“Got it.”
“And have someone run a background check on the victims. If there are any possible reasons why someone might want to wipe out this entire family—or any one of them—I want to know about it.”
“Will do.”
“I’m going to want someone to comb the area. Talk to all the neighbors. Ask if anyone saw anything suspicious.”
“O-kay …” Tomlinson said, a bit slower than before.
Mike knew why he was hesitating. As any experienced cop would realize, this would be by far the most miserable of the assigned tasks. “Tomlinson, I’m sorry to do this to you … but I’d appreciate it if you’d handle that one yourself.”
To his credit, Tomlinson didn’t bat an eyelash. “Yes sir.”
“I’m going to check out this guy Harvey. He seems to be the one the killer was most interested in. The one he wanted to hurt most. I’ll go to his place of work, talk to his boss, his coworkers. Find out whatever I can. And when the background check is finished, maybe I’ll have some more leads.”
“Sounds good, sir.” There was something about the inflection in Tomlinson’s voice, the way he finished the sentence on an up tonality rather than a down, that told Mike there was more he wanted to say.
“Something else, Sergeant?”
Tomlinson licked his lips. “Sir … I expect you wanted me to get on this right away.…”
“You got that right.”
“Sir … would it be all right if I made a quick dash home? Saw my family?”
A deep crease crossed Mike’s forehead. He’d met Tomlinson’s family a few times—a pretty wife named Karen. A daughter, probably about four or five years old now. He knew Tomlinson was very devoted to them. Which was probably why his marriage still worked, when so many other cops" marriages had failed. “May I ask why?”
“I don’t know, sir. I just …” His eyes drifted back toward the house. The house of horror. The site of the most violent, grisly murder the two of them had ever witnessed. “I’d just like to check on everyone. That’s all. Won’t take a minute.”
Mike laid his hand on his protégé’s shoulder. “You do that, Sergeant. And give them a kiss for me.”
“Yes sir.”
He erased his smile. “And then get to work. Double time. Understand?”
“Yes sir!”
“Good.” He turned and stared up at the house, at the bedroom window—the one splattered with blood. “I don’t know what happened in there. But I intend to find out.”
Chapter 6
BEN PASSED COPIES OF the three-page document to the rest of his staff: Christina, Jones, and Loving. He gave them ten minutes to scrutinize the document, although it could easily be read in half that time.
“This is what I’ve managed to come up with,” Ben explained. “Think it’ll get their attention?”
Jones flipped past the standard identification of the parties and their places of residence and cut to the gravamen of the Complaint. “Paragraph Eight. That Defendant H. P. Blaylock knowingly or with reckless disregard poisoned the plaintiffs" water supply with toxic chemicals. Paragraph Nine. That the chemicals discharged by Defendant H. P. Blaylock included TCE, a powerful neural poison, which causes symptoms ranging from dizziness and nausea to liver damage and cancer. Paragraph Ten. That the Defendant’s aforementioned activities resulted in an epidemic of leukemia and the deaths of eleven children, as well as injuries to their families, including but not limited to emotional distress and the real and perceived danger of an increased risk of leukemia and other cancers and diseases in the surviving family members.”
Jones looked up from the paper, his face deadpan. “Yeah, Boss. I think that might get their attention.”
“So what’re we askin" for?” Loving asked. Loving was Ben’s investigator. He’d bumped heads with Ben years ago under adverse circumstances (Ben represented his wife in their divorce) but nonetheless became a fiercely loyal member of Ben’s team. He was a huge bear of a man; his shoulders were broad enough to fit snugly between two goalposts. “What’s the bottom line?”
Ben flipped to the last page of the Complaint. “Paragraph Fourteen. For the aforementioned injuries, plaintiffs seek actual damages for injuries incurred, damages for emotional distress, pain and suffering, and punitive damages for the willful and wanton acts of the Defendant in an amount not less than one million dollars.”
Loving pursed his lips and whistled. “That’s some Complaint, Skipper. You really think you could get a million bucks?”
“He’d better get more,” Jones commented. “It’ll probably cost that much just to try this sucker.”
“The amount requested in the Complaint doesn’t really mean anything,” Ben explained. “I didn’t want to stir up trouble by tossing out too huge a number. Between now and trial, we’ll figure out what to ask the jury for. Frankly, a million dollars wouldn’t even cover our clients" medical bills.”
“When are you planning to file this, Ben?” Christina asked.
“Right now. Assuming you three don’t have any changes or suggestions?”
“And when will the big boys down at Raven, Tucker & Tubb get it?”
“Just as soon as it’s filed. I’m going to walk it over to the Bank of Oklahoma Tower and hand-deliver it myself.”
“Uh, Skipper,” Loving interjected, “have you considered, maybe, usin" a courier service?”
“Why?”
Loving tossed his copy down on a desk. “I don’t think you wanna be around when the powers-that-be read this.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I don’t think so. A Complaint like this could do some real damage to an outfit like Blaylock. "Specially once the press gets wind of it.”
“Which they will,” Jones interjected. “Blaylock will have to take this case very seriously.”
Ben didn’t respond. Deep down, he knew they were right. Blaylock would perceive this as a threat to their corporate integrity, not to mention their bottom line. Raven, Tucker & Tubb would perceive this as an opportunity to rack up some major billable hours. This suit would be big news throughout the legal community—in fact, probably throughout the state.
“All the more reason for us to get to work,” Ben said. “I expect each of you to give this case your full attention. Whatever else you’ve got going, put it on the back burner. We have to move fast or we’re going to get trampled.” He handed each staff member a legal pad that outlined their assignments. “Christina, I know you’re getting close to finals. Do you have time to do some intensive legal research?”
“Of course. I make it a practice never to study for final exams until the night before.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “I think we can fairly anticipate Raven will try to bury us in a sea of motions. They’ll take advantage of the fact that they have a hundred lawyers and we have one.”
“One and a half,” Christina corrected.
“As you say. You think you can anticipate what they’ll file?”
She shrugged. “Sure. Discovery motions. Motion to dismiss for failure to state a claim.”
“Exactly right,” Ben said. “And the last is the one that scares me. Find some similar cases. Some legal precedent in our favor.”
“I know I can find similar cases,” Christina answered. “In fact, I’ve already found some. The Woburn, Massachusetts, case that was in that book, A Civil Action. The Tom’s River case. The outbreaks in Montana and east New Jersey. The problem is—they all feature plaintiffs who get creamed.”
“Find one that’s different. It’s critical that we be able to show the judge we have some potential for success at trial.” He turned his attention to Loving. “We’re going to need some witnesses to prop up all these claims in the Complaint.”