A Trace of Crime Page 12
They rushed out, followed closely by Sneer Guy, who crawled more than walked. She slammed the door behind him, trying to pour all her rage into that act so she could set it aside for what she knew came next.
When they were gone, she turned her attention to the girls. There were eight of them in total. Keri wanted to ask them if they’d seen Evie. But she knew that might blow her cover. Any of these girls might tell their pimps about the suspiciously curious woman at the warehouse.
Besides, none of them were in any condition to answer questions. Half looked scared. The other half were too drugged up to express any emotion. Mags was sitting on a mattress next to one who was in particularly bad shape, helping her sip some water.
Still, this might be the only chance she would get to ask them about Evie. If she didn’t at least try, then all that effort to reach out to the Black Widower, not to mention the $10,000 she’d sent him, would be wasted. She decided to give it one last, very delicate shot.
“Listen, girls,” Keri said to the ones who could hear her. “My friend and I aren’t interested in hurting you or making you do anything you don’t want to. In fact, we’d like to help you, if you’ll let us. I know a woman who runs a home for girls in your situation. I don’t know if she can house all of you but I’m sure that if she can’t, she’ll find other places that will. We’ll even get you rides.”
“I don’t want to go to some home,” one of the druggy girls slurred. “I just want out of here.”
“That’s fine too,” Keri said, even though every part of her screamed that it was not fine. “If you just want a ride to the bus station or a shelter or wherever, we can coordinate that too. But I doubt any of you want to stay here, right?”
Everyone who could shook their head.
“Okay, then we’ll make it happen. I just have one question. That guy who came in earlier asking about that girl, I know you couldn’t say anything to him before. But you can speak openly now. Did any of you see her here?”
At first, Keri didn’t think anyone would answer. But finally a waifish blonde-haired girl spoke up.
“I only got here this morning,” she said. “But they didn’t take or add anyone since then.”
Two others, both Hispanic, both around twelve years old, shook their heads sadly. The last one, a pale brunette who looked like she feared Laker Cap might bust out of the bathroom at any second, barely even acknowledged her, looking away without responding.
“It’s really important,” Keri insisted, trying to keep her voice even. “If you could just think back…”
Mags, sitting next to the barely responsive girl on the mattress, caught her eye and almost imperceptibly shook her head. Keri knew what she was trying to say. Hell, she was thinking it herself.
It’s no good. These girls don’t know anything. And they’re in bad shape. Pummeling them with questions will only make them worse. Let them be. You’ll find another way. There’s always another way.
Reluctantly, Keri pushed her own pain into the ever-growing pit in her stomach and tried to focus on these girls, all desperately in need of her help.
She ordered cabs to take the four drugged-up girls directly to the hospital. Of the remaining four, the two Hispanic girls asked to go to shelters. Only two, the waifish blonde and the pale brunette, were interested in the group home.
They got in the backseat and Mags drove since Keri felt, despite everything, like she might drift off at the wheel. She had to make a call but before she did, she turned to her friend and asked the question that had been eating at her for a half hour.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she demanded.
“What?”
“I’m talking to Uriel and you decide to just sneak off to check out a brothel run by armed thugs?”
“I didn’t know they were armed,” Mags replied, far too casually for Keri’s taste.
“This isn’t funny. Things could have gone much worse in there.”
“They didn’t even know I was there until you texted me.”
“That’s your defense?” Keri asked, disbelieving.
“I don’t need a defense…Mary,” she said sharply, apparently not sure if she still needed to keep up the fake name ruse in front of the two girls in back, although both looked oblivious. “The truth is, I saw a blonde female near the back of the warehouse and I thought it might be the person we were looking for, so I went to check it out. I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case I was wrong.”
“And?”
“And it was a good thing I didn’t say anything because it ended up just being a very short elderly woman wearing an inappropriate wig.”
“Are you telling me the truth?” Keri demanded skeptically.
“I am. Although I admit that once I was there I thought taking a peek inside wouldn’t do any harm. And it wouldn’t have if I hadn’t gotten a really loud text while I was trying to spy on them.”
“So you put your safety on the line for a potential story?” Keri asked, incredulous.
“It started because I thought I might have seen Evie! And then as long as I was back there anyway…” She sighed. “Listen, you know what I do for a living. But you don’t know why I do it. And I’m not going to apologize for pursuing a story I believe is important.”
“What do you mean I don’t know why you do it?”
“We all have our demons,” Mags said. “Not everybody’s end up on the news. But we still have them. Anyway, I saw an opportunity to get up close to a situation that might be worth investigating, so I took it. In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t the wisest move. But darling, I’m not always the wisest girl. Ask my ex-husband about that.”
Keri could tell that her friend wasn’t going to back down. They were equals in the stubbornness department. She decided to let it go for the time being, especially since she still had to find a place for the girls.
She called up Rita Skraeling, who ran the South Bay Shared Home in Redondo Beach. She was housing a fourteen-year-old girl named Susan Granger, whom Keri had rescued from her pimp last year.
In recent months, Susan had really blossomed at the home. Keri tried to visit her weekly. Susan seemed interested in becoming a cop and peppered Keri with questions about law enforcement on every visit.
“I have room for one girl right now,” Rita told her, her gravelly, nicotine-stained voice rasping over the phone. “Give me whichever one looks worse off. I’ll text you the address of another good place in Long Beach for the other girl. I know they have an open slot right now.”
“Thanks, Rita, and one more thing. This needs to be unofficial. On the paperwork, just say a good Samaritan brought them in. I can’t have it traced back to me.”
“Normally, I’d say screw off to that,” Rita replied. “But since it’s you, I’ll look the other way.”
“I appreciate it.”
She had just hung up when another call came in. It was Ray.
“You get some sleep?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she lied, suddenly remembering again how exhausted she was. “What’s up?”
“CSU found a partial fingerprint in Jessica Rainey’s stuff, one they missed before. Castillo and I are on our way to check it out now. Can you meet us?”
“Sure,” she said. “Where?”
“The school. The print belongs to one of her teachers.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Keri pulled up in front of the school at 10:45 a.m. She sat there quietly for a moment, wondering whether the clearly deranged person who’d taken Jessica was in one of the classrooms on the seemingly pristine campus.
Mags had agreed to drive the two girls to the group homes so Keri could head straight here. Neither said much for the rest of the drive back but the hug they shared before parting ways was intense. Keri could feel her friend thanking her with the tightness of her squeeze.
“Drinks are on you next time,” Keri had said when they pulled apart. Mags nodded but said nothing. It was a rare occasion when Margaret Merrywether was left speechless.
She walked to the main office, zipping up her jacket against the chill in the air. Ray and Jamie Castillo were waiting. When she stepped inside, they filled her in.
“Our suspect is Justin Hensarling,” Ray said. “Thirty-one years old. He teaches 6th grade history. Jessica is in his third-period class. CSU found a partial print on the iron-on school logo on her gym shirt. They didn’t think to check the clothes at first because they don’t usually maintain prints. But Edgerton noticed the logo and had them try.”
“Why are we so suspicious about a print on her shirt?” Keri asked. “Couldn’t it be inadvertent?”
“It’s possible,” Ray said. “But the girls only wear gym uniforms during gym class. And he doesn’t teach gym. His classroom is clear across campus. There’s no reason his print should ever have come in contact with her shirt.”
“Fair enough,” Keri said. “Let’s meet Mr. Hensarling.”
“Okay, so how do we want to handle this?” Castillo asked. “If he’s our guy, he might get suspicious if the principal asks him to come to the office. We don’t want him losing it in a classroom full of kids.”
“Good point,” Keri said. “Is he married?”
“Yes,” Castillo said, looking at his file. “For three years.”
“Okay,” Keri said, pausing for a moment to think before launching into her plan. “We have an office assistant go to his classroom and ask him into the hall because he has an urgent message from his wife. When he steps out, we’ll be there waiting to escort him to a secure area.”
Ray and Jamie nodded, and moments later, the principal agreed to the plan on the condition that they stay out of sight. She didn’t want to freak out the kids. And if it turned out there was an innocent explanation, she didn’t want her teacher’s reputation injured because he was seen being interrogated by uniformed police officers.
They agreed and the assistant led them to the classroom. Castillo waited in an exterior hallway while Keri and Ray positioned themselves on either side of the classroom door, out of sight.
The assistant, clearly nervous, knocked on the door and opened it.
“You have a message, Mr. Hensarling,” she said, her voice shaking.
Ray looked at Keri and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was—this woman was going to blow the whole thing.
“Well, bring it on in, Nicole,” they heard Justin Hensarling say casually.
“Um, you may want to look at it out here,” she replied. “It’s from your wife.”
They heard a scrape as Hensarling quickly pushed his chair back.
“Keep reading, students,” he said, his voice now far less casual. “I’ll be right back.”
It occurred to Keri that the assistant’s quaky voice might actually be a benefit. Hensarling might attribute it to her having bad news from his wife that she was hesitant to share. A second later, he stepped into the hallway.
“What is it, Nicole?” he asked as he took the paper. “You’ve got me worried here.”
He unfolded the paper, saw that it was blank, and looked up, confused. It was only then that he noticed Keri standing a few feet away.
“What’s going on?”
“You can go now, Nicole,” Ray said from behind Hensarling, startling him. “We need to have a chat with you, Mr. Hensarling.”
Nicole scurried off and the teacher involuntarily backed away from Ray. Keri moved in close behind him and spoke quietly in his ear.
“Your wife is fine, sir. But we’re with the LAPD and we need to speak to you. We’d like you to step outside so we can talk without making a scene. Do you understand?”
Hensarling was shaken but he nodded and followed Keri out the door to where Jamie was waiting. Ray followed close behind. Jamie led them to an out-of-the-way alcove out of sight of any classrooms.
“Mr. Hensarling,” Ray said when they finally stopped, “do you know why we’re here?”
“No?” Hensarling answered although it sounded more like a question.
“Is there anything you’d like to tell us regarding your interactions with your students?” Keri asked. She didn’t want to be too accusatory to start. Maybe he’d hang himself without their help.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted unconvincingly.
“Mr. Hensarling,” Ray said. “Do you know Jessica Rainey?”
“Of course I know her,” he said, sounding annoyed at the question. “She’s in my class. Is that what this is about? You think I had something to do with her disappearance?”
Keri glanced over and nodded at Jamie, who stepped forward.
“At this point I’m going to read you your rights, Mr. Hensarling,” she said, looking intimidating in her uniform. “If you’re still willing to answer our questions after that, I’m sure we can clear all this up.”
She proceeded to Mirandize him. When she was done, Keri stepped forward and spoke in a quiet voice.
“Understanding these rights, are you willing to talk with us, Mr. Hensarling?”
“Yes. I have nothing to hide,” he said confidently
“Then why was your fingerprint found on Jessica Rainey’s gym shirt?” Ray asked.
Hensarling’s face went white and he stood dumbly for a full five seconds before answering.
“That’s not what you think,” he finally said, sounding suddenly far less confident.
“What is it then?” Ray asked.
“Oh Jesus. I can’t believe this. I never thought that anyone would care.”
“Mr. Hensarling,” Keri said, stepping even closer so that she was only inches away from him. “I’m losing patience with you. There’s a missing girl out there. If you’re not responsible, explain yourself. Whatever you did, if it wasn’t kidnapping a child, you’ll be in less trouble if you’re forthcoming about it.”
“Oh god,” he said, starting to whimper. “I have this thing. I like to…smell their clothes.”
“What?” Castillo blurted out disgustedly, getting a look of rebuke from both Keri and Ray. Once a suspect starts talking, you don’t do anything that will make them stop.
“I like to smell the girls’ clothes,” he repeated. “There’s just something about the scent after they’ve been sweating. I know it sounds strange but…I like it.”
“Go on,” Keri said, making sure to keep any judgment out of her voice.
“When the girls are at lunch or a break, I’ll sometimes take their clothes out of their backpacks and…smell them. I swear that’s all. It’s not the panties or anything—just the used gym clothes. I don’t even look to see whose they are. It doesn’t matter. I must have smelled Jessica’s at some point. I don’t really know.”
The three cops stood silently. No one really knew what to say. Keri had never heard anything like this before. She was sure it was illegal but didn’t even know exactly what law he had broken. Eventually she forced herself to speak.
“Where were you yesterday afternoon between two thirty and three p.m.?” she asked.
“What?” he asked, still rattled by the prior topic.
“Where were you—” Keri started to repeat when Hensarling interrupted.
“I had academic decathlon,” he answered excitedly. “I’m the coach. School ends at two thirty-five. The team starts practice at two forty-five and it runs until four p.m. I was in my classroom the whole time. There are ten students who can attest to it.”
Keri, Ray, and Jamie all looked at each other. No one could hide their disappointment. The bell rang and kids started to pour out into the courtyard.
“Do you have a class this period, Mr. Hensarling?” Ray asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Well, we’re going to have to call in a substitute. You’ll need to come down to the station to discuss this further. Please wait here with Officer Castillo.”
> He stepped further into the alcove and motioned for Keri to join him.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think he’s probably telling the truth. Who would admit to something like that if it wasn’t true? Besides, he doesn’t give off the vibe I get from those ransom letters. I doubt he could muster that kind of fervor.”
“Well, vibe or not, he’s guilty of something, although I’m not sure what,” Ray said. “We can have Castillo check with the decathlon kids about his alibi. Meantime, let’s get him to the station so we can hand him off to someone else and pursue some leads that might actually go somewhere.”
“Sounds good to me,” Keri agreed. “I don’t want to spend any more time with this guy than I have to.”
“Hey guys,” Castillo called out to them, “Edgerton didn’t want to interrupt you so he texted me.”
“What’s up?” Ray asked.
“You should head back to the station. He just got a call from a sheriff in Missouri. He recognized the MO. It looks like our guy has done this before.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Keri, Ray, and the team were all in Lieutenant Hillman’s office with the door closed. It was quieter than the bullpen, so they could better conduct the conference call with Sheriff Mitch Calvert of Boone County, Missouri, which according to a quick map search, included the city of Columbia.
“Our entire team is on with you, Sheriff Calvert,” said Kevin Edgerton, who had spoken briefly with the sheriff earlier. “Can you please tell everyone what you told me before?”
“Sure. Where should I begin?” Calvert asked. From his voice, Keri guessed he was in his fifties or sixties.
“Sheriff, this is Lieutenant Cole Hillman. I run the Missing Persons Unit for our West LA Division. We appreciate you reaching out. Maybe you could start by telling us what made you think there might be a connection between our case and yours.”
“Sure. The first thing was the notes—the ransom notes. They’ve got the same kind of language that we got in some notes from a case here about seven years ago.”
“Hi, Sheriff, this is Detective Keri Locke. How were they similar?” Keri asked.