Justifiable Means

  “A bag,” Tony said. “It has a pair of binoculars, another knife, and a camera with a night lens.”

  Larry brandished the stack of photos. “And here’s what he was taking pictures of.”

  Tony glanced through the pictures and looked up at him. “His prey?”

  “Could be. Found anything else?”

  “Yeah. Our man seems to be into pornography. There’s magazines up here that would curl your toes. And videos, too.”

  “Tag ’em. We’ll take ’em all.”

  When they’d labeled everything that seemed to have any significance for their case, they talked to a few of the tenants standing outside. All of them considered Soames a quiet, secretive kind of guy who went out a lot at night and didn’t come in until the wee hours of morning.

  When they’d finished searching and removed all of the evidence, they drove back to the precinct. “You ready to hear what he has to say for himself?”

  “Sure,” Tony said. “This ought to be good.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Melissa didn’t feel the pain in her leg until she got the phone call from Larry Millsaps, telling her that Edward Soames had been picked up, and that they’d found the bloody shirt and knife under his seat. They had also discovered, Larry said, that Soames had been charged with rape before, under another name. He wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long time, Larry predicted.

  Only then had Melissa been able to relax enough to notice the stinging pain of her cut and stitches, or to realize how her head hurt and how exhausted she had become. Even so, her mind was still reeling. What if something about the search had been illegal? What if they’d forgotten to read him his rights? What if the doctor’s report was too ambiguous? What if some idiot judge let him out on bail?

  She almost wished she had taken the painkiller or the sedative the doctor had offered so that she would be able to rest tonight and have her wits about her tomorrow, when she would need them. It wasn’t too late—she could still call the nurse and ask for something. The social worker had urged her to take something to help her sleep, so that her mind could release what had happened. But Melissa couldn’t afford to release it. She had to keep her facts lined up in her mind, like exhibits in a trial. She had to review them, over and over, so that she could make sure everyone else did their job. Otherwise, something might be overlooked. Someone might drop the ball.

  Reluctantly, she moved away from the window, where she’d been watching the parking lot, and lay down on the bed. But sleep didn’t come. Morning would be here soon enough. And then, maybe, she could breathe. Then she could make sure that morning was something Edward Soames would never again experience outside a jail cell.

  Why did you change your name?” Tony asked Soames, who sat slumped in a chair at the end of the table.

  McRae nodded to him, and Soames said, “I didn’t think I could get a job if someone found out about my record. I was falsely accused, and I was found innocent. But the stigma of the arrests would have followed me here.”

  “You weren’t found innocent,” Larry said. “You were never tried.”

  “If I wasn’t found guilty, I was found innocent,” Soames said. “It’s in the Bill of Rights.”

  “You have an interesting history of similar false accusations,” Tony said sarcastically. “What a poor, misunderstood guy.”

  Soames leaned on the table, intent on making them understand. “The first one was some married woman who had a crush on me, and when I rejected her, she came up with this crazy story to get attention. The second one was a girl I’d broken up with. She was trying to get even.”

  “And this one?”

  His lawyer leaned forward. “Tell them what you told me about her invitation today.”

  Soames nodded. “It’s weird. Most of the time, she acts like she doesn’t even know I exist. Won’t look at me, hardly answers me when I talk to her, gets real nervous around me—”

  “A real challenge, huh?” Larry asked.

  Soames ignored it and went on. “Today, after my boss leaves, she comes into my office and asks me if I’d like to come over for dinner tonight. She seemed real nervous, but I thought it was cute, you know? And I had plans, but I canceled them. I told her I’d come.”

  “She invited you,” Larry repeated doubtfully. “You’re sure about that?”

  “She did, man. I was surprised.”

  “Were there any witnesses?”

  Soames thought for a moment. “The bookkeeper in the office, Gretchen, was still there, but I don’t know if she heard it or not. Melissa was talking real low, like she didn’t want to be overheard.”

  Tony wrote the bookkeeper’s name down. He couldn’t wait to ask her. “So—what time did you tell her you’d be there?”

  “I said seven. She said okay, and then went home. Then, I show up about 7:15 or so, and she meets me at the door looking real agitated, and tells me that she’s not feeling well. She wants to cancel. I thought she was mad ’cause I was late, so I apologized, but she tells me to leave. I got a little ticked off, since I had canceled a date to come over there, and I thought the least she could have done was call—”

  “Ticked off?” Larry cut in. “How ticked off?”

  “Just a little hot. Hey, I didn’t touch her! I just said something about her jerking me around, that I didn’t appreciate it. Next thing I know, she’s pulling a knife on me—one of those long carving knives like for a turkey—and waving it at me and screaming for me to get out. So I went. That’s absolutely all there was. I never laid a hand on her. I didn’t even come more than four feet into her apartment.”

  “Another false accusation?” Tony asked with mock sincerity.

  “That’s exactly what it is! And I have no idea why she’s out to get me. Why she’d call the police and lie like that.”

  “You’re totally in the dark about this, huh?”

  Soames turned his palms up, arms spread wide. “Absolutely. I mean, if we’d gone out or something, and things hadn’t gone well, and she wanted revenge . . . well, maybe. But it’s like she planned this or something.”

  “What about the shirt under your seat?”

  “What shirt?”

  “The shirt with the Far Side cartoon on the front.”

  “It isn’t under my seat,” Soames said. “It’s in my closet at the office. Sometimes I get dirty on the site, and I change clothes.” The perplexed look on his face seemed genuine. “You found it under my seat?”

  Tony stared, not missing a nuance of Soames’s expression. “So you’re saying you didn’t put it there? Tell me, how do you explain the blood on it? Or the knife wrapped up in it?”

  “What?” Looking astounded, Soames turned to his lawyer. “Man, I’m being framed. I noticed my knife missing from my office this afternoon. She must have taken it.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Larry said. “You’re saying that she took your shirt out of your office closet, took your knife, opened a vein to get blood all over it, then stuffed it under your car seat so that when you raped her, she’d have evidence?”

  “I didn’t touch her! She had this planned out before she even invited me to dinner. Don’t you see? It’s starting to make sense. I still don’t know why she’d do it, but she did. Isn’t it obvious to you morons?”

  “It’s not obvious to me,” Larry said facetiously, glancing at Tony. “Is it obvious to you?”

  “Sounds a little far-fetched,” Tony agreed.

  Soames was beginning to sweat, and he wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Okay, look. If you just think about it—was the blood dry on the shirt? ’Cause if it had just happened, the blood would be wet.”

  Larry shook his head. “We didn’t pick you up until a couple of hours after she reported it, and she didn’t even call until a half hour or so after it happened. The blood would have had time to dry.”

  “Man, you got to believe me. I’m being set up. The woman’s out to get me.”

  “Just like the other two w
ere?”

  Soames slammed his hand on the table. “Yes! Just like the other two. It happens, man. One person falsely accuses you, and then you’re easy game for the next one who wants to get even.”

  “You said she didn’t have anything to get even for.”

  “She doesn’t! Hey, I don’t know any more than you do what’s going through her head. But I do know that she’s accusing me just as falsely as the others did.”

  “Then I’d say you have real bad luck with women,” Tony said.

  The door opened, and one of the uniforms stuck his head in. “Larry, Tony, there’s a call for you. Dr. Jasper. Says he’s returning your call.”

  “I’ll take it,” Tony said, getting up.

  Larry watched Tony leave the room, then got up himself. “We found some interesting things in your apartment, Soames. Wonder if you could explain them to us.”

  Soames looked uncomfortable. “I got nothing to hide.”

  “Right. So you have a good explanation for why there were binoculars, a camera, and a knife in a bag in your closet.”

  “I take them to ball games,” Soames said. “I can see better with the binoculars, and I like to take pictures.”

  “Is that why the only pictures we found were of women who didn’t know they were being photographed?”

  Soames laughed then. “They were my friends. They all knew I was taking their pictures.”

  “Yeah? Then you won’t mind giving us their names, will you, so we can talk to them.”

  Soames got quiet again.

  “Come on, Soames,” Larry said. “What are their names?”

  “I’m not gonna subject my friends to your gestapo tactics.”

  “Do you know their names, Soames?”

  “His friends have no relation to this case,” McRae interjected.

  “No, but his prey have a lot of bearing on this. And if he can’t give us the names of these unsuspecting women he photographed from his car at night, then we have to make our own assumptions.”

  Soames turned to his attorney, beseeching him to help him out, and McRae leaned forward. “Okay, you’ve got your statement from him. I don’t think he needs to say any more.”

  Tony came back in, his face glum, but before he could sit down, Larry said, “Fine, I think we’ve got enough. Maybe a night in jail will help him get his story straight.”

  “Steve,” Soames pled, “can’t you get the arraignment moved up? I don’t want to stay in here.”

  “It’s just one night,” McRae said. “Tomorrow we can probably get you out on bond.”

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Larry said. “When the judge sees the evidence and your record, he’s gonna want to throw away the key. ’Course, if you came clean and told the truth, he might cut you a little slack.”

  “I am telling the truth, man!”

  “Fine. Stick to your story. It’s kind of a hobby of mine, shooting stories like this all to pieces.”

  Soames was still yelling when Larry and Tony closed the door behind them and walked through the noisy precinct. Several gang members just brought in shouted at the officer who had booked them. Across the room, an abusive husband let out a string of obscenities as he struggled to break free of his handcuffs. Somewhere a baby cried incessantly.

  “So what do you think?” Tony asked.

  “I think he deserves an Oscar. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, the evidence is pretty clear, and his record doesn’t leave much room for doubt.”

  “But?”

  Tony hesitated, looking out over the chaos of the room. Finally, he brought his eyes back to Larry. “On the phone, that was the doctor who examined Melissa Nelson.”

  “Yeah, I know. What did he say?”

  Tony combed his fingers through his sandy hair. “He says that, based on his examination of her, he can’t confirm for certain that a rape occurred.”

  Larry stared at him for a moment. “Did he say it didn’t?”

  “No, he couldn’t say that. Not for sure.”

  “Well, we knew that evidence was going to be flimsy because she showered. But what does he call the cut on her leg?”

  “Assault, maybe, but not rape.”

  Larry backed up a step, glaring at his friend. “So what are you saying? Just because some doctor says he can’t find evidence, it didn’t happen? You saw the evidence in this guy’s car. You saw his record. You heard what he said in there.”

  “That’s just it,” Tony said. “What if it happened just like he said?”

  Larry gaped at him. “I can’t believe you. You want to make this poor woman regret she ever called us.”

  “I just don’t want to accept either one of these stories at face value,” Tony said. “We might be getting a little truth from each of them. It just feels like there’s something else going on here, like we’re not getting the whole story.”

  “Well, if anybody’s hiding something, we’ll find out. This guy’s not walking out of this jail on a technicality.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Melissa left the hospital the next morning before the doctor had even come in. In the bright, revealing light of morning, the apartment she had left last night had a look of absurdity: tables still overturned, broken glass still scattered across the floor, the bed still rumpled and unmade.

  She stood near the front door, slowly perusing the signs of struggle, the evidence laid out so distinctly, the story it all told. Stepping over the broken, overturned lamp, she went into the bathroom, where bloody towels lay crumpled on the floor. Her eyes strayed to the bathtub, then flitted away, then gravitated back again.

  The memory of another bathtub flashed into her mind, and quickly she turned away, bending over the sink to splash cold water on her face. Straightening, she grabbed the hand towel and looked into the mirror. The face staring back at her was tight, as it often was, with worry, urgency, and grief. The worry was something that came and went, alternating with a death-defying courage that sometimes propelled her into decisions she had trouble carrying out. But the grief was ever present, always deep, smothering, sickening, something she could not escape. Maybe there would be an end to it now.

  Turning, deliberately keeping her eyes from the bathtub that had ignited those memories, she limped into the bedroom she usually kept so neat. She found something else to wear and quickly changed, careful not to brush the cut on her leg. Then, brushing her long blonde hair with little attention to how the soft waves fell, she flipped through the phone book and found the number of the police station.

  Larry Millsaps wasn’t in, she learned, and neither was Tony Danks. Edward Soames was still in custody, but his bond hearing was at ten.

  Fear burst through her, fear that he would somehow convince the judge that this was all a mistake, that he deserved to, at least, be released on bond. She needed to talk to someone, to find out if one of the prosecutors would be there, or if this was one of those hearings where just the defendant and his lawyer would be present. The court had to understand the seriousness of the crime he’d committed! Quickly, she found the number to the DA’s office and asked for the attorney working on the case.

  No one had even been assigned to it yet.

  “But his hearing is scheduled for ten this morning! Won’t anyone be there from your office? What if they release him?”

  “Judges generally won’t release a man charged with rape, Miss Nelson. There’s really nothing to worry about.”

  “He’ll come after me if he gets out!” she said, her voice rising. “I’d say there’s very certainly something to worry about. I’ve seen people released on technicalities before. I’ve seen the justice system fumble. I don’t want to be the victim of somebody’s mistake!”

  “I told you, we’ll have someone there.”

  “But I need to talk to whoever it is. They need to see what he did to me, what he did to my apartment. They need to hear—”

  “I’m sure we’ll have the police report soon. You gave the
m a statement, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but that’s not enough! If I could just talk to someone, so you could see how important it is to keep him locked up!”

  “I’ve got your name and number, Miss Nelson. Once the case is assigned, I’m sure they’ll be contacting you. Please relax.” The voice on the other end paused, then changed to a softer cadence. “Look, I know you’ve been through an ordeal. I have the number of a terrific counselor who specializes in rape victims. Why don’t you call her this morning and talk to her?”

  “I don’t need a shrink!” she cried. “I need some peace of mind. I need to know it isn’t going to happen again just because he managed to charm some judge into letting him go!”

  “Please, Miss Nelson. I know it’s hard, but you really have no alternative right now except waiting. I promise someone will contact you.”

  Melissa slammed the phone down and wiped at the tears forming in her eyes. She couldn’t just sit here and wait. She had to go somewhere, do something. She couldn’t just let it go.

  She searched through the phone book for the name Millsaps, then scanned down the page until she came to Larry. Quickly, she dialed the number, then waited as it rang once, twice, three times . . .

  Finally, it was picked up, dropped, and then a rumbly, groggy voice said, “Hello?”

  “Uh, Detective Millsaps? This is Melissa Nelson. From . . . last night?”

  “Yeah, Melissa,” he said. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes . . . well, no. Look, I’m sorry I woke you. I wouldn’t have, except . . .”

  “That’s okay. Melissa, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s the bond hearing. It’s at ten this morning, and it hasn’t even been assigned to anyone in the DA’s office yet, and I’m worried he might get out.”

  Larry sighed. “He won’t, Melissa. No way. They have your statement, and I stayed late last night making sure all the paperwork was in order. It’s all there.”

  She brought a trembling hand to her forehead and shoved her bangs back. “It’s just—so hard for me to trust the justice system.”