A River Through Two Harbors Page 14

  Deidre paused to let her finish taking notes. “When you get those meetings set up, will you please call the hospital in Duluth. Request the name of the physician who’ll be treating the abuse victim we rescued. When you obtain that info, have the BCA director request a copy of the girl’s medical records be made available to me for my investigation.”

  Jill perked up with the knowledge she would be busy. Deidre retreated to her desk and the computer. She had just begun to run Jason Leder’s fingerprints through the national database when Jill placed a note on her desk.

  You are set to meet Gerald Colter at 8:30 this morning. Good luck!

  Deidre smiled. In their crowded office, Jill could have spoken across the room. The girl was a hard one to figure out.

  She looked at her watch, 8:10. “Gotta go. I think I’ll be back within an hour. If not, call the police.” She laughed and saw Jill grin back.

  It was only a few minutes ride to Colter’s law office, and Deidre arrived five minutes early. The receptionist at the outer desk asked her to have a seat, saying that Mr. Colter would be with her as quickly as he could manage.

  Deidre picked up a copy of the Duluth newspaper and sat down opposite the young lady. She peered over the top of the paper as she held it in front of her face. I’d expect his receptionist to look like this. Wonder if they are real or fake? She hardly looks eighteen. In her mind she continued to make observations until she ran out of critical thoughts.

  As she waited, her mind wandered back to when she was sheriff of Lake County and when a public meeting was held after the seven-graves incident. Her teeth involuntarily ground together.

  After she and her partner had picked up his son, Gerald Colter, III, on suspicion of drug abuse, Colter, the attorney, made life miserable for her, humiliating her at the meeting, organizing a recall election, and literally forcing her from office.

  Deidre took a deep breath, shifted in her chair, casually glanced over the front page headlines, and turned to the comic section. She checked her watch: 8:52, nearly a half hour late.

  Finally, the receptionist announced, “Mr. Colter will see you now.” She got up from her desk and opened the door to his private office.

  Gerald Colter rose from his chair, a forced smile on his face. “Deidre Johnson, how pleasant to begin my day by meeting with you.”

  Deidre wanted to punch him. She smiled back, as best she could.

  “What’s this I hear that you’re employed by the BCA? That’s quite a step up from sheriff of Lake County. I suppose there must be a reason for your promotion.”

  Deidre was becoming more than annoyed. “And that reason is why I’m calling on you, Mr. Colter,” she snapped.

  “There’s no reason we can’t be civil. I was only making small talk, but then, if I remember correctly, you always were a little defensive. So, what is it you want from me?”

  Deidre sat down without being invited. The attorney took the cue and took a chair diagonal to hers. “I want information about one of your former clients,” she began.

  “And who might that be?” he asked in his usual patronizing manner.

  “Jason Leder. Do you recognize the name?”

  “Leder. Leder.” He rolled the name off his tongue as though he were trying to conjure up an image of the client. Finally, he shook his head. “No, I can’t say I do. Of course I’d have a file on him if I ever did represent him.”

  Deidre was so exasperated that she began to curse but caught herself, nearly biting her tongue. “You represented him in four cases involving alleged sexual infractions ranging from prostitution to a possible sexual encounter with a juvenile. Does that help your memory?”

  Again Colter appeared to be wracking his brain for an answer. After several seconds, his brow furrowed, and he said, “I’m sorry, I just can’t place the man’s name.”

  Deidre pressed on. “Last week Judge Tony DeMarcus was arrested in a prostitution sting in Edina. Now do you recall anything?”

  With the mention of Judge DeMarcus’s name, Colter blanched. “I did read about that in the paper. But what does this have to do with me? I’m only a small-town attorney. Most of my cases would be considered penny ante by big time lawyers.”

  Deidre knew she was beginning to strike a nerve and smiled at the man. “What it has to do with you, Mr. Colter, is that the records show you represented Jason Leder four times in a fourth district courtroom, and in each case, Judge DeMarcus presided. Not only that, in each case Mr. Leder got off almost totally free. You might be interested to know that last week, the day after he was arrested, I spoke with the judge at his home.”

  Colter squirmed in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “Did you get your information about this man, Leder, from the judge?”

  Deidre noticed beads of sweat were beginning to form on his brow. “I’ll be honest with you, Gerald,” she said, using his familiar name to further show she was in control. “Your name didn’t come up during our conversation. What I told you is in the public record.”

  Visibly, Colter exhaled the breath he had been holding and relaxed somewhat. Deidre didn’t want to let him off the hook that easily. “We’ve established that you represented Jason Leder four times in cases involving sex offenses. We also have a connection between you and Judge DeMarcus, if only that he heard your arguments, although, most people would question the fact that in all four cases the defendant got no real punishment.” She could see Colter’s fingers clenching the arm rests on his chair. “Which gets me to the point of my visit. I want to know what your relationship was to Jason Leder.”

  “You should know that information is protected by attorney/client privilege. I can’t divulge what was said between us or why I was hired for his case.”

  Deidre pounced on the crack in his statement.

  “Oh, so now he’s your client. Funny how quickly your memory repaired itself. Is there anything else you want to tell me about him?”

  Gerald Colter’s eyes narrowed to slits, and he spit his words out. “I’m required by law to hold any information relative to our conversations in strict confidence. Yes, he was my client, and yes, DeMarcus was the judge each time. I had no control over that. Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, Jason Leder died in a struggle on Palisade Head. Would you like to know what the struggle was about?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “He was assaulting a girl who doesn’t appear to be much more than fourteen years old. Your client’s dead. Now, is there anything you want to tell me.”

  The oily smile reappeared on the attorney’s face. “I know you law enforcement people are not well versed in the legal aspect of the law. Let me fill you in. In 1998, the Supreme Court heard a case, Swindler and Berlin vs. United States. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Kenneth Starr—I’m sure you recognize that name—subpoenaed notes taken during a meeting between a Vince Foster and his attorney. Nine days after the meeting, Mr. Foster committed suicide. Mr. Starr wanted the notes to be admitted as evidence in his investigation, saying there was precedence to negate the attorney/client privilege in certain cases. The argument went all the way to the Supreme Court, which ruled in favor of the plaintiff. So you see, Ms. Johnson, the attorney/client privilege extends beyond the death of the client.” Colter began to stand. “I think our meeting has come to a conclusion, don’t you?”

  “However,” Deidre interjected. “In the court’s opinion, if the attorney claims client privilege to support his own interest, the privilege is revoked. Or, as in another scenario, if the client’s conversation with his attorney may be key in preventing another crime, that also can negate the privilege.”

  Colter sat. “If that’s the way you want it, go ahead. But be careful, you may be way over your head, detective, or whatever you are.”

  “At any rate, Gerald, I think you’re right. Our meeting is probably over.” She watched him begin
to get up. “Don’t bother, Colter. I can find my way out.”

  None too gently, she closed his door behind her, smiled at the receptionist, and walked out of the building. She pictured Gerald Colter, II, sitting in his chair, wondering what this was eventually going to mean for him.

  *****

  Back at the office, she noticed Jill seemed in better spirits. Evidently, having something to accomplish took her mind off whatever had been bothering her.

  “Did you get any results from the hospital?” Deidre queried as she took a seat at her desk.

  Jill spun to face her, a paper in hand. “I got through to the hospital. They were able to give me the name of the pediatrician and the psychiatrist treating our little Jane Doe.” She handed the sheet of paper to Deidre. On it were two names, along with phone numbers.

  Dr. Jan Bilka, Pediatric Medicine – 555-1422

  Dr. William Selenka, Psychiatry –555-3673

  “Each doctor wants to visit with you in person. They sounded disturbed about what they’ve observed as far as the girl’s condition and seemed willing to cooperate with you as best they can. I told them you were busy for the remainder of the day, but I set up appointments with them tomorrow morning. Grand Chief Musio is expecting you at three this afternoon in Thunder Bay. Charles Freeman will be there as well. Is that okay?”

  “Jill, I’m beginning to wonder how I’d manage without your help.” Deidre was truly beginning to appreciate what her receptionist was able to do.

  “Thanks, Boss Lady,” Jill mumbled as she turned back to what she was doing at her desk.

  Deidre looked at her watch and sighed. “I’d better be out of here if I’m going to make it to Thunder Bay by three. While I’m gone, will you research what’s happened to Judge DeMarcus since his arrest? It’s been nearly two weeks, and I haven’t read anything about him in the newspaper. I hope this isn’t a matter of the good-old-boys-club sweeping their sins under the carpet. See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Boss Lady.”

  The road to Thunder Bay was becoming too familiar, and Deidre was lost in thought, her vehicle on automatic pilot. Suddenly a deer, a doe, leaped across the road only fifty yards ahead of her. Deidre’s reaction time was a little slow, and she had hardly stomped on the brake pedal, when a buck, chasing the doe, shot out of the ditch.

  It was toward the end of their mating season, but that hadn’t dampened the buck’s hormones, and he was oblivious to everything but the scent of the doe. During the two seconds between when the doe crossed the highway and when the buck emerged from the ditch, Deidre’s vehicle covered nearly fifty yards, and the buck’s form was broadside to her path.

  She could feel the automatic braking system of her SUV pulsating, and she nearly pushed her free foot through the floorboard. At the last instant the deer gave a desperate lunge, and through her driver’s-side window she saw the white flag of his tail. She continued on for another quarter mile and then pulled over to the side of the road.

  Deidre’s legs felt as though they were made of Jell-O, and her hands were shaking. She realized how close she had come to hitting a two-hundred-fifty-pound deer and perhaps killing herself.

  She pulled back onto the road, this time not using her cruise control and vowing to be more vigilant. She crossed through customs with no incident and at 2:45 pulled into the usual parking ramp in downtown Thunder Bay.

  “Deidre,” the chief greeted her, shaking her hand. “It’s good to see you again. Have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee? A soda?”

  He pointed to the other person in the room. “You remember Charles, our chief of police?”

  Deidre thanked Henry for his offer of a beverage but declined. “Charles, I’m glad you could see me on such short notice. I’m sorry to tell you I need your help again. It’s almost the same scenario as the last, but this time the victim is alive . . . barely.”

  The men glanced at each other, and Henry said, “We know you want to see us for that reason. Your secretary wouldn’t reveal much to us, stating that here was a confidentiality issue with her giving out too much information. She said you would rather turn it over to us in person. She seems to be on top of things.”

  Deidre just smiled and nodded.

  “We know you are very busy on the last case we discussed and that you need to get back tonight, so let’s not waste your time with chatter. How can we help you?”

  Deidre went into detail about following tracks to the top of Palisade Head, sparing none of the details of the ensuing struggle. She explained what had happened to the girl she and Jeff rescued, but never referred to her as Jane Doe. The girl deserved more respect than that, she thought.

  The two tribal leaders listened intently, bowing their heads in disgust at times.

  “The real reason I’ve come here in person is that we have an ID of the man who was trying to throw her off the cliff. His name is Jason Leder, and his address is listed as Thunder Bay.”

  Both men shook their heads. “The name doesn’t ring a bell,” Charles admitted. Henry agreed. “Of course this is a big city and the outlying area is heavily populated for a ten-mile radius.”

  “Jason hasn’t been an angel while in the States. He has quite a record following him.”

  “Then why hasn’t he been deported?” Henry wanted to know.

  “That’s where the waters become muddy. He’s been brought up on charges four times, appearing before the same judge each time. Every time he’s been released for one reason or another. He has no convictions against him. We’ve found through court records that the same attorney from Two Harbors represented him. Can you access Leder’s record while I’m here? I’ve brought copies of his fingerprints and samples of his DNA, if that will be of help. I also have fingerprints of the girl and samples of her DNA.”

  The chief looked over at Charles. “That’s your area. Can we place a rush on this so Deidre might have some answers today?”

  The head of the NAN police force shrugged. “We can surely try. Naturally, the DNA will take longer. We also have a photo file of missing people. It’s computerized so we can narrow it down by characteristics. My office is two floors down. Let’s go there and get started. Maybe you can be on the road by early evening.”

  Henry Musio did not accompany the police chief and Deidre, and as the two walked to the elevator, he expressed what Deidre had been thinking. “Do you believe the dead girl and the girl in the hospital are separate cases, or do you think they’re connected?”

  She thought a moment. “I don’t know. It certainly appears they’re connected. On the other hand, I don’t want to go with any preconceived notions. Are there any ways your laws concerning attorney/client privilege differ from ours so that you can apply pressure to Gerald Colter, the attorney I spoke of in the chief’s office?”

  Charles shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Our laws and yours concerning that issue are about the same, even when it pertains to a deceased client. He seems pretty protected at the present.”

  By that time they were at the floor which housed the investigative offices of his force. He strode to the desk of one of his people. “We need a rush on this set of prints. I’d appreciate your dropping what you’re doing and see if you can find a match. It’s terribly important.”

  They walked further into the room and stopped at another desk. Without introducing Deidre, he asked for the DNA sample she had brought and handed it to a technician. “Run a profile on this as soon as possible. See if we can come up with a match. I know it’ll take a while, but what’s your estimated time table?”

  The technician calculated it would be at least a week before they could have anything.

  “Let’s go back to my office and wait for the print results. I have a computer we can use. I’m able to access a file we have on missing persons. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  The chief booted u
p the PC on his desk. “I’ve accessed our missing person file. Now we have to begin winnowing out the chaff. “Female,” and Deidre heard the click of a key as the chief clicked on that subject. “That got rid of a few. Still leaves us with over six hundred possible choices. How old do you think the girl is?”

  “About fourteen at the most.”

  “Let’s try ten to fifteen then.” She saw his hand move and heard the click. “That narrows the field to three hundred ten. From this group, I can select specific ages. I’ll try fourteen.” Again his hand moved, followed by a click.

  “Now we’re down to ninety-six.” He turned the monitor so they both could see it. “You can advance the photos one at a time using the mouse. Spend as much time on each picture as you need. If nothing rings a bell in this group, we’ll try another.”

  Deidre began working her way through the file. In most cases she could eliminate the subject at a glance. Some were way too heavy, some too thin, others had faces marred with acne, still others had features that didn’t match. It took her a half hour to finish the file.

  “Sorry chief, none of them matched our girl.”

  The chief took the mouse, canceled out of the file, and brought up those missing girls who were thirteen. Deidre began another search, beginning to grow weary. She clicked the mouse. “This is the one!” she almost shrieked. “That’s her!”

  The chief of police sat stoically staring at the screen. “How can you be so certain?” he asked in a non-confrontational tone.

  “Everything fits: the shape of her mouth, her nose, her ears, even her hair line. But what makes me so certain are her eyebrows. She’s so traumatized that she hardly blinks and stares straight ahead. Her eyes have a spooky look to them, but her eyebrows arch upward, giving her an exotic look. Look at the eyebrows of the girl in this picture. That’s her, I’m sure of it.”