by Tia Souders
Cammie shrugged and leaned back in her chair like she had all the time in the world. “No biggie. I’ll just reschedule. Gives me another excuse to miss school.”
“Cammie!”
“What? Go ahead. You two finish working on your school project. I’ll just listen in, maybe learn a thing or two. If you’ve got nothing to hide, then it’s fine, right? Kaden, you don’t mind, do you?” she asked, gazing at him expectantly.
“Uh...” Kaden looked at Abby for an answer.
“Fine. I’ll tell you what’s going on. Just not right this second. If you leave, I’ll fill you in.”
Cammie took a sip of her coffee. “When?”
“I don’t know. Maybe later this week? Not right now.”
Cammie shook her head. “Not good enough. This guy knows,” she said, stretching her arm toward Kaden. “And I don’t even know him. I need a time.”
Abby sighed. “Friday? We’ll hang out, and I’ll tell you about it.”
Cammie pursed her lips, absorbing the answer, then finally stood and pointed a finger at her. “Fine. But if you don’t, I will hunt you down like a bloodhound on a raccoon. And you will tell me. Lucky for you, I’m going to choose to forgive this transgression since you don’t have much experience with being a good friend.”
Abby opened her mouth to protest but snapped it shut. She kind of had a point.
“And I’d better see you sitting with this girl at lunch tomorrow,” she said, pointing to Kaden. Turning, she slid the sunglasses out of her hair and over her eyes before she left, looking none too sorry.
“Wow. I’m not gonna lie. That was slightly terrifying,” Kaden said, watching her leave.
“I know, right? I don’t think I realized how intense she was until my grandmother died.” And perceptive, Abby mused.
“Any chance she’s letting this go?”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
“What are you going to tell her? Kaden asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think of something.”
Abby had already confided in one person against her better judgment. The more people who knew, the more reckless it felt. She needed to be more careful. If Cammie suspected something was up, then it was only a matter of time before her parents noticed. And the last thing she needed was them finding out.
“Come on,” Abby said, grabbing her bag. “Let’s drive to the precinct, and you can read some of the journal entries. Tell me what you think. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner I can lay it to rest and stop sneaking around.”
ABBY FOLLOWED KADEN’S father, as he guided them through the precinct, his expression grim. It was just a hunch, but she guessed Kaden didn’t drop by often. His father’s expression at seeing his son there went from concerned to annoyed as his gaze flitted from Kaden to Abby.
The inside of the police station was different than she expected—sterile yet not unlike most workplaces. Laughter filled the air as they stepped inside, along with the scent of strong coffee and fresh paper off the printer. Several pairs of officers clustered around, talking while sipping from paper cups. Most of them didn’t even acknowledge Abby and Kaden as they passed, but the ones that did simply offered a nod of the head and a small smile. The clacking of a keyboard filled the background with constant punctuation to the voices. Not what she imagined a place of the law would be like.
She followed Kaden, trying to keep up with his long stride as they rounded the corner and passed the coffee pot to some sort of office in the back. Kaden’s father turned after they entered and closed the door behind them. He wore his gray and black uniform well. It gave him a slightly intimidating demeanor combined with his dark hair and stern expression. His blue eyes surprised her, considering the chocolate shade of Kaden’s. It made her wonder about his mother. Did the similarities they shared remind Mr. Oliver of all he had lost?
Abby took in the room before allowing her gaze to land on Mr. Oliver, who stood in front of them, hands shoved in his pockets and his expression tight.
He didn’t sit. Instead, he leaned against the table, letting it be known he didn’t plan on chatting long.
“What’s going on? Why are you here and not at home?” he asked.
His father’s gaze shifted to Abby briefly, then back to his son, and she had to fight the urge to remain still and not squirm under the scrutiny.
“Uh, Dad, this is Abby. Abby, this is my dad,” Kaden said, gesturing between them.
His father nodded toward her, then turned his gaze back to his son, making it clear he wasn’t there for formalities. Abby realized this was the second introduction of the day for the pair, but Mr. Oliver’s demeanor was far different than Cammie’s.
If Kaden was nervous, he was also a master in disguise because he leaned back in his chair, flopping an arm behind his head, the picture of comfort. With everything he had shared about their relationship, his composure surprised her. Then again, despite their similarities, he was so different than Abby. While she would’ve been intimidated, he seemed comfortable.
“We were hoping you could give us a little information,” Kaden said.
“About what?” The hint of incredulity in Mr. Oliver’s tone wasn’t lost on her.
“There was a private investigator murdered a while back. Greg Lawson,” Kaden said. “We wanted to see if you could give us some details on the case.”
“Why?”
“It’s for a school project,” Kaden said, deadpan.
Well, someone else didn’t have trouble lying. Wonder what Cammie would make of that?
His father sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You know I probably can’t give you anything. Especially if it’s an open case. I can’t disclose information we’re looking into because it could affect the investigation. Even if it’s closed, technically, you’d need to file a FOYA before I could give you any documents.”
Kaden’s smile fell the tiniest bit, but he carried on. “Come on. You’re my dad. And I’m eighteen. Who am I gonna tell?”
His father glanced pointedly at Abby. She shrunk down in her chair as Kaden continued.
“What do you think I’m going to do with it? Go to the press? There has to be something you can give us.”
Although his father shook his head no, he asked, “Who was it? And I need more details on this school project first.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression a closed book, which Abigail figured didn’t bode well for them.
“It’s for criminal justice. We have to find an unsolved case and create a couple of suspects from the information. We’re supposed to use public police records and whatever we can dig up on our own, but since we couldn’t find much online, I figured I’d see if there was anything you could give us.”
He sighed. “Isn’t that a bit of an unfair advantage?”
“No. What’s unfair is that we were given a case with like zero information.” Kaden leaned forward in his chair, his expression dejected. He ran a hand over his face, looking so exhausted he almost had Abigail convinced of the lie.
“One of the groups was given the OJ Simpson case. I mean, seriously?”
His father’s tight expression faltered, and Abby glanced over at Kaden in wide-eyed amusement.
“Really?” His dad dropped his arms. “Wow. Yeah, that doesn’t seem right, does it?” he asked, pursing his lips.
Abby took a chance and piped in. “Um, no. And on top of that, someone else got the JonBenét Ramsey case. Like the creepy brother didn’t do it. I mean, really.” She rolled her eyes.
“And you guys got stuck with a local case?”
“Yep,” Kaden said, smacking his lips on the word.
“Okay.” His father tapped the table in front of him. “Let me go get the files. There may be some things that have already been released you don’t know about, so we’ll look into that. Beyond that, I don’t know...” His father scratched his jaw. “Well, we’ll see if there’s anything I can give you. But don’t expect much. There will probably be a lot I c
an’t disclose. Fair warning,” he said pointing at them, as he backed toward the door.
Kaden raised his hands and leaned back in his seat. “Understood.”
When his father left, she whipped in Kaden’s direction and smacked him. “That was genius!”
“Ow.” He rubbed the spot on his arm and chuckled. “Well, my dad’s all about school, and he doesn’t like things that are unfair, so I played on his weaknesses, that’s all. I knew if he thought the other kids in the class had the unfair advantage of a highly publicized case, then he’d be more open to helping us. Good job on the JonBenét Ramsey thing. Very legit,” he said, holding out a fist for her to bump.
Her knuckles tapped his, and an immediate flush crept over her skin, coinciding with a burst of fireworks in her chest.
“Thanks, but you get all the credit with this one.”
Searching her face, Kaden swallowed hard, his gaze falling to her mouth. “Abby...” he started, then trailed off. Leaning forward, he licked his lips. “The thing is, I—"
“Okay!” The doors burst open, and Abby jumped. Her pulse raced while she steadied herself by holding on to the arms of her chair as Mr. Oliver breezed into the room.
As he sat, he shifted his gaze between them, a brow cocked, and then he returned to business. “Lucky for you, I actually know this case. I was there when they pulled him out of the water. I helped the detectives for a while.”
“Really?” Abby’s eyes brightened as she straightened in her chair. Whatever moment she had with Kaden passed, replaced with the thrill of new information.
“Yep, and actually, this case is closed.”
Kaden squinted, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in confusion. “Wait, what? So, they know who did it?”
Abby hated how deflated she felt at the news. So much for her theory his murder was tied to her grandmother’s secret.
“So, who drowned him?” Kaden asked.
“Ah, I didn’t say we found the person who drowned him.”
Kaden pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now I’m confused.”
Abby watched as Mr. Oliver stood, closed the door behind him, then sat back down. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, so you’ll have to get creative with your report because you can’t mention this specifically, but the detective working the case convinced himself the guy that knocked off this PI, Lawson, was an enraged husband. Last name, McBride. Cliché story where Lawson was following him, caught McBride cheating, but before he could go to the wife with some rather incriminating pics, the husband got to him first. The only thing that made the case unique was that McBride was a real whacko, really into homeopathic medicine and whatnot. They lived on what was practically a commune outside the city. A couple of the other guys and I always thought the McBride angle was weak.”
“What does the homeopathic stuff have to do with anything?” Kaden asked.
“Well, let’s just say the cause of death may have been linked to his medicinal concoctions and not drowning, but you didn’t hear that from me. It’s not public record. Do you have any other questions I might be able to answer?”
Abby shifted in her seat, a question rattling around her head. “The reports we saw in the media said he was found in Newberry, but what was he doing there? Was that where McBride and his wife lived?”
“No, they didn’t live there, and the link to the location and murder was unclear. I can tell you Mr. Lawson was supposedly meeting with someone at a dive diner that night, potentially for a case, but who knows.”
“They didn’t know who?” Kaden asked.
“Never confirmed anything, but...” He pursed his lips and trailed off.
“What?” Kaden’s gaze brightened.
“Nothing. It’s just that the detective closed this one so fast. Lawson had made a phone call that night to The Department of Justice. I don’t know what it was about, and the team would’ve moved onto interviews of the department had they not decided McBride was their guy. I always found that phone call strange. It’s not every day someone calls the DOJ.”
Abby frowned and glanced at Kaden. Their eyes met as they took in this piece of information, having no idea if it was relevant, but before they could process it, Mr. Oliver slapped his hands on the table. “It’s almost five o’clock, and I’ve got work to do.”
Kaden stood. “Wait, that’s it?”
“Can’t tell you anything else, but I assume you two have homework and stuff you should be doing?”
Kaden’s cheeks pinkened, and Abby hoped his father missed the flash of guilt.
“Actually, Abby, could I have a word?” Mr. Oliver asked as she stood.
“Uh, sure.”
“Just a second,” he said to Kaden, then escorted Abby from the room.
Her pulse raced as she stepped into the hallway. She patted her pocket and realized she left her phone with Kaden.
The moment the door clicked closed, Mr. Oliver turned on her, a warning flashing in his eyes. Why did it feel like she was in trouble?
“This wouldn’t, by any chance, have to do with the fact that Lawson was working for your grandmother at the time, does it?”
Pins and needles pricked Abby’s skin as she met his gaze. “No. I mean, I knew she was but... How do you know who my grandmother is?”
“There was a list of current clients in Lawson’s file.”
“Oh. Well...” Abigail fumbled with the hem of her shirt, unsure what to say, when he stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“What do you want with this case?” His eyes bore into hers, seeing through the lies.
“Nothing. I just... We really were working on this for a school project. That part was true, but the detective had researched my family tree. That’s why my grandmother hired him.” Abby shifted on her feet, hoping he bought her explanation. “We were hoping if he had next of kin, they might have whatever information he put together for my grandmother. I’d like to give it to my grandpa for his birthday, as a gift.”
Mr. Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Kaden’s a good kid. I don’t know what you’re getting him into, but right now, what he needs is to focus on school. He has a real future in front of himself. He was accepted to Columbia College in the fall, and the last thing he needs are outside distractions.”
No, what he needs is a social life. Some friends. A break from responsibility.
Abby wanted to say all those things and then some. Instead, she said, “Mr. Oliver, we’re friends. Kaden needs friends. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Mr. Oliver grunted, and a flicker of movement behind the glass pane of the door caught her eye. She watched as Kaden snatched her phone off the table and opened the case file. Flicking through the documents, he held it over a page, pausing then flipping the papers and repeating the cycle. Was he...
Mr. Oliver started to turn, but Abby gripped his arms and stopped him. “Don’t tell him I said anything,” she blurted, as he stared down at the hands on his arms, then glanced up at her with a raised brow. She dropped her hands. “I wouldn’t want him to be mad at me for betraying his confidence, but I thought you should know that he’s lonely. He confided in me about how he wished he had more friends. He needs a life, Mr. Oliver. You need to let him have one.”
“Do you—"
“Hey, are you two done yet?” Kaden poked his head out the door.
“Yeah,” his dad said, distracted. He shot Abby one last warning glare before nodding toward Kaden. “I expect you’re heading home now?”
“Yeah. Sure thing,” Kaden said, smiling and grabbing Abby’s hand, despite the way his father’s gaze zoned in on the gesture.
With a yank on her arm, he pulled Abby away from him and back through the main office of the precinct. As soon as he pushed open the door to the outside, they burst into the balmy spring air.
“Were you taking pictures?” Abby asked.
With a glance behind him, Kaden said, “Yeah. And there’s more he didn’t tell us. A lot more.”
He wra
pped a hand around her arm and tugged her forward, further into the parking lot as he whispered, “Like the fact that the suspect, McBride, was found dead two weeks after Lawson was murdered. I guess McBride had a note on him confessing to the murder, which is what led the cops to close the case despite the fact that everything they had on him at that point had been circumstantial.”
Kaden stopped as he pulled out Abby’s phone, scrolling through the pictures and enlarging them. “I didn’t get to look at everything, but I saw the report that Lawson didn’t drown, just like my dad said.”
Abby’s eyes widened as her breath caught in her throat. “How’d he die?”
“He was poisoned with some sort of plant. Belladonna?” he said, reading off the name. “Because the husband was into homeopathic stuff they started investigating him first, but...”
“But what?”
He shook his head, staring down at the ground, lost in thought.
“Kaden?”
“The reports on the night Lawson went missing... Well, check it out,” he said, handing her the phone and pointing to it. “Several people said the man he was spotted with was older, in his sixties or so. But the husband was only thirty-five. That’s a pretty big discrepancy.”
“Let me see.” Abby took the phone from him and scrolled through the images. She fell quiet as she flicked through several reports with no relevancy, squinting at the screen and the tiny print until she came to an image and gasped.
“What is it?” Kaden glanced over her shoulder at the screen.
“The phone records. The private investigator called three people right before he died,” Abby said. “According to your dad, the department of justice was one of them, but I know this number. And it looked like he called it minutes before his recorded time of death.” She met Kaden’s gaze, shock registering in her voice. “He called my grandmother.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
June 25, 1943
I remember my first days on the Sonderkommando.
There was a group of us. All Jews. All prisoners. We were forced by the threat of our own lives to aid in the disposition of the mass of bodies following the gas chambers.