Chapter 3

I spent the next afternoon researching the attorney that had abducted Carrie. He had been extradited back to Malden the day before. I was appalled to see that the fuck-head had been released on bail.

I called the state parole office immediately.

"We are aware of the situation," a woman told me after I was transferred around from place to place for 20 minutes. I was calling under the guise of an editor trying to gather information for a story. Unethical? Probably. But I wanted a story out of this and I wanted to know the whereabouts of Robert Lemons.

"And?" I asked. "Will he be charged with a parole violation?"

"He has been charged with a material violation of his parole," the woman intoned frostily.

"So he is back in prison?" I queried.

There was silence.

"He is in prison, isn't he?" I asked again. "I mean, the bail hearing was publicized. You knew when it was. You knew where to find him. So is he in prison or not?"

Again there was silence.

"Mr. Lemons has not been apprehended," she admitted.

"What!?" I exploded. "You have a man who is accused of abducting a woman, battering her senseless, torching her house and you forgot to show up at his bail hearing. Do I have this straight?"

A deep sigh resonated from the other end of the line.

"The parole office had no inkling that a judge would allow Mr. Lemons to post bail," she confessed. "We also doubted that he would have the resources to make bail if offered. We were under the impression that Mr. Lemon could be picked up at the county jail at any time. We have a procedure that we have to follow. The paperwork didn't arrive at our office until after Mr. Lemons was gone. We have checked out his last address and it is vacant. We have issued a warrant for his arrest and an APB."

"Have you spoken to victim?" I asked. I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

"We have not," the woman said. "We don't have a way to reach her."

"The police here know where she is," I replied angrily. "Have you contacted the police here?"

Again there was silence.

"Jesus Christ," I said and slammed the phone down.

The drive to Malden was completely enjoyable.

Carrie took the news about Robert Lemons stoically. It seemed she almost expected it.

"If the state police hadn't nabbed the bastard he would have gotten away," she groused. "The judge in Malden is as corrupt as hell. The DA is a pansy. He quit prosecuting the rich ones because he couldn't get convictions. The state took care of the prosecution but they got pressed into giving him a reduced sentence because he sold out some of his cronies."

"What did he do?" I asked.

"He bilked a couple of estates," she said. "A couple of old folks let him have power of attorney and he took advantage of them. He stole about all they had. No one found out until the old folks died. Then the shit hit the fan. They brought the books to me. I found the discrepancies — and there were a lot of them. The guy wasn't slick. He stole because he thought no one would notice and if they did notice the judge would back him."

"That's a mess," I said. "Are you the only one to testify?"

Carrie shook her head.

"But I was the one with the answers," she said. "I was the one who did the forensic accounting. I was the one who put his ass in prison."

She was still shaking her head.

"I mean, what the hell," she continued. "He knew what he was doing. You don't steal that much money without knowing it. You don't transfer that amount of money from one person's account to your own without knowing it. You don't do the stuff he did and not know it. He got caught. He screwed up and got caught. And suddenly it's my fault."

It was my turn to shake my head.

"What is the schedule for when we get there?" I asked.

"I want to go by the house," Carrie said sadly. "I need to stop and see if the fire department found anything. Then we hit the insurance company and the bank."

The rest of the trip was spent singing along with the radio, joking with one another and telling funny stories.

The joviality ended a few blocks from Carrie's house. I could understand her nervousness.

"How about we park a block or two away," I said. "No one will recognize it or think to look for you in my car. I'll walk down to the house and glance around. After I'm sure everything is OK I'll come back and get you."

Carrie looked at me and smiled. The missing tooth still pissed me off and I almost hoped I could have a little talk with one Robert Lemons my damned self.

I parked on a side street and left Carrie in the car. I had downloaded the mug shot of Robert Lemons and I'll be fucked in the ear hole if I didn't walk right past the son of a bitch sitting in a car across from the remnants of Carrie's house.

I shook my head incredulously. I walked a little way past Lemons' car and turned the block. I stopped behind a tree and dialed the Parole Office.

"Hey, I hear you're looking for Robert Lemons," I said. "I'm standing here watching him."

It took only a moment before I was talking to his parole officer.

"You'll never guess where that bastard is," I said. "C'mon, guess."

There was no answer on the other end.

"OK, I'll tell you any way," I said. "He is sitting in a car with the license number E42349 right across the street from Carrie Walton's house. I say that only because I just drove Carrie to pick up her car and lo and behold there he was. I guess it didn't occur to you to think he might come back to finish the job when she came to pick up her car. You guys are a joke."

There was again no answer.

"So, here's the deal," I said. "I assume you'll be sending cops to pick him up. But if you don't have someone here in five minutes, I'm going to drag him out of the car and you can pick him up at the hospital."

"He is probably armed," the woman said hastily. "Don't do anything rash. We've notified the local police and they are on their way."

The "armed" part gave me pause.

"You're still a joke," I said evenly — mostly so I get my pride back. I liked Carrie but not enough to tangle with an armed psychopath. Give it a few days and maybe I would. But not just yet.

In an amazingly idiotic move, the local police came screaming down the road with lights flashing and sirens that could be heard a half mile away. I shook my head sadly as I watched Robert Lemons pull from the curb and drive away. I gave him the finger as he drove past but I don't think he noticed.

If he was armed, I sort of hoped he didn't.

The cops stopped outside of Carrie's burned out house and looked around.

"He drove off, you idiots," I said as I walked up. "He heard the sirens and left about two minutes ago. He drove down the street and turned right. The freeway entrance is that way, isn't it?"

A young officer took umbrage at the "idiot" remark. An older officer seemed to understand.

"The 10-19 didn't go out until a moment ago," the older office said. "We were told that a suspect was spotted outside of the Walton house and we responded. It was a rookie mistake."