Authors: Rebecca Forster
“So the mom exerted her power by letting him know she could take away money, food, shelter, and he fought back by refusing things she wanted like going to the doctor or staying put at night or not going to school?” Arnson asked.
“That’s rather basic, but yes,” Daniel agreed. “It was a male/female power struggle.”
“Doesn’t sound like a crazed homicidal maniac if you ask me. My mom usually had me by the balls when I was a kid, too.” Levinsky had joined the group.
Arnson rolled his eyes. Liz smirked. The comment confused Daniel in the context of such a serious discussion. Daniel tried again to get serious.
“Xavier was an enigma, but he was sane. He killed those girls because he was bored and they presented an opportunity to alleviate that boredom and get back at his mother. It was Ms. Bates who elevated him to the status of a passionate man unable to resist the advances of a young girl. He never was that. There was no passion in him, just the need for sensations. I warned them against believing anything else.”
“Kidnapping is a little different. That takes some planning.”
“I never said he was stupid, I said he was bored.”
“You think he could manage kidnapping two women given what happened to him in prison?” Liz tipped her head as if that would help her discern exactly what Daniel was saying because it didn’t sound like he was saying much.
“How did he get his victims to the shack in the desert?” Levinsky asked.
“According to Hernandez, he tried to help and when they were willing to go with him to get out of the sun, he drove into the desert. He knew the area well enough to know that there were places like that shack all over. Xavier never admitted one way or the other what he knew about that location. He did like remote areas. He was very observant. When I spoke with him, he talked about watching people while they camped and while they slept. This time he went a lot further than watching.”
Daniel eyed each of the people surrounding him, pausing just long enough to make sure all eyes were on him. He smiled slightly. He positioned his head just so.
“Ms. Bates convinced everyone that Hernandez did things spontaneously with no intent to harm. She made him sound almost simple, but he has a powerful sense of purpose. He has a plan here, and he is executing it the same as he did with Janey and Susie.”
“Were drugs involved with Janey Wilson?” Levinsky asked.
Daniel shook his head. “No. The girls were clean and nothing was found at the scene. They had a little food. A few bottles of water were found in that shack. It was squalid. I wouldn’t let an animal live in those conditions. It was a classic case of . . .”
“How did he kill them?” Arnson asked, not caring that Daniel wanted to discuss the psychology behind the crime. Daniel scowled, but answered the question.
“Susie was asphyxiated. She also had a head injury, but the investigators didn’t find any object capable of delivering such a blunt force injury. That always bothered me. I don’t think they looked very hard.”
Daniel sniffed at the cops’ ineptitude, and the three detectives exchanged glances. The two LAPD detectives seemed to be taking Liz to task for bringing this guy. Daniel was clueless, not noticing that he wasn’t making any friends, he went on:
“In Janey’s case, she died of a knife wound. Ms. Bates argued heat of passion. There was evidence of sexual activity. But Josie Bates was more insidious than that. . .”
Daniel dropped his voice to share his lascivious information. He put his fingers on Arnson and Levinsky’s arms simultaneously, but the cops weren’t interested. They all had a timetable and Liz was getting antsy, too.
“We’ve got what we need, doc. Right guys?” Liz suggested.
“But it’s important to know his methodology. Details are so important,” Daniel insisted as he tried to draw them back, but they were already dispersing. “I can give you a timetable for his actions. I can predict. . .”
“We got it,” Levinsky assured him. “Isolate the victims, keep ‘em and kill ‘em.”
Arnson, though, did pause. “ Does he have ties to the desert? A job? Friends out there?”
“No. He has no friends, and he simply likes remote places.” Daniel answered but it was clear he was pouting. Liz almost laughed. He must have been a piece of work to deal with on the stand. She almost felt sorry for Josie Bates. Cross-examining him would be like trying to sweep up Mercury.
“Does he have a special kind of remote place he likes?” Arnson asked.
“I could go back through my files and analyze. . .”
But Arnson and Levinsky were now done with him. Liz was part of the boys group, but Daniel wasn’t.
“Guess we have our work cut out for us.” Liz spoke over Daniel. They were wasting time and Daniel would drag this on if they let him.
“Yep,” Levinsky answered. They turned to Liz. “You want to follow-up on the visitors Hernandez had inside and see what they know?”
“I already have a call into the woman who ran the literacy group. Hernandez never missed that one,” Liz said.
“Good. We’ve got one of Gardener’s neighbors saying she saw a car in the driveway around the time we think she disappeared.”
“Could she identify it?” Liz again.
“Nope. She said it could have been a dark red but probably brown. It wasn’t new. The reason she noticed it was because it was pulled all the way up to the garage and she wondered if Gardener had picked up a second car for some reason.”
“Too much to hope for that she saw anyone getting in or out?” Liz asked.
Levinsky snorted at the ridiculousness of question. At least Arnson put his hand out and shook Liz’s.
“Appreciate your help, Driscoll. Let us know if you find anything on your end.”
“Vice-versa, Levinsky.”
With a nod, the men were gone, headed off to follow-up on what they had: Erika Gardener’s address book, a warrant to run her computer for clues, and coming down hard on Cuwin Martin. Yep, there was a lot to do. On Liz’s end, she just had to do it without Hagarty knowing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:
An Outbuilding in the
California Mountains
“Kids,” Josie whispered excitedly. “It’s kids out there.”
“Yes” Erika breathed. “Yes. Oh my God. Thank God. But they ran away.”
“No. They’re hanging out there waiting for something to happen,” Josie answered.
“Try again,” Erika urged.
“Help. Help us.” Stronger now Josie jumped up and waved her bound hands as she called out. “Help us. We’re here. Open the door.”
Josie was screaming and Erika was scurrying fast on her hands and knees. She grasp Josie’s ankle and tried to pull herself up, but Josie shook her off. She wasn’t strong enough to hold both of them up. And it didn’t matter anyway. Someone was coming toward them. It was only one of the four she had identified earlier, but that didn’t matter. One was all they needed to open the door, and if they couldn’t, it only took one to make a phone call.
Suddenly, it was quiet. There were no frantic hands on the door, no calls of assurance. Josie licked her lips and the cracks stung under the pitiful layer of saliva. She pounded her hands at the edge of the opening, wiggling her fingers in her desperation.
“My name if Josie Bates. I live in Hermosa Beach. Josie Bates. Do you understand? If you can’t open the door, I need you to call this number. . .”
Josie’s voice rose and cracked. A sob broke through the cadence of the numbers she called out. She paused and regrouped. The person outside had stopped moving but Josie sensed they were still listening. She began again, calling out each number like it was a bead on a rosary:
“310-862-3510. His name is Archer. Tell him where you found us. Please, open the door or call that number. 310-862-3510. There’s a reward. There will be a reward.”
Josie called the number again and again. Her voice rose to such a frantic pitch that she hardly recognized it. She made it through nine numbers. She called again and managed to call out six. When she started from the beginning, she was shrieking the area code and it frightened her. Who was this hysterical woman? Where was the tough attorney she used to be: cool under pressure, clinically objective. But Josie knew exactly where that person was. She was locked up, incarcerated, unable to fight for herself. She was like any other person who finds their options not just limited but nonexistent. It was a surprise, this weakness. How could she have been so arrogant, so sure of herself when, in reality, she was pitifully weak? From the corner of her eye, Josie saw Erika collapse against the wall.
“They’re gone,” she whimpered.
Josie sank to the ground just as Erika did her one better and rolled on her side, folded her hands under her cheek and closed her eyes. They stayed that way. There was no discussion of hope and no strategy rolling around in their heads. Whoever had been out there was gone now. The birds had stopped singing. The women inside the building seemed to have stopped breathing.
Josie’s eyes went to her hands and even that took a great effort. She didn’t want to die bound as she was. She didn’t want to die like Erika, either: beaten and resigned. But, at that moment, it was too much to find the energy to rouse either her outrage or her spirit.
She leaned back her head, hoping to shut her brain down so that despair wouldn’t take over. Instead, images rolled around inside. Hannah, Archer, Max. Strangely, it was the unfinished wall in her house that caused her to move. If she died, the house would be sold and she didn’t want people thinking she hadn’t finished what she started. If she died, Hannah would become a ward of the state and, again, Josie wouldn’t have finished what she started. If she died, Archer would never know that she loved him from the bottom of her heart.
Maybe she wasn’t arrogant after all; maybe she just had purpose in her real life. There was a difference, after all. Now this was her real life, so she had to find her purpose again. Gathering her energy, Josie scooted into the corner, crooked her knees and rested her hands. In the next second she was working on the knot again. Erika turned her head to watch, but Josie couldn’t meet her eyes. There was nothing to say and the last thing Josie wanted was to see her own fear reflected in the other woman’s eyes. It seemed Erika understood because she rolled over and faced the wall. It was then, when they had each decided how they would end their time in that hot, hard place, they heard a tentative voice ask:
“How much?”
CHAPTER THIRTY:
Xavier Hernandez’s Place, Los Angeles
Levinsky, Arson and the uniformed cop were pulling out onto the street, and Daniel Young was already in the car when Liz realized Archer was nowhere to be found.
“Back in a minute.”
She closed the door and followed the only path Archer could have taken. It ran between the pit bull’s domain and Hernandez’s duplex. The chain link fence that kept the pit bull corralled intersected with an old wooden one that ran parallel with the freeway. The wooden fence listed, not only because it was weather-worn, but because an ancient tree – the only living thing flourishing in this neighborhood – had grown at an unnatural angle, seeking light between the freeway pilings. There stood Archer, his lips moving, his eyes trained on the tree. Following his gaze, Liz saw a platform cobbled together and wedged precariously between one large branch and another that didn’t look as if it could hold up a sparrow. A boy was crouched on the slats. He had a bird’s eye view of the duplex where Xavier Hernandez had lived for the last few months.
Liz turned and went back to the car. Three minutes later, Archer followed and swung himself inside. He was fastening his seat belt when the little boy appeared and stared at the car. Archer raised his hand, but the little boy just looked through the windshield, his eyes taking in Liz, Archer, and Daniel in turn. He would be in a gang before he was twelve and in prison by the time he was eighteen, but for now he was just a wary little kid clinging to a chain-link fence.
“Let’s go.” Daniel touched Liz’s shoulder then sat back and buckled his belt.
Archer looked over his shoulder. “You’ve got to get out more often if a little kid scares you.”
“Give it a rest, Archer, he’s right.” Liz started the car and backed out in a cloud of dust. She headed to the freeway. “Did you get anything back there?”
“Not as much as I wanted,” Archer admitted. “The kid thought I was INS. When I told him I was just interested in Hernandez it got a little easier. My Spanish isn’t what it used to be, but I know that he thought Hernandez was loco.”
“Was the kid scared of him?”
“No, just said he was crazy. He was always trying to pet that dog, walking into the street even if there were cars coming. He said Hernandez was confused and his eye didn’t work right.”
“Ocular damage from the beating probably,” Daniel said, wanting to be part of the conversation.
“He also said Hernandez had visitors.”