He went looking for Mike Galaz by instinct.
Taking some chick’s virginity would have been worth big points, but that didn’t matter now. Mickey Harmon was scared. He couldn’t face this alone, and he was afraid of how Jay, who had always been a mamma’s boy, might react. And so Mickey woke Mike up, and they drove out to the place where he and Jay had dumped Julie Marr.
Mickey told Galaz the story on the way, how they had meant to seduce her— his euphemism for date rape—but she’d freaked, fought them, and in slamming around the car, she’d sliced her head open. So much blood. Mickey and Jay panicked, dragging her out of the car to a mesquite tree, covering her with dirt and trash.
But now he wasn’t so sure she was dead.
It turned out that Mickey was right. Julie Marr was alive. They found her wandering dazedly in the desert, blood all over her face.
What are we going to do? asked Mickey, getting that panicky feeling.
Galaz didn’t look at him; he just walked out to meet Julie Marr. When she saw him, her face lit up with relief. Mickey could swear he saw that. She thought Mike was here to rescue her.
He wasn’t prepared for what Galaz did next.
Mickey watched in horror as Galaz raped and strangled Julie Marr. When she wouldn’t die, he stabbed her repeatedly with a knife he produced from his windbreaker.
He should have said something, but his voice was weightless, silent.
This time, they buried Julie Marr under the mesquite tree, digging a shallow grave in the caliche and rocky ground, piling up rocks to keep the animals away.
Mickey was scared.
Mike always knew what to do, though, and he already had a plan. Jay Ramsey, Mike told him, should never know that they’d found Julie Marr alive. Jay came from money and Mike Galaz saw an opportunity for blackmail, a way to control Jay Ramsey and his money.
Don’t even think about going to the police, Galaz told him. You’re as guilty as I am. We’re bound together forever the three of us. You, me, and Jay.
It was the first of many times Mickey would keep his mouth shut.
The pact Mike Galaz and Mickey Harmon made that night lasted until the summer of this year, ending with Mike Galaz’s death in a warehouse fire.
In the aftermath of the fire, Mickey Harmon, cuffed and shackled, led the Tucson Police Department to Julie Marr’s remains. Retired detective Barry Fruchtendler was there to watch as the girl’s bones were unearthed from their shallow grave.
After eighteen years, Julie Marr was finally going home.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
No one can write a book alone. Many people have given generously of their time and expertise to help make this book possible, including—
Florida Locations: The good folks at the Florida Department of Law Enforcement in Tallahassee, Florida: Jennie Khoen, former FDLE Public Information Officer; Kristen Perezluha, FDLE Public Information Officer; Mike Phillips, FDLE Special Agent Supervisor; and Apalachicola historian, Laura Roberts Moody.
Arizona Locations: Leslie Boyer, M.D., Medical Director of the Arizona Poison and Drug Information Center; Michael Crawford of Chandler, Tullar, Udall & Redhair; Lieutenant David Denlinger, Arizona Department of Public Safety; DPS crime lab criminalists Ron Bridgemon (retired), Sue Harvey, John Maciulla, Curtis Reinbold, Seth Ruskin, and Keith Schubert; Ron Thompson, Tucson Police Department; and the folks at the La Posta Quemada Ranch (on which the Bosque Escondido is based), Karen Bachman and Pam Marlow.
Also thanks to Alice Volpe, Tracy Bernstein, Claire Zion, Leslie Gelbman, and Kara Welsh.
To my friends, family, and the people who just plain helped me out, not exclusive to but including: Sinclair Browning, J.R. Dailey, Pete Hautman, J.A. Jance, Mary Logue, Carol Davis Luce, Cliff McCreedy, Barbara Schiller and Allegra Taff; writers group members Sheila Cottrell, Elizabeth Gunn, J.M. Hayes, and E.J. McGill. And to my aunt, Evelyn Ridgway, my mother, Mary Falk, and my husband, Glenn McCreedy, the only person to read my first draft—at his peril.
Special thanks to my three go-to guys: Arizona Department of Public Safety detective Terry Johnson, Tucson Police Department detective Phil Uhall, and Cops ‘n Writers consultant John Cheek (TPD retired). Without you, there would be no book.
Any and all mistakes are mine. No animals were harmed during the writing of this book. I’m available for birthday parties.
All of the above is true, except for the birthday party part.
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SECRETS TO DIE FOR
by L.J. Sellers
