CHAPTER 51
Tracy backed up her Subaru, put it in drive, and gunned the engine a third time. This attempt, the tires bounced over the lip of snow and ice at the edge of Dan’s driveway, followed by an ugly scraping sound beneath her car. She plowed far enough forward to leave room for Dan to park his Tahoe behind her. The noise awakened the alarm system, a chorus of yelps and barks erupting inside the house, though she could not see the dogs because of the plywood still covering the shattered plate-glass window.
When Tracy stepped from the car, her boots sank to midcalf in the snow that had buried the stone walkway. The partially buried lawn lights created pools of liquid gold. She found the spare key that Dan kept above the garage door and called out to Sherlock and Rex as she undid the deadbolt to the front door. Their barking had reached a fevered pitch. When she opened the door, she expected them to burst out and stepped to the side to avoid the impact, but neither dog came at her. Rex showed no interest, and Sherlock only stuck his head out the door, apparently to see if Dan was trailing her. When he realized Dan was not coming, Sherlock retreated.
“I don’t blame you,” she said, stepping in and shutting the door. “A hot bath sounds a lot better.” The adrenaline that had fueled her for the week had dissipated, leaving emotional fatigue and stress, though her mind continued to struggle with the letters and numbers of the license plate of the flatbed truck.
Tracy locked the deadbolt and left her boots, gloves, and coat on the rug by the door. She found the remote control on the sofa and turned on the television, surfing channels for news of the hearing and Judge Meyers’s unexpected decision as she made her way into the kitchen. She settled on Channel 8, which had been running Manpelt’s reports as the lead story every evening, and grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, popping the cap. Returning to the family room, Tracy slumped into the cushions on the couch and felt her muscles immediately relax into the material. The beer tasted better than she could have imagined, cold and refreshing. She put her stocking-clad feet up on the coffee table and examined the scrape on her knee, which was just superficial. She should probably clean it, but Tracy didn’t feel like getting up and going to the trouble. Dan might have to carry her upstairs to bed.
Her mind again drifted to the license plate. The V that could have been a W and the three that could have been an eight. Had it been a commercial plate? She couldn’t be certain.
Tracy sipped her beer and tried to quell her thoughts. Everything had come to such a sudden and dramatic conclusion that she hadn’t had time to absorb the implications of what had happened. Like everyone else, she’d thought that Judge Meyers would end the proceedings and issue a written ruling at a later date. She’d never imagined that Edmund House would leave the hearing a free man. She’d envisioned him being sent back to jail to await the Court of Appeals’ decision on granting him a retrial. Her mind flashed again to that day at the Walla Walla prison when she had seen House’s shit-eating grin. I can already see it, he’d said. The looks on the faces of all those people when they see me walking the streets of Cedar Grove again.
Now he’d get that chance, though not immediately. Nobody would be walking the streets of Cedar Grove right now—not tonight, maybe not for a few days. As Dan had said, the storm had made prisoners of them all.
But House was no longer her priority. She didn’t care what might happen at House’s new trial, or if there even was one. Tracy would turn her attention to getting Sarah’s case reopened, which had always been her goal. She doubted that decision would be up to Vance Clark. After Meyers’s reprimand from the bench, Clark would likely resign his post as county prosecutor. Tracy took no pleasure in Clark’s demise. She’d known the man and she’d known his wife. Clark’s daughters had attended Cedar Grove High. Retirement also seemed Roy Calloway’s best option, though Tracy knew the man to be just stubborn enough to refuse. It wouldn’t matter whether or not Tracy was successful in lobbying the Department of Justice to devote its resources to investigating whether or not Clark and Calloway had participated in a conspiracy to convict Edmund House. She wasn’t sure that such an investigation would include DeAngelo Finn, who was too old and too frail, though he might prove to be a valuable witness.
She sipped her beer and found herself thinking again of her conversation with Finn, as she had stood on the back steps to his home.
Be careful. Sometimes our questions are better left unanswered.
There’s no one left to hurt, DeAngelo.
But there is.
Roy Calloway had been equally pensive the evening he’d driven to the veterinary clinic. Your father . . . , he’d started to say, before something had made him stop.
She had wondered if, perhaps, George Bovine’s horrific recounting of his daughter’s suffering had somehow convinced her father and the others that, if they could not find Sarah’s killer, the next-best alternative was to put an animal like Edmund House behind prison walls for the rest of his life. For years, she’d considered this the most plausible theory. Her father had always been a man of such high integrity and morals that it was hard to fathom him doing such a thing, but that man had not existed in the weeks following Sarah’s abduction. The man she’d worked alongside in his office in their frantic search to find Sarah had seemingly been possessed of a different spirit. That man had been angry, bitter, consumed by Sarah’s death. And, Tracy supposed, his own guilt that he had not been in Cedar Grove, had not gone with them to the shooting tournament, had not been there to protect them as he’d always been—as was a father’s duty.
The local news began. Not surprisingly, Judge Meyers’s decision to free Edmund House was the lead story, as the hearing had been the preceding three nights. “Shocking developments today in the post-conviction relief hearing of Edmund House in Cascade County,” the news anchor said. “After twenty years, convicted rapist and murderer Edmund House is a free man. For more on the story we go live to Maria Vanpelt, who is braving a snowstorm and standing outside the Cascade County Jail where Edmund House and his attorney held a news conference earlier this afternoon.”
Vanpelt stood beneath an umbrella in the glow of a spotlight. All around her, the snow swirled, nearly obscuring the Cascade County Jail, her chosen backdrop. Gusts of wind tugged at her umbrella, threatening to turn it inside out, and the fur lining of her hooded parka shimmered like a lion shaking its mane. “Shocking is exactly the word to describe today’s events,” Vanpelt said. She recounted Tracy’s testimony, as well as the testimony of Harrison Scott that had led to Judge Meyers’s decision to release Edmund House. “Calling the trial ‘a travesty of justice,’ Judge Meyers implicated everyone involved, including Cedar Grove’s sheriff, Roy Calloway, and the county prosecutor, Vance Clark,” Vanpelt continued. “Earlier this afternoon, I attended a news conference inside the building behind me. That was just before Edmund House walked out a free man—at least for the time being.”
The camera switched to the earlier news conference. Dan sat beside House, a bouquet of microphones on the table between them. Their disparate sizes had been evident at counsel table but the difference seemed even more pronounced now with House dressed in a denim shirt and winter jacket.
Tracy’s cell phone rang. She retrieved it from the couch and hit the “Pause” button on the television.
“I’m just watching you on the television,” she said. “Where are you?”
“I had a few other interviews with the national media,” Dan said. “I’m on my way, but I thought I better let you know the freeway’s already a mess. There are spinouts everywhere. It’s going to take me some time to get home. There are reports of power outages and downed trees.”
“Everything’s fine here,” she said.
“I have a generator in the garage if you need it. All you need to do is plug it into the socket beside the fuse boxes.”
“Not sure I have the energy.”
“The boys are all right?”
“Lying here on the rug. You might have to carry them outside to go to the bathroom, however.”
“And what about you?”
“I can make it to the bathroom myself, thank you very much,” she said.
“I see someone’s sense of humor has returned.”
“I think I’m punchy. What I see is a hot bath in my future.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Let me call you back. I want to watch the news conference.”
“How do I look?”
“Still fishing for compliments?”
“You know it. All right, call me back.”
She disconnected and hit “Play.” Dan said, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I suspect the Court of Appeals will act swiftly given the miscarriage of justice. After it does, we’ll have to wait and see what the prosecutor decides.”
“How does it feel to be a free man?” Vanpelt asked House.
House flipped his ponytail off his shoulder. “Well, it’s like my attorney said, I’m not free just yet, but . . .” He smiled. “It feels good.”
“What’s the first thing you’ll do now that you are free?”
“The same as all of you; step outside and let the snow and wind hit me in the face.”
“Are you angry about what transpired?”
House’s smile waned. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘angry.’?”
“So you’ve forgiven those responsible for putting you in jail?” Vanpelt asked.
“I wouldn’t say that either. All I can do is correct my past mistakes and try not to repeat them. That’s what I intend to do.”
An off-camera reporter asked, “Do you have any idea what motivated whoever was responsible for fabricating evidence to convict you?”
Dan leaned to the microphones. “We’re not going to comment on the evidence—”
“Ignorance,” House said, talking over him. “Ignorance and arrogance. They thought they could get away with it.”
Vanpelt drew Dan’s attention with another question. “Mr. O’Leary, will you seek the involvement of the Department of Justice to investigate, as Judge Meyers intimated?”
“I’ll confer with my client and make that decision.”
But House again leaned forward. “I’m not looking to the Department of Justice to punish anyone.”
“Is there anything you’d like to say to Detective Crosswhite?” Vanpelt asked.
House gave her a tight-lipped grin. “I don’t think words can express how I feel at the moment,” he said. “But I hope to thank her in person someday.”
Tracy felt another chill pass through her, as if a spider had crawled along her spine.
“What would you like now?” a reporter asked.
House’s grin widened. “A cheeseburger.”
The television cut back to Vanpelt outside the jail. She was straining to keep a grip on her umbrella, the wind also causing a rustling sound as it blew across the microphone. “As I said, that news conference was recorded earlier this afternoon, after which Edmund House left this jail behind me a free man.”
The news anchor said, “Maria, it seems remarkable that a man who has spent twenty years behind bars for a crime that it now appears he did not commit could forgive so readily. What happens now to those who were potentially involved?”
Vanpelt had a finger pressed to the earpiece. She shouted to be heard over the wind. “Mark, I spoke with a law professor at the University of Washington this afternoon who told me that, regardless of whether or not Edmund House ever pursues civil charges for the violation of his civil rights, the Department of Justice could decide to step in and pursue criminal charges against those involved. It could also take over the investigation as to what happened to Sarah Crosswhite. So it appears that this story is far from over. This hearing may have raised far more questions than it answered. But tonight, Edmund House is a free man and, as you heard him say, in search of a good cheeseburger.”
The anchor said, “Maria, we’re going to let you go find shelter before the wind blows you away, but has there been any word from Detective Crosswhite?”
Vanpelt braced as another gust of wind swept over her. After it had passed, she said, “I spoke to Detective Crosswhite during a recess in today’s proceedings and asked if she felt vindicated by the Court’s ruling. She said the hearing wasn’t about vindication. It was about finding out what happened to her sister. At the moment, that appears to be a lingering question that unfortunately may never be answered.”
Tracy’s cell rang. She checked caller ID. Kins.
“I just e-mailed the list to you,” Kins said. “It’s long but it’s manageable. Is this the truck with the rear light out?”
“It’s a truck with a rear light out. Could very well be more than one around here.”
“We’re getting news reports they freed House.”
“Shocked the hell out of everyone, Kins. We all figured Judge Meyers would take the matter under advisement and issue written findings. But if he didn’t rule today, it might not have been until after the weekend. He wasn’t about to let Edmund House stay in jail.”
“Sounds like the evidence was pretty overwhelming.”
“Dan did a great job.”
“So why do you sound so subdued?”
“Just tired, and thinking about everything. My sister and my mom and dad. It’s a lot to digest this quickly.”
“Think about how House must feel.”
“What do you mean?”
“Twenty years in Walla Walla’s a long time for him to find himself suddenly walking the streets a free man. I read an article once about Vietnam veterans being sent home from the war without any time to decompress. One day they’re in the jungle watching people die, the next they’re back home, walking the streets of Anywhere, USA. Many of them couldn’t handle it.”
“I don’t think anybody will be out walking the streets tonight. They’re predicting a blizzard.”
“Here too, and you know these people can’t drive these hills in the snow. Stay warm. I’m heading home before the crazies totally clog the roads.”
“Thanks for this, Kins. I owe you.”
“And you’ll pay.”
Tracy hung up and switched applications on her phone so she could open Kins’s e-mail. Her initial pass through the materials he’d sent indicated that the list of potential license plate combinations was not insignificant. She scrolled through a second time, quickly scanning the names and cities of the registered owners, looking for anything familiar. She didn’t see a name she recognized, but she did see the word “Cascadia,” and stopped scrolling. The vehicle was registered to a “Cascadia Furniture.” She took her phone to the nook where Dan kept his home computer, shook the mouse, and keyed the name into a search engine. “Wow,” she said, surprised when the search resulted in close to a quarter of a million hits.
She added the words “Cedar Grove.” It reduced the hits significantly, but there were still too many to efficiently go through. “What else?” she said out loud. After three days, her brain was fried. She couldn’t think of any additional tag words to reduce the number of hits.
Tracy slid back her chair, about to grab another beer, when she recalled where she’d heard the name before. She looked about the kitchen. The boxes containing the files she’d accumulated during her investigation of Sarah’s disappearance were stacked in a corner. There’d been no need for Dan to bring them all to court each day. She set the top box on the kitchen table and riffled through the files until she found what she was looking for. Sitting, she flipped the pages of the transcript containing Detective Margaret Giesa’s trial testimony. She knew the trial testimony well, having studied it, and quickly found the portion of Giesa’s testimony she was looking for.
BY MR. CLARK:
Q. Did your team locate anything else of interest in the truck cab?
A. Trace amounts of blood.
Q. Detective Giesa, I am placing on the easel what has been marked as the State’s Exhibit 112. It is a blown-up aerial photograph of Parker House’s property. Can you tell the jury, using this photograph, where your search next proceeded?
A. Yes, we went down this path to search this first building here.
Q. Let’s mark that building you’re pointing to with the number one, then. Did you note anything of interest in that building?
A. We found woodworking tools and several pieces of furniture in various stages of completion.
Tracy shifted her focus back to Kins’s e-mail. “Cascadia Furniture,” she said.
An explosion rattled the windows and shook the house, causing Rex and Sherlock to bolt upright and race to the plywood-covered window barking, just before the house plunged into darkness.