“And was he? Alright, I mean?” I asked.
“Well, he seemed pissed off. But I figured DiMarco had a habit of doing that. Anyway, he seemed ok. But then the guy started asking all these questions about where I worked and did I know where Anthony Waltz lived. It was pretty weird. I’m surprised I didn’t think about it actually until just now. Actually, now you mention it, the guy looks like the picture you just showed me of the cop.” He started nodding, as though the memory was coming back fully. “But I didn’t tell him anything. I told him I had to go and start my shift. And that was it really.”
He shrugged his shoulders, tiredness etched across his face. He stared across the room, not at anything in particular, trying to gather his thoughts. I looked around the room and noticed that the back door, leading from the back of the living room, was slightly open. There was a cool draft blowing through.
“How about that coffee, Robbie?” I questioned.
“Uh? Sure. Yeah. Coffee.” Robbie stood and made his way down the hallway.
After he’d walked into the kitchen, I walked over to the cupboard that was squashed into the back corner of the living room and paused. When I was sure that Robbie was preoccupied, I opened a drawer, careful not to make a sound and alert Robbie to my snooping. I looked through the first drawer, found nothing, and then the second drawer with the same result.
But when I opened the third drawer, the final pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.
Chapter 31
In the third drawer of the wooden cabinet, there were newspaper clippings, with curled edges and a slight jaundiced yellow fading into tea-stained brown. I reached in to touch one lightly and I could feel the stiffness of it. I read the top page—page five of the Chicago Tribune, dated May 15, 2005. The first headline on the page was about a local council dispute over building permits, but it was the second headline that caught my attention.
Defense Lawyer Stands Trial for Sexual Assault of His Stepson
I read the first few lines and felt my adrenaline spike as my heart began to beat faster.
Today in court, a lawyer, whose name has been suppressed to prevent the identity of the stepson becoming public, had a case thrown out due to a legal technicality. The unnamed defense lawyer was represented by Attorneys Clarke Hudson and Anthony Waltz. The stepson testified in court and was ruthlessly cross-examined by the defendant’s attorneys. During his testimony, the stepson repeatedly named his attacker and explained the horrifying abuse he experienced. However, the defense attorneys showed that there were many inaccuracies in the stepson’s testimony, and after five witnesses, including the arresting officer, failed to testify, the judge granted the motion to dismiss.
My heart sank. Robbie was that kid. There was no doubt in my mind now. His stepfather had sexually assaulted him and the defense lawyers, Clarke Hudson and Anthony Waltz, walked him out of court, but it was only half the story.
The next article in the drawer was smaller, and from a local gazette. It was dated fifteen months ago. The headline and the first few lines were highlighted in yellow pen, with a smiley face drawn next to the article.
Lawyer’s Death
The body of lawyer Jeffery Stone was found in his home. At this time, it is reported as a suicide. Jeffery Stone was a well-known defense lawyer, and represented clients in high-profile cases, including the recent defenses of an actor, a politician, and a millionaire businessman. Stone had recently come out as gay, and said he was in a relationship with a man…
I didn’t read the whole article. I glanced towards the hall and could still hear the coffee machine churning. Robbie was in the kitchen, no doubt trying to think of a way out of the current situation. I turned back and looked at the other articles. The next gazette article had a smiley face over the whole piece.
Lawyer’s Suicide
The body of lawyer Clarke Hudson was found in a gym earlier this week. He died as the result of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. The death is not being treated as suspicious. Clarke Hudson was survived by his wife, two ex-wives, and three children. Funeral arrangements are being organized.
I continued to look through the collection of newspaper clippings. There were further news articles, feature pieces, and magazine clippings, all of people claiming to have been abused but whose attackers got off on technicalities in court.
I noticed Jeffery Stone’s name in several articles, along with Anthony Waltz, Clarke Hudson, and Larry Fittler. This was a death drawer—notes full of information on the targets. Why he targeted Waltz and Hudson became obvious, but Jeffery Stone was the first death, and I still didn’t have the connection.
I heard the coffee machine stop churning in the kitchen. Robbie was beginning to move. I closed the drawer slowly, careful not to make another noise. By the time Robbie entered the room holding two cups, I was pretending to study one of the pictures on the wall.
“You’ve certainly got talent. I love this guy.” I pointed to one of the pictures. “This guy fighting off the large birds. What sort of birds are they?”
“Uh, yeah. They’re just your average large birds. I didn’t think about any bird in particular.” Robbie stared at the mug before he handed
