“Your wife killed herself at home?”
“In her own Cadillac.”
“Did your wife have a history of depression?”
That almost imperceptible hesitation again. “My wife probably drank more than what would be considered medicinal, Sergeant. I have a very demanding job, you understand. I guess the loneliness took its toll on her.”
“Your wife have a good relationship with Sandra?”
“My wife may not have been a perfect mother, but she tried hard.”
“And you?”
“As I said, I was probably gone more than I should have been, but I love my daughter, too.”
“So much so that you never once tried to find her in the past five years?”
“Oh, I tried. I definitely tried.”
“How so?”
“I hired a private investigator. One of the best in the county. Here’s the kicker, though. The man Sandra introduced to me as her future husband was Jason Johnson, not Jason
D.D. excused herself to get a glass of water. While she was out, she swung by Detective Cooper’s desk and gave him the heads-up-start running background checks on Jason Johnson as well as Jason Jones.
Cooper just gave her a look. He was the best in the unit at this kind of stuff, and without at least a middle initial or any other additional detail, sorting through the reams of Jason Johnsons in the world wasn’t going to be any easier than sorting through the lists of Jason Jones.
“I know,” she assured him. “You love your job and each day is more satisfying than the last. Have fun.”
D.D. returned to the interrogation room, but rather than go inside, she opted to watch the show from the other side of the observation glass. Judge Black was entirely too comfortable with women. He would ooze Southern charm and spin easy tales until the cows came home. Given that, she thought it might be more productive to let Miller take a run at him.
So far, Miller had made no attempt to rouse himself from his slouch, and the detective’s continued disinterest was already starting to make Maxwell fidget. The judge played with his tie, smoothed his pocket kerchief, then took several sips of coffee. His hand shook lightly when he raised his cup. From this angle, D.D. could see the dark age spots on the back of his hand. But his face was relatively un-lined and attractive.
He was a nice-looking man. Wealthy, charming, powerful. It made her wonder why there wasn’t a second Mrs. Black yet.
“Did you know Sandra had gotten knocked up?” Miller asked suddenly. “Before she eloped?”
The judge blinked several times, seemed to belatedly fix his attention on the detective. “Excuse me?”
“Did Sandy tell you that this Jason Johnson or Jones or whomever had gotten her pregnant?”
“I… I knew she was pregnant.”
“That’d piss me off,” Miller said conversationally. “Some thirty-year-old guy impregnating my eighteen-year-old daughter. I’d be rip-shit if that were me.”
“I, um… well, as I said, you have to know your child. Sandra was on a reckless path. It was only a matter of time before she got pregnant-or worse. Besides, I don’t believe Jason is the one who got her pregnant.”
Miller stopped twirling his pen. “You don’t?”
“No, sir. I remember how Sandy’s mom was when she was expecting. First three months, Missy could barely crawl out of bed, she was so tired and nauseous. Same thing happened to Sandra. Suddenly, she was ill, sick enough to stay home and sleep all the time. I thought she’d come down with some bug, but then it went on long enough I began to suspect the truth. Shortly thereafter, she seemed to recover. She even started going out again. It was after that period that she first mentioned this new man she’d met, Jason Johnson.”
“Wait a minute. You’re saying Sandy got knocked up, then latched onto some wealthy older guy and got him to marry her?”
“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”
“Hey, pardon me, but wouldn’t that be cause for celebration? Your daughter goes from unwed teen mom to wealthy trophy bride in six months or less. Can’t hate Jason for that.”
“Jason Johnson took my daughter from me.”
“You told her she couldn’t get married. Come on, know your child, right? Minute you told her no, ’course she was gonna run off.”
“She was too young to be married!”
“Tell that to the guy who knocked her up. Seems to me she’s lucky she got Jason to clean up some other guy’s mess.”
“Johnson took advantage of her vulnerable state. If she hadn’t been so scared, she never would’ve left me for a stranger.”
“Left you?”
“Left the security of her home,” Maxwell amended. “Think about it, Detective. This thirty-year-old man appears out of nowhere, sweeps my vulnerable young daughter off her feet, and carries her away without so much as asking my permission.”
“You’re mad he didn’t ask you for your daughter’s hand in marriage?”
“Where we live, these things matter, Detective. It’s protocol. More than that… it’s good manners.”
“You ever meet Jason?”
“Once. I was still awake when my daughter came home one night. I came out when I heard the vehicle in the drive. Jason got out of the car and walked her up the steps.”
“Doesn’t sound like such bad manners to me.”
“He was gripping her arm, Detective, tightly, right above the elbow. It struck me at the time, the way he was touching her. Possessive. Like she belonged to him.”
“What did you say?”
“I asked him if he was aware of the fact that my daughter was only eighteen.”
“Was he?”
“He said, and I quote, ‘Good evening, sir.’ Never answered my question. Never even acknowledged it. He walked right past me, escorted my daughter to the front door, then walked calmly back down the steps and got in his car. Last moment, he nodded once, said, ‘Night, sir,’ and that was that. Arrogant son of a bitch drove off like he had every right to be parading around town with a high school girl.” Maxwell shifted in his seat. “And I’ll tell you something else, Detective. Back then, when Jason spoke, he sounded just as much like a good old boy as I do. Maybe he’s gone Yankee now, but he used to be Southern, no doubt in my mind. You want to have some fun with him, take him out for some grits. Bet you he butters ’em up with the best of them.”
On the other side of the glass, D.D. made a mental note.
“Wasn’t but two weeks later Sandy disappeared,” the judge was saying now. “Found her bed neatly made and half of her closet cleaned out. That was it, she was gone.”
“She leave you a note?”
“Nothing,” the judge stated emphatically, but he didn’t look at Miller when he said this. Maxwell’s first obvious lie.
“Now, you tell me, sir,” the judge moved on quickly, “what kind of man spirits a young girl away to a completely new life under a completely new name? Who’d do such a thing? Why would he do that kind of thing?”
Miller shrugged. “You tell me. Why do you think Jason Johnson became Jason Jones?”
“To isolate my daughter!” Maxwell said immediately. “To cut her off from her home, her town, her family. To make sure there’d be no one Sandy could call for help, once he started doing what he really wanted to do.”
“And what did Jason really want to do?”
“As you so eloquently put it, Detective, what possible reason would one man have to ‘clean up’ another man’s mess? Unless he wanted the baby. Or rather, access to a child whose mother was too young, too overwhelmed, too troubled to attempt to protect it. I’ve served on the bench over twenty years, long enough to have seen this sorry story more times than I can count. Jason Johnson is nothing but a pervert. He targeted my daughter. No doubt, he’s already grooming little Clarissa for what’s gonna happen next. He just needed to get Sandy out of the way once and
