Caitlyn started flipping through the pages of Helen’s lab files as they headed out of the neighborhood. The encounter at Helen’s house had left her unsettled, but at least with Helen’s notes, they were one step closer to figuring out what had upset her. And more importantly, what was behind her death.
“Anything stand out in her notes?” Josh asked.
“Nothing so far, but I found out something else that’s interesting. I just looked up the name on the business card Gavin gave us on my phone. There’s no record of a Thomas Knight in our company. And I know I’ve never heard of him.”
“So it’s a fake.”
“Exactly. This is our company’s official logo, but I’m guessing it wouldn’t be hard to come up with a fake business card.” Caitlyn turned over the card.
“I’ll still pass the information on to Quinton and see if he can find out anything else, though more than likely, if it is a fake name, you’re right. In the meantime, I’d like to look into Rudolph Beckmann’s alibi.”
From the very beginning, the two men convicted of Olivia’s murder, Rudolph Beckmann and Larry Nixon, were adamant they were innocent. Beckmann claimed he had an alibi, but when the police checked it out, they said that there was no merit to the claim.
“Who was the alibi?” she asked. “It wasn’t in the case transcripts I read.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Not a lot,” Josh said. “I know he has a wife—Sharon, I think—and three young children. He works odd jobs, usually picking up day work in construction. According to the detective’s report, he was questioned at his home, but didn’t back up Beckmann’s claims that they were together at the time of the murder, so that line of the investigation was dropped.”
“They didn’t dig a bit, or try to offer him a deal to get him to talk?”
“From what I read, no. We need to try to talk to him. See if we can get anything out of him off the record.”
“Sounds like he isn’t going to want to talk to us.”
“That’s always a risk, but I think it’s worth a try.” Josh pulled onto the main road back toward Houston. “Do you mind if we grab something to eat first? I don’t know about you, but I missed breakfast and lunch.”
“I don’t mind.” She glanced at her watch. It was almost half past two, and the yogurt she’d had for breakfast had been hours ago. “I probably should eat something.”
Josh flipped on his blinker, then turned into the drive-thru at a burger joint. Five minutes later, she was biting into a fry while Josh pulled his car into an empty parking spot behind the restaurant. She glanced at the side-view mirror, willing her heart to stop racing. She kept telling herself that there was nothing to worry about. The problem was, she knew that was a lie.
An hour later, they’d finished lunch and were parked in front of a run-down apartment building and headed toward number 17, at the end of one of the breezeways. Josh knocked on the door, then took a step back. A moment later, when no one answered, he knocked a second time.
Finally, a woman opened the door a couple inches, the chain still in place.
“My name’s Josh Solomon and this is Caitlyn Lindsey. We’re looking for Patrick Lindstrom. We need to talk to him.”
“I’m sorry, but he’s not here.” She started to shut the door.
“Wait a minute, ma’am.” Caitlyn pressed her fingers against the door. “Can we just ask you a couple questions? I promise it won’t take long. It’s important.”
The woman glanced back into the apartment. “Please . . . I’m sorry . . . I really can’t talk—”
“It’s Sharon, right? Sharon Lindstrom? My name’s Caitlyn. Your husband’s not in trouble. We’re just looking for information. It will only take a moment. I promise. Do you know where your husband is?”
“He’s working.”
“Can you tell me where we could find him?”
The woman hesitated again before answering. “He’s a day laborer. Gets odd jobs, so I never know where he is.”
“Do you know when he might be back? It’s very important that we talk to him.”
“He typically gets off about five, but then usually spends a couple of hours at a bar after work.”
Josh’s phone rang. He hesitated, then turned and stepped to the other side of the breezeway.
Caitlyn turned back to her. “A woman was murdered. We need your husband’s help to find out who killed her.”
Sharon shut the door, then reopened it, this time without the chain engaged, but Caitlyn caught the fear in her eyes, along with the telltale purple marks on her neck. Bruises hidden with makeup and clothing. A look all too familiar to her.
“Do you know a man named Rudolph Beckmann?” Caitlyn asked.
“Yeah . . . he’s a friend of my husband. Or was. I understand he’s in prison. The police came here asking Patrick about him last year, but I’m sorry. Like I said, I can’t help you. I don’t know anything.”
“Please . . . I’m not with the police. I’m trying to understand a personal matter about my coworker. She was killed a few days ago. We’re not here to get you or your husband in trouble. We just need to talk to him.”
“I’m sorry. Really, I am, but like I said, I don’t know anything.”
Sharon started to step back into the apartment again, but Caitlyn wasn’t finished trying. They needed information, and her gut told her the woman knew more than she was saying. “He hits you, doesn’t he? Your husband.”
“No. I . . . I fell. Please, I really need you to leave.”
“I know what you’re going through. You’re scared. And while I know it’s not my business, I know what it’s like.”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“It matters. You matter. I know it’s not easy, but for your sake, there are options.”
“You’re wrong.” Her gaze dropped, but she still hadn’t moved back inside.
“You have children?” Caitlyn asked.
The woman paused. “They just got home from school. They’re watching TV.”
“Don’t let your children live through this. And you . . . you don’t deserve this either.”
Sharon’s gaze shifted as something seemed to click in her eyes. Whatever was going on behind this door had her terrified, but there was also a look of determination.
“My children. . .” She shut the door behind her, then stepped out on the small front patio, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. “What am I supposed to do?”
“There are shelters and safe houses for you and your children. Counseling . . .”
Sharon moved one hand to the door handle. Caitlyn was pushing too hard. She knew it. And she wasn’t even sure why. This woman didn’t know her. There was no reason for her to listen to anything she said.
“Wait. I know you’re scared and feel like you don’t have a choice, but there are people who can help you. With finding a job, with food and rent. You don’t have to do this alone. I know there’s a shelter not far from here. It’s called House of Hope.”
“I’ve heard of it, but—”
“They can help you.”
Her gaze darted toward the street as a car drove past. “Maybe, but he would kill me if he knew I was even talking to you.”
“He’s hurt you before. Do you think talking to me will change anything?”
Sharon glanced down at the bruise on her arm. “That woman who was murdered. What was her name?”
“Olivia Solomon. She was killed a year ago.”
“I remember hearing about it on the news. I thought she was killed by someone who broke into her house.”
“That’s what the jury decided, but we’re not sure the right men are in prison.”
“And my husband? He wasn’t involved in her murder—”
“No. But if it’s true he was with Rudolph that night, if there was a reason he lied . . .”
“The police came by a few days after her murder. They asked Patrick questions about that night. Something about an alibi.”
“Rudolph Beckmann said he was with your husband that night, but your husband denies that. We just want to make sure the right people are in prison.”
“He won’t tell you anything, but I know he was at Casey’s Bar with Rudolph, the night that woman was killed.”
“I know there was some sort of brawl my husband was involved in at the bar. He came home with a black eye and a fat lip.”
“Do you know what time?”
The woman shook her head. “Sorry, but no.”
“Did you ever tell the police any of this?”
“No one ever asked me.” Her gaze dropped. “I’ve already said too much. I need to go.”
“Promise me you’ll go talk with someone. Don’t let your children lose their mother. I . . . I know what that’s like.”
Sharon glanced back at the door and hesitated. “And that woman who was killed . . . Olivia . . .”
Caitlyn nodded.
“I hope you find out who killed her.”
“Me too.”
Josh was waiting for her at the end of the sidewalk when she finished talking to Sharon. She wished she could do more. But she knew Sharon was the one who was going to have to take that next difficult step. A number of people had tried to help her mother get out of her abusive marriage. In the end, her mother had believed the cost of leaving had been too great.
“What did you find out?” Josh asked once they were back in the car.
“She confirmed that her husband was at the bar that night, and came home with a black eye, but she couldn’t give me a time.”
He started the engine, then pulled away from the curb. “Do you think she’d testify if it came to that?”
“I doubt it. She’s terrified of her husband. But what we do know at this point is that it’s possible Beckmann was telling the truth. What I don’t understand is why Lindstrom would have lied, and why someone didn’t get this information during the trial. Finding it out wasn’t that hard.”
“Which means someone didn’t want that information out and buried it.” He gripped the steering wheel. “We still need to talk with Patrick Lindstrom.”
“Do you think he’ll actually talk to us?”
“Probably not. We need to be careful how we approach him.” Josh pulled out onto the street. “He beats her.”
“You noticed.”
“The bruises . . . the makeup . . . yeah. I saw it far too often when I was working the streets. No wonder she’s scared.”
“She needs help, but leaving a situation like that is a huge step.”
“I know there are always multiple factors involved, but if she’d just walk out—”
“It’s not that simple. You told me she was a stay-at-home mom. She’s probably never had a job. She has three kids to take care of. He might have threatened to take the kids away. She probably feels as if she doesn’t have a choice.”
“This sounds . . . personal.”
Caitlyn pushed away the comment. “It’s nothing.”
“You said Lindstrom came home with some kind of black eye. Like he’d been in a fight?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Wait a minute.” Josh flipped on his blinker and made a sharp turn into an empty parking lot in front of a restaurant with a For Sale sign in the window.
“What are you thinking?”
Josh shifted the car into park and kept the motor running. He grabbed a thick binder from the back seat. “I might know why Patrick Lindstrom refused to give Rudolph an alibi.”
“I’m not following.”
“If I remember correctly, Lindstrom had a rap sheet.” He started flipping through the book.
“And that’s important why?”
“Here it is.” He tapped his finger on Lindstrom’s police record. “Patrick Lindstrom had been arrested twice and convicted of two felonies. Once for aggravated assault, and a second time for a DUI.”
“Okay.”
“Give me a second. I need to call my partner.” He speed-dialed the number, then put the phone on speaker. “Quinton . . . I need a quick favor.”
“What do you need?”
“Were there any incidents filed at a Casey’s Bar with the police the night Olivia was killed?”
“Give me a second . . .”
“Why is that important?” Caitlyn asked.
“It could be why Lindstrom refused to give Rudolph an alibi for that night. If he was involved in an intoxication assault, that’s a third-degree felony. Three strikes, you’re out.”
Quinton came back on the line. “There was a 911 call that night about an assault. Someone got drunk and things got out of hand.”
“Was anyone arrested?”
“No. Whoever was involved left before the police got there.”
“So no video footage?”
“The place has cameras, but according to the report, they weren’t on.”
“And no one remembered Lindstrom being there that night?”
“The detectives were unable to find anyone who could back up Rudolph’s claims,” Quinton said. “Anything else?”
“Not at the moment, but I’ll call if I need something.”
Josh hung up and turned to Caitlyn. “If I’m right, and that was Lindstrom who was involved in the fight, he knew if he confessed to being there that night, he could go back to prison.”
“That would explain why he didn’t come forward.”
“Exactly. And the police were so certain they had their man that they believed Patrick’s story and didn’t question him further.”
“There is one problem,” Caitlyn said.
“What’s that?”
“If he wouldn’t talk to the police, why would he talk to us?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. We need leverage.”
“Except we don’t have any.”
“Maybe not, but he doesn’t have to know that.” Josh turned to face her. “We know the bar doesn’t have video of that night, but he probably doesn’t know that.”
“Everyone has cell phones these days. We make him think we have actual video of him beating up another customer.”
“Right. We give him just enough information to make him believe we know the truth.”
“We still have to find him,” she said.
“That shouldn’t be a problem. We need to go get settled into a new motel, then are you up for a stakeout?”