The Advocate's Homicides Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  The Advocate Series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  About the Author

  The

  Advocate’s

  Homicides

  Teresa Burrell

  Silent Thunder Publishing

  San Diego

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters and all incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  THE ADVOCATE’S HOMICIDES

  Copyright 2016 by Teresa Burrell

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Art by Madeline Settle Edited by Marilee Wood

  Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Library of Congress Number: 2016912589

  ISBN: 978-1-938680-22-9

  Silent Thunder Publishing San Diego

  Dedication

  To my brother Don Johnson,

  who will always remain a giant of a man

  and a phenomenal brother

  in my mind and in my heart.

  We miss you every day.

  Acknowledgements

  A special thanks to those who helped make this book possible.

  Chris Broesel Apollo Madrigal Brian Settle Corey Thomas Robin Thomas

  My Wonderful Beta Readers You are all so amazing!

  Beth Sisel Agejew Linda Arterberry Linda Athridge-Langille Vickie Barrier Nancy Barth Susan Intermoia Marilyn LaFiura Joy Lorton

  John McCoy Jill Parseghian Rodger Peabody Lily Qualls Morales Colleen Scott Heather Siani Loretta Simons Jodi Thomas Sandy Thompson Nikki Tomlin Brad Williams Denise Zendel

  THE ADVOCATE SERIES

  THE ADVOCATE

  (Book 1)

  THE ADVOCATE’S BETRAYAL

  (Book 2)

  THE ADVOCATE’S CONVICTION

  (Book 3)

  THE ADVOCATE’S DILEMMA

  (Book 4)

  THE ADVOCATE’S EX PARTE

  (Book 5)

  THE ADVOCATE’S FELONY

  (Book 6)

  THE ADVOCATE’S GEOCACHE

  (Book 7)

  THE ADVOCATE’S HOMICIDES

  (Book 8)

  Part I:

  Tray Copley’s Case

  Chapter 1

  Three Years Ago…

  Homicide Detective Greg Nelson leaned over the dead body in the shallow grave and touched the arm with his gloved hand. The male corpse was greenish in color. "Looks like he's been here awhile, at least a few days. Rigor has come and gone. I’d say he’s been dead about a week but definitely less than a month."

  “How do you know that?” Detective Smothers asked.

  “His color points to about a week. He still has his hair, nails, and teeth, so I’m guessing less than a month. But it depends on how long he’s been buried here. He could’ve been preserved somewhere before he was buried. The coroner will be able to determine the time.”

  Smothers wrinkled his nose. "He's in pretty bad shape, and he sure doesn’t smell very good."

  “Is this your first body, Detective?”

  “My first in the field. I’ve seen some in the morgue.”

  Nelson wiggled his tie to loosen it. "Where's the man who found him?"

  "Over there." Smothers pointed to an unshaven, scruffy-looking man standing near a tree with a boy who looked to be ten or eleven years old. They stood just beyond the yellow tape that had been tied to the trees encircling the grave.

  "Was the kid with him?"

  "Afraid so."

  Nelson glanced around at the cops walking the premises. “Has anyone found anything else?"

  "Nothing earth shaking—a couple of animal bones and a lot of trash. The dogs are on their way."

  Nelson pulled his gloves off and walked over to the man and the young boy. "I'm Detective Greg Nelson." Nelson reached out his hand and the man shook it but didn't respond. "What are your names?"

  "Sorry.” He exhaled. “I'm Jerry Bartlett and this is my son Joey."

  "Which one of you found the body?"

  "We were together, but I saw it first," Jerry said.

  Joey looked terrified. "Perhaps I should talk to you alone," Nelson said, nodding toward the boy.

  Jerry looked at his frightened son, "Good idea."

  Nelson signaled for an officer standing about ten feet away. She walked over to them. "Officer Barnes, will you please take young Joey here for a little walk outside the perimeter while I talk to his father. He's had a rough morning."

  When they left, Nelson said, "Please tell me what happened."

  "My son and I were camping about a mile from here. We were hiking, as we often do, and Joey had to take a whizz. There was no one around, so he went right there." He pointed to the gravesite. "And when he did, it washed away some of the dirt on the hand. I saw what looked like a finger sticking out of the ground."

  "There was more than a finger exposed when we got here. Did you dig around it?"

  "I always carry a small hand shovel in my backpack. I kept thinking it was some kind of a joke and the hand would be plastic or rubber or something. I used the shovel to remove some of the dirt around it, but then I realized it was real so I stopped and called 9-1-1."

  Nelson collected Bartlett's personal information and questioned him a while longer. They both watched as the canine unit drove up and Kruegster, a mahogany-colored malinois with a black face and black ears, jumped out of the car.

  "What's the dog for?" Bartlett asked.

  "He's trained to look for evidence."

  "Do you always use the dogs?"

  "No, but it's easier in this kind of setting because there's so much ground to cove
r."

  Nelson asked him a few more questions about his camping trip, such as how often he went to Coyote Ridge and how long he had been there this time. Then he spoke briefly with his son, who corroborated the information.

  Nelson was walking back towards the body when the K-9 officer yelled from about sixty feet away. "We have another one!"

  Chapter 2

  Fourteen-year-old Tray Copley looked up at his attorney, Sabre Brown, who stood about three inches taller than him at five-foot-six. "What if I did something really, really bad?" he asked, and then quickly looked down at his feet.

  “Come, sit,” Sabre said, as she sat down on the bench in the backyard outside Tray’s foster home. He sat down next to her. Tray could have easily passed for ten years old. His dark, curly hair glistened in the sunlight. "Anything you tell me is confidential, so no matter how bad the thing is you did, I still can't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

  "Even if it was against the law? I mean, what if I robbed a bank or something? Wouldn't you call the cops?"

  "No. I'm bound by what they call 'attorney-client privilege.' As your attorney, I can't tell anyone."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. Really. When people are charged with a crime, they can tell their attorneys everything without worrying about getting in trouble. Attorneys can provide the best defense when they know everything that has happened."

  "So, if I was going to," he paused, "rob a bank or something, I could tell you about it?" He sounded so serious.

  Sabre smiled, trying to lighten the mood, quite certain that he wasn't planning to rob a bank. She spoke softly. "Tray, do you plan to rob a bank?"

  He smiled uncomfortably and shifted in his seat. "No, of course not."

  “Good. The rules are different for things you haven't already done. If you plan to commit a crime in the future, I can't be any part of that. But if you've already done something bad and it's not ongoing, it will remain confidential."

  "What do you mean by 'ongoing'?"

  "Like if you robbed that bank and then took a hostage and you were hiding him. I couldn't help you keep him hidden because he would still be at risk." Tray grimaced. She looked directly into his sad eyes. "Tray, have you done something I should know about?"

  He shook his head and then turned away. "It's not important." His head turned back toward Sabre. "Do you think the judge will let me and my sister go home tomorrow?"

  "Maybe, but it depends on how well your mother is doing. I haven't seen the recommendations from the social worker yet, but the last I heard, your mom was testing clean and going to her twelve-step program. Is that what you want? To go home?”

  "Yes. It would be nice—as long as Mom isn’t using drugs. She's a good mom when she's not high."

  "Your mom is determined to stay clean. Hopefully she can, but if she's not quite ready, then you'll continue to stay at this home with your sister." She hoped that his mother was still clean. She had seen parents fail many times and seen so many disappointed children who couldn't go home because their parents couldn't stop using drugs. "You like it here, don't you?"

  His shoulders slumped. "Mr. and Mrs. Longe are nice people, and it's better now that my sister is here, but I still want to go home."

  "I know. We'll see how it goes tomorrow at the hearing."

  "Thanks for getting my sister here."

  "Of course. I know how important it is for you two to be together."

  "Sissy really likes it here and I know June and George—I mean Mr. and Mrs. Longe— really like her too."

  "I'm sure they do, but they took her because they wanted to make you happy. They care a lot about you."

  The edges of Tray’s lips turned up for just a second, but then the sad face set in once again.

  Sabre had gotten to know Tray well over the past eight months, even though he hadn’t talked a lot at first. Over time, he had started to open up to her. His case had come into the San Diego juvenile dependency system because his mother's boyfriend had molested Tray. He refused to talk about the molestation, but his little sister had seen enough for the court to find dependency jurisdiction in the case. Unfortunately, the standard in criminal court was much higher than dependency court, so the sister’s testimony wasn't enough to convict the mother’s boyfriend of a crime. All this court could do was try to protect the children.

  Upon investigation, it was discovered that the mother was a drug addict and the kids were parenting themselves. Tray was far more than a big brother to his half sister. He made sure she was fed, brushed her teeth, went to school, and did her homework. He acted as her parent when their mother was strung out. Even when she wasn't high Tray took care of his sister, probably out of habit. The social worker thought it would be healthier for Tray not to have so much responsibility, so when they were removed from their home, the worker placed them in separate foster homes. Tray ran away from three different foster homes and ended up in Mary Ellen Wilson Group Home for a while. After about a month in the group home, Tray became very complacent and did whatever he was told to do. Sabre noticed a real change in his personality, and the social worker recommended another foster home placement. The therapist, Dr. Bell, was concerned that Tray’s therapy would be interrupted but agreed to the change as long as Tray continued with him in therapy. That's when he went to the Longes’ home.

  "Where's Shanisha?" Sabre asked.

  "She's inside. I'll go get her."

  Sabre waited outside. She wondered what Tray was worried about—or worse, what he might be planning. He was a very quiet, polite, and sweet boy, but Sabre knew he carried a lot of sadness within him. She had hoped therapy would bring it out, but sometimes she got the feeling that Tray confided in her more than he did his therapist and that wasn't very much.

  Tray returned with his six-year-old sister, holding her hand all the way. In Shanisha’s other hand was a drawing on an 8-1/2 by 11 sheet of paper. Cornrows covering the front half of her head led to tight ringlets across the back. She was very shy and stood close to Tray, half hidden by his leg, her dark brown eyes wide.

  "Hi, Shanisha. Do you remember me?"

  She nodded.

  "Your hair is so pretty. Did Mrs. Longe do that for you?"

  She nodded again, but this time she smiled. June and George Longe were good foster parents, and their being a bi-racial couple made for a perfect fit with Tray and Shanisha. The children’s mother was white and both their fathers were African-American, just like June and George. Neither of the fathers was around at the present time. Shanisha's father was serving time in Donovan State Prison, and Tray hadn't seen his father for over three years.

  "That's a beautiful smile you have."

  That brought an even bigger grin.

  "What do you have in your hand?"

  Shanisha handed the drawing to Sabre.

  "She made it for you," Tray said.

  "Oh my, that's really special." Sabre looked at the drawing with four stick people standing on the left with the sun shining overhead. To the right was a bed with another person lying in it. "Are you in the picture?"

  Shanisha pointed to the smallest stick figure standing.

  "And is that Tray?" Sabre asked.

  "Uh huh," Shanisha murmured.

  "And who are those people?"

  "June," she said, pointing to the shorter of the two adults. "George." She pointed at the other one.

  "And who is this in the bed?"

  "Mommy. She's sick."

  Tray reached his arm around Shanisha and pulled her a little closer to him.

  As they visited, Shanisha began to open up, but she said nothing more about her mother. After a while, Sabre said, "Shanisha, you can go back to your house and play if you'd like."

  "I'll take her," Tray said, as he took Shanisha’s hand. “Come on, Pooh Bear.”

  "Thanks, and then I'd like to talk to you a bit more if you don't mind." Sabre watched as they walked away, holding hands until they neared the door, and then Shanisha let go and bolted forward.<
br />
  Every time Sabre saw the two siblings together, she observed how close they were. Although Sabre agreed that Tray shouldn't be parenting his sister, she had fought to get them back together because she felt the sibling bond was so strong that it was better for both of them. After Tray spent a few months in the Longe home, the therapist agreed it was healthier to have them together.

  Sabre knew Tray was damaged from the molestation. She wondered if he was shaming himself and if that was what he meant by doing something "really bad." Sexual abuse victims often blamed themselves and she feared he had not really dealt with it in therapy. He refused to admit that anything had even happened to him.

  When Tray came back and sat down, Sabre said, "I'm ready to listen if you want to tell me the 'really bad' thing you were talking about earlier."

  "It was nothin'."

  "I hope you're not blaming yourself for what happened to you with that horrible man."

  "It's not about that," Tray snapped, his voice low. "It's something else, but nothin' to worry about. Can I go now? I have a new video game I'd like to play."

  "Sure."

  Sabre watched him as he walked to his back door with his head slumped over.

  I wish I could help him, she thought.

  Chapter 3

  "Dang! That stupid woman!" Sabre spouted just as her best friend, Attorney Bob Clark, approached her in front of Department Four at the San Diego Superior Court, Juvenile Division.

  "What's the matter, Sobs?" Bob asked, using his favorite nickname for her. It came from Sabre Orin Brown's initials.

  "Your client, that's 'what's the matter.' She's an idiot!"

  Bob smirked as Sabre flung her brown, shoulder-length hair off her face. “You'll have to be a little more specific; I have a lot of clients who are idiots. In fact, most of them are idiots. That's why they're here in the first place. So, who is it this time?"

  "Jeannine Copley."

  "Is she here?"

  "I haven't seen her, but I just read the social worker's report."