by Gregg Olsen
After Elan went to study or sulk in his bedroom, Birdy took a second beer and settled in her office. It was after 9 p.m. Too late to call. She texted Kendall on her personal cell phone.
Meet me tomorrow for coffee. First thing. Hope all is well w Cody.
As she shuffled a few things around, her mother coming in and out of her thoughts, she discovered Darby’s moleskin. That was a lapse, but it had only been collected for the possibility of DNA. Kendall had reviewed it and thought that it could be returned to Tess. Birdy thought about what she’d told her nephew—that Darby Moreau was a girl, not a victim of a butcher. That what she was in life was still all around, living in those who knew her.
She caressed the outside of the navy blue notebook and sipped her beer.
Inside was a mix of poetry, songs that Darby liked, lists of things she was going to do. Some of the pages contained sketches. Birdy wondered if they were preliminary to pieces she was doing in her art class.
Darby’s handwriting wasn’t like a teenage girl’s—or what Birdy recalled hers was like when she was sixteen. Birdy had been fascinated with calligraphy and for a time, never knew a curlicue that she didn’t think had its rightful place on every letterform. Darby’s was spare. It had a kind of heft and maturity. There were no real flourishes. It was all about order. Like her bedroom, it was an oasis in a stormy sea.
One seven-line free verse touched Birdy’s heart. She wondered if Darby was daydreaming or if she had someone in mind.
I wish I lived in a house on the Sound
And was free
To fly like a bird
I wish he knew that
I have been waiting so long
I am ready
That’s what makes me beautiful
The book was only partly filled. It had been a work in progress, one that had been stopped by her killer. Her eyes dampened as she went through it page by page. It was a holy book—a girl’s heart in pencil, pen, and the occasional splash of watercolor.
Birdy wondered about the kind of person who could just come and steal someone’s life. Someone like Brenda Nevins, maybe? Someone bent on revenge? How was it that the earth could even host a parasite, an organism of evil like that at all? Tess was right. Those people who did evil to one another were always there—planning, hoping, and enjoying.
How was it that there were people walking among the innocent who had no idea they were at risk? Not even the slightest clue.
That the nice guy next door was a pedophile?
That the woman who doted on one child was torturing another?
That the middle-schooler planned to kill everyone in his classroom?
Birdy finished her beer and rejected the idea of another. She knew that in all of those cases—cases she consulted or studied in medical school, the innocent never had a warning. The innocent never had a second chance.
Tess Moreau had been warned. Darby didn’t have to die.
If Brenda had instigated the murder, she did so by remote control. She managed to keep her hands clean, her distance safely behind the razor wire of the prison.
The neighbor’s cat walked atop the fence that separated the two yards. She paused every few feet looking for a shrew or field mouse. Jinx was a hunter. A good mouser. She could spring from the fence top and pick off the unsuspecting rodent with precision and skill. She didn’t eat the mice, the shrews. Instead she left them at Birdy’s back door.
A trophy. A gift.
Had Darby been bundled in that plastic bag and deposited in Banner Forest in the same manner? Had someone killed her to fulfill a promise? Or to prove a point?
As she turned out the desk light, Birdy couldn’t help thinking that it wouldn’t be long until Tess Moreau returned to her office. Not as a visitor, but as the subject of an autopsy. She knew of no way that the woman who had lost everything could go on.
She padded down the hall past Elan’s room. A sliver of light slipped from under his door. It crossed her mind how quickly it had become his room, and no longer the guest room. Just having him there made it his. She could hear the teenager talking on the phone. It was late, but it was okay. He had friends. Maybe back in Neah Bay or maybe in Port Orchard. It didn’t matter. She worried about him. She wanted him to be happy.
She’d go grocery shopping before work. She was not going to be the aunt who never had food in the house.
CHAPTER 20
Birdy arrived a few minutes later than she’d hoped, but the line at the coffee stand at the Kitsap County Administration Building had been long and Kendall was just getting her drink.
“You look like crap,” the detective said.
“Thanks,” Birdy answered, knowing Kendall’s assessment was the undisputed truth. Her eyes were hollows and her normally luxurious black hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed. Or washed. “Didn’t sleep well. Got up early and, believe or not, went to Walmart to do some early-morning grocery shopping because, apparently, I’m starving Elan half to death.”
Kendall put her change in the tip jar. “Kids are great, aren’t they?”
Birdy nodded. “How did it go at the school? Is Cody making the kind of progress you were hoping for?”
Kendall’s eyes sparkled and she smiled. “Better, Birdy. He’s doing so much better. We’re so happy. When Steven and I count our blessings this year, we’ll add this to the top of the list.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Birdy said, her mood shifting back to the reason they were meeting so early. If it had been any other time, they’d have talked more about the specifics, but not now. Not with what had been weighing on her in the Darby Moreau case.
“We can’t talk here,” Kendall said. “And I have something for you too.”
The women walked across the broad plaza between the administration building and the venerable courthouse toward the ivy-clad entrance to the sheriff’s department. They passed by the security desk and wound their way to Kendall’s office via a circuitous route that was a result of too many add-ons to grow the size of the building to fit a growing county.
“Maybe we’ll get a new building someday, Birdy,” she said as they went into her small windowless office. A green banker’s lamp provided most of the light.
“Don’t be jealous. I’d rather stay here. I like being with the courthouse guys.”
Kendall checked her email while Birdy took off her coat and settled in one of the two visitors’ chairs—chairs like her own that were usually occupied by people who’d rather be anywhere but there.
“You sure you didn’t need any coffee?” the detective asked, looking up from the computer screen.
Birdy declined. “I’ve had three cups already,” she said. “My first cup was gas station coffee at five a.m.”
“Ouch,” Kendall said with some exaggerated irony in her voice. “That’s rough.”
“Right. That might be one of the reasons I look so good today.”
“Sorry about that. I was just saying.”
“No worries,” Birdy said. “This case has just gotten to me. Worse than many.”
Kendall understood. “You’re closer to the victim because you’ve been more involved. I get it. Not that you don’t feel the pain of others, I know you do. But it is different when you see where they lived, walked through their lives.”
Birdy had to admit that Kendall was right. A dead body could tell her a lot. A visit from a family member for more information, even more. But there was nothing quite like going into Darby’s bedroom, reading her journal. And nothing like taking Tess home after her visit the day before.
“Tess thinks Brenda Nevins could be involved.”
Kendall processed the name. It was so far out of left field.
“The Brenda Nevins?”
Birdy let Brenda’s name swing like a pendulum in the air.
“Thank God there’s only one,” she said.
Kendall’s eyes nearly popped. “That came out of nowhere, Birdy.”
The forensic pathologist couldn’t argue tha
t point. Never in a million years. She told Kendall what Tess had confided to her at her office and on the ride to Amanda’s place in Gig Harbor. She covered it all—the altercation at the prison, the threats, the letters that Darby’s mom had received.
Kendall just sat there, taking it all in. Eyes still wide.
“A dog-grooming table?” she finally repeated.
Birdy looked upward and made a face that telegraphed everything she thought about that incident. “Yeah, I know. No comment on that.” Next, she handed over the envelope with the threatening message tucked inside.
“The lab might be able to get something off this, but I’m doubtful. Tess has handled it quite a bit. My guess is her friend Amanda did. I did too.”
Kendall slid it from the evidence envelope and pulled it from the one the note had been mailed in. She held it by its edges and read.
“We’ll try. Maybe there’s something there. Maybe we can determine the paper.” She held it to the light. “Nothing remarkable. No watermark. Might be able to find out what brand of toner it was printed on and, well, you know that’ll narrow it down to about a million possibilities.”
Birdy apologized again for touching it. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Kendall waved her hand, dismissing the concern. “Don’t worry about it. This paper’s been around a long time. We’ll process it regardless. You never know.”
“There’s something else,” Birdy said. “I think that Darby was seeing someone.”
“The teacher?”
“You know about her?” she asked.
“Yes, I talked to her.”
“How did you know?”
“Elan told me,” Birdy said. “Rumors going around South.”
“I don’t suppose the rumors indicate just why two women would need condoms,” Kendall said.
“I don’t suppose,” Kendall continued, looking over at a copy of the photograph of Darby that her mother had given them when they first saw her. By then the smile was haunting, the eyes familiar. It was as if the dead girl was there. “But it’s possible no one knows about the condoms.”
“Rumors are ugly,” Birdy said. “And they aren’t always true.”
“I know,” Kendall said. “Besides, I talked to the teacher. There’s nothing there. They had a personal bond. Nothing else. But you said you knew that the rumor was false. How did you know that?”
“Back to the condoms,” Birdy said.
“Her mom said they probably belonged to her friend. Katie denied it,” Kendall said. “Darby didn’t have a boyfriend. She said that neither of the girls did.”
Birdy opened the moleskin journal and tapped her fingertip on the verse that the dead girl had written.
“Darby had a boyfriend, Kendall. It’s right here. Right in her poetry. She talks about being ready.”
Kendall’s eyes ran over the verse, and then she looked up.
“Then who was he?”
Birdy’s phone buzzed and she looked down at a text message.
“Tox is back on Ted Roberts,” she said.
“What’s it say?”
“Encrypted. Just a notification. Have to go to my office to read. I’ll let you know.”
CHAPTER 21
“And you say she’s a widow once before?”
It was the incredulous voice of Percy Smith of the state crime lab.
“That’s what I said, Percy. Two times a widow.”
Birdy took off a silver hoop earring that was starting to irritate her phone ear. “A young widow at that.”
She swiveled in her chair and looked over at the computer screen as Percy discussed his findings. Pages from his fax were falling onto the ratty green carpet that covered the floor of the old house, the soon-to-be abandoned Kitsap County coroner’s office.
“The first death was in Arizona,” she said.
“You’re going to have to tell the authorities down there,” he said. “Hey, I might be able to do that for you. Kind of like a mini vacation. Love the sun.”
“We’ve had three beautiful days in a row,” Birdy said. The printer stopped dropping pages, signaling that the job was done.
“Which means that we’re about to have rain for a month. Hang on. Getting a hard copy of the report.”
It might not have been Jennifer Roberts’s lucky day, but it was shaping up to be a better one for Birdy. She managed to scoop up the pages of the report in the correct order—that was a good thing. Sometimes it took five minutes to figure out what went where. For some unknown reason Percy’s reports never had page numbers.
“Ethylene glycol poisoning,” she repeated from the report. “How often do you see that?”
“Once before, but other places have more than their share of antifreeze poisonings,” Percy said. “Georgia had a good case a few years back.”
“Any chance that it was accidental?” she asked. “Suicide? He’d been ill.”
“If you think Prestone is a good mixer, I guess so,” Percy said in that oddly upbeat voice he had for everything. “Suicide is possible. I looked it up. It has happened. But from what you told me, I’d say highly unlikely. Jessica Roberts is probably the killer.”
“Jennifer,” Birdy said, correcting him.
Percy let out a little laugh. “Whatever. I always screw up on those J names. Anyway, I’m one hundred percent certain that there was enough of the stuff in his body to keep cars running in a Dakota blizzard.”
“If she’d been poisoning him, how was it that he just let her?” she asked.
Percy let out a short, clipped laugh. “I wasn’t kidding when I said it could be a mixer. Seriously. The stuff is actually kind of sweet and hard to detect when served up to someone. You know, as a mix in. Heck, pets manage to find a pool of it under the family car every now and then. That’s without it even hidden in food or drink. Straight. They lick it because it tastes good and pretty soon, bam, kitty’s dead.”
As Birdy listened to Percy on the phone, she reached for her own report.
“His lungs, heart, looked good,” she said, scanning its pages. “His kidneys were shot.”
“Yup, that’s what killed him,” he said.
Kendall was on the phone in her dark little office when Birdy found her. Kendall caught Birdy’s intense gaze and abruptly ended her call.
“Ted Roberts died of renal failure,” Birdy said.
“Right,” she said. “You said that in your report.”
“Kendall, the Roberts samples were analyzed by the crime lab. Percy said that the poor guy’s tissues were practically ‘marinated’ in ethylene glycol.”
“Antifreeze?”
Birdy handed her the papers that Percy had faxed. “Right. Barring suicide and accidental poisoning, manner of death is homicide.”
“You’re missing an earring.”
Birdy touched her right lobe. “Thanks. Just in a hurry.”
“Me too. Let’s see what Jennifer Roberts has to say.”
Kendall picked up her phone. “Tell her you have some important news about her husband’s death.”
“Well, I do,” Birdy said. “Are you going to arrest her?”
“Let’s see how it plays out,” Kendall said.
She handed Birdy the phone and looked at her notes with the phone number Jennifer had given for her cell and started dialing.
“You tell her to meet at your office at her earliest convenience.”
Birdy listened and then passed the phone back. “No answer.”
“Keep trying. Don’t leave a message. In the meantime, I’ll do a little more digging into Jennifer’s background in Arizona.”
Jennifer Roberts arrived at the coroner’s office in a force field of perfume and wearing a skirt that was so short it had to have been borrowed from her daughter’s closet. She teetered on five-inch heels. Her eyes were obscured by sunglasses. She apologized for not picking up her phone the first three times Birdy had tried, but she said she’d had her nails done and they were still wet when the calls came through.
“You said you had some important news about Teddy?”
Kendall appeared, right on time.
“Oh, detective, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jennifer said.
“No worries,” she said. “Just doing my job.”
Birdy spoke up, answering Jennifer’s original question. “I do. I’m glad you’re both here. Let’s go in my office. I have some very upsetting news, Ms. Roberts.”
The three women took their places. Birdy behind her desk with the copy of the report that Percy had faxed her, fanned out. Kendall and Jennifer facing her. Kendall adjusted her chair so that it angled a little in Jennifer’s direction.
“I’m afraid that your husband died of poisoning,” Birdy said, holding the last word an extra beat.
Jennifer looked over at Kendall, then back at the forensic pathologist. She took off her glasses. Her eyes appeared puffy and red.
“That can’t be. Poisoning? That’s horrendous!”
“Yes it is,” Birdy said. “I’m afraid it is.”
Kendall just watched, observing every tic and movement. Jennifer stood up and reached for the report.
“I don’t believe you,” she said. “Teddy never would have taken any poison. Except for his drinking he was a complete health nut. For God’s sake he even ate quinoa. Who eats that? There’s no way he could have been poisoned.”
Birdy persisted. “But, Jennifer, he was.”
“Let me see,” Jennifer said, stretching her hand outward. “I don’t believe you.”
Birdy handed her the report. She tapped her finger on the words ethylene glycol.
Jennifer looked up. “What’s that?” she asked. “I don’t know what that is.”
This time Kendall answered. “Antifreeze. But you already know that.”
“That’s crazy! Why would he take antifreeze? That’s for cars, isn’t it?”
“So you’re familiar with it?” Kendall asked.
Jennifer stared at Kendall. “Are you accusing me of something?”