‘Hey, detective!’ she yelled at him over the tops of the assembled cars. ‘There you are! Where the hell have you been? Now, you’d better tell me right this second and not feed me some bullshit line: where’s Cara Burrows?’
Determination was one of Priddey’s qualities too, though he was less demonstrative about it. As a result, people rarely expected him to stand his ground. Often they didn’t realize that was what he was doing until a gradual awareness started to creep up on them: I asked him to do X, and he didn’t say he wouldn’t, so why’s he still not done it?
It was a feature of human interaction that had interested Priddey for some time: that unless you told the world explicitly who and what you were – ‘I’m a kickass blowhard who takes no prisoners and you’d better believe it’; ‘I’m a home-loving soccer mom who’s all about her kids’ – there was a strong chance that even those closest to you would perceive you incorrectly, or, perhaps more depressingly, not have any ideas about you at all.
‘Quit stalling!’ Juno tantrummed, her red face now nearly touching Priddey’s. ‘Where is she?’
‘I’m sorry if you haven’t been kept in the loop.’ It never did any harm to start with an apology. ‘Cara’s safe. She’s been found. Or rather, she found her way back without any help from us.’ He wasn’t about to claim credit for someone else’s achievement.
‘Are you for real? You think I don’t know that? Lord in heaven, please don’t tell me I know more about what’s going on than you do.’
‘I don’t know about that, ma’am.’
‘I know Cara got back here yesterday – hitched a lift, got looked over by doctors, all of that.’
‘She sustained a few minor injuries in the process of escaping, but she’ll be fine. So will her baby.’
‘What I don’t know is where she is now,’ Juno steamrollered on. ‘I can’t find Detective Sanders or Dane Williamson. Agents Kirschmeier and Turriff are treating me like I don’t exist! Clearly they never switch on their televisions!’
‘I don’t think media liaison is their priority at the moment,’ said Priddey. ‘Having said that, I know that no one’s deliberately trying to exclude you. I’m on my way to the Rutherford B. Hayes room now, a little late. I’m surprised you’re not there already.’
‘The Rutherford Behave room?’ Juno flinched as if he’d said something obscene. ‘What is that?’
‘Rutherford B. Hayes. Former President of the United States.’
‘What the hell does he have to do with anything?’
‘Nothing. Just, there’s a meeting room here named after him and that’s where I’m headed now.’
‘I see,’ Juno said through gritted teeth. ‘So you’re on your way to a cosy heads-up that no one’s told me about. The feds arrive and all of a sudden I’m out in the cold!’
‘Not at all.’ As long as Juno wasn’t angling in on Cara Burrows, Priddey was happy to reassure and placate. ‘Agent Kirschmeier wants and expects you to be there. No cameras obviously.’
‘Why obviously? And if Kirschmeier wants me so much, how come no one said anything to me about any meeting? I know when folk are avoiding me! And I know why: you’re all terrified of hearing how wrong you are. You think Annette and Naldo Chapa can’t be behind all this? You really believe that?’
So she was still pushing that angle. The woman was incredible. Annette and Naldo Chapa: faking their daughter’s death for seven years in order to make sure their convictions for her murder stick. It made zero sense.
Don’t take the bait. She wants you to ask why they’d ever do that, so she can spout more crap.
‘No one’s avoiding you, ma’am. Come with me now and you’ll see.’ Priddey tried to lead the way and failed. Leaders need at least one person following them.
Juno stood firm. ‘Wait a second. It’s Cara I’m most interested in. Where is she right now?’
She was with her husband in a casita that the resort reserved for important visitors. Her children were on their way over from England with their grandmother. Priddey had no intention of telling Bonnie Juno any of this. Cara Burrows needed time alone with her family more than she needed to help boost the ratings of, as Lynn had called it last night, Distorting Justice With Bonnie.
‘Something funny, detective?’
‘No ma’am.’
‘I need an interview with Cara on tonight’s show. Which means Heidi needs to prep her for it, and—’
‘No. Sorry. No interviews with Cara Burrows.’
‘What? Are you insane? Without her, there’s a gaping hole in the story!’
‘It’ll have to be filled some other way.’
‘Detective, you are trying. My. Patience.’
Althea, Priddey’s wife, described it as his superpower: the ability to say nothing and look neutral for as long as it took for his opponent to run out of steam.
‘I was so wrong about you!’ Juno exploded. ‘I never had you down as a bully, but listen to you now! Without letting Cara decide for herself if she wants to talk to me, you’re taking all autonomy away from her and making that choice on her behalf. How’re you any better than her abductor, I’d like to know?’
‘Mrs Burrows has made it clear to Agents Kirschmeier and Turriff that she wishes to be left alone with her family.’
As if the mention of his name had summoned him, Turriff appeared at that moment. He was walking purposefully toward them. ‘Come on,’ said Priddey. This time Juno followed.
‘We’re waiting for you both,’ Turriff called over as they approached.
‘See?’ said Priddey. ‘Like I said: you’re invited. No one’s avoiding you.’
‘Cara Burrows is,’ said Juno sulkily. ‘She has a duty here. I don’t think she realizes—’
‘There’s been a development,’ Turriff cut her off. He looked only at Priddey as he said, ‘We’ve got them: Leon Reville and Melody. They’ve been found.’
Melody Chapa was drinking warm milk in the living room of a house somewhere in Phoenix. Near Phoenix, anyway. She didn’t know precisely where she was, and it was making her feel funny. In the past seven years she’d been moved around a lot, but Dandy had always shown her each new place on a map first. She’d liked that. Maps were amazing. When she grew up, she wanted to be a cartographer. She didn’t know exactly what the job involved, but it sounded serious and important, and if it meant looking at maps, she knew she’d enjoy it.
The house had a white-painted front, a pillared porch and a fat garage that stuck out awkwardly at the side. Melody thought it was ugly. From what she’d managed to work out, it belonged to the FBI. Or they were allowed to use it. There was a woman in the house named Jennifer who was nice, but nobody seemed to think she was important, or at least the two agents didn’t – Lynn and Jomo.
Maybe this house was Jennifer’s home. She hadn’t asked any difficult questions yet, and it didn’t seem as if she was going to. She was something to do with the FBI too, but she was also a kind of babysitter. She looked like a grandma. She had brought a blanket, even though it was hot. Who would want a blanket?
Melody hadn’t wanted to be rude and say, ‘No thanks,’ so she’d laid Poggy down on the tiled floor and covered him with it. Jennifer seemed to think that was an okay thing to do. She hadn’t objected.
The milk tasted disgusting. Melody regretted choosing it over orange juice. She’d thought she liked milk but this was the first time she’d had it warm. What would Jennifer think if she left most of it?
Melody was scared about lots of things, but the thing that frightened her most was not knowing what people were going to think about her from now on. By ‘people’ she meant strangers, and that was everyone in the world apart from a handful of people. She’d always known what Dandy thought of her, since the first day she met him. ‘You’re a brave girl, Melody,’ he said to her. ‘Nothing that’s happened is your fault.’ He had repeated those lines many times since their first meeting when she was seven years old.
Melody also knew what Kr
istie and Jeff thought of her: that she was perfect and brilliant in every way. This was obviously not true, though it was sometimes nice to hear.
What Melody thought and felt about all of them was harder to work out, but she’d never cared about that. Her own emotions and opinions weren’t a threat to anybody, whereas those of others could definitely harm her. Like Zellie from the art group who’d said one of Melody’s paintings was ‘cloying’, whatever that meant. And like Kristie, who said, ‘I love you so much, Favorite Child, and much more.’
Melody had grown to hate the nickname over the years. It was silly, when Kristie didn’t seem to know any other children. And the idea of being a favorite was alarming. It was pressure, like an arm pressing down on your throat. And now there was the new pressure of knowing that the whole world was thinking things about her. Melody didn’t like it at all.
It had been okay when everyone believed she’d been stolen away from her parents and murdered. Everyone knew what opinion to have about that. And when it was decided that her parents had killed her, Melody had known that, still, she wasn’t the only one, and that was a comforting thought. Dandy had said that of all the children who are murdered, most times their own parents are guilty of the crime.
Now it was all different and frightening. Soon everyone would know that Melody had pretended to be a murder victim when she wasn’t. People would think she was a liar. They wouldn’t understand that it wasn’t like that. And, worst of all, Dandy wasn’t here to tell her not to worry, that it was okay because lots of other girls had also pretended to be murdered and kept up the pretense for years and years – which Melody knew they hadn’t.
She’d done a lot of pretending. Not only to be dead, but also, as Hayley, to have cancer. Would the world blame her? Or would people say she was only a child and couldn’t be held responsible?
Dandy would know. He was also the only person likely to give her a truthful answer. But Melody had no idea if she would ever see Dandy again.
‘So you’ve got Leon “Dandy” Reville, but not Jeff or Kristie or Riyonna Briggs,’ said Bonnie Juno.
Lynn Kirschmeier nodded. ‘Those three are still in the wind, but the very best agents are on it, here and in Philly.’
‘The very best, huh?’ Juno sounded unimpressed. Priddey wasn’t surprised. She was the sort of person who recognized no one’s achievements but her own.
Also present were Jomo Turriff, Bryce Sanders, Heidi Casafina, Dane Williamson and Tarin Fry.
Sanders took a sip of water from his glass. ‘Has Melody been asked about the book?’ He directed the question to Turriff, not Lynn. He hadn’t looked at her once; Priddey was watching.
Turriff nodded. ‘Says she told the story to the Kind Smiles, who wrote it down. That’s all she’ll say – Kind Smiles. She won’t name names, just clams up.’
‘Leon Reville told Cara Burrows that Kristie Reville did all the actual writing,’ Lynn says.
‘I’m uncomfortable with the way you’re all leaping to conclusions,’ said Heidi Casafina. ‘We don’t know for sure that this girl’s Melody.’
‘DNA results’ll be a while, but it’s her,’ said Lynn. ‘If you’re not convinced now, Ms Casafina, you soon will be.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means shut up and listen,’ said Tarin Fry.
‘Bonnie, do you think it’s her?’ Heidi asked. ‘Do you think this girl is Melody?’
Juno looked at Lynn Kirschmeier. ‘She says she’s Melody Chapa, right?’
‘Yes, she does.’
Juno shrugged. She looked dazed. ‘Then I believe her, I guess.’
‘So what’s the theory?’ Tarin Fry asked. ‘Or to put it more bluntly … what the hell happened here?’
‘I’d rather not speculate,’ said Turriff.
‘Allow me, then,’ said Tarin. ‘Kristie Reville and Riyonna Briggs sat on the Benjamin Chalfont jury together in 2003. We know they were both convinced he killed his wife, but no one else was, so he got off. It’s not hard to imagine what happened next: righteous discussions about how the law’s an ass, how too often it allows the guilty to walk free, meaning there’s no real protection or justice for anyone. You want justice, you’re gonna need to get it for yourself – no one else cares. Then, years later, Kristie Reville figures out she’s living next door to a couple she’s certain are a danger to their daughter—’
‘Excuse me.’ Heidi Casafina turned to Turriff. ‘How long are you going to let her carry on like this, making it up as she goes along? I mean, who is she? Some florist from Kansas? Why’s she here?’
‘I have a question too,’ said Bonnie Juno. ‘What are we all doing here around this table? Is there new information? Because if there isn’t—’
‘My time’s as valuable as yours, Ms Juno,’ Lynn told her. ‘Yes, Agent Turriff and I have new information to share with you.’
‘Then let’s hear it. The way I see it, there’s a whole lot that doesn’t add up – like the idea that Riyonna Briggs, if she’s involved in this fraudulent plot, would send Cara Burrows to the very hotel room she reserved with her own credit card, with her name on it, to hide Melody in. Why would she self-sabotage like that?’
‘You never heard of someone under pressure making a mistake?’ said Sanders.
‘A lot of mistakes seem to have been made here, detective. Why did Leon Reville snatch Cara Burrows, can somebody tell me? What was the point? She’d already told her friend Tarin about seeing Melody – the whole story.’
‘Leon Reville didn’t know that, maybe,’ said Priddey.
‘As the only person here who knows Riyonna well, I can’t believe she’s involved in anything illegal,’ said Dane Williamson.
‘Because she respects the law?’ Tarin Fry rolled her eyes. ‘Trouble is, after seeing wife-murderer Chalfont walk free, she thinks no one else does – no one but her and Kristie Reville. It’s clear they felt they had no choice.’
‘How is that clear?’ Heidi Casafina threw up her hands. ‘You’re just making things up! Nothing is clear.’
‘What’s Leon Reville saying so far?’ Priddey asked Lynn.
‘Read the book,’ she said.
‘I don’t have it.’
‘No, that’s what he’s saying. It’s all he’s saying. Just keeps repeating it: “Read the book, it’s all in the book.”’
‘Is this your brilliant new intel?’ Bonnie Juno sneered. ‘Leon “Dandy” Reville telling us all to read a book?’
‘He’s not telling you anything.’ Lynn took the sting out of her words with a broad smile. Juno still looked stung. ‘And no, that is not the information we want to share with you. Agent Turriff?’
Turriff took his cue and stood up. ‘Before she left the trailer, Cara Burrows sent a message to her daughter using Instagram,’ he said. ‘As follows: “I’m in trailer don’t know where. 2 hours, open parentheses, guess, close parentheses, from Swallowtail. Tell police: interview Jeff Reville colleague again re M bloody sock in car. Car seat move forward – did Kristie” … and then the letters “m, o”.’
‘M, o?’ said Tarin Fry. ‘As in modus operandi?’
‘No, as in the first two letters of the word “move”. If Mrs Burrows hadn’t feared that Leon Reville might come back any second and deprive her of her escape opportunity, she’d have completed that sentence. Having spoken to her, I can confirm what it would have been: “Did Kristie move the car seat back again before she drove away?”’
‘I’m totally lost.’ Heidi Casafina sighed heavily. ‘Could not be more so.’
‘How about you, Bonnie?’ Lynn asked her.
‘I’m following,’ said Juno with a nod. ‘I think I know where you’re going.’
‘Let me explain,’ said Turriff. ‘When Mrs Burrows arrived in Phoenix, she rented a car – a Range Rover. It had a feature she’d never encountered before: memory buttons numbered one to four, so that four different driving positions can be stored. You want to drive the car after your spouse has
driven it? Just press button M2, the seat automatically adjusts to your most comfortable driving position. Next time spouse gets in, she presses M1, seat goes back to her ideal setting.’
‘Is your wife’s first name Spouse, Agent Turriff?’ Sanders chuckled to himself. Everybody ignored him.
‘The day Melody Chapa went missing, Jeff Reville’s colleague, Nate Appleyard, saw her bloodstained sock in Kristie Reville’s car,’ Turriff went on. ‘Jeff and Kristie Reville were in the car, talking. Appleyard approached them. Kristie was visibly shocked, and looked like she’d been crying. Appleyard saw the stained sock on the floor of the car. He stated very clearly: the sock was positioned about three inches in front of Kristie Reville’s foot. That means, obviously, that Kristie’s foot was easily visible. That means nowhere near the gas pedal. When you’ve got your foot on the gas, someone standing outside the car couldn’t see three inches in front of it.’
‘True,’ said Heidi Casafina, ‘but I still don’t see—’
‘Kristie Reville is only five feet two inches tall,’ said Turriff. ‘She’s a short lady. Nate Appleyard said that, shocked by his sudden appearance and knowing he’d seen the sock, Kristie moved her car seat forward to cover it up. And then, he told police, she drove away.’
‘So what?’ Sanders shrugged. ‘I don’t see the significance.’
‘I’ll explain, Detective Sanders,’ Lynn said smoothly. ‘Leon Reville showed Cara Burrows a YouTube video while she was in the trailer. In it, Kristie Reville was standing on a stage. Cara saw how short she was. That’s when she remembered what she’d read online about Nate Appleyard and the sock. She thought about driving positions – how different people set the driver’s seat differently. Thanks to the four memory buttons on her hire car, this was fresh in her mind. She started to wonder. Kristie Reville moved her seat forward to hide the sock from Appleyard, and then she drove off – that’s what Appleyard told police. That means, doesn’t it, that after moving her seat forward, her feet reached the pedals. She wasn’t too far forward to drive comfortably. Appleyard didn’t see her move the seat back again before she drove off.’
Did You See Melody? Page 28