L. Gonzalez: You were standing up to the boy?
N. Knox: Yes. He’s a bully. He was being gross. He was talking about my sister. I didn’t like it.
L. Gonzalez: What did he say?
L. Gonzalez: You don’t want to talk about what he said?
N. Knox: No.
L. Gonzalez: Okay. You stood up to him for being a bully. He was bullying you?
N. Knox: No one bullies me.
L. Gonzalez: But he said something crude about your sister and you lashed out. That must have made you very angry.
L. Gonzalez: Something must have made you very angry to push that boy into the glass.
N. Knox: He deserved it. People get what they deserve.
EVE KNOX
Friday, December 22, 1995
7:45 a.m.
Eve knew she should have gone after Nola, but she just couldn’t deal with her right now. Besides, Nola obviously didn’t want her help.
Eve backtracked a few blocks and then took a right on Third Street. She was going to be late for school going this way but surprisingly didn’t really care. Winter vacation started at twelve thirty and then they’d be off for two full weeks. Eve had been looking forward to the break: sleeping in, no homework, lounging around and watching TV and reading. But after the fight with her mother she dreaded it. The thought that she would be stranded in the house with her mother and Nola for two weeks was excruciating.
The soft beep of a car horn startled her and Eve turned to see a black BMW creeping down the street next to her. The driver’s side window rolled down and their neighbor Mr. Harper smiled up at her. “Hi, Eve,” he said. “I’d been hoping to catch you.”
Everyone, including her mother, said that Cam Harper was handsome in a soap opera star kind of way. That Cam Harper, she said, he’s one nice-looking man. But in the last few months he’d made Eve uneasy, making offhand comments about how pretty she was and how all the boys in her school must want to date her.
Over time Eve saw that Cam had these intense eyes that one minute were warm and laughing and then the next turned hard and cold like a snake’s. Because of this, Eve had been babysitting less and less for the Harpers. She was happy to let Maggie take the jobs even though it meant less money in her pocket.
Eve had always felt a little bit sorry for his wife. She tried so hard. Joyce was always careful to look her best. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfectly kept house. When Eve first began babysitting for the Harpers she thought that this must be what a marriage was supposed to look like, what a home was supposed to be. Her own father was a ghost of a memory and her mother, to be honest, was kind of a hot mess.
When Eve looked carefully at the Harpers she could see that nothing was quite as it seemed. The toll that maintaining this perfection took on Mrs. Harper was always just below the surface and her once open, sweet face became closed and guarded. Resigned.
“You’re still babysitting for us tomorrow night?” He smiled hopefully, a deep dimple appearing.
“Yep, I’ll be there. Six o’clock, right?” Eve wasn’t thrilled about accepting the job but knew that Maggie wasn’t able to watch the kids and that the Harpers were desperate.
“It’s cold out there,” Cam said, giving an exaggerated shake to prove his point. “Hop in, I’ll take you to school.”
Eve’s cheeks were numb and her fingers stiff from the cold and she was definitely going to be late for school but she would rather be late and frozen than get into the car alone with Mr. Harper.
“No thanks,” Eve told him, rewinding her scarf around her neck so that it covered her ears. Mr. Harper reached through the window and grabbed her hand.
“You’re freezing,” he said, enveloping her cold fingers in his warm ones. “Come on, let me give you a ride.” His skin against hers was moist and sent a spasm of revulsion through her.
“No thanks,” Eve said again, trying to pull her hand free but Mr. Harper held tight. “Ow,” Eve said with a nervous laugh and he finally let go. Eve shoved her hands into her pockets, eager to get away.
“Alright,” Mr. Harper said with an easy smile. “Better run off to school. Don’t want to be late. See you tomorrow.”
Eve turned and started walking, well aware that Mr. Harper was still sitting there in his car, watching her. The weight of his gaze scraped across the back of her neck and she picked up her speed.
The awkwardness with Mr. Harper didn’t happen all of a sudden. It was so gradual and natural and innocent that it took Eve forever to figure out. The way his knuckles grazed against her hand when he paid her, the way his shoulder brushed against Eve’s when he insisted on walking her across the street when she finished babysitting late at night. Cam Harper was a creeper. Maggie suddenly came to mind: in over her head with someone too old for her. Could Cam Harper be that someone? The thought made her sick. Maybe this was why Maggie was acting so weird this morning, why she was so quick to start an argument. Eve would find Maggie when she got to school and try to work things out.
“Hey,” came a shout. “Eve!”
Eve spun around and found Nick inching along in his car close behind. “Jeez, you scared me.” Eve pressed a hand to her chest.
“Who was that?” Nick asked through the open car window, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Who were you talking to?”
Eve looked back to where Mr. Harper was still parked. “I babysit his kids,” Eve explained. “He was asking if I could watch them tomorrow.”
“He was holding your hand,” Nick said accusingly.
“No,” Eve said, laughing nervously, knowing that it probably looked pretty bad from Nick’s point of view. “No, he wasn’t. He was just checking for frostbite.”
“Get in the car, Eve.” Nick glowered.
“That’s okay,” she said taking a step backward.
“Get in the fucking car,” Nick hissed, putting the car into Park and throwing open his car door.
“Nick,” Eve said looking around. Mr. Harper was still sitting in his car looking curiously at the two of them through his windshield. “Why are you being this way? It was nothing.” Nick jetted from the car and yanked on Eve’s elbow, pulling her toward the passenger side. “Ow,” Eve cried, this time in real pain.
“Hey,” Mr. Harper called as he stepped from his car. “Eve, is everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” Eve answered, her voice shaking. “Everything’s fine.”
“Get in the car,” Nick demanded, still holding on to her coat.
“Hey, man, let go of her,” Mr. Harper said, trotting toward them.
“Hey, man, mind your own business,” Nick mimicked.
“I know who you are,” Mr. Harper said in a low voice. “You think this is the right way to treat a girl? I know your parents and I don’t think they’d be happy to hear you’re acting like an asshole.”
The two stared at each other until Eve was sure it was going to come to blows. Nick was the one who balked first, dropping Eve’s arm and looking away.
“You okay?” Mr. Harper asked Eve and she nodded. “You want me to call your mom?”
“No, I’m okay,” Eve whispered.
“At least let me give you a ride to school,” Mr. Harper urged.
“Real original,” Nick muttered as he climbed back into his car. “Screwing the babysitter.”
“What did you say?” Mr. Harper said, striding toward Nick’s car. Nick ignored him and sped off with a squeal of the tires.
“He gets mad sometimes,” Eve said apologetically. “He doesn’t mean it.”
“Guys like that always mean it, Eve,” Mr. Harper said, gently brushing a wayward strand of hair out of Eve’s face. “You deserve better than this.”
“I better get going,” Eve said, biting back tears. “I’m sorry that happened.” She turned and moved down the street toward the school.
Eve couldn�
�t make sense of it. Nick said he loved her but could be so mean. Mr. Harper could make her feel so uncomfortable one minute and safe the next. She was so confused.
She felt eyes on her and looked around, fearful that Nick was following her. He wasn’t. But standing beneath the naked branches of a black maple was Nola, watching, taking in the entire scene.
THE WILLOW CREEK GAZETTE
December 20, 2015
Letter to the Editor
Online Edition
From Charlotte Knox, 1325 Bates Street, Grotto
My daughter, Eve Knox, was murdered twenty years ago this month. She was only fifteen years old. On the night she died, police chief Henry Kennedy gave me his word that he would find the monster who killed my daughter. He promised me justice.
Chief Kennedy broke his promise.
Enough is enough. There is a murderer in our town and someone knows something. It could be your neighbor or son or husband and because of Chief Kennedy’s incompetence we may never know.
I hope no one else has to go through what my family has but if you do, don’t count on Chief Kennedy, the Grotto PD or the Ransom County Sheriff’s Department. Twenty years is too long to not know the truth.
Tags Letters-to-the-editor Crime Nola-Knox Cold-case
57 COMMENTS
Bethany Lincoln
I remember this like it was yesterday and I can’t believe they haven’t made an arrest yet. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Jessalyn Fagan
It’s always the boyfriend!
Orrin Wenman
It’s easy for someone to blame the police when it’s too hard to look at one’s own actions. Why didn’t the parents know where she was? I’ve always thought there was a lot more to this story than meets the eye.
Dawn Iverson
I agree. Someone knows something and the police dropped the ball here. I’ve tried to give eyewitness evidence to the police and have been ignored at every turn. It’s a shame, especially since all they have to do is literally look in their own neighborhood. This poor family hasn’t gotten the closure they deserve.
Rick Meadows
Own neighborhood? How about own kitchen. Everyone is pointing fingers at the boyfriend or some homeless dude. What about the family? Aren’t most murders committed by relatives?
MAGGIE KENNEDY-O’KEEFE
Tuesday, June 16, 2020
Last night, after finding Shaun’s name in the interview transcripts, I couldn’t sleep. That and Shaun’s less-than-enthusiastic reaction to me taking on Eve’s case had me tossing and turning all night. Could he have seen or heard something that might lead to Eve’s killer?
And I had forgotten about my ultrasound appointment. How could I have forgotten something so important? I had been counting down the hours until I could see the comma curve of her spine, count her fingers and toes, hear the pulsing thrum of her heart. Already this case has me addled, forgetting the most important things.
When I woke this morning, Shaun was already gone. I had hoped to ask him about seeing his name in Eve’s file before he left for the day. It probably meant nothing but still I was curious. It kept me wondering if Shaun might have seen something he didn’t even realize was important.
I dump cat food into the bowls and Skunky and Ponie come running, winding their sleek bodies around my legs in appreciation. I check the calendar on the wall while I toss back my prenatal vitamin and take a swig of water. I grab a banana and a muffin from the kitchen counter and head out the door. The morning sky is bright blue and cloudless and already hot. Someone is burning brush off in the distance. Stupid because of the dry weather. We need rain and it’s careless to burn leaves and weeds in these dry conditions.
I drive up our lane past the big barn and the orchards and the old saltbox barn near the main road. A flicker of light in a window of the small barn catches my eye. This makes no sense. The old barn isn’t wired for electricity. We use it as a catch-all space for orchard supplies and a four-wheeler and a snowmobile that we use to get around the property.
I pull the car to the side of the lane and put it into Park. Most likely what I saw was a reflection from the morning sun glinting off the pane of glass but I still want to check it out. I walk toward the window but I’m too short to peer over the ledge so I move to the barn doors. That’s when I see the thick iron padlock lying in the tall grass. With difficulty, I bend down to pick it up. It’s been snapped with a bolt cutter.
Dammit, I think, we’ve been robbed. There are thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment in there. We are going to have to get a better security system. I fling open the barn door and a whoosh of heat and black smoke sends me reeling backward.
I clutch the door frame to catch my balance and peer through the haze. The fire is concentrated in the far left corner of the barn and isn’t out of control just yet. There’s still time to put it out. I scan the space in search of something to smother the knee-high blaze. I spy an old tarp draped over the riding lawn mower and yank it free.
Within seconds the flames unfold themselves from a crouch and scale the wooden walls until they are licking the rafters. It’s too late. I should have never opened the barn door. My eyes burn and I wipe away the tears. The oxygen only fuels the fire and a thick fog rolls over me and my nose fills with a biting, chemical odor. My lungs suck in the dense smoke and I struggle for breath. There’s nothing I can do to save the barn and its contents. The air around me cracks and pops and I know I need to get the hell out of here. Hot sparks rain down on me and I can hear the sizzle of fabric burning and feel the sharp bite of fire against my skin. I turn and bumble blindly toward where I pray the barn door is.
Once outside I lurch toward the road. All I can think about are the bags of fertilizer stacked against the barn walls and the grease and gasoline pooled in gas tanks. I’m barely aware of hands grabbing at me, pulling me away from the flames.
“I was driving by and saw the smoke,” the man says, guiding me to the top of the lane. “I called 911. What happened?” Out of breath, I lean against my car, coughing.
“I don’t know,” I gasp. I think of the broken padlock lying in the grass. “At first I thought someone had tried to break in, but when I opened the door there was a fire.” I spit out a wad of black phlegm. This can’t be good for the baby.
“You’re hurt,” he says, reaching for my arm. I look down and see a constellation of blisters across my arm. I’m suddenly aware of pinpricks of pain across my shoulders. I crane my neck and see tiny singe marks dotting my shirt. I was lucky I wasn’t burned alive.
“It happened so fast,” I rasp. “I have to call my husband,” I say, opening my car door and reaching inside for my phone. His phone rings and rings. Finally, he picks up.
“The saltbox is on fire,” I tell him over the roar of the fire. “Come home,” I say hoarsely, my throat stinging from the smoke.
“Are you safe?” he asks. The house is well away from the barn but I know how quickly fire can spread, especially in a dry season.
“I’m okay. Someone stopped and called the fire department.” We disconnect and the man and I watch helplessly and in a matter of fifteen minutes the barn burns and crumbles, collapsing in on itself in an ashy heap. It’s a total loss.
“Where are they?” I ask, my teeth chattering despite the waves of heat rolling over us. “What’s taking so long?” I can only hope that the fire department will get here soon and contain the blaze before it can move to the orchards.
Finally, in the distance comes the wail of sirens and a caravan of bright red fire engines comes into view. I wave my arms to let them know where to go as if the heavy smoke and burning rafters aren’t enough clues.
“She needs to be looked at,” the man tells a paramedic who leads me to the back of her vehicle.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just a few small burns.”
“How much smoke
did you breathe in?” the paramedic asks.
“Some,” I respond and promptly begin coughing. My throat feels like I swallowed glass.
“How far along are you?” she asks.
“Seven months?” I murmur.
She quickly slides an oxygen mask over my face and begins taking my vitals.
“We’ll take you in and have you and your baby checked out by the docs.”
I know she’s right, but I don’t want to leave. I want Shaun. If it wasn’t for the baby I’d stay put. “Okay,” I acquiesce. “My husband is on his way here. Can someone let him know that I’m okay?” The paramedic waves over the man who stopped to help me and tells him we are heading to the hospital over in Willow Creek just as a precaution. The man promises me he’ll let Shaun know I’m perfectly okay and that I promise to call him when I’m done getting checked over.
I lie down in the back of the ambulance and suck in the clean, fresh air from the oxygen tank. I try to close my eyes but all I can see are angry flames scaling the barn wall and engulfing the rafters. I lay a hand over my abdomen waiting for the baby to move. Come on, I urge. There’s no way you could have slept through all that. Unless you take after your dad. He can sleep through anything.
I think of the cut padlock and the weird phone calls from last night. Then there’s the origami figure left on my car. Are they all related or strange coincidences? I rack my brain trying to think who might have it out for me. It could be any number of dirtballs and criminals that I’ve come into contact with. The most obvious is my involvement in investigating the recent arsons in the area. If our barn fire and the arsons are connected, what are the chances my barn was chosen randomly? All I can do now is wait and see what the fire marshal determines as the cause. Whatever the reason, someone has crossed a line. They have stepped onto my property, come to my home, and that is not acceptable.
The baby shifts, swinging an elbow or a foot in the process. I laugh with relief. “Don’t worry,” I whisper to her, imagining that she is pressing her fingers flat against the walls of my uterus so that only a thin layer of skin separates our hands. “I’ll protect you.”
This Is How I Lied Page 11