“And?”
“DiMarco’s twenty-five-year-old daughter was assaulted five years ago. The perpetrator was arrested, charged, and taken to trial.”
“Really?” This was new information to me. “And I’ll guess what happened next—the perpetrator had a high-priced defense lawyer and didn’t see a day in prison.”
“Exactly! He later took the case to a civil trial for damages, but that was thrown out as well.” Casey snapped her fingers. “He resigned as police captain after his daughter was attacked. He couldn’t take the pressure. And guess when this website started? Five years ago. It’s been his personal mission to go after suspect defense lawyers since.”
“You’re good, Casey. Very good.”
“I know.” She smiled, and then put on the southern accent. “But it was mostly my dear girl, Ms. Angela D-arling.”
I laughed. “Well, I didn’t use an accent, but I found out the same type of information—DiMarco is connected, and one lawyer even suggested that he wouldn’t have been surprised if Waltz was murdered, and it was made to look like a suicide.”
“All roads are leading to DiMarco. Next move?”
“We’ve got to put the pressure on him,” I said. “If he thinks he’s under pressure, then he might make a mistake. That’s what we’ve got to push for. Did you get a hold of Wilkerson yesterday?”
“I called his workplace, I called his home, and I called his mobile. No response. I figure I might drive out there today and see if I can talk to him, face to face. Might even go with the southern girl routine.” She giggled to herself. “What about Daley? What do we tell him?”
“We manage his expectations, but we don’t disclose all the details. We could be dealing with a serial killer. That threat on human life trumps any client demands. We can’t let our client dictate how we transfer this information. I’ll talk to him tomorrow and give him some hints, and see how he reacts.” I started to scribble some notes on a pad. “DiMarco is giving a keynote speech at a criminology conference in two days’ time. He’s due to talk about what he sees as the failings within the justice system. I’ll confront him there. The added elements of the crowd, and his peers, will pressure him. If he’s the killer, then he’s going to either flee or start killing people quicker. He’ll be forced into a corner and he’s going to make a mistake.
A knock at the office door took my attention away from the notes. People didn’t just wander into our office. We were deliberately tucked away, deliberately hard to reach. Casey stood and answered the door.
“Jenny Carpenter.” I could hear the surprise in Casey’s voice. “Please, come in.”
I stood up as the petite blonde woman walked into our office. Casey pulled out a chair for her to sit down in front of my desk and then wheeled her office chair across to sit beside her. Jenny’s hair was messy, her skin was pale, and she hadn’t bothered with makeup. Her clothes were wrinkled, but she’d put on a spray of perfume.
Jenny didn’t make eye contact as she sat down, looking at the floor the whole time, and didn’t greet us. I could sense she was building up the courage to say whatever it was she wanted to say.
“I know that you’ve called him.” She broke the silence. “And I want you to stop calling him.”
“Who?” I asked.
“My fiancé, Matthew Wilkerson.”
“I called him.” Casey’s tone was gentle. “It was me.”
“Why did you do that?” Jenny turned to look at Casey.
“Because I wanted to talk to him,” Casey replied. “I wanted to know where he was the night that Anthony Waltz died. I wanted to know what he was going to say. If we continue with this investigation, then internal affairs might ask him a number of questions. I’d prefer that he talked to me first rather than having that information sprung on him.”
“Why do you even care?” Jenny looked like she could burst into tears at any moment. “You’re not the police. You’re not the FBI. CIA. Internal affairs. You’re none of it. You shouldn’t be investigating this. Why are you harassing us? We’ve been through enough. First, that dirty man raped me, then he walks out of court, and then this? It just keeps going. When does all this stop? It’s too much. I want to move on. I want to forget all of this. Stop it. Stop chasing us. Let us put this horrible episode behind us and move on with our lives.”
“I understand.” Casey was gentle in her approach. “I apologize if I’ve hurt you at all. From the bottom of my heart, I apologize if I hurt you. That was never my intention.”
My mobile phone buzzed on my desk. I ignored it.
“Anthony Waltz died, and someone has asked us to look into the case.” My tone was also gentle, but firm. “We’re doing our job. If Anthony Waltz was murdered, then it’s a crime. We have to follow the evidence.”
“I don’t care about your job. I don’t care about who employed you. I just want to let it go. It’s bad enough that I had to relive all this through that horrible trial, only to lose, but now you want me to relive it all again? Why? Why are you doing this to me?” Jenny’s eyes began to well up with tears. “I don’t want anything more to do with this. I’ve been through enough.”
My phone rang again. I ignored it a second time.
“We’re just asking questions. That’s all. We don’t have the power to arrest
