Sweet Poison (28 page)

“You’re making this into a war.”

Her face flushed a deep red. She pointed to the door. “Get out.”

Before Jane drove home from the Lyme House on Tuesday night, she stopped by Charity’s apartment building on Colfax Avenue. It wasn’t the old-fashioned dark redbrick building so commonplace in south
Minneapolis but something a little more modern—most likely built in the sixties. Three stories. Small balconies for each unit. Modest.

She drove past the building several times before she turned into the short drive on the north end that led to a small parking lot in the back. Most of the slots were filled with cars this late at night, with the exception of the one near the door. She eased into it and killed the engine. She clipped a leash to Mouse’s collar, and the two of them walked over to the Dumpster, which sat on the south end of the lot, backed up into some scrub brush.

“This is where it happened,” she said to Mouse, looking around, feeling thoroughly chilled by the knowledge of what had gone down here just a few days ago. “This is where Charity died.”

A light was on over the back entrance, and about twenty yards down the alley there was a light high up on a pole, but other than that, the lot was dark.

“I’d hate to meet up with someone out here who wanted to hurt me.” There were so many places to hide.

“Who did it?” she asked Mouse, watching him sniff the ground. “You know what? I’ve been thinking.” She crouched down, stroking his fur. “At the cemetery yesterday, I ran into a guy named Keen. Corey lied to him, told him he was a cop. Keen thought he was Charity’s new boyfriend, so it was instant dislike. Somehow, he found out Corey had raped a woman. He probably Googled his name, just like I did. What if—”

At the sound of laughter, she straightened up. A woman and a teenage girl had just walked out the back door of the apartment building. They glanced at Jane and Mouse, then got into a van and drove off.

Standing alone in the darkened lot, a wave of unease rolled through her chest. “Come on, boy.”

She got Mouse settled in the backseat, settled herself in the front, locked the doors, and started the engine. “Here’s what I was going to say. What if Keen found out the details of the rape Corey committed
nine years ago? He obviously saw Corey as an interloper. What if he set it up to look like Corey had attacked Charity? He’d get even with her for dumping him and get rid of Corey at the same time. All he had to do was buy himself a taser, some duct tape, and a tube of lipstick, wait for Charity to put herself in a vulnerable situation—just like we were in a few seconds ago—and boom. He takes his shot. But instead of stunning her, the taser interferes with her heart rhythm and she dies. Maybe he’s upset, or maybe he isn’t. But he’s off the hook because it’s Corey’s MO.”

Jane looked around at Mouse. “What do you think? Does that theory hold water?”

He leaned his head close to hers and gave her nose a lick.

“I know. Without proof, a theory’s just a theory. Thanks for weighing in.”

L
ate Wednesday morning, Corey found himself sitting in the same police interrogation room he’d been in last Friday. The smell of desperation still permeated the air and clung to his skin like rain-soaked clothes. He’d been here, or someplace very like here, so many times before that, with a certain sense of wonder, he realized that the surroundings seemed oddly reassuring. He knew the drill. He understood the stakes. As much as he railed against it, this had become his world.

Corey sat back, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans. It didn’t take long before Emerson entered and sat down across from him. Watching him, Corey had a flash of insight. Emerson was about to arrest him.

“Now, let’s begin again. I’d like you to go through your movements on the day Charity Miller died.”

“I’ve already told that a hundred times.”

“Let’s try it once more. From the top.”

Corey groaned, registered his irritation, then started in once again.

“Back up just a minute,” said Emerson as Corey got to the part
about taking Charity for a ride on his motorcycle. “What time was that?”

“Jesus. I told you. It was right around ten.”

“And you brought her back to her car when?”

“A little before eleven. She got a call on her cell and that’s when I looked at my watch. After she was done talking, we said good night, I got on my bike and took off.”

“Did you say anything about getting together again?”

“No.”

“When you left her, how would you describe her mood?”

“I told you. She was fine. Happy.”

“Happy.”

“Yeah. I showed her a good time.”

“Did she tell you who the call was from?”

“Like I said, no.”

“You described your ride together as short.”

“Yeah.”

“But an hour is a long time just to ride around.”

Corey shrugged. “It felt short.”

“Did you stop at any time? Get off the cycle and walk around?”

“No.”

“Did you come on to her?”

“Hell, no. I’ve got a girlfriend.”

“Serena Van Dorn. But she’s living with this other guy at the moment.”

“It’s just temporary.” He could see the smirk on Emerson’s face. All cops were sadists.

“So you and Charity never had sex?”

“Of course not.”

“You’re positive about that?”

Corey caught a look in his eye. It stopped him cold.

“The thing is, we’ve got your DNA on file. A few hours ago, I received some test results that indicated a semen stain found on Charity’s clothing belonged to you. It’s an exact match.”

He sat up a little straighter. Cops lied all the time in interrogations. As far as he knew, DNA didn’t come back that fast. “Arrest me, then. You’ve got your proof. Why the hell are we even talking?”

“Corey, at this time, I need to read you your Miranda rights.”

Corey’s eyes opened wide. He hesitated, then shouted, “Do it. I don’t care. You got squat.”

After he grunted that he understood his rights, Emerson shoved a file toward him. “There’s a lot riding on this case. That’s why I was able to push to get the tests back fast. I don’t know if you can read a medical report, but it’s all there in black and white. Your sperm on Charity’s panties. You’ve been lying to me, Corey. All along the way you’ve been lying. You’re guilty as hell and you and I both know it.”

He tried to stare the cop down, but in the end, he was the one to blink first. “Look, I just … I didn’t want you to think we had that much of a connection. I used protection. I didn’t … I mean, it was no big deal.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re saying now that you
did
have sex with Charity Miller.”

“Yeah.”

“Was it consensual?”

“Hell, yes.”

“This was her first date with you. She hardly knew you, and yet she had sex with you?”

Corey shrugged.

“Tell me about the word
justice
, Corey. It must mean something to you.”

“It means the same thing to me it means to you.”

“You like justice? You believe in it?”

“Sure, although I’ve never seen much of it.”

“So you’d say you’ve seen more injustice.”

“Yeah, I would.”

“Ever looked up the word
justice
in a dictionary?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Justice
has a lot of meanings. Sometimes it means punishment, as in, ‘The judge was determined to exact justice.’ Ever thought about that?”

“What’s your point?”

“You ever feel like you want to punish someone, Corey?”

He didn’t respond.

“But you
do
feel like you’ve been punished for something you didn’t do.”

“You got that right.”

“So, maybe we could say you’re concerned with both justice and injustice.”

“I’m concerned with getting the hell out of here without being arrested.”

“Where did it happen?”

“Huh?”

“Where did you and Charity have sex?”

“We stopped along the West River Road.”

“I need the exact spot.”

“I can’t remember.”

“Try harder.”

“Who the hell cares? She was fine when we said good night.”

“But you lied about having sexual intercourse with Charity because you didn’t think we’d find out.”

“Yeah. I mean, why tell you something that would make me look guilty when there was a good chance you’d never find out on your own?”

“Find out what? Be specific.”

“That I had sex with a woman on the night she was raped and killed.”

Emerson’s eyes tightened. Corey had no idea what he’d said, but whatever it was, it had thrown the detective.

“What else have you lied to me about, Corey?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you follow her back to her apartment?”

“No. I already told you. I had something to eat, then went to my girlfriend’s house.”

“And afterward you went home.”

“Right.”

“Did Charity say anything to upset you?”

“Of course not. What would she say?”

“The call she got close to eleven. It was from a minister. He told her you were an ex-con, that you’d gone to jail for raping a woman.”

Corey’s expression hardened. He didn’t reply.

“Charity’s parents told us that Charity thought you were a cop. You’d told her that. Is that true?”

Corey’s gaze floated around the room. “Yeah. It just kinda came out when I was talking to her boyfriend, Keen. I wanted to scare him, so I told him I was undercover. Charity heard it and asked me about it. I didn’t tell her I was lying because … well, because I didn’t want her to think I tried to con people.”

“Even though you do.”

Corey glared at him.

“So let’s picture this. She thinks she’s gone on a ride with a cop. That’s probably why she trusted you so quickly. You parlay that into some quick sex and you bring her back to her car. But before you leave, she gets a call from a friend who tells her that not only are you not a cop, but you’re a convicted rapist. Are you telling me she said nothing to you about it? She just kissed you good-bye?”

Corey’s eyes rose to the ceiling. “I didn’t kill her.”

“What did she say to you? Did she piss you off? Did you twist her arm? Get rough with her? Did you tell her that people had it in for you? That you were innocent?”

“I
am
innocent. I didn’t rape that woman in ‘97 and I didn’t rape and kill Charity.”

“Tell
me, Corey. What did she say to you?”

He looked down at his hands. “She said I was disgusting. That people like me should be locked up.”

“And you just stood there and listened?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“You didn’t think she needed to be taught a lesson? You didn’t follow her home?”

Corey was working as hard as he knew how to hold back his temper.

“You drove to her place, waited until she came outside with her garbage, and then you shot her with your taser. You wrote your favorite word on her stomach and left her there, like a piece of trash. Is that what she was to you, Corey? Trash?”

“I didn’t do it,” he shouted, his fist slamming down on the table. “You should be investigating Gabriel Keen. He did it. He was harassing her. She told me all about it.”

“We’ve talked to Mr. Keen. He has an alibi.”

“He’s lying. People are lying for him.”

“It’s hard to know the truth when people lie, isn’t it, Corey.”

“I never hurt anyone in my life. I’m innocent. How many times do I have to say it before someone believes me? I did not rape and kill Charity Miller!”

Emerson threaded his fingers behind his neck, examined Corey with a weary look on his face. “Don’t you ever get sick of saying that? That you’re innocent? Nobody’s
innocent
. Especially somebody like you who lies all the time. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you looked me straight in the eye and told me you weren’t in this room.”

Corey flattened his hands on the table, waited for the inevitable.

Emerson watched him for nearly a minute. Let the tension build. Finally, he said, “Go on. Get out of here.”

J
ulia worked the phones at the campaign office on Wednesday afternoon. Several hours into her shift, a woman asked a question she couldn’t answer. The volunteers had been advised not to answer difficult policy questions. Instead, they were requested to hand the phone to someone who could.