Page 17 of Blind Trust
“That’s understandable.” The lines on his face deepened. “If I’d known he was going to target you—”
“No one knew,” Lyla said, releasing her grip from the edge of the stool. Her eyes met the concerned looks from her friends until they landed back on Walsh. “Jerry was a whacko who was ticked off that we sent him to prison. He blamed me and wanted to make my life as miserable as his was, but...” She swallowed, not wanting to voice the disturbing question giving her chicken skin. “But if he died two nights ago, why was his death threat delivered today?”
6
“There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love.”
Tom Walsh drove away from Lyla’s townhome with John Lennon’s words circling his brain. Not because he was a huge Beatles fan, but because he knew Lyla well enough to know that familiar glint of ire in her eyes. It wasn’t fear that drove her to take risks so much as it was her innate sense of making sure justice was served.
I wonder who she gets that from?
Taking the ramp onto 95, Tom felt a hollowness in his chest that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Lyla was like a daughter to him. His best friend, Keith Fox, and his wife, Catherine, had raised her well. Even when she tested every boundary they’d set in unconditional love, forgiveness, and mercy. They were great parents, and if the cards dealt to him and Samantha had been different, he hoped he would’ve been like them.
There were plenty of times as agency director when he felt like he had to parent her in some ways. He thought about the Castillo case. Poor Garcia. The man never stood a chance of wrangling his feelings for Lyla, but would his doubts cause him to leave the agency? He wasn’t sure.
The speakers in Tom’s car announced an incoming call and he answered. “This is Walsh.”
“Tom, hey, it’s Jim up at Paterson. Uh, do you have a minute to chat?”
The traffic on 95 was moderate but not so bad that Tom couldn’tfocus on a conversation with the prison warden he’d spoken to just an hour ago. “Sure, Jim. Just headed home. Everything okay?”
Their earlier conversation had revolved around the unexpected news of Jerome Michael Miller’s unfortunate death. It wasn’t atypical for a prisoner to end his life, but just like Lyla, Tom was left wondering why he would threaten her posthumously.
“Well, I’m not sure. After your call, I started digging into Jerome Miller’s death and his time here at Paterson. I pulled in all the corrections officers from D Block and asked them about Miller. Most said he was an ideal inmate—quiet, polite, and respectful—and they seemed surprised at his decision to take his life. I asked about the letters, and none of them ever witnessed him writing letters. However, one of the officers, Darryl Holcomb, has only been here a few months and seemed nervous when he came into my office, so I pressed him. Appears we had a visitor the day after Jerome Miller killed himself.” Jim’s West Virginia accent filled the car, and Tom was laser-focused on every word. “Someone from the DOJ stopped by. Wanted all the information regarding Mr. Miller’s death and his time here at Paterson. It’s protocol for us to do an internal investigation when an inmate dies of unnatural causes, but we’d barely even started.”
Tom frowned. He thought back to his demands for the Department of Justice to charge Miller for his threats against Lyla. It was like talking to a wall, which made their interest in Jerry’s death that much more interesting. “You didn’t tell me the DOJ was involved.”
“I didn’t know,” Jim said, nothing defensive in his answer. “Holcomb was on duty that morning and failed to follow procedure. Allowed a Mister ...” There was the sound of papers shuffling, then Jim spoke again. “Mister Jordan Kemp flashed his badge, and the rookie allowed him free passage into Jerry’s cell and let him go through Jerry’s belongings. Kemp asked Holcomb about Jerry’s family, visitors, wanted to see the visitor log. Holcomb confessed to me that he started getting nervous about the DOJ being there, but before he could involve a supervisor, Kemp concluded his inquiryand made like the wind.” Jim gave a long exhale. “Holcomb is on administrative leave until we get to the bottom of this, but I thought you should know.”
Tom’s nerves thrummed. It wasn’t typical for the Department of Justice to get involved in a situation like this unless something was suspicious about the death. Was there?
“I appreciate the call, Jim. Did Holcomb recall if this Kemp character mentioned why he was there on behalf of the DOJ?”
“No, but he said it seemed like Kemp was looking for something, and he was asking about Jerome Miller’s visitors and who he had communicated with while in prison.”
“You said Jerry was visited by his lawyers and his sister, right?”
“That’s correct, but like we talked about earlier, Miller hadn’t had a visitor in about four months.”
“Right,” Tom said. He checked the time. A little after eight. Not too late to make another call. “Jim, will you keep me posted about any new information you get on this? I’d like to make a trip up to visit with you and Officer Holcomb, maybe get a look at the surveillance tapes, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure thing.”
Tom ended the call after confirming that he’d make it up to Paterson first thing in the morning. Then he dialed another number.
“Calling a little late, Walsh.”
“My apologies, Bill. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Just catching up on some work.” Bill Darne was the DOJ’s deputy attorney general. “What can I do for you?”
“You know I don’t have a favorable reputation with Director Goldman, but I need to find out if he sent someone named Jordan Kemp out to Paterson Correctional Facility to inquire into the death of an inmate.”
“Give me a second.” The phone went silent, like Bill had put him on mute. Tom flipped on his blinker and took the exit toward his home in Alexandria. “Okay, sorry. What was the name again?”
“Jordan Kemp. I’m assuming he’s under the Bureau of Prisons.”
“Nope.”
