Critical Pursuit (17 page)

“I can’t do anything about how he feels. I never held him responsible for what happened to me, not once.”

“You and he are so much alike.”

Brinna glared at her brother. “Did you get brain damage in South America? I’m not at all like him.”

Brian laughed. “He handles problems by drinking; you by hiding in the work you do. And you both need God in your lives, more than I can say.”

Snorting, Brinna made the turn into the hospital driveway. “You and Mom won’t give up, will you?”

“Nope. Mom’s been talking to your friend Milo.”

“What?” Brinna jammed the truck into a parking spot, slammed it into park, and turned to stare at Brian. “What do you mean?”

“Just that he called her a while ago and she shared her faith with him. After all these years he listened. Didn’t he tell you?”

Brinna felt the breath go out of her in a whoosh. She sat back in her seat and looked away from Brian. “No, no, he didn’t tell me he’d talked to her recently. He talked in general about what she’s said for years.” She swallowed, conscious of Brian’s worried gaze. “Milo’s dead. He killed himself a few days ago.” The force of the words coming out of her mouth slapped her heart. She couldn’t look at Brian and closed her eyes.

“Brin, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Brian grabbed her hand. “I know how much he meant to you.”

She let her brother hold her hand for a moment but kept her face turned away. “He had cancer. Didn’t want to be a burden. When did he talk to Mom?”

“I’m not sure of the exact date. But she said he asked about God and let her pray for him. She said he sounded at peace when they ended the conversation.”

Brinna didn’t know what to say. Milo had mentioned her mother, but the thought of Milo falling for the drivel Mom always spouted was beyond comprehension.

“You okay?” Brian shook her shoulder.

“Yeah, it just hurts that Milo’s gone, you know?” It took every ounce of strength she had to keep her composure.

“I understand. Are you up to seeing Dad?”

“Yeah, let’s go. Let’s get this over with.”

NIGEL POUTED
for a while after the Special Girl’s quick rescue. He’d made it too easy. But there had been pressure. He’d barely escaped because of all the cop cars in the desert. And while they’d found her, the dog cop wasn’t mentioned anywhere in the article.

After he’d left the girl, he made his way back to the coast, very conscious of the need to lie low for a while. All the cops’ sniffing around for him was disconcerting but not too worrisome. He’d always been able to slip away before and he’d do it again. He pulled the van into a beachside campground with a wireless signal. Sitting on his bed with his laptop, he scrolled through hundreds of pictures and mulled over his next move.

The game had gotten so much more exciting with the addition of the dog cop. She was someone he could work to impress, to directly affect by his escapades. His audience from afar. For the first time in his life, Nigel relished an audience. But he’d have to think up something more difficult the next time.

After a while, the pictures began to bore him. Nothing exciting in images
 
—he needed to see them in action. He powered the laptop down and got up to take a walk. There was still some light left in the day, so he walked down the concrete path that ran along the beach. Many children frolicked in the surf even this late in the day, silhouetted by a sinking sun. Nigel’s blood warmed to the hunt. The perfect Special Girl and the perfect anniversary gift for the dog cop. Nigel felt more alive than he had in years.

JACK’S FIRST DAY
off from patrol dawned bright, as though someone had finally opened the blinds on his life. His mind was active, alive, as he showered, shaved, and dressed for the day, contemplating the hours ahead of him. For the first time in a long while, the calendar on the refrigerator escaped his notice. He rushed out the door with coffee in a travel mug and headed for San Bernardino.

He’d called in a marker he had with a San Bernardino County homicide investigator. Jack had helped Gabe Lopez with a gang homicide a few years ago. The victim had been gunned down on a San Bernardino street corner. The shooter fled. Jack found the gang member in Long Beach and facilitated his capture.

The drive to the San Bernardino County offices took Jack an hour. Once inside, he showed his ID and was directed to the homicide office.

“Gabe, thanks a lot for meeting with me.” Jack shook the investigator’s hand.

“No problem, O’Reilly. It’s been a little slow around here.
And I admit to being intrigued that you’re interested in this old file. Is this about the federal investigation?”

“What federal investigation?” Jack frowned.

Lopez chuckled. “What, is Long Beach in a bubble, cut off from the rest of the state? Don’t you read the newspapers?”

Jack hitched his shoulders up and pleaded ignorance. “I haven’t been keeping up on current events. What’s going on?”

“We
 
—the county and the PD
 
—were sued last year by a guy who spent ten years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. He was recently cleared by new DNA testing.”

Jack nodded. “We had a couple of those ourselves. What does that have to do with Nigel Pearce?”

“I’m getting to that. It seems evidence was tampered with, maybe manipulated in the guy’s rape case. This brought the FBI out of the woodwork. There is a possibility that a crooked cop, in league with a lab tech, tainted evidence in a few hundred cases during a two-year period between ten and twelve years ago.” Lopez sighed and Jack recognized the expression that fell over his face. Lopez’s department was under an uncomfortable microscope, and it was a strain. “Every case from back then is being reviewed, the Pearce case included.”

“But Pearce was killed in a shoot-out. How could evidence have been tampered with?”

“I’m afraid to speculate. I happened to be one of the uniforms on scene back then. It was my first SWAT call-out, as well as the first time I saw and smelled human bodies fried to a crisp. Things like that tend to stick with you.” He held out a thick manila file. “Read what’s here. Will you tell me what you’ve got going on after you read this?”

Jack took the folder. “You bet.”

Lopez showed Jack to a conference room and pulled out a chair. “After you review it all, come back to my office, and we’ll talk.”

Jack nodded, sat, and opened the file. It took about twenty minutes to read all about the capture, arrest, escape, and death of Nigel Pearce.

Initially arrested in a suburb of San Bernardino County, Pearce escaped custody during transport to court on the first day of his trial. A huge manhunt ensued. Pearce remained at large for two weeks before someone called in a sighting. The caller said he believed Pearce was hiding in the mountain town of Running Springs.

The tipster identified himself as a desk clerk at the Rimwood Hotel, a hotel converted to serve as a halfway house for recovering drug addicts. He reported a suspicion that Pearce was hiding in a resident’s room. Turned out that the resident whose room was in question, Kevin Banks, was also Pearce’s cousin. Banks was on probation for narcotics charges, and Nigel apparently hid in his closet. They aroused the clerk’s suspicion when he saw Banks sneaking extra food into the room.

Shots were fired from the hotel when the first police officers arrived on scene to check out the tip. The clerk and two residents escaped after the volley of gunfire. Communication subsequently established with Nigel confirmed that he held his cousin and three other residents hostage. There was a SWAT call-out and Pearce refused to surrender. In fact, he hung up the phone and would not communicate further with
negotiators. After a twenty-four-hour standoff, SWAT fired tear gas into the house and the place exploded in a firestorm.

The entire hotel burned to the ground and nearly took the town of Running Springs with it. The siege occurred during a hot and dry Southern California summer. Embers from the fire caused spot fires to erupt everywhere, and one of the fires burned down a house and two businesses close by. From what Jack read, the fire had caused complete chaos that day and several days thereafter.

After things cooled off, an arson investigation indicated Pearce had purposely opened several gas valves in the hotel, which facilitated the fire.

Five bodies were recovered, all burned beyond recognition. Four were identified as residents of the hotel, including Nigel’s cousin. One was ultimately identified as Nigel Pearce. Jack noted that all autopsy reports had been removed from the file.

Jack read everything over a couple of times, then studied the photos. After he finished, he found Lopez.

“So you have questions?” Lopez asked, leaning back in his chair.

Jack nodded. “The autopsies are missing.”

“Feds have them. The lab tech being investigated worked for the coroner at the time.”

“Do you remember how Pearce was identified?”

Lopez rubbed his chin. “Simple blood typing. There weren’t any dental records. Pearce’s parents were off-the-wall survivalists. They didn’t believe in doctors or dentists. Pearce grew up in the mountains, just above Running Springs in a place called Green Valley Lake. We visited the Pearce cabin
after the fire. It was a one-room hovel with an outhouse in the backyard.”

“Is there a problem with the identification? Is that why the Feds are involved?” Jack studied Lopez, and the uncomfortable feeling that there was more to the incident than what was in the report began to tug at his thoughts.

Lopez shrugged. “I can remember thinking something was wrong. But I never questioned anything.”

Jack frowned and set the folder down on the desk. Lopez wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Sounds like maybe there were a lot of loose ends.”

“It was a mess,” Lopez said, pulling the file toward him. “First, why are you interested so many years after the fact?”

Jack explained about the copycat.

“Whoa.” Lopez folded his arms. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“Why? Is there something missing from this report?”

Lopez stood, walked around his desk, and closed the office door. He paced, walking to his window before answering Jack. “Man, ten years ago I was a fresh-faced kid, new on the job with a wife and family to support. My training officer was a lazy old-timer, counting the minutes until retirement.”

“I’ve met my share of those. But what does this have to do with Pearce?”

“The perimeter was never secured properly.” Lopez sat, hands folded in front of him. “I always felt there was a possibility Pearce got out. When it was all over and they confirmed Pearce was dead, I relaxed. But you hear things.”

“Like what?”

“The bodies. When I saw them, you couldn’t tell much. Later, I heard that when they got them to the coroner, all five had their hands and feet tied with wire hangers. And they’d been shot.” He stopped as if giving Jack time to understand the importance of what he’d said.

Jack didn’t need time. “Pearce couldn’t tie himself up like that and then shoot everyone. But if what you’re saying is true, how could the coroner identify one as Pearce?”

“That’s what the Feds are trying to figure. Ten years ago the coroner’s office was a disaster. There was a big case going on at a nursing home where they believed a nurse was murdering elderly patients. A bunch of bodies were exhumed, tying up the entire senior office staff. Right now the wires are whispering that an unqualified tech was performing autopsies, telling cops what they wanted to hear, and if evidence didn’t exist, he was making it up.”

Jack felt his jaw drop. “So Pearce could have walked away free and clear.”

Lopez nodded. “Yep. Not only that, defense attorneys are lining up. Every case this dirty cop and this lab tech touched will be reviewed. Chances are, some other guilty guys will walk simply because of the appearance of impropriety.”

“And what is the motive in all this?”

“Best guess is that a couple of people decided they’d be judge, jury, and executioner all by themselves.”

Jack felt his face redden as he thought of all the little girls who’d fallen prey to Pearce over the years, girls sacrificed to the god of pride or whatever it was that caused a person to lie and manipulate truth.

THE SMELL OF ANTISEPTIC
and disinfectant hit Brinna like a wave of murky water as soon as she and Brian stepped into the hospital.

“I hate hospitals,” she grumbled as they boarded the elevator. Memories of being brought to the emergency room after Milo found her jabbed at her through the murk, and goose bumps rippled across her arms. She remembered feeling violated all over again in that place. “Nothing good happens in them.”

Brian smiled and threw an arm over her shoulder. “People get better in hospitals, most of the time.”

“Dad’s not going to get better.”

Brian sucked in a breath and removed his arm. “I almost forgot how to-the-point you always are. Maybe he won’t get better physically, but we can pray he’ll improve spiritually.”

“You haven’t even been home an hour and already you start with that. He’s dying. Why go in there and fill his head with that stuff?”

Brian smiled sadly and shook his head. “I don’t want to argue with you, Brin. I want to give Dad comfort. I firmly believe that if he’s at peace with God now, then when he dies, he’ll be in a better place.”

Brinna shot him a disgusted glare. Thankfully, Brian shut up for the rest of the walk through the hallways.

Their father’s room was on the fourth floor. The closer they got, the more claustrophobic Brinna felt. They were halfway to the room when Brinna’s cell phone chirped.

Sighing with relief, Brinna stopped and grabbed her brother’s arm. “I have to answer this; give me a minute.” She turned and fled to an outdoor patio and flipped the phone open without checking the number. “Caruso.”

“Brinna, what’s going on? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for a while.” Maggie’s familiar voice was like a life vest thrown to a drowning person.

Falling onto a bench, Brinna relaxed. “Hey, sorry. Yeah, there’s a lot going on. I don’t even know where to start. My dad’s in the hospital.”

Wanting to delay her entrance into that hospital room, Brinna poured her heart out to Maggie about everything going on in her life.

Maggie listened. That was what Brinna loved and appreciated about Maggie
 
—she was a great listener. It was after Brinna calmed down and came up for air that Maggie spoke.

“I don’t know how you’re standing. I know Milo was like a father to you.”

“I can’t think about it right now.” She swallowed hard as a lump formed and fought to keep her voice from breaking.
Inside, she wrestled emotions overflowing her heart. “Milo was no coward.”

“I know. He was a great guy. But things change, Brin. Terminal cancer is a gut shot. I’d bet Milo couldn’t deal with losing his independence if things got bad. Lung cancer can do that to people.”

“I wish he would have said something.” Brinna took a deep breath.

“You want some moral support at the hospital?”

“That would be awesome. You don’t mind coming down here?”

“Not at all. I always liked your dad. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Brinna flipped the phone shut and stood. The patio overlooked a courtyard in the center of the hospital complex. She paused at a railing and stared down without really seeing anything.

Of all the turmoil swirling around her, it was what Brian had said about Milo talking to her mother that puzzled her the most. There was no rhyme or reason to why Milo would want to talk to Rose and not to Brinna. He’d told Brinna more than once he thought Rose was carried away with religion. True, during the odd conversation they’d had that day she visited his house, he’d mentioned doubts. Doubts about his instincts, doubts about whether or not he’d been correct denying the existence of God all his life.

But to turn to my mom at the time of his most dire need?

A burst of anger flared up in her mind like a Fourth of July firecracker. Anger focused on Milo. Brinna was angry
that he confided in her mother and not in her, and absolutely furious that he’d never given her the chance to change his mind or even say good-bye.

“Brinna.”

She turned.

Brian stood at the door. “You can’t hide out here all day.”

Blowing out a breath, Brinna walked toward her brother. “I’m not hiding. Maggie called. Talking to her got me thinking about Milo. I was woolgathering.”

Brian nodded. “I know this is hard for you for a lot of reasons. But Dad is weak. He won’t be awake much longer.”

Shrugging, Brinna pushed past Brian. “Okay, okay.”

Once they reached the room, Brinna let Brian enter first, taking a deep breath and reminding herself that no matter what, the Kevlar around her heart would keep her emotions safely in check.

Rocky Caruso had a bed by the window. As Brinna made her way across the room, she wondered if her father’s yellow pallor was a result of the sunlight or his sickness. She tried to think of the last time she’d seen him. It had probably been last Christmas, she thought, frowning at her inability to remember seeing him since then.

“Brinna, I’m glad you’re here.” Rose gave her a tight hug as she approached the bed. “He’s dozing right now. The medication makes him sleepy.” She leaned over the bed and wiped Rocky’s forehead.

Studying her mother, Brinna saw that she appeared to have aged noticeably since just a few days ago. Her hair was impeccable today, but worry lines tugged at Rose’s eyes, and
there were dark circles underneath. Yet there was vitality in the eyes. Brinna realized it was hope. Her mother probably had hope that Rocky would get better.

Swallowing down unexpected emotion, she turned her attention to her father. He seemed to have shrunk and looked small and frail lying in the bed. Brinna struggled to remember him alive and strong, before the bottle got him, and she couldn’t.

“Brian and I prayed for him. I think that gave him some peace, and he slipped off to sleep.” Rose reached across the bed and straightened the bedcovers.

“He really wanted to talk to you, Brin,” Brian said.

Brinna sucked her teeth and said nothing.

There was a knock at the door and Maggie poked her head in. “Hi. Mind if I come in?”

Brinna deferred to her mother and Rose nodded. “Sure, Maggie. Rocky was always fond of you.”

“I’m sorry my visit has to come at a time like this.” Maggie stood by Brinna. “I remember some good times with your dad.”

“Like what?” Brinna asked, raising an eyebrow at Maggie.

“Remember when he took us down to the docks to watch the circus unload the animals? I think we were about ten or eleven.”

Brinna frowned at her dad. “I do remember that. It was fun. Dad was sober for a few hours.”

“I remember it too,” Brian jumped in. “You two let me tag along. We had a great time.”

Maggie and Brian began reminiscing. Brinna stared at her
father and wondered about the man she’d been embarrassed by for most of her life. Cancer
 
—he had cancer just like Milo. But her father wasn’t going to bail out. Her father was facing the same thing her idol faced, but he was hanging on and he wanted to talk to her. Why hadn’t Milo at least extended the same courtesy?