Chapter 13: Not Delivering Justice

FBI, Sacramento, Morning

"Special Agent Cho," Cho answered. He put his phone on speaker to talk while working.

"Abbott. I want you to sit in on several terrorist interrogations."

Cho laid down his pen. "Why?"

"Two men flew into Dulles under falsified passports. The Europeans ID'd these guys as organizers for the new terrorist alliance. An unknown major California city is among their targets. You're up to speed on terrorist threats for your region, right?"

"Yes. We should pull in agents from the major California cities too."

"Already done. They'll watch by video conference."

"When and where?"

"Tomorrow, Washington FBI, noon. I want Jane here too." Cho grunted an acknowledgment. "Problem?"

"No, sir. Not his area of expertise, but he has a way of being useful."

Abbott rumbled calmly, "CT will become his area of expertise if I have anything to say about it. –My admin will email the details."

"Will do."

Napa Valley, Morning

Jane's cell chimed just as he slid into their SUV. Looking at the cell ID, "Abbott," he said to Lisbon then answered the call. "Jane. What's the occasion, G-man? ... Not my specialty. ... No, I prefer to keep it that way. ... " He sighed. "If you insist. ... Tomorrow, 12 o'clock, FBI D.C. headquarters." He ended the call.

"What's he want?" she asked as she drove toward the sheriff's office.

"My presence to read terrorist suspects."

Troubled, "Which you don't want to do."

"Irrelevant. I owe him six cases a year."

She glanced his way. "It must be important for Abbott to have you fly in." She thought of the eight-plus hour travel time and added glumly, "We'll have to fly out tonight to be there by noon."

"Mm. Apparently there's information of a major attack being planned by radical Islamists." He turned toward her. "There's not much more to do in Napa. Even if Hanson isn't done with us, I could go alone," adding before Lisbon could object, "Abbott has Cho coming too."

Sensibly, "Let's see how it goes today. We'll decide later."

They parked and made their way to Hanson's office. They were early and hoped to meet with Hanson before traveling around to talk with the remaining sex offenders. Fortunately he was available. Lisbon took a seat. Jane closed the door and took the adjacent chair. Hanson waited patiently for them to start.

"Sheriff, thank you for giving us a few minutes. Jane and I believe we know what happened to Felicity Wilkerson. We're confident we're on the right track, although forensic evidence and interrogations will be needed to prove our theory."

He nodded. "Go ahead."

Jane spoke emotionlessly. "Lisbeth Wilkerson drowned her daughter in the bathtub." Hanson frowned and straightened. "Mrs. Wilkerson has schizophrenia which is not well-controlled. Because of her illness, she drowned her daughter after her husband and stepson left the house Monday morning. She dried and dressed the body and laid it on the girl's bed. Felicity's wet hair soaked the pillow. The mother then fell asleep. Her stepson discovered the body when he came home. He covered up the crime. He used the family minivan to move the body. There are pine needles on the driver's floor mat and a damp patch on the cargo area carpeting. He put her body in the stream, likely on the other side of the ridge. He would have weighted it with rocks to keep it submerged. More will be known when the body is recovered. Derrick cleaned the bathroom to hide evidence of the girl's struggle. He put the soaked towels in the master bath hamper. Those towels are pink, matching the girl's bathroom but not the master bath. Mrs. Wilkerson woke, looked in vain for Felicity, and called her husband. A side effect of her Ativan prescription or the generic lorazepam is that it prevents memory formation. She doesn't remember anything about this."

Hanson tapped a pen on the desk as he mulled Jane's narrative. "What's your proof? It, it seems fantastic. What in the world would be the motive – for either of them?"

Lisbon answered. "Mrs. Wilkerson takes medication for schizophrenia, a condition marked by hallucinations and paranoia. It's extremely dangerous if uncontrolled. Lorazepam sometimes accentuates those symptoms. There may not be a motive that makes sense." She rubbed her forehead and continued. "Mrs. Wilkerson may have thought she was somehow saving her daughter, or might not have recognized her at all."

Jane added, "Mrs. Wilkerson's scrap-booking materials suggest she is strongly religious and fascinated with angels. I would ask if she is concerned about evil in this world, if she thinks innocent children pass on to a better hereafter."

"So you don't know."

Tightly, "Not without questioning her and her family."

Curtly, "Continue."

"The housekeeper has been away. The house is unkempt except for the girl's bathroom which was freshly scrubbed. Her rubber bath toy is out of place, on her bedroom bookcase far above her reach. The son's bedroom and hobby room are markedly tidy. It's plausible he would meticulously clean the bathroom to cover up the mur–"

"–What's his motive?"

"Protecting his family and most of all his father. They're very close judging from family photos. This is the second marriage for both parents. Neighbors and photos suggest Derrick is not close to Felicity or his stepmother." Lisbon blinked, realizing what Jane had been doing before joining her at the Wilkerson's. "A murder would tear apart his family, his world, for the second time since his mother died in the military. We believe Collin Wilkerson is innocent. He doesn't know what happened."

Hanson threw down the pen. "You don't have a shred of hard evidence. Wet towels, a clean bathroom, damp spots, and pine needles next to a pine forest? I'm not sure she was murdered, much less have the evidence for an arrest." He roughly shoved his chair back and motioned a deputy into his office. "Crawford, take Ms. Lisbon and Mr. Jane to talk with the remaining registered sex offenders."

Lisbon followed the deputy out. Before following Jane paused and said, "When the girl's body is discovered, the autopsy should verify that she drowned in bath water. There will be no sign of sexual assault. Derrick's fingerprints in the bathroom and on the rubber toy may provide circumstantial evidence. Questioning the son will give you the rest." He pivoted and hurried to catch up with the deputy and Lisbon.

Napa Valley

It was late-afternoon when Crawford, Lisbon and Jane returned to the Napa County Sheriff's Office headquarters. The last person interviewed required two stops before they located him at a mountain cabin an hour away. The sadness was palpable. A few deputies who had seen them near the Wilkerson home nodded in recognition.

"Ma'am, sir, wait here, please." Crawford went to Hanson's office, leaving them standing in the bullpen.

Jane exchanged glances with Lisbon and said, "I'll get us drinks," and left for the nearby break room. He returned with a styrofoam cup of coffee. At Lisbon's raised eyebrow he explained, "Coffee, no tea," and handed her the cup.

Crawford returned. "This way," and led them to a small conference room. They seated themselves. Hanson soon entered and took a chair opposite them.

Jane spoke first. "You found the body." It wasn't a question.

Hanson nodded. "My men found her this morning, downstream a thousand feet from where she played. The body was snagged by a fallen tree. For that I thank you."

"But?" Jane prodded.

Hanson wiped his hand over his mouth and jaw. "We put a rush on the autopsy. The pathologist obliged and I just got the report." They waited silently. "He confirmed she was drowned. The body was battered from rocks and debris, but it didn't look like abuse. There was no sign of sexual assault."

Lisbon asked, "What about water in the lungs?"

Hanson shook his head minutely, unconsciously. "The report says nothing about bath water in her lungs. Everything's consistent with accidental drowning in the stream."

Lisbon wondered about the exact wording. Was water found in her lungs? Was it stream water, only stream water? Was it even tested? Hanson was infuriatingly vague. Hanson's wording, or the pathologist's?

Jane glanced at the closed door. "You're avoiding any public suggestion to the contrary."

Angry now, "I have no hard evidence of anything else. I'm closing the case with a finding of accidental drowning."

"Without further questioning the family members?"

Expression hard, "The family's suffering. I'm not going to rip them apart on unsupported speculations." Hanson rose. "The body was recovered thanks to your suggestion. Submit your invoice." He turned and left.

Lisbon sat, eyebrows drawn together, hands clenched in her lap. Jane propped his elbows on the table and rubbed his face with both hands. "Is there anything we can do?"

"As PI's we have no standing to question an official decision, especially one consistent with the autopsy." She grimaced and pulled out her cell and placed a call. Jane tipped his head and looked at her curiously. "Pat? Teresa. ... We're fine. You? ... Yes, that 'we.' ... Thanks. ... I have a favor to ask. Can you get hold of an autopsy report from the Napa County coroner's office? ... Felicity Wilkerson, today. We consulted on the case and I'm curious. Appreciate it if you don't mention my name. ... I'll look forward to it. ... Yeah, I'd like that. Anytime you're free. ... Bye."

With a slight smile, "Why do you want the autopsy report?"

She scowled with the effort to put gut feel into words. "There was something off in Hanson's expression when he mentioned the pathologist."

Jane absently sought his tea then remembered he had none. "You're good, Lisbon. Hanson shook his head when he reported the findings. There was a micro-expression of disgust. He neither likes nor respects that pathologist."

She put her hand on his arm. "Don't get your hopes up. We don't have grounds to challenge this."

Jane sighed and rose. "Let's get going. I'll drive." Mired in disappointment she didn't even argue.

He drove for fifteen minutes before she recognized his destination. "What are we doing here?"

"What I have to do." He stopped in front of the house, parked, and moved to get out.

She grabbed his arm, "Jane, tell me."

He paused. Quietly, "The case is closed. I'm going to talk to the man as a husband and a father."

She relaxed her grip in confusion. He slid out and shut the driver's door. She scrambled to catch up and was by his side when he rang the doorbell.

He murmured, "This will go easier if it's just me."

Still concerned, "I'll hang back. No lawsuits. Don't end up in the ER." His sad half-smile vanished as the door opened.

"Yes?" Wilkerson's eyes narrowed with recognition.

"Mr. Wilkerson, I'd appreciate a few minutes of your time."

"I just got done arranging the cremation of my," his voice broke, "daughter. Excuse me if I don't feel like talking."

Jane's foot unobtrusively blocked the door from closing. "This is important. I know what it is to lose a daughter." He swallowed, "And wife."

After a long moment, Wilkerson swung wide the door and turned away, too despondent and exhausted to resist. "Sure." He went to the living room and dropped heavily onto the couch. Both entered. Lisbon stood unobtrusively against a wall. Jane drew the pocket doors closed, then seated himself opposite Wilkerson.

"Mr. Wilkerson, this is personal. Unofficial. You need to hear it to protect your son." Jane paused and seemed to harden with resolve. "You already know the truth deep down. Your wife drowned your daughter in the bathtub because of her poorly controlled schizophrenia." Wilkerson gulped a deep breath and violently shook his head. He couldn't get a word past the lump in his throat. "She doesn't remember because of the lorazepam – Ativan. Derrick came home, found the body and covered up the murder to protect his family." Slowly, emphatically, "Derrick had nothing to do with the murder. And your wife truly does not know what she did ... was not in her right mind."

Wilkerson's face crumpled with pain. He slumped, seeming to collapse in on himself.

Jane put his hand on the man's arm. "You can't change what happened. You can prevent further harm. Get your son counseling. Be sure your wife gets effective treatment, for her benefit and the safety of others. Anger and guilt will only make everything worse." Jane rose and said before turning away, " Try to forgive yourself." Wilkerson sat frozen in horror and grief. They let themselves out.

Jane let Lisbon drive without protest. Neither said a word for the first twenty minutes. Looking straight ahead Lisbon ventured, "Will that help? Is there any chance for that family?"

Jane stared unseeingly out the side window. "It might help the boy. Her fate depends on effective treatment. I don't know if he can forgive her," he swallowed roughly, "if he even should forgive her."

She blinked at the harsh judgment, but her cell chimed before she could ask. She twisted to fish it from her back pocket. "Lisbon. ... Can I put you on speaker? Jane's with me." She pressed 'Speaker' and set it in a cup holder. "Still there, Pat?"

"Yes. I got that report. Okay if I e-mail it to you?"

"Perfect."

Sounding unhappy, "I looked it over. I know that pathologist."

"And?"

"Off the record? It looks shoddy, like he cut corners."

"How?"

"It doesn't have the detail I'd expect. And it's too ... pat. Like he tailored the report to support someone's conclusion."

Eyebrows raised, "That might be what happened."

She cleared her throat. "I'd have to come up with an excuse to get involved, but as CIB head pathologist I might be able to finagle a second autopsy."

Jane exhaled with puffed cheeks. "Too late. The body is already cremated. We appreciate the information though."

The pathologist tsked and said in irritation, "I've had run-ins with Dr. Scanlon. He brags about the extra income, but he's a mediocre forensic pathologist. I – did the perp walk?"

Carefully, "The sheriff closed the case based on the autopsy. If it went to trial, the verdict would likely be not guilty by reason of insanity."

Frown apparent in her voice, "All the more reason he should have been charged."

"She. We think she'll get treatment. She probably won't pose any further danger." Lisbon unconsciously shrugged, "Sometimes the system can't deliver justice. This may be one of those times."

The pathologist sighed. "It rubs me the wrong way but I trust your judgment. Look, I've gotta go. I'm holding you to that dinner, though."

"–I'll call. Thank you, Pat."

Jane added, "–Bye."

"Bye."

Van Pelt-Rigsby Home, Sacramento

Van Pelt had the house to herself with just Taylor for company. Min had gone to visit her Aunt Cho in Oakland. Wayne and his team were still on a case in San Diego. She finished cleaning up the kitchen and Taylor after dinner then spent time playing with her daughter. Bath time left Taylor clean, her mom wet, and the bathroom a mess. After reading and cuddling, Taylor was asleep by 8 p.m. The rest of the evening was hers. Van Pelt straightened the main bathroom then took a shower. She mulled how to spend the evening while drying her hair. For once she was caught up with CIB work. Despite long work hours, away cases, a toddler, and a seven-year old when Ben was with them, life was far less chaotic and stressful since Min became their work-week nanny.

She snapped her fingers remembering her decision to get more information about the Berkeley math program. Breaking down into tears was so uncharacteristic for the prickly, tough, brilliant teenager. Thirty minutes later Van Pelt knew that 21-year old Dr. David Singer was a math prodigy in his own right, handsome, and now a tenured professor at MIT.

Lisbon-Jane Home, Sacramento, Early Evening

Lisbon wiped the sweat from her face and slowed to a walk for the last half mile of her five-mile run. When they got home she'd gone for a run to work off the frustration of the case. Jane said he needed to pack, the first thing he'd said since their conversation with Pat.

She trudged the last several hundred feet, tired but stress free. Shoulda found out about the case before accepting it. Damn, threatened children are always hard on him. She sighed. At least we didn't have to see the corpse. I hope Wilkerson does what Jane said. She silently said a prayer for the family, then frowned as she recalled Jane's harsh judgment. I don't 'get' where he's coming from. Non compos mentis. Jane knows she didn't know what she was doing. Still, it's horrible that a parent killed her child. ... Oh. Oh, God.

Lisbon hurried the last hundred feet and slipped in the door. She blinked, the interior was quite dark even after the gloom of the outdoor twilight. She flicked on the under-cabinet lights in the kitchen. No sign of her husband. She spied a bottle left carelessly uncapped on the counter resting in a small puddle of liquid. Scotch? The bottle that had been new, was now several ounces down. After a quick look through the house she found him outside. He leaned against the railing, looking out over their pool and yard, nearly invisible in the gathering gloom.

Jane minutely turned his head when his wife joined him. He sipped his drink.

"Hey." She leaned against the fence next to him and looked out into the darkness.

"Hey."

After a minute, "You were going to pack. What's going on with you?" The movement of her head revealed her glance toward his drink.

He shook his head slightly. Neutrally, "Bad case."

She took a breath and tried. "You know she was dead before we got there."

"Mm." Another sip.

Quietly, "Horrible, but the mother is mentally ill."

"Doesn't get much worse than a parent who kills hi– her child."

"Patrick, don't go there. Please." She sighed and added, "She'll get treatment. She won't hurt anyone else."

Bleakly, "Sure about that?" He gulped a mouthful, then waited for the burn to ease. Abruptly he turned toward her. "She's pregnant."

"What?"

"Prenatal vitamins. The pregnancy is why she went off her prescriptions." Bitterly, "They're dangerous to a developing baby after all."

"Oh, God." The darkness swam as she resolutely blinked away gathering tears. "Does her husband know?"

He nodded. "He'd have to. The vitamins were in plain sight."

She slipped an arm around his waist and hugged. "He's a responsible man. After this ... he'll protect his family." Faintly, "He has to."

Jane drained the rest of his drink and sighed tiredly. "I hope so." He draped his arm around her shoulders and they went inside. "We have to make that flight."

Jane showered first then started packing his away bag with fresh clothes for a multi-day trip while Lisbon showered.

She stepped into their bedroom, blotting her hair with a towel. "Patrick, Cho's also going, right?"

"Yes. So?"

She stood in front of him. "Would it be okay if I don't come? There are some things I'd like to take care of."

He regarded her seriously and nodded. "You don't need to waste your time watching me read suspects." He managed a half-hearted grin. "Cho will be there. He knows he'd have to answer to you if anything happens to me."

She mock glowered. "Damn straight." She took a deep breath, "Then I'd prefer to stay here."

He returned to tucking incidentals into his bag. "I can't imagine it will be a long trip. Anyhow there are a couple of weeks before the next step in the infertility treatments."

She tugged his sleeve and he turned and leaned into her kiss. Drawing back afterward, "Thanks. Just stick with Cho and stay out of trouble."

"Yes, dear."

She lightly flicked his arm and left to make a sandwich for him to eat on the way to the airport.