The Charity (36 page)

“What about the tattoo?” Shea’s question was more urgent this time. He was not going to let go until he knew what, if anything, she could remember about the mark.

Jessica shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know it’s there.” She motioned to her head.

“Okay, we’ll give that one a rest for a bit. What else can you tell me about the murder and about the day or so afterward.”

“I think that’s all I can dredge up now.”

“Okay then. Are you ready to look through some files and see if they jog any more memories?”

“Files?”

“Right. I have my personal notes here as well as some photographs.”

Jessica inhaled deeply and exhaled a long stream of air as she apprehensively looked at the large pile of files. “Yup. Let’s do it.”

They each grabbed a file and dove into their work. Hours passed as they poured over the different documents and notes. Neither one firmly knowing what it was they were looking for. Most of the police reports were barely more than gibberish to Jessica, so she grabbed a folder of photographs and looked through them. Shea had his head buried in a set of reports and did not see what she was looking at.

“Oh God.” Jessica had photos from the scene. Black and white photos of Gus’ body stared up at her. The photos shook in her hands.

Shea stood up and tried to take the photos away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see those. It was pretty awful.”

Her fingers would not let go. “No. I have to see these. Only a monster could do something like that.” She looked at the series of photographs. Renewed horror grabbed at her as she remembered that night. She stared at the photos for a long time.

It had been a while since Shea had looked at the photos too, and they brought back memories for him as well. He looked at photos that were a mix of shots of the whole scene interspersed with close-up photographs of one detail or another. A photo of Gus’ legs would be followed with close-up shots of his shoes or pants. A shot of Gus’ head and arms was followed by a series of shots of his hands.

“Hey, hand me that magnifying glass in the bottom of that briefcase.” Shea spent a few minutes looking at one set of photos, sat back and smiled.

Jessica took the photo from Shea. It was a close-up shot of Gus’ hands and wrists. “Do you see something?”

“Yeah. Look here.” He brought the magnifying glass closer to one picture.

“I’m not sure what you see.”

Shea explained while trying to contain his growing excitement. “This is a series of pictures of Gus as the groom found him. The official reports state only that his body was found in a curled position as if fending himself off from an attacker. The knife wounds were made at an angle that implied a smaller or weaker person made the attack slicing upward at an angle. The final police report leaned heavily on that finding in concluding your guilt.”

“So?”

“The report made no mention of these.” Shea pointed to an area on Gus’ wrists. The pictures showed the skin on his wrists was bruised and red.

“Okay. I see the marks but what do they mean?”

“It means that Gus was tied up by the wrists just as you said he was. He was placed in those rope things.”

“Crossties?”

“Right. Gus was overpowered by his two attackers and was hoisted up in the crossties. Once tied up, the killer thrust the knife up at an angle.”

Jessica understood. “At an angle that might look like it came from a smaller person but because Gus was tied up the angle from a taller person was skewed!”

“Exactly. This is very hard evidence that you could not possibly have killed him.”

“I... I’m sorry. I just can’t believe there’s
proof
. I’ve been so confused, so afraid for so long I just didn’t know what to believe.”

“Coogan worked hard to make everything point to you. Now it’s your turn to set the record straight.”

Jessica lowered her head and sobbed. She seemed so much smaller now than she did when Shea first met her in his office. He felt something stir in him that he had not felt in a long time. He moved closer to her and put his arms around her until her sobbing slowed. Jessica pulled away.

They set the papers and photographs aside for a while and took a much needed break. Shea kept the conversation on safer matters like the changes in Boston over the past few years and Jessica kept the conversation on horses and her time out west. Refreshed after eating some food they got back to work. Shea reviewed his original notes he kept during his own investigation and furiously scribbled more. Jessica gathered herself and took the magnifying glass to look at the smaller details of many other pictures.

She put another photo in front of Shea. The picture was of the barn’s corridor near the spot where Gus lay. A dusty barn floor, some buckets and hay bales could be seen. She pointed to a small area. “Did you see this?”

Shea leaned forward and looked at the picture. “What am I supposed to be looking at?

Jessica maneuvered the magnifying glass over the corner of one of the photographs. “Here. That glint. I don’t think it’s anything to do with the barn.”

“I think you’re right.” He took the picture from her hand and scrutinized the image. He rummaged through the file folder and produced another picture taken at a different angle and closer. They studied the picture together.

“I had almost forgotten about it. I think it’s the lighter I found!”

“A lighter? I remember going back to the barn with Detective Coogan. He was looking for something. He never said what it was, but I remember something.” As he was talking he searched through the mess of papers and documents that now littered the conference room table. “This is good. This is very good.” A set of negatives in a bright orange envelope wagged in his hand as he shook them with victory. “So tell me about this lighter.”

“Well, I was in the loft for a while. It was late afternoon when I finally thought it was safe. I jumped down and the light was hitting it just right. That’s when I found it and... and,” Jessica’s voice trailed off as she got lost in her thoughts and memories.

“Now I have it!” Jessica pounded the table in excitement. “I
knew
I had seen that before. The lighter had the same markings on it that the killer had on his inner arm. It was a three leaf clover or something, being cut down the middle with a blade. And it was bleeding. It was carved into the lighter and tattooed on the guy’s arm. Definitely. No mistake. In fact,” she grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and began to put her memory in black and white, “it’s the same kind of symbol I saw at my old farm carved into a new mantelpiece. There. That’s what it looks like. The tattoo, the lighter, and the carving.” She turned the pad around so Shea could see the sketch.

A shock wave shot through him. He knew the mark all too well. A green shamrock represented the emerald island of Ireland. It was cut almost in half by a dagger. Shea knew that the blade represented more than just Britain’s interests. The blood of the men and women who fought for the freedom of Northern Ireland dripped from the wound. “Jesus H. Christ!” He jumped to his feet and strode around the room.

“There’s one more thing,” Jessica lowered her head.

“More? Ah, Christ! What is it?”

“I... I think that’s the same mark I saw on the arm of the man who worked on my parent’s car the day before they were killed. E-even the man’s face seemed familiar.”

“Are you sure about this? It means your troubles go back further than just Gus’ murder.”

“I’m pretty sure. I was just a little girl, and it was pretty scary.”

Shea placed the palm of his hand on his forehead. Pieces were starting to fit together in a way he never suspected. “Oh my God, Jessica. Does
anyone
know about that lighter?”

Jessica was taken aback by the reaction of the young attorney. “No. I don’t think so, at least. I’m not even sure where it is. Why? What’s so important about it?”

“Look, Jessica. That mark is the sign of a small but very powerful group of people that will use calculated criminal acts to disrupt the balance of power between government and the governed and to bring attention to their agenda. They don’t consider themselves terrorists, but they work outside the laws and without the support of any government. The group has its roots in supporting a unified Ireland by freeing Northern Ireland from British rule.”

“You mean the IRA?”

“No. Not the Irish Republican Army. The group is much deadlier and more ruthless. There’s not a lot of hard facts known about them. What is known is that its people have set up operations here in the States to help their cause abroad. They use violence, fear and intimidation to get what they want.”

“They’re terrorists, pure and simple.”

“Yes. They are using methods we are only beginning to understand. Their violence is intended to coerce individuals or governments into complying with their agenda. What I’ve uncovered is most of their assistance comes in the form of funneling large sums of money to different bank accounts in the UK. This group raises money through different schemes then transfers it via companies that have been blackmailed, threatened or otherwise coerced into cooperating. Those are some of the cases I’ve been working on. No one knows who its members are. They are very good at what they do and cover their tracks well. They will stop at nothing to win the war they are fighting.”

“So, what does that have to do with me? With my family?”

Shea had stopped his pacing long enough to ponder her question. “I don’t know. It does explain why, after seven years, you are still wanted dead by them. I’ve had my suspicions about Coogan for a long time. He was the worst cop I have ever known. He always had the knowledge and the power to control events. I never thought he was smart enough to pull off some of the stunts he did by himself, so I always wondered where he got his information and his ideas. If he thought he could solve a case by putting an innocent person in jail, he’d do so. You told him what you saw that night and going to jail wasn’t enough to stop you from telling what you knew. He must have known that you were too scared to talk then, but sooner or later you’d find your voice. So he had to kill you.”

“Is that what happened to your family, too? That you knew too much?”

For a moment, his wife’s face and daughter’s laughter filled his head. “It’s definitely the same group that killed them. They wanted revenge because I tracked down one of their major funding schemes and put the operators in jail. That’s the way they work. They go after the family and loved ones of their enemies.” He dropped his head in remorse and guilt. “It should have been me.”

He stopped talking as his own memories settled in on him. That was a long time ago. He had to keep moving forward. “I have never been able to stop them. I’m not sure I can. They know that once the head of their group is imprisoned or dies, the whole mechanism will most likely fall apart unless they have a succession of leadership planned. They have wanted to stop me for years. Killing my family was just business as usual for them.”

“Do you think that’s what happened to my family, too?”

Shea shook his head. “I don’t know. All I do know is that anything is possible.” He looked at Jessica. “You are incredibly lucky to be alive.”

“Yeah. I don’t feel so lucky. Three strikes and you’re out, remember?”

He laughed. “Very funny. And cats have nine lives.”

“So what’s next?”

“The lighter is a nice piece of physical evidence that can wrap this whole mess up. For
both
of us.” He could hardly contain his joy. “Fantastic. If we can get a good enlargement of the lighter in this photo and match it to the one you have, we are just about home free. It can establish a good evidentiary trail and step us closer to proving your innocence and the connection to the group I’ve been tracking. It will be great to get rid of some major players on a first-degree murder charge. A life sentence will put them out of business.” He nearly laughed in joy and held out his hand. “Just give the lighter to me and I’ll have a close pal at the lab run some tests on it.”

“Wait a second, Owen. I don’t know where that lighter is.”

Shea stopped. “What? Why? What do you mean you don’t know where it is?” He looked at her in disbelief. “Where’d you put it?”

Jessica looked at him and opened her hands in a gesture that said “Beats me.”

“C’mon, you’ve got to know where it is.”

“Hey, I’m telling you the truth. I carried that thing around with me for a while because it was one of the few possessions I had that had any kind of value. It was a big, heavy silver thing, and I figured I would pawn it if I ever needed some cash. I never had to, but I lost track of it. I definitely did not bring it to Kentucky with me.” She thought of Saddle String and Jake Masterson. “I guess I could try to ask the manager at the last place I was if he ever saw it. It’s worth a phone call.”

“You’re right.” He paused to consider their next move. “It’s possible that someone could have traced you back to there and might be waiting for you to call them. We’ll have to go somewhere and make the call. You can’t use a phone from anywhere you want to be safe in. It’s a precaution.”

Jessica nodded. Shea had made that statement as she reached for the hotel phone. What he said made sense.

They worked for hours on their research. Shea ordered some burgers from room service, and they ate in silence as they reviewed file after file. He made notes on points to follow up on. He looked over at Jessica. She had stopped reading and had placed her hands on her face. It looked like she was trying to rub away the exhaustion that gnawed at both of them. He looked at his watch. It was close to one o’clock in the morning.

“You look like you need a rest. Let’s call it a night.”

“Yeah. My brain is scrambled.” She swept her red hair back into a ponytail. “Where do you want to meet tomorrow?”

“I know a place in the North End on Hanover Street. It’s a little hole in the wall with great food, and it’s private. I have a sentencing hearing in court in the morning. How about noon?”

“Sounds fine. Do you know of a place to make copies of these tapes?” Jessica stood up and collected her notes.