Shadow Falls

by Wendy Dranfield

  “Nathaniel. Could you please give us an insight into your life with Stacey Connor?”

  Nate’s mouth is dry but his hands are shaking too much to risk taking a sip of the water in front of him. He looks at the mic as he speaks, unable to meet anyone’s eyes just yet.

  “Stacey and I met at eighteen, just after I moved to Austin from my home state of Kansas. I came here to study philosophy at the University of Texas with a view to eventually becoming ordained as a priest. We were introduced by her uncle, the Reverend Jack Connor, or Father Connor, as he prefers to be called.” He tries not to grit his teeth as he says the man’s name. “I was spending a lot of time at my new local church in between classes and Father Connor was the priest. He took the time to explain what the role of a priest involves and he introduced me to the community. I thought he’d taken me under his wing at the time, but…” He stops, not wanting to go there just yet.

  “Anyway, I pretty much fell in love with Stacey from the get-go. She was kind enough to let me hang out with her during church services because she knew her uncle was helping me. It seemed to me that she didn’t have many friends of her own. When I found out she lived just a block over from me, with her mom and uncle, we started walking home together after mass. Until Father Connor found out and put a stop to it.”

  He looks up. A shake of his lawyer’s head reminds him he’s not supposed to bad-mouth Stacey’s uncle. It will make him look resentful, apparently, which could be used as a motive for murder by the prosecution.

  “When her uncle introduced us, he obviously didn’t think we’d hit it off so well, but we soon became inseparable. Clichéd, but true. I developed feelings for her that confused me. She met my dad; she was the first girl I’d ever introduced him to, because I’d never had a girlfriend before. Until I met Stacey, I’d never wanted anyone that way, so it was never an issue. We spent a lot of time with her mom, Deborah, just watching movies and eating dinner together. Father Connor spent nearly all his time at the church, so it felt like she was lonely.”

  He has to avoid the impulse to look over at Stacey’s mom to check for her reaction. Does she even care that he is in this position? That her brother did this to all of them? He hasn’t been able to shake the feeling that Father Connor killed Stacey, but he has no way of proving it. Would Deborah let him get away with it if he had? He feels his eyes wandering in her direction, so he pulls them back to the mic. He’d lose it if she was staring back at him with cold, impassive eyes. He needs to believe she genuinely cared for him once.

  “Pretty much everything we did had to be under the watchful gaze of Stacey’s mom and uncle, as they’re incredibly religious.” This time he doesn’t look at the lawyer for his reaction. He’s just telling the truth, and if the jury can’t handle that, then too bad. “I mean, I know I was becoming a priest, but they really took their devotion to the next level.”

  He sneaks a look at the jury; two women have disapproving looks on their faces, as if he shouldn’t be criticizing other people’s religious beliefs. Most Texans are incredibly conservative, so Nate’s been told to tread carefully while his life is in their hands.

  “Anyway, once I’d fallen in love with Stacey, and she with me, I battled with my decision to become a priest. I mean, I spent months arguing with myself about whether I should give up a woman I loved for a career I’d always wanted. Normally I would’ve turned to my parish priest for counsel, but I couldn’t, because that was Stacey’s uncle and his behavior toward me had turned from friendly to icy once he saw how Stacey felt about me. He must’ve been under the illusion she’d never leave home and marry, because he hated the idea of us being together. Eventually, after battling my feelings, I chose Stacey over the priesthood.”

  His lawyer jumps in, pre-empting the kind of questions Nate will get in the cross-examination from the prosecution. “Didn’t that leave you a little resentful? That you’d never get to fulfill your ambitions because of”—he turns to the jury with an apologetic but pre-rehearsed smile—“the attractions of a woman? Did you not see her as a temptress, trying to lure you away from God? I mean,” another rehearsed smile at the ladies, “wasn’t she Eve with the ultimate apple?”

  Nate watches as one of the women on the jury smiles back at the lawyer, almost flirting with her eyes. Clearly not all jurors are smart to the tactics of attorneys.

  The lawyer turns back to Nate. “Because let’s face it, you’d wanted to be a priest since you were thirteen years old. You were studying philosophy specifically for that career, and you’d spent your teenage years heavily involved in the work of your local parish. How come you were able to give up on that dream so quickly, and all for a woman you’d only known for a couple of years?”

  Nate shakes his head and looks at the jury one by one. They return hard, unreadable stares. They’ve been told repeatedly by the prosecution and the media that Nate was found with his dead fiancée at his feet and her blood on his hands. They’re bound to be biased; anyone would be. He just has to hope they have a grain of intelligence between them and realize that he was covered in her blood because he’d tried to save her.

  “Not at all. I felt I didn’t have a life without Stacey, so I didn’t consider it a sacrifice to give up that dream. I’d have done anything for her. I’m nothing without her.” He feels a lump in his throat that threatens to choke him, so he takes a few seconds to compose himself.

  “In your opinion, Nathaniel, what kind of woman was Stacey?”

  Nate hears Father Connor making disapproving sounds from the seats behind the prosecution, which attracts the jurors’ attention. He knows Father Connor hates hearing anyone talk about his family, because he can’t edit what they say. He doesn’t want anything to reflect poorly on him.

  “Stacey was the funniest person I ever met. We were always laughing. She had a positive outlook on life but a cynicism that was refreshing for someone living in such a strict household.”

  “Could you explain that?” asks his lawyer.

  “Her uncle limited what Stacey was exposed to, in TV, films, books, life experiences. But she was still worldly. It’s hard to explain. She trusted people on one hand, but was cynical about them on the other. It’s like she knew that most people’s lives were all for show on the surface, and mostly fucked up underneath, no matter how much they prayed.”

  There’s a ripple of disapproval from the jury at his use of the f-word but he continues regardless. “What I mean is that Stacey knew that no one was perfect, despite how well their front lawn was cut or how many times they attended church on a Sunday. Behind closed doors everyone has their problems and everyone tries to pretend otherwise.”

  “And what were your problems?” asks his lawyer. “In your relationship?”

  Nate hesitates. He knows the jury aren’t going to like this. “I didn’t consider it a problem because I loved her, but Stacey was an alcoholic.”

  Father Connor jumps up and shouts, “How dare you!”

  The jurors look shocked, and Nate can’t tell whether that’s because they didn’t know a woman from a religious family could be an alcoholic, or because of her uncle’s outburst. Regardless, Judge Kemper takes control.

  “Silence in court or we’ll adjourn until tomorrow. Father Connor, with respect, this is your only warning: compose yourself or leave my courtroom.”

  Father Connor remains standing but faces the judge. “I’m sorry, Your Honor, but that’s my niece he’s slandering and she can’t answer for herself so I have to.” He sits down with a thud and dabs his eyes with a tissue.

  Stacey’s mother is crying now. Nate is regretful that he had to disclose Stacey’s secret in such a public forum, but Deborah and Father Connor both knew about her drinking and turned a blind eye. Until it got worse and they started blaming it on Nate.

  Nate’s attorney waits for Judge Kemper to give him a nod to continue. Then he asks, “When did you first realize Stacey was an alcoholic?”

  Nate shifts uncomfortably in the wooden chair.
He feels like he’s betraying her but he vowed to tell the truth. “She already liked to drink socially when I first met her, despite being underage. But during the weeks leading up to her death she was drinking every day and it was hitting her harder.”

  “Did you ever discuss it with her?”

  He nods. “She knew she needed to cut back. But the week before she died, she told me she’d found out something upsetting and she needed to take the edge off.”

  There’s silence in the courtroom now. Everyone is listening intently.

  His lawyer asks, “Did she disclose what she’d found out?”

  Nate looks at his hands. “No. She was planning to tell me on the night of her death. We’d arranged to go out for dinner, just the two of us. She told me over the phone a few days before that she’d been wrestling with the discovery on her own and she wasn’t sure whether to tell anyone. For some reason she was nervous about how I’d react.”

  His lawyer glances at the jurors and then back at Nate. “What did you think she was going to tell you?”

  Nate laughs nervously. “I was convinced she was going to break up with me.”

  “Why is that? Were you hiding something from her?”

  “No, I wasn’t.” Nate glances at Deborah, then at her brother. “But she was arguing with her mom and uncle so much that I thought she’d figured I wasn’t worth the effort. Even then, I didn’t believe she would really want to split up with me. I thought maybe she just wanted an easier life. I don’t know, the whole situation was so confusing to me.”

  “Confusing enough for you to lash out and kill her?”

  He tenses. “Of course not. I loved her. If she wanted to split up with me, I would have turned back to the Church and continued my path to becoming ordained. I’m not a violent person and you’ll never find anyone in my life who will testify otherwise.” He looks at Father Connor, who’s playing the grieving uncle role to perfection. “No honest person, that is.”

  Eleven

  It’s just after lunchtime when Nate and Madison reach Santa Barbara and locate the Lucas residence. It’s a big contemporary Spanish-style home, which looks pretty new. Nate pulls up to the intercom at the double-gated entrance. He gets out of the Jeep into the intense midday heat and pushes the button. When he announces himself, the gates open and the house reveals itself behind an impressively landscaped front garden. He can tell this family has money. Not that it will be much comfort to them while their daughter is missing.

  He pulls into the private driveway.

  “I’ll let you do the talking,” says Madison as they approach the entrance.

  The door opens as soon as they reach it and a tall, slim woman with stylish grey hair greets them. “I’m Esme Lucas, Jenny’s grandmother. Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Monroe.” After a quick shake of his hand, she gives Madison a critical glance.

  “This is Madison, who will be assisting me.”

  He realizes just in time that he probably shouldn’t mention Madison’s last name in case anyone googles her. That would be bad for business. His name is bad enough and has already put some people off hiring him. It took a full year after his release before his wrongful conviction was wiped from his record. Before his compensation payout, he tried to get housing and a job, but the conviction showed up on background checks, which meant he was always turned down. He resorted to carrying newspaper clippings about his exoneration. He still keeps them in his wallet in case he’s ever arrested for something he didn’t do.

  “Come on in.” Esme leads them to an immaculate open-plan living room. It has large windows giving panoramic views of the distant ocean over countless treetops.

  “You have an amazing view,” says Madison. “And a lovely home.”

  “It isn’t my house. My son and his wife live here with Jenny.”

  Jennifer Lucas. The missing girl. Nate hears hushed voices before two adults appear from another room. The man is tall and slightly overweight, with sandy hair. He walks up to Nate with a frown on his face, but extends his hand in greeting. “Hi. Grant Lucas. And this is my wife, Anna.”

  Anna is also tall, but slimmer than her husband. She has long red hair, tied back. She heads straight to the couch without making eye contact. She’s carrying a box of tissues and is wrapped in a grey cashmere shawl, even though it’s hot outside.

  Nate shakes Grant’s hand. “Nate Monroe. Pleased to meet you. Can we take a seat?”

  “Sure.”

  While Jenny’s parents sit opposite Nate and Madison, the grandmother stands. Nate can tell she’s struggling to stay still, fussing with her clothes and hair instead.

  Grant takes control. “I know my mother asked you here, but I don’t want to waste your time or her money. The police are working on the assumption that Jenny has run away for a while, so I don’t really see how you can help if they, with all their resources, have been unable to find her.”

  Nate chooses his words carefully. “Two weeks is a long time for a twelve-year-old to be missing. Did she have any reason to run away?”

  “Well, no,” says Grant. “But do kids ever have a reason? It’s probably just a phase she’s going through. You know, because she’s about to hit puberty. She’s been a little more moody than usual. Like all kids, she spends most of her time on her phone.”

  Madison clears her throat. “Mr. Lucas, happy children do not run away from home. Whether their emotional turmoil is real or imaginary, they’re running away from something. I know, because I was a cop. I spent a lot of time with runaways.”

  Anna Lucas wipes the tears from her eyes. “But she has a good home here. There’s no reason for this.”

  Nate watches Grant place his hand on his wife’s arm. She instantly stops crying.

  “What name does she usually go by?” asks Madison. “Does she prefer Jenny or Jennifer?”

  “Her teachers call her Jennifer,” says Grant, “but we tend to call her Jenny, which she recently told me she’s outgrown. She said it makes her sound like a little kid.”

  “What about a nickname?” Madison looks at Anna. “Anything you call her in private?”

  Anna shakes her head, but Esme speaks up. “Grant started calling her Curly, because her beautiful blonde hair is poker straight. It stuck, and now I use it sometimes because it makes her giggle. She wouldn’t like anyone at school to call her that, though. She tries to act cool around school friends.”

  “They grow up too fast,” says Anna, shaking her head.

  “Why don’t you tell me how it happened?” says Nate, retrieving his legal pad to take notes. “How she disappeared.” He watches the father’s face closely.

  Grant takes a deep breath. “I dropped her off at Camp Fearless during the first week of June. She spent a week there with very little communication with us, so we assumed she was enjoying herself too much to think of home. We were actually relieved that she was happy!” He rubs his forehead, clearly struggling to contain his emotions.

  “You said she has her own cell phone?” asks Madison.

  “Yes, but it was left on the bed in her cabin, switched off. Probably so we couldn’t track her through the app we put on there.”

  Nate doesn’t know much about tracking apps, but he makes a note to look into them. “Is that normal these days? To track your children?”

  Grant looks confused by the question, and Nate is reminded how much he missed whilst in prison.

  “Well all the parents I know use one. The police told us that on the day she disappeared, she’d participated in normal camp activities, ending with a swim in the lake with her new friends. That’s the Black Moon Lake, and it’s right next to the camp, only a few feet away from her cabin. Her friends went back to the cabin without her, but they said Jenny was definitely out of the water when they left, and getting dressed. No one saw what happened next. All her clothes were gone from the lakeside and nothing was missing from her cabin apart from her backpack. We don’t know what was in it.”

  Madison leans in. “Did none
of her bunk mates notice she was missing?”

  “Sure they did. But according to the detective in charge, they assumed she’d decided to sleep by the campfire. She’d done it before, saying she liked to watch the stars.”

  Nate shares a look with Madison, and he’d bet they’re thinking the same thing: sleeping alone at the campfire, Jenny was easy prey for a potential child abductor. “What time did the others leave her at the lake?” he asks.

  “Nine o’clock; just before sunset.”

  He wonders what safety protocols are in place at a summer camp, and how they keep track of so many kids. “Did staff do a head count before lights-out?”

  Grant shakes his head. “Not that night. Apparently the guy who was supposed to just plain forgot. Which means it wasn’t until the next morning that anyone raised the alarm. One of Jenny’s friends noticed she wasn’t in bed when they were getting up in the morning, so when she wasn’t out by the campfire either, she alerted the counselors at breakfast. The counselors searched for her, convinced they’d find her themselves or that she’d just turn up. I think they wanted to avoid negative publicity, so they didn’t call the police until lunchtime, when it was clear she was missing.” Grant looks at his mother. “I still think I should sue the ass off of them for that.”

  Esme doesn’t respond.

  He turns back to Nate. “The police say they’ve found nothing suggesting abduction. She just vanished.”

  Esme groans as if she’s in pain. “I can’t deal with this.” She puts a tissue to her mouth and gulps back tears. “I call the detective every single day, but he’s stopped taking my calls and never returns them. That’s why I hired you. I don’t think he’s even still looking for her!”

  “Of course he is, Esme,” says Anna. “You need to let him do his job uninterrupted. What’s the point of him calling to tell us there’s no news? It’s a waste of his time. You’re just distracting him.”

  Esme looks bereft. “I can’t help it.” She turns to Nate. “Have you got people to help you search for her, Mr. Monroe?”