Unintended Consequences - By Marti Green

Chapter

9





Tommy kept the speedometer at just under fifteen miles over the speed limit. He knew from experience it was the safety zone, the gap between the speed posted as the maximum and the point at which he might be ticketed if he had the bad luck to pass a traffic cop. He arrived at the Hammond police station in just under two hours, and Hank Cannon was waiting for him.

“I don’t know that there’s much more I can tell you,” Cannon said. “I pretty much covered it on the phone yesterday.”

“Well, I don’t expect to come away with anything more by coming here. But our interview with Calhoun has been pushed back a day and I never had the patience to sit on my ass, so I figured if nothing else, I’ll get to meet Jimmy’s friend.”

A big smile broke out on Cannon’s face as he swung his arm over Tommy’s shoulder. “Yeah, I bet we could share some pretty wild stories about Jimmy. C’mon into my office.

Tommy followed Cannon down the hallway. The once-stark white paint on the walls was now a dingy gray and peeling at the corners. The industrial carpet underfoot was well worn.

The mixture of voices, ringing telephones, and keyboard typing created a familiar hum, and a wave of nostalgia for his FBI days washed over Tommy.

Cannon brought Tommy into a large open space filled with desks and a row of three rooms at the far end. “This here’s my office,” Cannon said as he pointed to one of the twenty or so desks in the room. “Take a load off your feet.” Cannon dropped himself into the chair behind his desk and waited for Tommy to get comfortable in the plastic chair beside it.

“So, what’s this visit really about? I could jaw all day about Jimmy and I’m sure we’d yuk it up, but I don’t believe you drove out here just for the heck of it.”

“Nah, you’re right. I just got to thinking maybe you wouldn’t mind taking me to meet Stacy’s parents. “

Cannon stared silently at Tommy for a moment. “You thinking I got too close to them and overlooked some key evidence?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s just, sometimes, a fresh pair of eyes can’t hurt. I don’t expect it’s their daughter they found in Indiana back in ‘90. But if it was, wouldn’t they want to know?”

“And just how do you think meeting the Conklins will help you find out whether it was Stacy buried in those woods?”

“Look, I’m trying to be straight with you. I’m kind of hoping the Conklins held on to something of Stacy’s. Maybe a comb or hairbrush. Maybe her favorite doll might have some of her stray hairs. Then we could compare it to any DNA left in the evidence kit over in LaGrange.

“LaGrange?”

“Yeah, that’s the precinct that grabbed the case of the kid found in the woods, over by Orland.”

“So they have DNA from the kid?”

Tommy shifted his eyes downward. “I haven’t talked to them, but I’m figuring they’ve got to. I mean, don’t they always in a murder case?”

“Maybe you guys at the Bureau routinely kept DNA evidence back in ‘90, but us local guys, it wasn’t necessarily on our radar. Don’t you think you should check with LaGrange before we go bothering the Conklins?”

Tommy gave Cannon his warmest smile. “You know, I’m here now. It’s a beautiful day outside. This’ll give us an excuse to get out of the office. Besides, maybe the Conklins will be encouraged to know someone else is trying to find out what happened to Stacy.”

Cannon eyed Tommy quizzically. “You sure you’re not trying to pin this wrap on the Conklins? ‘Cause if you are, I’ll tell you right now you’re off in left field. No way, no how.”

“Relax. I’m not thinking they did this. I’m not even saying our guy didn’t do it. All I know is, Calhoun insists the girl in the woods wasn’t his daughter. I haven’t even met him yet. When I do, maybe I’ll come away thinking he’s full of crap and he’s going to get exactly what he deserves. Frankly, that’s what I expect will happen. But in the meantime, I just want to be thorough. If there’s even a small chance that Calhoun is telling the truth and the girl in the woods wasn’t his daughter, she has to be somebody else. Maybe that somebody is Stacy Conklin. If I were her parents, I’d want the person responsible for putting her there to rot in hell for it. And the one thing I’m sure of is that George Calhoun didn’t murder Stacy Conklin.”

“The Conklins eyeballed that little girl’s body. It wasn’t Stacy.”

“From what I’ve read, the burns were pretty extensive. They could’ve been wrong. I mean, if it were my daughter, I’d want to believe it wasn’t her.”

Cannon shrugged. “I think this is a wild goose chase, but I don’t have anything pressing today. Let’s give it a go.”


Thirty minutes later, Tommy shook the hand of Mickey Conklin. The man’s grip was as strong as he looked. A bodybuilder, Tommy thought to himself as he eyed the muscles bulging against Mickey’s tight-fitted cotton sweater. Janine Conklin stood by his side, her arms crossed in front of her slim body.

“Thanks for seeing us,” Cannon said after introductions were made. “I promise we won’t take up much of your time. How’ve you folks been doing? It’s been a while since we last talked.”

Janine stood impassively at the front door, in contrast with Mickey, who rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “We’re good, good. Right, Janine?” Mickey said, the words tumbling quickly from his mouth, as he eyed Tommy.

“Would it be all right if we came in for a bit?” Cannon asked.

“Sure, of course, pardon my manners, Hank. It’s just that we weren’t expecting you,” Janine said and stepped aside for the two men to enter her home.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Janine continued as she motioned toward the couch. “Can I get you something to drink? There’s a fresh pot of coffee made.”

“Love some, Janine. Thanks. The usual way,” Cannon said.

Tommy shook his head. “None for me.”

As Janine left the living room, Tommy turned to Mickey. “Detective Cannon has told me about your daughter’s disappearance. My sympathies to you and your wife.”

Mickey nodded silently.

“Would you mind showing me the room she was taken from?

“What business is it of yours?” Mickey asked.

“Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. I represent a man who’s about to get the needle for murdering his daughter. When the body was discovered, there’d been some thought it might have been Stacy, and you were brought in for a possible ID. You’d said it wasn’t her. I’m just doubling back to make sure that’s the case.”

Tommy saw Mickey’s back stiffen. “Don’t you think I’d know my own daughter?”

“I think that any father would want to believe it wasn’t his daughter who’d been murdered and set on fire,” Tommy said, his voice soft. “And I think the mind can trick us into seeing what we want to see.”

“I know what I saw. I know it wasn’t Stacy.”

“What do you want from us?” Janine stood in the doorway, a cup of coffee in each hand. “Haven’t we been through enough?”

“I don’t want to cause you any suffering, Mrs. Conklin. I just thought maybe something remained in Stacy’s room that had a strand of her hair. That way we could know for sure that it wasn’t her.”

A gurgled sob came from Janine’s throat as she turned and retreated into the kitchen.

Mickey stood up. “Look, there’s nothing left in Stacy’s room. It’s our office now. We threw away anything of hers years ago. I think you’d better leave now.”

Tommy and Cannon stood and walked to the front door. “I know this is unpleasant. But if it is Stacy, wouldn’t you want her killer found? Wouldn’t you want him put away?”

“No,” Mickey said. “I just want our nightmare to be over.”