Below him, Max studied the faxes. “This one in Half Moon Bay is the only one in California.”
“Sure doesn’t fall in with the rest,” Garza said. “Newer, too. Two years.”
Juana Davis came in, poured herself a cup of coffee, picked up the other stack of copies from Harper’s desk, and sat down on the leather couch. Placing her coffee cup on the end table, she slipped off her shoes. “Hyden and Anderson all tucked in?” Juana yawned, looking as if she meant to head for home, too, very shortly.
“When I left,” Harper said, “they were still at it. They’ve uncovered a second body.”
Davis nodded, as if she was not surprised. She looked at the chart, remarked on the Santa Cruz case, then was quiet, studying the comparisons. Joe could see Max’s copy clearly, over the chief’s left shoulder. Mabel had laid it out in three time periods, giving not only date and place but the barest facts as well. For Joe, this was far more legible than the computer screen where, too often, the lights bounced and reflected. From the preliminary forensics information on the new grave, some of these cases were way too old.
In two instances, twenty years ago, the suspected abductor had been a father who did not have custody and was never apprehended. Fifteen years ago, a missing Oregon child was later found, washed up from the ocean. The time frame of the other cases, where children hadn’t been found, ran in three batches. The oldest three cases were children who had disappeared nearly fifty years ago. That seemed monstrous to Joe, that those cases had not been solved after half a century and, most likely, never would be. Their parents were dead and gone, their siblings growing old.
Seven cases in the Pacific Northwest had occurred between six and eight years ago. That would fit Hyden’s guess on this time of death. Those children had lived in an area that ran from Tacoma to Seattle. All had disappeared from schoolyards or from playgrounds near their own schools. None had been found. “Full cases on the way?” Davis asked. Harper nodded.
In the largest group of missing children, the bodies had been found; that was some thirty years ago, again not a match. But the officers knew this case, and read with deep interest, making Joe frown. Looking for some connection? Those deaths had occurred in the L.A. area, from 1971 to 1974. All twelve children were found in 1974. Harper looked up at Davis and Garza. “You knew that Patty Rose’s grandson was one of them.”
The officers nodded. From the report, the bodies had been buried in the walls of a condemned and boarded-up church that was waiting to be torn down. Four men were subsequently arrested. A Kendall Border and a Craig Vernon of Norwalk, a Harold Timmons of L.A., and an Irving Fenner of Glendale. The children were between the ages of four and seven, all from the greater L.A. area.
Harper said, “Patty’s daughter, the little boy’s mother, was killed soon afterward in what appeared to be a one-car wreck. Car went over a cliff, up in Canada. No one could ever prove it was other than an accident.” Harper had that intense, bird-dog look on his face that rang all kinds of alarms for Joe.
“Craig Vernon, the child’s father, got murder one, as did Border. Both were put to death. There was not enough evidence to convict Timmons or Fenner for murder. Timmons got fifteen on circumstantial evidence, Fenner twenty-five, same charge.
“They were members of a small, pseudo-religious cult led by Fenner. They met three or four times a week, without city permission, in the condemned church. Over the years, Patty told me quite a bit.
“Marlie and Craig Vernon had been married about seven years. They both worked in the film industry, Marlie as a secretary, Craig in the script department of MGM. He started staying out late, not telling Marlie where he’d been. She had the usual suspicions, that it was another woman. But then he began to look at and treat their little boy strangely. Asking him a lot of questions. Acting, Patty said, more like the child’s psychiatrist than his father. That’s the way she put it.
“When children in the L.A. area began to disappear, Marlie grew uneasy. Started putting things together-Craig’s actions, the newspaper stories. By the time she grew sufficiently alarmed to do anything, to report Craig, it was too late.” Harper shuffled the papers on his desk. “The sitter usually left at five and Craig would be there with the boy until Marlie got home around six-thirty.
“She got home from work on a Friday night, both Craig and the boy were gone. When Craig got home around midnight, she’d already called the police. He said he’d left around four, had to run some errands. Said he left the boy with the sitter, paid her extra to stay late.
“Sitter testified that she’d left at the usual time, that Craig was there, no discussion of her staying later, that nothing had seemed any different than usual.” When Harper moved his chair, Joe slipped along the bookcase so he could still see the reports.
“There were five additional cult members who were never tied directly to the murders. Timmons came out in 1990. The cult leader, Fenner, came out on parole in 1997. Two years later he was back inside on a molesting accusation, got out again just a few months ago.”
“Whatwasthe cult?” Davis asked. “Another sick religion like Manson’s?”
“Fenner started out as a schoolteacher,” Harper said. “Misfit, apparently. Lost his position at several schools, never made tenure. After that he worked as a social worker in a dozen cities under different names, forged credentials. Sure as hell, if we looked at it, we’d find missing children in those areas. And find he was gathering disciples, even then. A pretty sick religion, from what Patty told me. Fenner believed that unusually bright children were put here by the devil. Sent by the devil to destroy the world.”
Davis shook her head. “How were they supposed to do that?”
“Take over corporations, political groups. Slowly build up their own rule that would destroy mankind.”
“Too many bad trips,” Garza said. “Or maybe the bright kids in his classes got the best of him.”
Harper shrugged. “He thought if he could rid the world of all the brighter-than-average children, he could bring about universal peace.”
Davis looked sickened. She shuffled through the reports, scanning them, then looked up. “Patty Rose testified against Vernon.”
Harper nodded. “She didn’t like to talk about the trial. It was Marlie’s testimony that really incriminated Craig, and, apparently, Fenner. Patty believed Marlie was killed because of her testimony-Patty said her own testimony didn’t amount to anything, that she didn’t have much to tell.” Harper frowned. “Patty never described Fenner to me.
“I never asked her much about that time, just let her talk, vent when she wanted to.” He bent to the reports again, as did Davis and Garza. Behind Harper, Joe lay down, drooping his paws over the edge of the shelf. The be-on-the-lookout message would have gone on the computer as soon as Lucinda told Harper about the small man, and would have been read over the radio to officers on patrol. The fact that Fenner hadn’t been picked up likely meant he was long gone-if that man was Fenner. And if he did kill Patty, why would he hang around?
This line of thinking was a real long shot. That case was thirty years old. And yet�
After a few minutes, Davis rose. “I’ll get on the computer, get a description from L.A. Run Timmons and Fenner through NCI, see if there’s anything else. The little man Lucinda saw� We get a match, that’ll give us enough for a warrant.” Davis headed out the door, her midnight sleepiness gone, her dark eyes keen.
On the bookshelf, Joe lay thinking. Until ballistics was in, no one was going to know anything about the weapon. Only that Patty had been killed with soft-nosed bullets, probably small caliber, two lodged in the head, one in her throat. With this ammo, there really wasn’t much likelihood of identifying the weapon; that lead would spread out like a mushroom. The officers had found no casings. Curling deeper among the books, the tomcat closed his eyes, as if set for a long nap. He could hear Juana Davis down the hall in her office, talking. Maybe on the phone to NCI? Sometimes Davis liked to place a call rather than go through the computer. As Harper and Garza rose, moving toward the door, the chief’s phone buzzed. He nodded to Garza to wait.