Rage

CHAPTER 14

Drew Daney came through the gateway gripping two large bags of groceries in each arm. An even larger mesh sack filled with oranges dangled from his right thumb.

Cherish took the fruit and reached for one of the bags.

Daney held on. “I’m okay, Cher.” Dark eyes sighted us over the groceries. He stopped and placed the load on the ground.

“Dr. Delaware.”

“You remember.”

“It’s an unusual name,” he said, coming forward. His wrestler’s frame had taken on fifteen or so pounds, most of them soft, and his thick, wavy hair was graying at the temples. He wore a beard now, a stubbly silver thing, neatly trimmed around the edges. His white polo shirt was spotless and pressed. So were his blue jeans. Same color scheme as his wife.

“Also,” he said, “I read your report to the judge, so your name stuck in my mind.”

Cherish looked at him and went inside the house.

“How’d you come to read it?” I said.

“Sydney Weider wanted my opinion, as Troy’s counselor. I told her I thought it was a careful document. You didn’t want to go out on a limb and say something unscientific. But you clearly weren’t willing to give the boys a pass.”

“A pass on murder?” said Milo.

“At the time we were hoping for a miracle.”

“We?”

“The boys’ families, Sydney, my wife, myself. It just seemed that putting the boys away forever wouldn’t solve anything.”

“Forever turned out to be eight years, Reverend,” said Milo.

“Detective… what’s your name, please- ”

“Sturgis.”

“Detective Sturgis, in the life of a child, eight years is eternity.” Daney ran a hand through his hair. “In Troy’s case, a month was eternity. And now Rand… unbelievable.”

“Any idea who might’ve wanted to hurt Rand, sir?”

Daney’s lips puffed. His toe scuffed one of the grocery bags and he lowered his voice. “I don’t want my wife hearing this, but there probably is something you should know.”

“Probably?”

Daney eyed the front door of his house. “Could we find a place to talk later?”

“Sooner’s better than later, sir.”

“Okay, sure, I see your point. I’ve got a youth council meeting in Sylmar at two. I could leave a little early and meet you in, say, ten minutes?”

“Sounds good,” said Milo. “Where?”

“How about at the Dipsy Donut on Vanowen, a few blocks west.”

“We’ll be there, Reverend.”

“Both of you?” he said.

“Dr. Delaware’s consulting on the case.”

“Ah,” said Daney. “Makes sense.”

“Told you,” said Milo, as we drove away. “You’re still the opposing team.”

“And you?”

“I’m the sleuth assigned the honor of clearing Duchay’s murder.”

“Want me to wait in the car while you two bond?”

“Right. Wonder what the rev wants to keep from his wife.”

“Sounds like something that would scare her.”

“Scary,” he said, “is always interesting.”

The doughnut stand was a flimsy white booth on a cracked blacktop lot, topped by a six-foot, partially eaten doughnut with humanoid features. Brown plaster, chipped in several spots, tried to resemble chocolate. Wild-eyed merriment said the deep-fried creature loved being devoured. Three grubby-looking aluminum table-and-bench sets were scattered on the asphalt. The signage had lost a couple of letters.

DI SY DON T

Milo said, “And here I was thinking she did.”

The place was full of customers. We went inside and breathed fat and sugar and waited in line as three harried kids bagged and served oversized fritters to a salivating throng. Milo bought a dozen assorted, finished a jelly and a chocolate in the time it took to get back to the car.

“Hey,” he said, “it’s part of the job description. And chewing’s aerobic.”

“Enjoy.”

“You say that but you’ve got this disapproving thing going on.”

I took a hubcap-sized apple Danish out of the box and got to work on it. “Satisfied?”

“Creative people are never satisfied.”

We sat in the Seville where he polished off a jelly-filled.

I said, “Wonder what Rand did between six-thirty and nine.”

“Me, too. Forgot coffee, want some?”

“No, thanks.”

He returned to the doughnut shack just as the Reverend Drew Daney drove up in an older white Jeep. I got out of the car and Milo came back with two coffees.

He offered Daney the doughnut box.

Daney had added a blue blazer to his ensemble, had his hands in his pockets. “Any crèmes?”

The three of us sat at one of the outdoor tables. Daney found a raspberry crème, bit into it, exhaled with satisfaction. “Guilty pleasures, huh?”

“You got it, Reverend.”

“I’m not ordained so you can just call me Drew.”

“Didn’t finish seminary?”

“Chose not to,” said Daney. “Same for Cherish. We both got involved in youth work and decided that was our calling. I don’t regret it. A pulpit is usually more about internal politics than good works.”

“Youth work,” said Milo, “as in foster care.”

“Foster care, homeschooling, coaching, counseling. I work with several nonprofits- the meeting in Sylmar.” He looked at his watch. “Better cut to the chase. This is probably nothing but I feel it’s my duty to tell you.”

He finished his doughnut, wiped crumbs from his lap. “Six months ago, Rand was transferred to Camarillo, awaiting discharge. Thursday night my wife and I drove up and brought him home. He looked as if he’d landed on another planet.”

“Disoriented,” I said, using his wife’s term.

“More than that. Stunned. Think about it, Doctor. Eight years of extreme structure- his entire adolescence spent behind bars- and now he’s released to a strange new world. We fed him dinner, showed him his room, and he went straight to bed. All we had was a converted service porch, but I tell you, that boy looked grateful to be in a small space again. The next morning, I was up at six-thirty as usual, went to check on him. His bed was empty, made up neat as a pin. I found him outside, sitting on the front steps. He looked worse than the previous night. Dark circles under his eyes. Really jumpy. I asked him what was wrong and he just stared at our front gate, which was wide open. I told him everything would be okay, he needed to give himself time. That only made him more agitated- he started shaking his head, really fast. Then he covered his face with his hands.”

Daney demonstrated. “It was as if he was hiding from something. Playing ostrich. I pried his fingers loose and asked him what was wrong. He didn’t answer and I told him it was important for him to let his feelings out. Finally, he told me someone was watching him. That caught me off-guard but I tried not to show it. I asked him who. He said he didn’t know but he’d heard sounds at night- someone moving around outside his window. The property’s small and neither my wife nor I had heard anything. I asked him what time. He said during the night, he didn’t have a watch. Then he said he heard it again early morning- right after sunrise- got up and found the gate open and saw a truck driving away fast. We always close the gate, but it’s just a pull-latch and sometimes if it’s not shut tight, the wind blows it open. So I didn’t consider that any big deal.”

“What kind of truck?” said Milo.

“He said a dark pickup. I didn’t push him because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. It just didn’t seem that important.”

Milo said, “You doubted his credibility.”

“It’s not a matter of credibility,” said Daney. “Dr. Delaware, you tested Rand. Have you told the detective how severely learning disabled he was?”

I nodded.

“Now, combine that with the challenge of reentry.”

I said, “Had you known him to fantasize about things that didn’t exist?”

“Like a hallucination?” said Daney. “No. That’s not what happened Friday. It was more… exaggerating normal events. I figured he’d heard a bird or a squirrel.”

“Now you’re not sure,” said Milo.

“In view of what happened,” said Daney, “I’d be foolish not to wonder.”

“Anything happen between Friday and Saturday night?”

“He didn’t say anything more about being watched or the dark truck and I didn’t bring it up,” said Daney. “He took a walk and came back and said he’d been by a construction site and was going to go back in the afternoon to talk to the boss.”

“What time was the first walk?” said Milo.

“We eat early… maybe eight, eight-thirty a.m.”

“What kind of job was he looking for?”

“Anything, I guess. He had no real skills.”

“C.Y.A. rehabilitation,” I said.

Daney’s husky shoulders bunched. “Don’t get me started.”

Milo said, “Sir, your wife says Rand left at five p.m. to meet the supervisor. But the site closes down by noon.”

“I guess Rand was misinformed, Detective. Or someone misled him.”

“Why would they do that?”

“People like Rand tend to be misled.” He consulted his watch again and stood. “Sorry, I need to get going.”

“One more question,” said Milo. “I’m going to be contacting Rand’s family. Any idea where to start?”

“Don’t bother to start,” said Daney. “There’s no one. His grandmother died several years ago. Complications of heart disease. I was the one who informed Rand.”

“How’d he react?”

“Just what you’d imagine. He was extremely upset.” He glanced at his Jeep. “I don’t know if any of this was useful, but I thought I should tell you.”

Milo said, “I appreciate it, sir. You didn’t want your wife to know because…”

“No sense upsetting her. Even if it was relevant, it would have nothing to do with her.”

“Is there anything else that might help me, sir?” said Milo.

Daney jammed his hand in his pocket. Looked at the Jeep again. Ran a hand across the steel needles of his beard. “This is… ticklish. I really don’t know if I should be bringing it up.”

“Bring what up, sir?”

“Rand was found far from home, so I was thinking, maybe that truck… what if someone did take him for a ride?” He tried to tug at an eighth-inch beard hair, finally managed to pincer one between his fingernails, pulled, stretched his cheek.

“A dark pickup,” said Milo. “That ring any bells?”

“That’s the thing,” said Daney. “It does, but I’m really not comfortable… I know this is a murder investigation, but if you could be discreet…”

“About what?”

“Quoting me as the source,” said Daney. He bit his lip. “There’s a whole lot of history here.”

“Something to do with eight years ago?”

Daney pulled at his cheek again. Created a lopsided frown.

“I’ll be as discreet as possible, sir,” said Milo.

“I know you will…” Daney turned as a truck loaded with bags of fertilizer drove onto the lot. Dark blue. A stick-on sign said Hernandez Landscaping. Two mustachioed guys in dusty jeans and baseball caps got out and entered the doughnut stand.

Daney said, “See what I mean, pickups are all over. I’m sure it’s no big deal.”

“Give it a shot, anyway, Mr. Daney. For Rand’s sake.”

Daney sighed. “Okay…” Another sigh. “Barnett Malley- Kristal Malley’s father drives a dark pickup. Or at least he used to.”

“Eight years ago?” said Milo.

“No, no, more recently. Two years ago. That’s when I ran into him at a True Value hardware store not far from here. I was buying parts to fix a garbage disposal and he was loading up on tools. I noticed him right away but he didn’t see me. I tried to avoid him but we encountered each other at the register. I let him go ahead of me, watched him leave and get into his truck. A black pickup.”

“You two talk?” said Milo.

“I wanted to,” said Daney. “Wanted to tell him I could never really understand his pain but that I’d prayed for his daughter. Wanted to let him know that just because I’d reached out to Troy and Rand didn’t mean I didn’t understand his tragedy. But he gave me a look that said ‘Don’t go there.’ ”

He hugged himself.

“Hostile,” I said.

“More than that, Doctor.”

“How much more?” said Milo.

“His eyes,” said Daney. “Pure hatred.”

We watched the white Jeep drive off.

Milo said, “Barnett Malley. It has now officially gotten messy. So how would an ambush fit the time frame- and the call to you an hour and a half after he left the Daneys’?”

“Rand could’ve lied to the Daneys about going to the construction site.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he had a meeting before the one with me and didn’t want them to know about it. With Barnett Malley.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I told you he sounded troubled. If guilt was weighing him down and he was trying to prove he was a good person, who better to ask for forgiveness than Malley?”

“Daney said he was freaked out by being watched.”

“But the next morning he looked better. Maybe he’d somehow made contact with Malley, decided to take positive action. State law requires notification of victims’ families when a felon’s released, so Malley would’ve known Rand was out. What if Malley kept an eye on Rand, confronted him face-to-face during Rand’s first trip to the site at eight a.m.? They agreed to meet later and Rand invented the appointment with the construction supervisor as cover.”

“Not an ambush,” he said. “He gets in Malley’s truck voluntarily, then it goes bad.”

“Rand was impressionable, not very smart, eager for absolution. If Malley came across friendly- forgiving- Rand would’ve been eager to buy it.”

“Okay, let’s think this through. Rand hooks up with Malley around five p.m., Malley drives him into the city, drops him off at the mall, and Rand calls you to set up another meeting? Why, Alex?”

First time using the victim’s first name. Some kind of transition had taken place.

I said, “Don’t know. Unless, Rand and Malley had made peace and Rand decided to keep the process going.”

He rubbed his face vigorously, as if washing without water. “Not much of a peace if Malley shot him. What, Malley dropped him off, then picked him up again?”

“Maybe Malley had more to talk about.”

“The two of them rode around together schmoozing about the bad old days, Malley decided to off him rather than let him eat pizza with you? Even if we can explain all that, the big question remains: If this is all about payback, why would Malley wait eight years?”

“Maybe he was willing to wait for both boys to get out but a C.Y.A. gangbanger beat him to Troy.”

“So he bides his time on Rand.” He drank coffee. “According to Daney, Malley was still heated up two years ago.”

“Malley wanted the death penalty,” I said. “Some wounds never heal.”

“Theory, theory, theory. So, now what? I intrude on a couple who lost their kid in the worst possible way because hubby gave Daney a dirty look two years ago and he drives a black pickup?”

“It could be touchy,” I said.

“It could require some serious psychological sensitivity.”

I took a bite of Danish. A few minutes ago it had tasted great. Now it was deep-fried dust.

“Do I have to spell it out, Alex? I’d rather you do it and I’ll watch.”

“You’re not worried my presence will disrupt?”

“The defense saw you as pro-prosecution, so maybe the Malleys will remember you fondly for the same reason.”

“No reason for them to remember me at all,” I said. “Never met them.”

“Really?”

“There was no reason to.” Funny how defensive that sounded.

“Well,” he said, “now there’s a reason.”