Vengeance by Proxy

By J. Thomas Callahan

Over the Labor Day weekend, sixteen-year-old Karen Lindquist was brutally raped by the sons of the town's elite then denied justice in the name of political expedience. Twenty-five years later she's getting even and getting off. When her latest lover is accused of molesting her teenage daughter, defense investigator Clint Wells is called in. He uncovers a twisted plot of revenge and sexual depravity as he follows a trail of broken lives and broken men. His investigation leads him from the heart of Texas to the sun-drenched coast of Florida; from the Ozark Mountains to the sun-baked desert of Arizona as he discovers the sickening truth about Karen and her quest for vengeance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 16, 2002
• ISBN: 9781469705606

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All Rights Reserved © 2002 by J. Thomas Callahan

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Writers Club Press

an imprint of iUniverse, Inc.

For information address:

iUniverse, Inc.

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Lincoln, NE 68512

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This novel is a work of fiction. The names, incidents, dialogue, and plot are the product of the author’s imagination and creativity. Any resembalace to actual person living or dead, business establishments, or events is purely coincidential.

ISBN: 0-595-21300-6

ISBN: 978-1-4697-0560-6 (eBook)

Printed in the United States of America

This one’s for Mom and Dad

Sweet is revenge—especially to women.

—Lord Byron

Contents

PART I 

CHAPTER 1 

CHAPTER 2 

CHAPTER 3 

CHAPTER 4 

CHAPTER 5 

CHAPTER 6 

CHAPTER 7 

CHAPTER 8 

CHAPTER 9 

CHAPTER 10 

CHAPTER 11 

CHAPTER 12 

PART II 

CHAPTER 13 

CHAPTER 14 

CHAPTER 15 

CHAPTER 16 

CHAPTER 17 

CHAPTER 18 

CHAPTER 19 

CHAPTER 20 

PART III 

CHAPTER 21 

CHAPTER 22 

CHAPTER 23 

CHAPTER 24 

CHAPTER 25 

CHAPTER 26 

Afterword 

PART I

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CHAPTER 1 

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It was sickening, by far the most repulsive and appalling case I had been involved with in my entire law enforcement career, a career that spanned more than thirty years in the pursuit of justice. I’ve never been involved with anything that comes close to the reprehensible and unspeakable behavior that happened in this case. Two people are dead, four more people are serving lengthy prison sentences, one is a convicted felon on probation, and one is a mutilated cripple. Another has had any semblance of a normal life destroyed and has vanished.

This entire repugnant matter came about because some damned politicians; the sheriff and district attorney in hickville Oklahoma, were more concerned with getting re-elected than with doing the jobs their constituents had originally elected them to do. The fault does not lie only at their feet though. I also hold their constituents responsible for having their priorities in the wrong place. Lastly, I blame society as a whole for allowing the self-serving politicians to continue to manipulate the criminal justice system to further their own political careers and personal agendas nearly a quarter of a century later.

My name’s Clint Wells. I’m a retired deputy sheriff and a parttime private investigator. It’s not as glamorous or exciting as the media makes it out to be, but it supplements my pension, pays the bills, and allows me to live out my golden years in comfort. It also keeps me occupied and out of trouble.

I’m also short, stout, and almost bald; not exactly your stereotypical Hollywood cop. If they ever decided to make a movie about my life, Danny DeVito, not Mel Gibson, would get the lead role. Nowadays I sell my investigative experience and services. My primary clients are defense attorneys whose clients can afford my exorbitant fees, and I won’t work for just anyone who can meet my price.

To avoid being drafted and sent to Vietnam as an infantryman, I enlisted in the Army shortly after I graduated from high school. After basic and advanced training at Fort Gordon, Georgia, I spent from the spring of 1968 until 1971 in Saigon with the 716th MP Battalion. After I was discharged from the US Army in 1971, I spent twenty-three years as a deputy sheriff in Bartow County, Georgia, a once rural but now rapidly growing county northwest of Atlanta. As a deputy, I worked in the Patrol, Detention, Fugitive, Court Security, and Detective Divisions. I’ve investigated just about every type of crime imaginable; from petty theft to armed robbery; from rape to capital murder; and I have been involved in over two thousand felony arrests. I retired six years ago as a captain and head of the Detective Division and went to work for myself as a freelance private investigator. I’ve been doing that ever since.

There are many unethical defense attorneys out there whose only goal is to win and get their client off regardless of their guilt or innocence or even the safety of the community. I know who most of them are, and they can’t hire me at any price. Although some of my colleagues would have you believe different, I didn’t change sides. When I was sworn in as a deputy, I took an oath to protect and uphold the Constitution of the state of Georgia and the United States. My job now is to help a defense attorney ensure that a defendant gets a fair trial and to compel the State to meet the burden of proof of beyond a reasonable doubt. The U.S. Constitution requires this burden before the State can convict someone of a criminal offense and deprive them of their life or liberty. I don’t see a conflict in ensuring that the State meets its Constitutional burden.

With a guaranteed retirement check coming in every month, I can afford to be selective in what cases I choose to become involved with. I do criminal cases, and occasionally I do background investigations for some of the local employers. I don’t do divorces or child custody cases, and I won’t do civil litigation cases of any kind. They can be nasty, and they’re outside the scope of my experience and expertise. The cases I do take on can’t interfere with my hunting or fishing schedule, and my kids and grandkids come first.

The cases I take also have to pique my interest, and there are certain types of cases I will not get involved with on principle. I almost didn’t take this case because, at first glance, it appeared to be one of those. In fact, even though I was intrigued by the facts of the case, the only reason I took it is because the defense attorney handling the case, Brian Pollard, is my oldest and best friend and my hunting and fishing partner.

Brian and I are the most unlikely pair. Where I’m short, overweight, and balding, he is tall, slender, and still has a full head of dark hair. Where I can be gruff and abrasive, he’s polished and refined. The only blemish to his distinguished appearance is a crooked nose, complements of a drunken soldier on Tu Do Street in 1970. We’ve known each other since our days together in Saigon when he served in my squad. When we returned to the States, I got married, joined the sheriff’s department, and worked my way through college one class at a time while I raised my family. He went to college and law school on the GI Bill before he began his family. He became a deputy district attorney in Bartow County, and then about fifteen years ago, he got tired of the politics involved with the job and moved into private practice. Ten years ago he accepted a position with his current firm, and he now heads up their criminal defense division.

Brian didn’t balk when I quoted a fee substantially higher than I normally charge. He just agreed to pay it. If I had known it would turn out like this, I wouldn’t have taken the case at all, or I would have tripled my already inflated fee.

As I said, this whole mess could have been prevented twenty-four years ago if the politicians had done their jobs properly and not used the criminal justice system to further their personal agendas and political careers when it all started.

CHAPTER 2 

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Pawhuska, Oklahoma September 1976

Fifteen-year-old Karen Lindquist’s sparkling green eyes strayed down to peek at her watch while Mr. Davis droned on in his monotone voice about the causes of the Great Depression at the front of the classroom. In less than five minutes the bell would ring, and the first week of her sophomore year in high school would be over. She pushed a wisp of long auburn hair out of her face and glanced across the aisle at her new friend, Wendy Berg. They traded knowing smiles, and she rolled her eyes. How could anybody really care about all of this ancient history?

She and Wendy had homeroom and several classes together. They had been hanging out with each other on breaks and during lunch since the first day of school. Wendy was taller than Karen but just as slender, had blue eyes, and short strawberry blond hair. Though younger than Karen by a few months, she was more mature and worldly in many ways. She was the daughter of the Pawhuska city manager and came from a less restrictive home environment; one with the financial security and stability Karen was unaccustomed to. Unlike Karen, who had blossomed over the summer, Wendy had reached adolescence early and was more comfortable with the physical changes her body had gone through.

Though she would never admit it, Karen preferred her Biology and Trigonometry classes to US History and English Composition. The pixyish teenager dreamed of becoming a doctor or astronaut someday, and she knew a good education was her only way out of Pawhuska or any of the dozen small towns she, her younger brother, and her parents had lived in.

Karen had finished her freshman year with a perfect 4.0 grade point average. She hoped to keep her grades high enough to get a scholarship to the University of Oklahoma or Oklahoma State University, or maybe even to an out-of-state college or an appointment to the US Air Force Academy now that they were accepting female cadets. Without a scholarship, Karen did not think she would be able to afford to go to college at all. Her parent’s wouldn’t help even if they could. Neither of them believed girls should go to college. They felt that a girl should find a husband and settle down to be a dutiful wife and mother after high school. They were also struggling to keep their hardware store and church open, and they couldn’t afford to pay college tuition for either her or her younger brother.

After an interminable five minutes, the bell rang to signal the end of the day’s classes and the start of the long Labor Day weekend. Karen, Wendy, and the rest of the students jumped from their seats and began packing their books to leave the classroom before Mr. Davis finished the last sentence of his lecture and dismissed them. In the hallway, the two girls went to their lockers, then to their busses. They chatted as they hurried through the crowded halls of Central Osage High School.

Can you believe how dull Mr. Davis is?

Are you kidding? I thought I was going to fall asleep. Who cares about the Great Depression anyway? That was nearly fifty years ago.

Are you going to the game tomorrow afternoon Karen? Wendy asked, changing the subject.

I don’t think so. My dad needs me to work at the store. Karen’s father was the owner of Pawhuska Hardware, Feed, and Tack, one of three hardware stores in the small farming community that made up the county seat. He bought the store in January when the previous owner retired, and now the family was struggling to make ends meet. Mr. Lindquist had worked and saved for more than twenty years to fulfill the lifelong dream of owning his own business, and the family’s entire economic future was tied up in the store.

What a drag. It’s the first game of the season, and it is supposed to be a good game. The team’s supposed to be really good again this year.

Yeah, it’s a drag, but I have to work. Dad can’t hire somebody else to work at the store. We can’t afford that right now. It wasn’t a good summer.

Too bad! Are you going to be able to go to the dance afterward? You know there’s going to be a party up at the lake tomorrow night after the dance, Wendy added with a mischievous gleam in her blue eyes before Karen could answer the first question.

My Mom and Dad won’t let me go to dances or parties. They claim it’s a sin and against everything the Church stands for. In addition to being the proprietor of the hardware store, Mr. Lindquist was the pastor of the Fundamentalist Christian Church, a small ultra-conservative congregation that believed in a literal interpretation of the Bible. The church was located a half a mile from the Lindquist’s home in nearby Pershing.

Your dad’s hung up on religion, huh? Wendy ventured.

You know it. He works on his sermons every night, and he’s always practicing them by preaching at me and Bobby. Everything we try to do that’s even halfway fun is a sin, and if we don’t follow in God’s path, we’ll be damned to the depths of Hell, she sadly answered. It’s hard enough to get him to let me go to a friend’s house or the library to study after school. Besides, I have to work till closing anyway and get up early Sunday for church. Enjoy the game and dance; I’ll see you on Tuesday, she said with a forced smile.

Okay, I’ll give you a call tonight.

Okay, but not after nine. My Mom doesn’t allow me to have calls after nine o’clock.

The two girls separated and climbed into their respective busses amid the roughhousing and shouting of dozens of excited and unruly teenagers. Karen pulled out her biology book and studied as the bus carried her down Route 99 to her family’s home a few miles south of town.

The bus slowly rolled across the undulating pastures and fields, stopping every half-mile or so to drop off a group of students. A few trees and the colorful campaign signs for the upcoming November elections were the only distractions along the two-lane macadam road. Karen and her younger brother, Bobby, got off the bus at the Pershing turnoff and walked the last half-mile down the dusty gravel lane to their family home, a weather-beaten, wood framed, two-story farmhouse of indeterminate age in need of painting.

Karen’s younger brother was beginning his freshman year at Central Osage High School. Slightly built, he was at that awkward stage of early adolescence where his body grew and began to develop faster than he could adapt. As a result, he appeared clumsy. He was nearsighted and wore thick horn-rimmed glasses that added to the impression. His face was heavily pocked with acne, and his dark curly hair, though short, was always oily and unkempt.

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Karen and Bobby walked through the front door as their mother struggled down the stairs with a heavy suitcase. Bobby rushed to help her. Where are you going Momma? he asked.

Your Grandfather’s had another heart attack kids. Your Daddy and I are driving over to Enid to help out your Grandmother for a few days, the dowdy prematurely gray haired woman of forty-one answered. We’ll be back Monday afternoon. There’s food in the cupboard and in the icebox. Mind your chores and behave yourselves while we’re gone, she ordered.

Yes Momma.

Your Daddy’s going to have Deacon Walden preach the sermon on Sunday morning. You’ll both need to get to the Church extra early to help him set things up and get ready for the sermon. Deacon Walden was an elderly neighbor and a senior member of the congregation.

Yes Momma.

Karen, you’ll have to open the store in the morning—eight o’clock sharp. Bobby, you’ll have to go in after lunch and close up the store at nine.

Yes Momma. We’ve done this before, Karen said with an exasperated tone in her voice.

Don’t be sassing me young lady. Just because you’re fifteen doesn’t mean I still can’t take a switch to you. Their mother may have been meek and submissive to her overbearing husband, but she had little tolerance for impudence or disrespect when it came to her children, and she dealt with them accordingly.

I’m sorry Momma; I didn’t mean to sass you, Karen answered meekly.

Now, Deacon and Mrs. Walden will be around to check on you and see if you need anything. They’ll check up on you at the store too. Don’t let anybody else come over to the house, and don’t go nowhere but the store and church. Here comes your Daddy now, she said as his truck pulled off the road and onto the gravel driveway. Say your prayers every morning and before you go to bed, and stay away from temptation. We’ll be staying at Grandma’s if there’s an emergency. The telephone number’s on the refrigerator.

She gave each of her children a peck on the cheek and walked out onto the front porch. Bobby struggled to drag the heavy suitcase out after her. Pastor Lindquist, a burly, sun darkened man who looked ten years older than his forty-five years, got out of the truck without shutting the engine off. He took the suitcase from Bobby and effort-

lessly heaved it into the bed of his twelve-year-old pick-up while his submissive wife of eighteen years climbed in to the passenger seat.

You kids behave yourselves while we’re gone, he said sternly as he ran his calloused hand over the dark stubble on his closely cropped head. In his deep, booming voice he cautioned his children, I don’t want to hear about you not looking after the store or helping Deacon Walden on Sunday. If I hear you’ve been out of line, I’ll take a strap to you. Don’t forget to feed an milk the cows, feed and water the chickens, and collect the eggs.

Pastor Jacob Lindquist climbed back into the cab of the truck where his wife dutifully waited and drove off without another word to his two children.

The two teenagers stood on the porch and watched their parent’s drive away. Though undemonstrative in nature, they were sure their parents cared for them and were very proud of their accomplishments. Their deep religious convictions precluded any outward demonstrations of affection toward their children, something they both resented but had become accustomed to over the years.

Combined with the stress of running a struggling business and caring for the spiritual needs of a flock of fifty-seven parishioners, their father was always abrupt and gruff sounding. He was slow to anger and never abusive toward his wife or children, but he was a steadfast believer in corporal punishment for even minor transgressions. The two children knew he was serious when he threatened to take a strap to them. He kept a leather razor strop in his study for such occasions.

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The two children went back into the house and, out of habit, began their homework. By sundown, the two had completed their homework and taken care of the cows and chickens. They ate a dinner of cold roasted chicken, homemade potato salad, and pole beans from their mother’s vegetable garden, then they spent the evening in front of the television watching the racy shows their parents wouldn’t normally allow them to watch. Shortly before bedtime, the telephone rang. Bobby answered it, and then called his sister to the phone before he went upstairs to get ready for bed.

Hello, Karen answered.

Hi Karen. It’s me, Wendy.

Oh hi Wendy! What are you up to?

Just watching TV. You?

The same. But I was just going to get washed up for bed.

At nine o’clock on a Friday night. Why?

I have to get up early to open the store by eight. My parents had to go out of town, and Bobby and me have to handle the store by ourselves all day tomorrow. I have to open it, and Bobby will come in later and work till the store closes at nine. Saturday’s our busiest day of the week.

Bummer. When are your parents coming back?

Not till Monday.

My parents wouldn’t think of leaving us at home overnight without an adult. Usually, when they go somewhere, the drop us off at my grandparents house in Ponca City, Wendy said.

This is only the second time they’ve done it. They had to go to Enid all of a sudden because my grandfather had a heart attack. I don’t think they had time to get anybody to watch us except Deacon Walden and his wife. The last time was just for a night when they went to a Church meeting in Tulsa.

With your parents gone, do you think you’ll be able to get off work early enough to go to the game and the dance?

They made us promise them we’d behave, she said with a disappointed tone. If I did something like that and they found out, my Dad would beat me with a leather strap, and they’d never trust me out of their sight again.

So how’d they find out? They won’t be back till Monday, Wendy mischievously encouraged.

Believe me, they’d know. I can’t break a promise or lie to them about something like that. It wouldn’t be right. Besides, Bobby would probably tell on me if I did.

Oh come on you big chicken! I dare you! she giggled. You know all of the football team is going to be at the dance; even Doug Jacobs!

You mean that cute guy in the senior class that plays fullback? That Doug Jacobs? she anxiously and excitedly asked. Earlier in the week he had said Hello to Wendy in the hallway while Karen was there. Karen had confessed she thought he was the cutest boy in school.

Yeah! My older brother and him are good friends. If you go to the dance, I’ll have Kenny introduce you to him. You know he broke up with Donna Wilson over the summer?

That’s not fair Wendy, Karen answered with a fake whine in her voice. He’s so cute, I’d have his baby, she said jokingly. You know I can’t disobey my parents though. They’d never let me out of their sight again if I did and they found out.

Okay, but I’m telling you, Doug will be there without a date. You’ll never get a better chance than this.

He’s so cute. What makes you think I’d have a chance to meet him anyway?

Like I said, Doug is Kenny’s best friend. You’ll never get another chance like this!

Oh,... I don’t know, she moaned as her mind whirled with the conflict between obeying her parents and sneaking out to have some harmless fun with her new friend. It’s wrong! What if my parents find out? Bobby can be such a weasel sometimes.

Bobby has to close the store, right. All you have to do is make sure you get home before he does. The dance starts at six and ends at nine. The store doesn’t close till nine, and Bobby still has to clean up and do other stuff doesn’t he. If you leave the dance at nine o’clock and go straight home, you can still get there before he does.

Oh,... all right, she whined. I’ll think about it. But I don’t feel good about sneaking around like that, she said while in her mind she tried to rationalize what she already knew she was going to do.

It’s not really sneaking around. You didn’t ask your parents did you?

No.

They didn’t say ‘No’ did they? she reasoned.

Unh-unh.

You’ll still get home before your little brother does, and you might just get a chance to meet Doug, Wendy prodded.

I’ll think about it. Call me at the store tomorrow before two. That’s when Bobby’s supposed to be there. If I go, I’ll have to bring some clothes to change in to. Doug can’t see me in my grimy old work clothes.

Okay. I’ll call you in the morning. Bye.

Bye.

Karen hung up the phone and went upstairs to get ready for bed. She was feeling excited and slightly wicked about the prospect of sneaking out and going to the dance even though she knew her parents would forbid it, and dancing was against their spiritual beliefs. She also had conflicting feelings of guilt because she knew going against her parent’s wishes, no matter how absurd and antiquated they were, was wrong and a sin.

She was even more delighted about the chance of finally meeting Doug Jacobs, a boy she’d had a crush on since her family moved from Chickasha to Pawhuska in the middle of the school year nearly ten months earlier. Doug Jacobs was the school’s football and basketball star. He was the football team’s captain and he had led the team to an AA championship the previous year. He was an all-around athlete and had made the All-American high school team, second string, the previous season.

Recruiters from the University of Oklahoma had tentatively signed him. Others, like Oklahoma State University and several other colleges and universities in the plains states and mid-west were actively scouting him for their teams as well. At six-foot-three, two hundred twenty pounds of well-developed muscle, long blond hair, sea-blue eyes, and the deep tan of someone who spends a great deal of time outdoors, he was also very popular with the girls. His father was the president and CEO of the Pioneer Trust Savings and Loan. Being an only child, his wealthy parents doted on him and gave him everything he wanted. Though it wasn’t well known, they had also used their money and considerable influence to buy his way out of minor scrapes with the law on more than one occasion.

Ever since Karen first laid eyes on him, he had been going steady with a junior named Donna, but Wendy’s news that they had broken up during the summer elevated her hopes. Just thinking that he might ask her to dance, and maybe even try to kiss her, made her shudder and tingle with excitement and anticipation.

CHAPTER 3 

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Karen stood outside the gaily-decorated Central Osage High School gymnasium anxiously waiting for Wendy. Earlier in the day they had talked on the telephone and agreed to meet outside the gym at six o’clock. She had gotten off work at 5:30 and had washed up and changed from her dungarees, T-shirt, and sneakers into a yellow and white plaid sundress her mother described as scandalous and almost forbid her to buy, and sandals in the girls locker room in the basement of the gymnasium. She hastily applied a liberal coat of lipstick, rouge, mascara, and eye shadow; essentials that her mother prohibited her from having as well.

The football game had ended with a victory for the Central Osage Wildcats while she was changing. Many of the students were milling around outside the school waiting for the gym to open for the dance when she emerged from the locker room. Wendy arrived five minutes later, and she immediately began talking about how exciting the game had been.

That was a great game! We beat Bartlesville, but good! Maybe we can go to State again this year! Wouldn’t that be great? Wendy excitedly said.

Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know that much about football. My dad never watches it, and Bobby’s only interested in his clarinet. You know, I feel real funny about being here. What if somebody tells Bobby or my parents find out?

You worry too much Karen. Nobody’ll ever know unless you tell them. I’m starved—let’s go inside and grab a hot dog. Kenny said he’d meet us after the team finished changing. He promised me he would introduce you to Doug.

Okay. It’s just that this is the first time I’ve snuck out without my parents approval, she answered apprehensively.

The two girls paid the two dollar admission fee and walked into the lobby of the gymnasium. Gold and maroon streamers, the schools colors, were hung from the ceiling and walls, and the face of a giant growling wildcat was painted across the far wall. They continued talking while they stood in line at the snack bar. Each girl bought a hotdog and a Coca Cola, then moved inside and sat in the bleachers to eat.

A stage had been erected at one end of the basketball court, and a local band had just finished setting up their instruments. Fiberboard planks had been laid down to protect the parquet finish of the basketball court from the feet of over two hundred students and their chaperons. Karen and Wendy ate their dinner while they continued their gossip about boys in general and Doug Jacobs specifically.

I didn’t realize how hungry I was. This is the first thing I’ve eaten since breakfast, Karen remarked as she wolfed down her hotdog. Do you think Doug will like me?

I don’t see why not. You’re cute, and even if you try to hide it, you’re pretty smart. I know Donna was always helping him with his homework.

Do you know why they broke up?

No. He didn’t tell Kenny, or at least Kenny says he didn’t. I know they went together for a long time.

Has she said why they broke up?

"I haven’t heard. I