Mary Jane's Grave (17 page)

That night, I slept soundly for the first time in weeks. My mind and body were screaming for more than two hours of rest. I actually slept eight full hours. I woke up feeling almost myself again. I was refreshed, content and ready to tackle my first day back to work since Michael had come back.

Everyone noticed the change in my demeanor and appearance. Naomi was, of course, the only one who commented on it when she saw me walking down the hall toward my office. She was standing outside the secretary’s door.

“Well, this is certainly an improvement. You look better, and I’m guessing you feel better. Am I right or wrong?”

I smiled. “Definitely right. I feel better than I have in weeks—obviously.”

“If you’re not doing anything for lunch, get with me. You can give me the gritty details then!”

I agreed to meet her for lunch, if I could get caught up on some things. I started pulling sticky notes full of messages off my desk when my gaze caught my handwritten notes on the Melissa Drake murder. I had forgotten several things I had wanted to do, including finding out the circumstances of Daniel Griffin’s first animal cruelty conviction. I figured now was as good a time as any to go downstairs and dig through the files. This time I had a report number, so it wouldn’t take me as long.

I was whistling and singing most of the way to the storeroom, feeling like a teenager in the throes of her first crush. I was even more jubilant when the box I was looking for was right by the door. I flipped through the files, reading all the numbers, until I came across what I was looking for. Instead of taking the file back up to my office, I decided to look at it here. That way, if there was nothing of consequence in it, I wouldn’t have to make a second trip down.

I opened the file and begin flipping through the pages, but didn’t find what I was looking for. When I stood, still holding the file, a small brown envelope fell out of it onto the floor. Photographs. I set the file down and grabbed the envelope. When I pulled the first picture out, I felt my blood run cold.

It was a photograph of the animal victim of Daniel Griffin’s crime: a dog that had been skinned alive.

The dog in the photograph eerily resembled the dog found at the cemetery, minus the burn marks and ritualism. Daniel Griffin had been twenty years old when he committed this crime. He had served nine months in the county jail before being released and put on probation for a year.

One would think since he had a prior conviction of the same, the judge would have come down a little harder on him. Then again, this is Richland County; clearly not much changes in twenty years. This is the only county in which a convicted child molester might not serve a day in prison and only get probation.

Feeling my pulse quicken, I grabbed the case file and photographs and almost jogged back upstairs to my office. There were a lot of things I needed to find out and confirm before I got too excited about Daniel Griffin. He would be in his midforties by now, if he was even still alive.

I called the Communications Center and gave them the names and Social Security numbers of all the suspects in the Melissa Drake murder. I asked them to locate a current address and phone number, if possible. It should have been easy if they were all still living in Ohio because the checks would be done through the bureau of motor vehicles. If any of them had recently moved out of state, the BMV would note that on their record and list the state where they’d obtained a new driver’s license.

I was tapping my fingernails on my desk and chewing my bottom lip when my phone rang five minutes later. They had located only two of them.

“Damn!” I cursed into the phone.

“Sorry, Sergeant.” The dispatcher was nervous. “If you want, we can try to do an NCIC search on the national database if that helps. It’ll take some time and they’ll have to have committed crimes to show up.”

“It’s not your fault. I wasn’t yelling at you. Go ahead with the NCIC thing.” I had a thought. “Also, check the last names locally. Maybe I can track down their parents or relatives if they’re still around.”

“Will do, Sergeant.”

They had located Meghan Dearth and Nicole Harstein, two of the more important ones, but not Daniel Griffin. Meghan Dearth was in Cincinnati, and Nicole had just moved to Indianapolis from Dayton a month ago. I was actually closer to Indianapolis. I looked at my watch and figured I could be there, talk to Nicole for twenty minutes, and get back by the end of the day. It would take me three and a half hours to get there, three if I took a marked cruiser.

I had to talk to her in person since I already knew she would probably hang up on me if I called. Same with Meghan Dearth. I couldn’t help finding some joy in meeting Meghan Dearth. Few times in my life I’ve had the opportunity to go up against someone like her. Each time I’ve walked away with the upper hand, leaving them to feel as small as an amoeba on a grain of sand. That was exactly what I intended to do with her, whether or not I got any answers. The sad and realistic fact was that she got away with murder, and I find that disgraceful to say the least.

I would go to Cincinnati tomorrow since it was a fourhour drive. It’s one of my favorite cities, and I wondered if Michael would want to go with me. I thought after I was done talking to Meghan, we could go have dinner on one of the riverboats. I called him.

He couldn’t go to Cincinnati and was less than thrilled that I was driving to Indianapolis, mainly because I would be late getting home.
I already miss you like crazy,
was his reasoning. I assured him it would still be daylight when I got home. Then I hung up.

I informed Naomi what I was doing and canceled our lunch date before gathering my things and heading out. Once on the interstate, I called a friend at Indianapolis PD, Detective Ron Armbruster. Ron and I had taken several training seminars together and kept in touch every couple of months or so. He was thrilled that I was coming and agreed to meet me at a restaurant on the west side. He was going to drive by Nicole’s house first, to make sure she was home. If not, he would try to track her down before I arrived.

I had forgotten how much I loathed the drive to Indianapolis. Once you get to Dayton, the ride is fine, but the stretch of Interstate 70 from Dayton to Indianapolis is awful. It’s nothing but flat cornfields the entire way. I was hoping I wouldn’t get stuck in traffic in Columbus and counted myself fortunate when I didn’t. I actually arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes early. Ron was already waiting for me.

“CeeCee Gallagher, how the hell are ya? Oh, forgot, it’s
Sergeant
Gallagher now. Whoo, whoo, whoo!” Ron gave me a tight squeeze.

In his late forties, Ron was overweight with thinning brown hair, a large bulbous nose and rosy cheeks. He always reminded me of one of the Campbell’s Soup kids. Ron was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.

We went inside to grab a quick lunch and get a game plan together. Plus, it gave us time to catch up. Ron had driven past Nicole’s house and saw a brand- new Lexus, registered to her, in the driveway.

“She lives in a hoity-toity gated community, definitely high up on the food chain. Chances are she doesn’t even work. I’m sure her hubby is quite the sugar daddy. Oh, her married name is Judson.”

I nodded. “I know, it showed on her driver’s license. By the way, what a sexist thing to say about having a sugar daddy,” I kidded. “She could be a doctor or something.”

He rolled his eyes. “I doubt it.”

“Pig.”

We finished our lunch and joked with each other some more before going to Nicole’s house. I left my car at the restaurant and rode with Ron, since he knew where he was going.

When we pulled through the gates, I was in awe. My house was fairly large by normal standards, but these homes were utterly gargantuan. I’d estimate that the lowest priced home was at least five million dollars.

Ron made his way to a cul-de-sac at the end of the first road, turned into the driveway of one of the colossal homes and parked behind a black Lexus SUV that stood just outside the garage.

“Good Lord!” I looked up at the home. “What do these people do for a living?”

“Who the fuck knows. All I know is I’m in the wrong job. I estimate this house is twelve thousand square feet, minimum, and it’s one of the smaller ones.”

“And to think, I thought I was the shit, living in a six thousand-square-foot house,” I remarked.

“Your house is six thousand square feet? Jesus Christ! You guys on the take up there in Mansfield or what?”

I giggled as I got out of the car. Ron was still shaking his head and mumbling
,
“six thousand square feet,” as I rang the doorbell. After several minutes, we still hadn’t gotten an answer. Ron walked up and pounded so hard on the door I thought he’d break it.

“Probably need a goddamn PA system to hear the fucking front door in this house!” he griped.

It was another couple of minutes before an intercom, which was situated by the doorbell, came to life.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice came through the speaker, almost in a whisper.

“Oh this is fuckin’ beautiful. Goddamn rich people!” Ron muttered.

I turned around and socked his arm before putting my finger up to my lips to shush him.

“Yes, I’m looking for Nicole Judson,” I announced.

“Who are you?”

I prodded Ron. I didn’t want to tell her who I was until I saw her face-to-face. She’d never answer the door otherwise. Ron put his mouth right to the intercom. I had to suppress my laughter.

“Uh, ma’am, I’m Detective Armbruster of the Indianapolis Police Department. Myself and this other officer would like to ask Mrs. Judson a few questions if possible.” He stood up and looked pleased with himself.

“What’s this about?” The woman sounded nervous.

Ron grimaced and turned red. I caught it just before he exploded. He had less patience than I did, if that’s possible.

“Mrs. Judson, is that you I’m speaking to?” I intervened. “Please come to the door. I assure you that neither you nor any of your family are in trouble. The quicker you can answer our questions the quicker we’ll get out of here. Please.”

There was a long pause. “All right, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Judas priest!” Ron started again. “These people need an act of fuckin’ congress to open the door or what? Goddamn rich people!”

“So you’ve said before,” I whispered. “C’mon, Ron, take some deep breaths.”

“I’m fine. I just remember a time when, if you knocked on someone’s door and told them it was the police, they answered it, no questions asked. That’s the way it should be.”

Before I had a chance to reply, the door opened just a crack. An attractive, dark-haired woman peered around it.

“May I see your badges, please?”

I quickly put my hand on Ron’s arm and gave him a
just do it and don’t bitch
look. Smiling, I held my badge and identification forward so the woman could see it. She immediately became alarmed. This was what I was afraid of.

“Richland County? I thought you said you were local? You don’t have jurisdiction here!”

I felt Ron step forward so I stretched my arm out to block him and spoke first.

“Ma’am, Detective Armbruster
is
with the Indianapolis Police. He is merely here with me out of courtesy while I ask you a few questions,” I said calmly.

“I can’t imagine what you could possibly want to ask me, Sergeant, but I have nothing to say to you.” She started to shut the door. I wedged my foot inside before she could close it.

“Mrs. Judson—I’m assuming you
are
Mrs. Judson—there has been another girl murdered at Mary Jane’s Grave, similar to the one you and your friends were accused of. Now, I really hope your conscience has gotten the better of you over the last twenty years and you’ll help me. I don’t need to remind you that you cannot be tried for aggravated murder again, regardless of what you say.”

She looked horrified. “Get your foot out of my door, Sergeant. You assholes up there in Mansfield are the ones who tried me for murder and you expect me to talk now? Forget it!” She looked behind her, then lowered her voice. “I’m a mother now, and I’ve really put all of that behind me. Now please leave.”

“I believe Daniel Griffin had something to do with this current murder, Nicole,” I declared, and waited.

I noticed she winced at the mention of Daniel’s name. She also started breathing harder as her chest began rising and falling quicker.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll leave,” I said softly.

She wiped the sweat that had formed on her forehead. “Ten minutes. I’ll open the garage door. We’ll talk in there. You have to be gone before my husband gets home.”

She shut the door. While Ron and I walked toward the garage door, it opened. After we walked in, it shut behind us. Nicole came out, wearing a black velvet sweat suit and black flip-flops. Her dark hair was pulled back into a braid. She had no makeup on but was very pretty.

“Let’s make this quick. My husband doesn’t know any of this. Quite frankly, he’d probably have a heart attack if he found out.”

It was extremely stupid of her to tell me that. Judging by Ron’s smile, he thought the same thing. Now she had to talk to me. If she changed her mind, I would only have to
suggest
that it might benefit us to speak to her husband.

“Mrs. Judson, you just moved here, is that right?” I began with noninvasive questions.

“Yes, that’s right. My husband is chief of oncology at St. Anne’s Medical Center.”

“Do you work?” I pretended to write in my notebook.

“No.”

I ignored Ron’s
told you so
glance. “Mrs. Judson, when is the last time you were in Mansfield, Ohio?”

She stiffened. “I left the day I graduated from high school and I haven’t been back since. My parents moved to Florida that summer so I’ve had no reason or desire to ever go there again.”

“Do you keep in touch with any of your friends, like Meghan Dearth…or Daniel Griffin?” I stared dead at her.

She turned red. “Daniel Griffin was
never
my friend, let’s get that straight. Secondly, I haven’t talked to Meghan since we were in court together. After all of that, my parents wouldn’t allow me to be around her.”

“Why? According to the jury, you guys did nothing wrong,” I said.

She gasped. “I just meant because she was hanging around a guy like Daniel Griffin, that’s all!”

“A guy she had sex with and gave blow jobs to in the back of your car in exchange for killing someone. Does that sound about right?” I continued to stare.

Her head swung back and forth between me and Ron, her face now a deep shade of red. She looked like she was about to cry.

“I’m done.” Her voice cracked. “Now please leave.”

She turned to walk toward the door leading into her house when I calmly made a suggestion.

“Mrs. Judson, Detective Armbruster and I were wondering if it wouldn’t benefit us to wait for your husband. Maybe you did tell him some things and he could give us a little insight.” I was being tremendously unethical, but God knows I’ve done worse.

She turned around and shot me a glare that would’ve melted an iceberg. I stayed cool and composed.

“I know who you are, Sergeant. I’ve seen you on TV. We’ll see what my lawyer and the news stations think about you threatening me,” she said arrogantly.

“That’s fine. However, by the time all that rolls around you’ll still be explaining to your husband why you were tried for murder,” I said.

She was shaking as she sat down on one of the two steps that led into the house. Hanging her head in defeat, she sniffled and wipe tears from her eyes before nodding.

“I’ll never forget that day as long as I live,” she murmured. I quickly reached into my pocket and hit the record button of my tape recorder. “You didn’t back talk to Meghan, that’s for sure. Everyone always went along with everything she said. God forbid you argued with her. She’d make you an outcast in a heartbeat and turn your life into a living hell. I watched her ruin girls’ lives for the rest of their school years even if they really didn’t do anything wrong. No one could talk to them—I mean no one. If Meghan caught you talking or being nice to any girl she had made an outcast, you’d be right there with her. I fucking hated Meghan Dearth.” She sniffed and wiped her her nose. “When Derek Solis dumped Meghan for Melissa, she went postal. None of us had ever seen Meghan that mad, and we saw her mad plenty. But this was different. She’d never been dumped before. I remember when they broke up she went on this rampage for days, just really reckless behavior. She’d get drunk and drive a hundred miles an hour, hitting mailboxes on purpose, things like that. One night, we were at this party and she was snorting coke like it was going out of style. After that, she found a gun in one of the bedrooms and came out pointing it at everybody, laughing.” She inhaled deeply and let it out. “She didn’t find out about Melissa until almost a week after they had broken up. That’s when she really flipped. I remember her exact words—she screamed them in the middle of the cafeteria. She said ‘I can’t believe he dumped me for that greasy, cow- shit- eating, horse- dick- sucking, nasty little bitch!’”