen leaned back in her chair and brushed her hand across her forehead, pushing away a few stray hairs. Damn, she needed that haircut! She looked around for Sam to give him the news.

 “Well, as of yet it wasn’t one of the parents. But, according to this fingerprint, someone else touched that boy. And that someone else has a name. Whether he’s connected with the parents is something we’ll find out when you go talk to this sucker.”

Karen grabbed a pen from her desk and pulled a notepad closer. “Don’t keep me in suspense, give.”

“Raymond Alan Thomas.”

“Raymond Alan Thomas.” Karen repeated the name, letting it roll off her tongue. She had a name to go with a fingerprint. Life was sweet.

“Don’t let me down now. His last known address is on the fax. He should be an easy pick up.”

“Okay. I gotta ask because I’m dying to know. What did Mike think when you told him that the print wasn’t one of the parents?” Karen twisted the phone cord around one finger.

“Him? Why do you want to know what he thought? Oh, yeah, I get it, girlfriend. You like this guy right?”

“Well, I—”

“You don’t have to say anything. I got the picture. I told you that he looked interested, now that I know you’re interested too I can work with this. Mike? He gave a typical Mike response. He said you got lucky.”

“Lucky? Why that egotistical…thick-headed…,” Karen sputtered, running out of words to describe the man who had definitely gotten under her skin.

Susan laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything, unless you want me to?”

“No, Susan. Please don’t. I was just wondering for professional reasons, of course.”

“Uh huh.”

“Thanks for letting me know about the print. I’ll go pick up that fax now and get right on it.”

“You do that. Let me know how it goes. Don’t forget about us getting together for coffee some night after work.”

“Sure thing. Thanks. Bye.”

Karen hung up the telephone and twirled in her seat looking for Sam. She slammed her hand on her desk and let out a whoop of joy. Several officers turned in her direction and gave her questioning looks. Karen asked, “Anyone know where Sam is?”

With shrugs and fingers pointing in different directions, the guys gave what they considered an answer. Karen blew a raspberry at them and headed for the fax machine. The least she could do was get started on finding this guy. She’d catch up with Sam as soon as she could.

Chapter Five

Sitting in her supervisor’s office, Susan hung up the phone after talking to Karen and sat back in the chair. Rocking gently with one toe, she thought about Karen and Mike. It could happen. Stranger things have been known to take place. Would Mike go for it? Susan shook her head. Not if he stuck to his rule of not dating anyone who worked in the police business. Basically anyone he’d come into contact in his job was off limits.

As long as she’d been his partner, Susan knew Mike stood by that rule. He had good reason to and she understood that. But she also knew Mike and what she saw in his eyes yesterday when he met Karen was more than casual interest. Susan caught him really looking at Karen and that must have unnerved him. If Susan knew Mike, and she thought she did, he was probably trying to keep as far away from Karen as possible right now so that he could sort out what happened to him.

But Susan had other plans and it didn’t include keeping those two apart. Not if she could help it. She had good instincts and she knew that Mike and Karen needed each other. All she needed was a chance to sit and talk to Karen and verify a few things, and she’d know for sure.

Laughing softly to herself, she pushed up and out of the chair then headed down the hall back to her lab to continue separating the vegetation and sand particles from the boy’s short overalls.

Chapter Six

The house and yard had an air of neglect. Chipped and broken ceramic pots on the two steps up to the door held long ago memories of an occasion forgotten and dried bits of a plant that once was. The flat lawn, littered with children’s faded and broken toys, appeared tired and worn as if it had been beaten down for good and would never be green and lush again. Thirsty, aggressive weeds held the majority of the yard’s small patches of weakened grass at bay.

 Karen followed Sam up the sidewalk and to the front of the house. A dull, faded plastic Christmas wreath hung on the door, long past the holiday season. Sam reached out and knocked rapidly and sharply. Karen stood to one side, Sam on the other. They waited. Alert for any noise, however slight, that might come from the other side of the door.

The door opened a crack and a woman’s worn-out face appeared and a tired voice asked, “Can I help you?”

Sam answered. “Ma’am, we’re here to ask Raymond Alan Thomas a few questions. Is he at home?”

“There ain’t no Raymond Alan Thomas here.”

“Can you tell me the whereabouts of Mr. Thomas?”

The door opened the rest of the way. The woman inside clutched at the front of her faded button down blouse in a disconcerted sort of way. A small child clung to one of her legs. Another was pushing a truck along the hard floor in the living room behind her. She lifted weary eyes and made eye contact with Karen. Karen gave the woman a small smile while keeping herself vigilant for any other activity inside the house.

“I don’t know no one by that name.” The child clinging to her let go with one hand to casually pick her nose. Without looking, the woman slapped her hand away. The child laughed.

“Ma’am, can you tell us how long you’ve lived here?” Karen spoke for the first time.

“I don’t know. I guess maybe eight, nine months. Maybe less.” Dull, listless eyes stared back at Karen and Sam.

“Did you know the previous owner?”

“Ain’t no previous owner. We’re renting. The owner, his name is Mr. Menendez.”

Karen took out her notebook and pen. “Would you happen to know how we could contact Mr. Menendez? Would you have his phone number?”

The woman sighed and let out a deep breath. “Sure, I guess. He ain’t in any trouble is he? We just can’t move again.”

“We need to talk to Mr. Menendez, ma’am.” Sam said.

Agitated, the woman sighed and looked at her children, first the one clinging to her leg, and then the other sitting in the living room. She seemed to weigh her answer before speaking. “Well, hang on. Let me go get his number for you. I have it taped to the fridge.” She left the door open as she hobbled her way down a short hall into the kitchen. On the way, she untangled herself from the child that clung to her leg and sat her on the floor of the hall. Sniffling, the little girl looked from the door to her mother before letting out a loud whine of displeasure.

Sam and Karen watched silently, exchanging one knowing look. Karen nodded. She waited, pen in hand.

“Here it is. You can copy it off this.” She handed Karen a slip of paper. Turning to the whining child, she said, “Shut up, now. Quit that yelling.” Turning to Sam, she said, “Kids, ya know?”

Sam nodded back to her then looked over Karen’s shoulder to see what was written on the slip of paper. While Karen wrote, Sam said, “We’ll need your name also, ma’am. Just for our records.”

“Yeah, no problem. It’s Sherry. Sherry Edwards. With a ‘y’.”

“And a telephone number where we can reach you?”

“Oh, we ain’t got no phone. We just use the neighbor’s if’fin we need to call somebody.”

“Thank you, ma’am. We appreciate your cooperation.”

Sam and Karen said their goodbyes and walked back to their car. Once inside, Karen flipped the notebook shut and wiped the sweat from her forehead. This didn’t end here. She wouldn’t let it. Clenching her teeth, she silently vowed that this murder wouldn’t go unsolved. She would bring justice to the parents of that little boy. More than her parents ever received.

Sam started the car and backed out of the small driveway. Karen pulled out her cell phone and dialed Mr. Menendez’s number.