Read Online Suspicion of Vengeance by Barbara Parker - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Parker
Tags: Mystery
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dealerships. But those who control things keep development reined in, and Martin County remains green on a coast increasingly buried in concrete. Trains still run through the old section of Stuart. The narrow streets and small shops have been preserved. The county courthouse is still downtown. There is only one felony judge, P. R. "Pat" Willis. He is the same judge who in 1990 sentenced Kenneth Ray Clark to death for the murder of Amber Lynn Dodson.
Amber's senior portrait from Atlantic Christian Academy, which appeared in news stories, shows a pretty girl with long blond hair. The thin chain of a crucifix gleams on her skin. She was married at twenty-two in her family's church. Her husband, Gary, seven years older, practiced law in Stuart. After the wedding they bought a house in an area called Palm City, across the south fork of the river. It was a typical 1960s ranch style, and pine trees shaded the yard. There weren't many young people on their street, but the neighborhood was safe and quiet, a good place for a family.
A murder was unthinkable.
Then the call came in to 911. Within half an hour, the street was cordoned off. Blue and red lights flashed in the darkness, and people poured out of their houses to see what was going on.
Several backup units followed, then a lieutenant and six detectives. The crime scene technicians arrived with their equipment. Brass from the city of Stuart police department came by to see if assistance was needed. The Martin County sheriff would have been there, but he was in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. By 7:30 p.m., the crime scene roster noted over thirty law enforcement personnel at the scene. The captain in charge of the criminal investigations division, Garlan Bryce, rushed back from a meeting in Vero Beach. He parked his unmarked Jeep Cherokee across the street, requested permission to enter the scene, then ordered anyone not essential to the investigation to clear out. Bryce went by the book and demanded that his officers do likewise. On the radio Bryce had already assigned the investigation to Sergeant Ronald Kemp, thirty-six, who had an unmatched success rate in closing cases.
The victim's husband had been put in the command van to keep him away from the scene, the neighbors, and the press. Bryce would speak to him, but he wanted to see Mrs. Dodson's body first.
It appeared that the attack had begun in the kitchen. Blood had fallen and dried on the white tile floor. There was part of a print made by a bare foot. Blood droplets. Swipes and smears. Then another footprint toward the hall, and drops leading away.
A crime scene technician stood back as Kemp led Bryce down the hall. The men stepped carefully on the beige shag carpet to avoid the blood. Kemp stopped at the baby's room. He explained that Dodson had been in the front yard holding the dead child in his arms when the first deputy had arrived. The child had no visible bruises. There were two bottles in the crib, one of them empty. In a corner of the mattress was a pool of soured milk. The paramedics had found vomit in the child's nose and mouth.
"He died of positional asphyxia," Gail explained. "The ME said the baby got stuck between the mattress and the bars of his crib. He couldn't get enough air when he threw up his milk. "
"Pobrecito. And his mother, stabbed to death. Were all the knives in the kitchen accounted for?"
"According to her husband, they were."
Bryce came out of the baby's room and the men continued down the hall. Kemp pointed out a quantity of blond hair on the floor. Bryce knelt to see skin attached to the roots, as if the victim had violently wrenched herself away from her attacker.
The master bedroom was at the end. The door was the same ivory color as the carpet and wall, and there were swipes of blood on the jamb. On the back of the door, Bryce could make out the slide of fingers and a larger smear about four and a half feet off the floor where an upper arm might have been braced.
The
Amber's senior portrait from Atlantic Christian Academy, which appeared in news stories, shows a pretty girl with long blond hair. The thin chain of a crucifix gleams on her skin. She was married at twenty-two in her family's church. Her husband, Gary, seven years older, practiced law in Stuart. After the wedding they bought a house in an area called Palm City, across the south fork of the river. It was a typical 1960s ranch style, and pine trees shaded the yard. There weren't many young people on their street, but the neighborhood was safe and quiet, a good place for a family.
A murder was unthinkable.
Then the call came in to 911. Within half an hour, the street was cordoned off. Blue and red lights flashed in the darkness, and people poured out of their houses to see what was going on.
Several backup units followed, then a lieutenant and six detectives. The crime scene technicians arrived with their equipment. Brass from the city of Stuart police department came by to see if assistance was needed. The Martin County sheriff would have been there, but he was in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer. By 7:30 p.m., the crime scene roster noted over thirty law enforcement personnel at the scene. The captain in charge of the criminal investigations division, Garlan Bryce, rushed back from a meeting in Vero Beach. He parked his unmarked Jeep Cherokee across the street, requested permission to enter the scene, then ordered anyone not essential to the investigation to clear out. Bryce went by the book and demanded that his officers do likewise. On the radio Bryce had already assigned the investigation to Sergeant Ronald Kemp, thirty-six, who had an unmatched success rate in closing cases.
The victim's husband had been put in the command van to keep him away from the scene, the neighbors, and the press. Bryce would speak to him, but he wanted to see Mrs. Dodson's body first.
It appeared that the attack had begun in the kitchen. Blood had fallen and dried on the white tile floor. There was part of a print made by a bare foot. Blood droplets. Swipes and smears. Then another footprint toward the hall, and drops leading away.
A crime scene technician stood back as Kemp led Bryce down the hall. The men stepped carefully on the beige shag carpet to avoid the blood. Kemp stopped at the baby's room. He explained that Dodson had been in the front yard holding the dead child in his arms when the first deputy had arrived. The child had no visible bruises. There were two bottles in the crib, one of them empty. In a corner of the mattress was a pool of soured milk. The paramedics had found vomit in the child's nose and mouth.
"He died of positional asphyxia," Gail explained. "The ME said the baby got stuck between the mattress and the bars of his crib. He couldn't get enough air when he threw up his milk. "
"Pobrecito. And his mother, stabbed to death. Were all the knives in the kitchen accounted for?"
"According to her husband, they were."
Bryce came out of the baby's room and the men continued down the hall. Kemp pointed out a quantity of blond hair on the floor. Bryce knelt to see skin attached to the roots, as if the victim had violently wrenched herself away from her attacker.
The master bedroom was at the end. The door was the same ivory color as the carpet and wall, and there were swipes of blood on the jamb. On the back of the door, Bryce could make out the slide of fingers and a larger smear about four and a half feet off the floor where an upper arm might have been braced.
The
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