Stephen White - Cold Case

If the threat of disclosure of the rape wasn't the motivation for the danger Satoshi was in, then what was it? The timeline I'd just typed suggested that there had to be a link to whatever originally motivated the murders of Tami and Miko. Something that tied Satoshi to Tami's and Miko's deaths. Perhaps something that Satoshi wasn't even aware of.

What was it?

I didn't know. But I knew whom I wanted to ask.

I called Sam and asked if his guest was awake and available. While he and I were negotiating a safe place to rendezvous in town, the fax machine started spitting out a two-page memo to Lauren from. Mary Wright in Washington.

The gist of the memo was that Mary was asking Lauren for advice about two things. First, she wanted a review of Colorado statutes and procedures relating to search warrants. And second, she wanted to know the circumstances under which a Colorado governor could usurp the power of a local district attorney and appoint a special prosecutor for a criminal investigation.

I momentarily stopped breathing when I read that the suspect property for the search warrant was Raymond Welle's home, the Silky Road Ranch. Mary informed Lauren that inquiries were being made of Representative Welle to determine whether he would voluntarily grant Locard investigators access to his property.

Should he refuse, Wright seemed prepared to recommend approaching the local district attorney in Routt County to petition a judge to obtain a search warrant. Should the DA refuse to proceed, Mary Wright was devising a strategy for an end around.

It was obvious to me that Mary Wright thought she had grounds for probable cause. Given her reputation, I didn't doubt that she was right.

I wondered what Flynn and Russ had discovered that pointed them toward the Silky Road.

Lauren was asleep. I left her a note that I was going to town to meet with Sam and Satoshi, and headed to Sherry Purdy's flower shop. I spent the time driving across the Boulder Valley trying to imagine what life was like right now in Raymond Welle's camp.

He was in the midst of a senatorial campaign that had necessitated his choosing not to run for reelection to his relatively secure seat in the House of Representatives. The Washington Post was investigating him for campaign-finance irregularities dating back ten years or more. With the bloody disappearance of the Post reporter who had broken the campaign-finance story, the rest of the national media had sharpened their focus on the accusations that had initially been front-page news only in the Washington Post and in the Denver papers.

In addition, Locard had shown up in Raymond Welle's universe and started actively investigating the possibility that he'd had a role in the murder of two young girls a dozen years before. Satoshi Hamamoto, who Welle knew had accused one of Welle's ex-patients of rape, had become a loose cannon. And now Locard's investigation had apparently proceeded to a point where the Locard forensic team felt that it was reasonable to consider asking the local prosecutor in Routt County to petition a judge for permission to search Welle's ranch for physical evidence that might be related to the murders of Tami and Mariko.

Indeed, Mary Wright felt strongly enough about the evidence she had before her to inquire about procedures that would bypass the local prosecutor should he or she turn out to be reluctant to ask a judge for a search warrant.

Raymond Welle was not having a very good month. Given the circumstances, I assumed he had little choice but to agree to a voluntary search of his property.

Should he deny Locard permission to search, they were inclined to present whatever new evidence they had accumulated to the local prosecutor and to a local judge. That maneuver would greatly increase the risk of leaks to the media. And that was something that Welle could ill afford.

Sam hadn't turned on any lights, and the interior of his wife's flower shop was streaked with shadows from the streetlights along Pearl. The sweetness of the perfume from the blossoms felt especially cloying in the dark. I followed Sam past a wall of coolers to a crowded back room where Sherry did the paperwork associated with her business. Satoshi was there waiting for us.

She stood and embraced me, kissing me quickly on one cheek. I found myself surprised by the intimacy of the greeting. She smiled warmly at Sam-she had obviously developed a quick affection for him.

Sam wasted no time. He asked me, "What's up?"

I looked at Satoshi as I answered.

"I just learned that Raymond Welle was treating Joey Franklin in psychotherapy when he raped you, Satoshi."

She lowered her chin and exhaled in a rush through her nose. It was as though I had hit her in the gut. It took her half a minute to process the information and to regain her composure.

"For what?" she asked.

"Why was Dr. Welle seeing him?" I'd expected her to be full of venom. I found the question curious.

"His assault on you apparently wasn't the first time he'd… taken advantage of young girls."

"So Dr. Welle knew about Joey. And he knew… what Joey was… capable of doing."

"Possibly, yes." Sam asked how I knew, and I explained about my call to Ellen Left, Tami's old English teacher, and about her story regarding Joey and his trouble at school.

Satoshi's expression was tight as I spoke, but her eyes were unfocused. I guessed that her agile mind was navigating the waters I'd stirred up.

"It's not enough," she said.

"It still isn't adequate to explain why someone would threaten me. I can't prove what Joey did to me. If he denies it, and especially if Dr. Welle denies knowing about it, my accusation would be meaningless." Without even having heard Joeys denial that he even remembered Satoshi, and without even considering the fact that confidentiality would prevent Welle from commenting on the case, Satoshi had reached the same conclusion that I had.

I said, "I agree. It leaves me thinking that you must know something else, Satoshi. Perhaps something that felt inconsequential at the time. But something that's crucial to someone today. Something that puts someone at enough risk that they are willing to try to scare you into silence."

She raised her eyebrows and they disappeared beneath her thin bangs.

"What?" she asked.

Sam nodded his big head twice and shifted on his chair. He said, "Let's see if we can figure that out." He leaned close to Satoshi and his voice softened.

"What I'd like to do now, tonight-what we're going to do now-is we're going to talk about those few days back then and see if we can help you remember some things that you might have forgotten. Or maybe see if there're some things that you remember that have never seemed particularly important until now. How does that sound? You ready to get started? I'm going to be asking you a lot of questions.

I'll probably be a little redundant. And I'm going to ask for a lot of detail."

"I'm ready."

He turned and faced me.

"Alan, go get us all some coffee. I'm afraid we could be here for a while. I'm sure something's open on Pearl. Get me a Danish or something, too. I really like bear claws." Satoshi said, "I'll have tea. A plain bagel maybe, if you don't mind." Sam said, "She'd prefer tea. Get her some tea."

I stepped out of the room and ventured out onto Pearl Street. The night was warm, and the sidewalk was pocked with raindrops that had fallen since we'd been inside. I guessed it had been a thunderstorm cell about the size of a city block. The air was heavy. For an hour or so Boulder would pretend that it had humidity.

I hesitated outside Peaberry's but decided to buy our provisions across the street at the Trident. Something about the place always took me back to the Boulder I'd fallen in love with in the seventies. The Trident was careless and cluttered and autocratic and democratic all at once. The coffee was reliably good. The pastry case was usually overflowing.