TWENTY-SIX
The most important part of Ben’s job as a crime reporter was spending time on the crime beat. He hung around police stations, firehouses, and medical technicians. He’d gone on countless ride-alongs and had been walked through unsolved cases with a number of homicide detectives. He knew the judicial process because of long hours spent in the courthouse. He knew what police officers and detectives dealt with on a daily basis.
Too often reporters merely wrote accounts of a crime as it occurred, using little background or depth. A good reporter needed to do his homework, which is why Ben had spent enough time with these guys to earn their respect. They knew he cared about trends and the impact crimes had on a community. And for that reason, he was granted access to things many reporters were not.
Today Ben was at the Auburn Police Department, waiting to talk to Police Lieutenant Anne Garcia. He liked Anne. She was professional and seemed to see things many people didn’t. She’d always been a good listener with a keen eye to conscious and unconscious gestures and body movements.
Lieutenant Garcia had been the first officer to arrive at the scene of Ben’s car accident ten years ago. The vehicle, a stolen 1974 Ford Pinto, had crashed head-on into a tree and exploded after veering off Highway 49 onto a secluded side road and into an area known for hiking and rock climbing. The crash occurred at one in the morning on August 18, 2007. The driver, identified as Vernon Doherty, a young man he had never heard of, was found dead at the scene, 90 percent of his body burned to a crisp.
Ben was led to a conference room, where Lieutenant Garcia was waiting for him. They shook hands, and the door was closed behind him as they sat across from each other.
“How are you doing, Ben? Busy working the Heartless Killer case?”
“Gavin is covering the case for the Tribune, but he keeps me in the loop. I heard about Natalie Bailey being taken from her bed while her husband slept. Any evidence her abduction is connected?”
Anne shook her head. “It’s too early to tell.”
At forty-five, Anne was five years older than he was, but she took good care of herself and looked years younger. She also had a practiced charm about her and a wide smile that drew people in.
Despite the oddity surrounding the crash—stolen car, drug-and-alcohol level of the driver, and Ben’s amnesia diagnosis—it was determined that Ben must have been working on a lead and was a victim of circumstance. Why else would he be in a stolen car with Doherty? Nobody, including Ben himself, had ever questioned his innocence.
The reason Ben had come today was because Leanne Baxter had mentioned seeing Sophie Cole with two men that night. One of them had been wearing a skull ring. The moment Leanne had mentioned the ring, Ben had seen an image in his mind. A hand falling through a wall of fire before landing on the console next to him. Fingers limp, skin melting from bone, and a skull ring on the middle finger. Like other images he’d seen lately, this one had been vividly clear, nothing like a hazy dream after a long night of tossing and turning.
If the man driving the stolen Ford Pinto was the same man Leanne Baxter had seen with Sophie Cole, did that mean Ben had also been at the Wild West that night? Was that why he’d seen Sophie Cole’s image on TV and felt as if they’d met? For the past ten years he’d wondered how in the world he’d ended up in a stolen car with Vernon Doherty. Sophie Cole might be part of the puzzle. It was time to take a fresh look at his accident.
“So,” Lieutenant Garcia said, “what can I do for you?”
“I’ve been thinking about the crash lately,” he said, not ready to give her too many details, “and I wanted to shoot a few things past you.”
“Go ahead.”
“As you know, I’ve read the reports so many times I’ve got most of the details memorized verbatim. But a few things have been bothering me. If Vernon Doherty was driving the car that night, why didn’t the autopsy report show any signs of smoke inhalation as cause of death?”
Lieutenant Garcia thought about it for a moment. “If I remember correctly, Doherty’s alcohol level was double the limit, and he had drugs in his system, which made for an open-and-shut case.”
Ben raised a brow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that the reason for the crash was obvious. The man was intoxicated, swerved off the road, and hit a tree. You had been in the passenger seat. You had diagonal cuts from the seat belt to prove it. Two men. One dead. One with amnesia. No witnesses.”
He nodded, waited for her to continue.
“Although he was badly burned, I believe severe head trauma was cited as the cause of his death.”
“Correct.”
“If smoke inhalation isn’t listed on the autopsy report,” Lieutenant Garcia went on, “I would assume Doherty died on impact, before he was consumed by the fire, and therefore there was no reason for the coroner to list any other causes.”
Ben wasn’t satisfied, and yet he couldn’t rationalize his wayward thinking. “I’d like to talk to the coroner,” he told her. “But since you were lead investigator on the case, I thought I’d check with you and make sure that wouldn’t be a problem.”
She frowned. “Is there anything you want to talk about? Are you regaining some of your memory?”
“No,” Ben said. “At least I don’t think so. I’ve had what I would call visions, but I’m not sure if any of the things I’m seeing have any relevance to my accident or to cases I reported on in the past.”
“Must be frustrating for you.”
“You have no idea,” Ben said. “I also wanted to talk to you about the items found at the scene.”
She looked through the file. “Jewelry, a key, pocketknife, and some coins.”
“That’s right. How long do you keep those items?”
“In other words, if we still have them, you’d like to take another look?”
“I would appreciate it.”
“Hoping something will jog your memory?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Anne nodded and then made a quick call. “Barbara is bringing the box of items from the evidence room. She also has the name of the coroner. If you do talk to him, tell him I sent you. If he has any problem talking to you about the case, have him call me.”
“I know you’re busy. Thank you for your help. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. We all want answers. If you don’t have any further questions, I’m going to get back to my office. Barbara will be here soon.”
They both stood and shook hands before she left the room.
Ben rubbed his left leg below the knee, where it often ached. He sat down again, looked around the room, and suddenly wondered why he was there. What was he trying to prove? For the first time in more than a decade, he wondered if maybe his past was best left in the past. The flashbacks and the extra time spent on Sophie Cole’s case were wearing him down, causing him to do crazy things. Melony had forgiven him after he’d left a message with his therapist asking her to call him, telling her it was an emergency. What had happened between him and Melony last night disturbed him beyond words. He loved his wife more than anything in the world. He would never do anything to harm her or the kids. But it was as if he’d been in a trance. The woman he’d seen in his mind’s eye was a stranger without a name, a woman he’d never seen before. And the worst part was that he’d meant to inflict harm. He pulled out his phone. No missed call from his therapist.
Before he could call again, Barbara entered the room and left him with a small dusty box no bigger than a loaf of bread.
The door clicked shut again, and he was alone.
He stared at the box for a long moment. The seal had been broken many times. Ben had looked through the items before. He knew what he’d see: a key, two rings, a pocketknife, and some coins.
The first time he’d been shown the items, he’d felt nothing. He’d touched and held everything, hoping to summon a memory, anything.
The second time he’d looked inside the box, he’d felt confident that he’d never seen the objects before. The third time he’d been desperate for answers, and he’d held the key between his fingers and then tried on the rings. But again he’d left disappointed.
The bloody images, the headaches, the screams for help, crackling fire, and a skull ring worn by a man he couldn’t remember.
Were his memories finally coming back?
If so, he had a feeling he needed to brace himself.
He slipped the lid off. Everything looked the same. He picked up the silver skull ring and slid it onto his finger. It was handcrafted and highly detailed.
He stared at the ring for a moment longer, waiting for images or flashbacks to come forward.
When nothing happened, he stood, looked around, and then slipped the ring into his coat pocket and left the room.