21st Birthday (Women's Murder Club #21)(40)

I wanted to cheer, but exhilaration was premature.

Said Gardner, “I hate to tell you, my friend, but you can’t convict a man because you need to clear a nasty case.”

Parisi said, “That’s enough, counselor. You’ve said more than enough.”

Gardner didn’t turn to his client and say “Let’s go.” Instead he said, “We have something to offer that will unsnarl this whole big ball of nothing.”

“You’ve got three minutes, sir. I have other business to attend to,” said Red Dog Parisi.

What came next was almost beyond my comprehension.





CHAPTER 53





NEWT GARDNER LEANED against the arm of his chair and whispered into his client’s ear.

Burke nodded, and said, “Yes, yes. Okay.”

Then, he looked up and spoke into an unfocused middle distance between Brady, Parisi, and me.

“I’ve been holding something back.”

Burke had all of our attention. Even Red Dog, who sat in his chair like a stone Buddha, leaned forward.

What the hell was this? I tried to imagine what Burke could have kept from us, but nothing lit up. Not an idea in the world, but I was sure it was going to be bull.

Burke said, “I know full well that what I’m going to tell you is going to sound like I made it up to mislead you. It’s not. I believe I know who killed Lorrie and Tara. And Misty. When I was in your office, sergeant, holding that paper with Misty’s picture, I wanted to scream it. But I can’t prove he did it. That’s why I’ve kept it to myself.”

Brady said, “I’m going to record this. Any objection?”

No one spoke. Brady pressed a button on his cell phone and put it down on Red Dog’s desk.

He said to Burke, “Once again. From the top.”

Burke sighed. But his face was full of emotion. I’d never seen him look like this. Furious, yes. Crushed by events, definitely. But this was different. He looked afraid.

He spoke toward the phone, saying, “I’m Lucas Burke and I didn’t kill my wife and daughter or Misty Fogarty or the other women whose bodies you’ve found. But I think I know who did. I’ll cooperate fully and help you catch the killer if I can, and I’m willing to testify against him.”

“Talk,” said Parisi. “We ran out of patience a week ago.”

“Fifteen years ago, my mother, Corinne, and my sister, Jodie, disappeared. Maybe you remember the case. If not, look it up. Their bodies were never found. No one was ever arrested. I was already in my mid-twenties when they disappeared, and I wasn’t living at home. But while I’ve done everything a human being could do to convince myself that it isn’t true, I have reason to believe that my father, Evan Burke, killed them. I know my father. And you see? First my mother and sister. Then my wife and daughter, and a woman I loved. I can’t ignore what I know. My father is a true psychopathic serial killer — the real deal.”

Yuki scoffed. But my attention was on Lucas Burke and Brady’s phone recording this frankly fantastic story. Burke asked for a tissue, for water, and Parisi asked his assistant, Katie Branch, to come in.

After a short intermission, Burke went on.

“I had twelve years of therapy working to convince myself that my father couldn’t be a killer. But there’s one connection I can’t shake. My father has always been drawn to the water. He always had boats. I’ve done research and now it seems obvious. Women disappeared in Catalina where we lived. Women disappeared in Isla Vista near the campus of UC Santa Barbara. Women’s bodies have been found in coastal areas.

“I can’t say that he killed them all, but many of those murders were never solved and often the bodies weren’t found. My father is smooth. And charming. And sly. And he likes to kill women. And maybe because he wants me to both suffer and bear witness. That’s why he made sure that Tara and Lorrie died in the water.”

Lucas Burke seemed parched and worn out from his speech, but Parisi was unmoved. Same for Brady.

Parisi said, “Mr. Gardner. Mr. Burke. This is your defense? ‘The other dude did it? And he’s my father?’”

Gardner said, “My client can provide the names of possible victims, approximate dates when they disappeared. With fresh information and good police work, I’m confident proof exists that Evan Burke, not Lucas, killed Tara and Lorrie Burke.”

I adjusted my chair so that I was right in Burke’s face and questioned him.

“What’s your father’s full name?”

“Evan Richard Burke.”

“When did you speak with him last?”

“When Tara and I got married. Three years ago. But before that? Maybe three times after my mother and sister disappeared.”

“Where does he live?”

“I got a birthday card from him on my fortieth. The return address was somewhere in Marin County. If I look at a map, I might remember. But logic tells me that he may have a place near where I live now. So that he could watch me, follow people in my life and kill other people to muddy the picture. Look. This man is a high genius. You have to be prepared —”

I interrupted, “You have a picture of him? You have anything with his DNA? That birthday card for instance. The flap of the envelope?”

“I threw it out. Took it down to the trash. But,” said Burke, “talk to the police in Marin County. He was arrested when Mom and my baby sister disappeared. They’ll have a mug shot, won’t they?”