“Then it’s probably a pack of lies.”
Well, at least there was still a spark there. “It might be, honey, but the evidence they’ve gathered is pretty strong against the boys.”
She was quiet, bristling a little.
“It’s up to you, Kimberly.”
“I want to hear it,” she said. “I’ll find out eventually, so I may as well know now.”
“All right, then. I’ll start talking, and if it gets to be too much, just tell me and I’ll stop. Here goes: all four of the boys were from Darnell. Two of them were shot execution style with a single shot between the eyes. Charlie was one of them, the other was a boy named George Rawlins.”
I paused to let her finish crying.
“Go ahead, Dad. I’m sorry.”
“I know, baby. It’s hard. Maybe this isn’t the best time.”
“No Dad, really. I want to hear.”
“Okay. I’m reading from a memorandum now: ‘The other two, Bickham Wright and Robbie Milford, were wounded first; then finished off with head shots. The driver of the van, Bickham Wright, was shot in the groin. Robbie Milford was shot in the lower chest. Police on the scene speculated the shootings may have been gang related, and likely involved drugs; a conclusion they reached in an effort to tie the crime to the recent disappearance of Bickham Wright’s cousin, Ned Denhollen, also from Darnell.’”
Kimberly said, “Mr. Denhollen was our pharmacist. There’s been a rumor he left his wife. Has he been found?”
“There’s nothing in the report about it,” I said. “Here, I’ll read you what I have: ‘Denhollen is or was a Darnell pharmacist. Friends and neighbors interviewed considered Ned and his wife Anita to be living beyond their means, suggesting possible after-hours drug sales. The kill shots appeared to be professional in nature, suggesting a gangland-style murder or underworld execution.’”
“So far, none of this makes any sense,” Kimberly said. “If Mr. Denhollen was selling drugs, they would have shot him, not Charlie and the others.”
“Let me keep reading,” I said. “It starts to come together: ‘Madison Park police discovered the four bodies Sunday morning. Because the area where the bodies were found encompasses both jurisdictions, police officers from Madison Park and Darnell have joined forces to create a task force to investigate the shootings. All four victims were known to police at the scene and therefore identified simultaneously. At 1:25 p.m. today the task force began a thorough search of the victims’ homes, personal belongings, and computers. They discovered several clear, odorless vials of liquid in a box on the top shelf of Bickham Wright’s bedroom closet, which they turned over to a local medical lab for testing. Riley Cobb, a local computer expert, was able to access Robby Milford’s computer. He was able to uncover hundreds of pornographic downloads, as well as a folder named ‘Fuck Club.’”
I waited to see if she had a comment about that. She didn’t.
“Sorry about the language,” I said.
“Its okay, Daddy,” she said. “I’ve heard the word a million times.”
“There’s a lot of stuff about this,” I said. “Rather than read it, I’ll summarize. The task force found several files in the Fuck Club folder on Robbie’s computer, including seven rules for participating in the club, and photographs of three local girls, all nude, all apparently unconscious.
“Who were they, Dad?”
“I don’t have their names yet, but the task force has identified them as local girls, meaning either Darnell or Madison Park, or both.”
“Why were they unconscious? Were they drunk? I don’t understand.”
“This is the part you’re not going to like. The task force is almost certain that the test results on the vials found in Bickham’s closet will reveal GHB, the date rape drug. Based on the files and photographs they uncovered from Robbie’s computer, and the vials found in Bickham’s closet, it looks like the boys had a club where they were drugging girls and having sex with them.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Kimberly shouted. “I don’t know the others. I mean, I know of them, but I don’t know them. But I do know Charlie. He was gorgeous, Dad. He could’ve had any girl. He didn’t need to drug anyone. If there actually was such a club, Charlie couldn’t possibly have been a part of it.”
I had to bite my tongue not to speak. Because not only was Charlie part of it, he was the worst part of it.
“I’m sure you’re right, Kitten. By the time they finish the investigation maybe they’ll conclude it was the other three, not Charlie.”
“I can guarantee it,” she said.
“Well, you certainly knew him better than me,” I said, “so I’m sure you’re right.”
“Did they find any evidence when they searched the van?”
That’s my daughter, I thought.
“In fact, they have. In addition to blood evidence, they’ve found five shell casings that are almost certainly related to the shooting, hundreds of fingerprints, and they’ve collected dozens of hair and fiber samples. They’ve also found numerous semen stains and other bodily fluid stains on sleeping bags found in the back of the van.”
“They’ll test the semen against the boys, won’t they?” she said.
“They will.”
“And if they find a match to Charlie, they’ll think he was in on it.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What do you mean?”
“From what I understand, Charlie’s father is an outstanding criminal lawyer. I’m sure if Charlie is innocent, his father will be able to make a compelling argument to prove it.”
“You believe me, don’t you Dad? About Charlie?”
“I do, honey.”
“Good. I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t.”
“I understand there’s going to be a vigil tonight,” I said. “At the high school.”
“It starts at nine. We’re all going.”
“Well, you be safe, okay?”
“I will. And thanks for trusting me with all this. I won’t tell anyone.”
“No problem. I love you, Kimberly.”
“I love you too, Dad. And…”
“Yes?”
“I loved Charlie.”
I winced. “I know you did, honey.”
Chapter 17
“Donovan, let’s cut to the chase,” said Dr. Nadine Crouch. “This is our third visit, and so far you’ve refused to talk about your parents or your childhood, you’ve refused to talk about your job, or even what you were doing in the moments before the chest pain occurred. So I have to assume you were doing something illegal or immoral.”
She paused to see if her words stirred a reaction in me.
“Do you deny it?” she said.
“Would it bother you?”
She said, “Suppose you found a bird with a broken wing that needs your help. Is it really important how its wing got broken?”
I paused a moment, trying to follow her train of thought. Giving up, I said, “Maybe you should just tell me what you’re trying to say.”
“It’s not my job to judge you.”
“In that case, I don’t deny it.”
“Very well,” she said. “So you were doing something immoral or illegal when the pain began. Is this an activity you’ve engaged in previously?”
“Hypothetically?”
“Of course.”
“Yes.”
“Would I be right in assuming you haven’t suffered chest pains while performing this activity in the past?”
“You would.”
She pursed her lips. “Normally I wouldn’t make a rush to judgment, but you’re not a typical patient. By helping you, I might be protecting others.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. “So what’s the verdict?”
“We haven’t spent enough time together for me to pronounce this with a high degree of certainty. But at first blush, this seems to be a classic example.”