“However, I did ask Mrs. Parkman to submit a DNA sample. If those bones belong to Sandi, we’re going to need to get a DNA match.”
“And did she?”
“Readily. I did a buccal swab.”
Talk about getting ahead of one’s skis! Emily held back her comment, realizing how emotional this case was for Nick. She didn’t want to make him feel bad just because he was overexerting his compassion and sense of justice. And if Shirley Parkman was willing to give up some cheek cells because it made her feel better, what harm was it? This led her mind to twist around one of Nick’s comments about Sandi when they’d been digging under the tent.
“Did you tell anyone else?” she pressed.
“No, of course not.” He was earnest.
“Nick, I’ll help you with this case, but if these bones do turn out to be Sandi’s, I need to know something right now.”
“Anything.”
“What’s haunting you? There’s no way you could have known this would happen to Sandi.”
He leaned his forearms on his thighs and put his head between his hands. He drew in a long breath, and as he exhaled, he looked out across the lawn.
“James VanDerMuellen and I were on the baseball team together. Do you remember him? He would’ve been a senior when you were a sophomore.”
“Vaguely.” Her sophomore year of high school had been a blur until she had run away to Chicago late second semester to live with Aunt Laura.
“Well, Sandi had been seeing him for at least a year, maybe longer. And I got the feeling he was filming her … you know … having sex.”
“You got a feeling? Nick, no one gets that as a feeling. Either you know or you don’t.”
“Okay … I heard some guys talking about it in the locker room.”
“Talking about what, exactly?”
“That there were sex videos of her.”
Videos? Plural? Disgusting!
“I hope you said something to someone.”
Nick shook his head. “The day she disappeared, she asked for a ride home from school. I said fine. We were neighbors, and it wasn’t unusual for me to drive her home. She was pretty quiet on the ride home, which I just chalked up to a bad day or the fact that her stepfather had just gotten out of prison. I felt bad for her. I always got the feeling no one was really looking out for her or her younger sister, Tiffani. I always felt like I played the role of older brother for her.”
Emily nodded. She didn’t recall hearing too much about the Parkman girls when she was younger and living at home. And she didn’t remember Nick mentioning much about them either. But then again, she hadn’t frequented Nick’s part of town even when they were dating—he usually came over to her house.
“I asked her about the videos. Just, you know, did she know about them. That I had heard they were circulating the school. She acted really, really shocked.”
“What do you mean?” asked Emily.
“She said she didn’t know about them.”
“How could she not know?”
“James is a snake!”
“Do you think she was lying?”
“It didn’t seem like it. She seemed really scared and upset.”
Emily couldn’t move a muscle as Nick revealed his final conversation with Sandi.
“I asked her if I could do anything.”
“What did she say?”
“She begged me not to do anything. She had already testified against her stepfather and put him in prison for sexual abuse. How would it look if she were caught starring in sex videos?”
“But she said she didn’t know? Was she being forced?”
“I don’t know. She begged me to leave it alone.”
“What did you do?”
“I told her it wasn’t her fault and that I would help her figure something out. When we got to her house, I pulled in and she jumped out of the car before I had even stopped it. She ran to the house and slammed the door.”
“And that was the last time you saw her,” Emily said in a hushed voice as Nick’s regret came together in her mind.
“I sat there for a minute in my car. I thought about going to the door. But I didn’t. I just backed up out of the driveway and went home. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I just wanted to help her. The next day she didn’t show up for school. And then the next, and … then …”
Emily stared at Nick, not sure how to react to his confession. She had so many questions. But now was not the time to interrogate him. He was stinging from the memory.
“You’ve been holding this in all these years?”
Nick nodded and stood up. He shook his body in an odd little jig, like he was trying to brush off a layer of sawdust from his legs. He clapped his hands together and turned to her with a forced smile that showed Emily he was trying to ignore the images his brain was conjuring up.
“Look, we still don’t know if those are her bones. But either way, I’ll help you. Okay?”
“Thank you.” Nick cranked his head left and right as if stretching out a sore muscle in his neck and then turned to Emily with a lighter tone. “So, hey, I didn’t come here to stir up bad memories. What I really want to know is if I can I take you to dinner. You need more to eat than an apple.”
“Nick, I’m really beat. I won’t be much good for company.”
“We don’t have to talk. I just want to … to do something nice for you.”
“Dropping by was nice,” she said.
“I want to do more. Let’s grab a bite.”
“Look at me. I’m a mess. And I have no intentions of changing or brushing my hair,” she said in her stretched out in yoga pants and sweat shirt.
“In that case, we could order in?”
“That actually sounds kinda nice. I’d love a good ramen bowl.”
“Pizza or Chinese? We’re still very limited here in Freeport.”
“Pizza. Everything.”
“Even mushrooms? You used to hate mushrooms.”
“I’ve changed.”
“Yes, you have.” Nick pulled out his phone to order. “But Em, sometime when you’re feeling more up to it, I’d really like to take you out.”
Out? Like out-out? Was he asking to date her?
He broke into her thoughts. “I was hoping we would maybe …”
“Pick up where we left off?” she offered, wanting to air this out.
“No. Start over. Fresh.”
“I like the sound of leaving the past in the past. But I come with a lot of baggage right now.” She smiled, trying to redirect the old feelings for him that were beginning to arise.
“Twelve years is a long time. I may have racked up some baggage myself,” he said with a sly look.
“I think we just unpacked a little,” she said, thinking of Sandi and knowing there was probably a whole nother suitcase full of non-Sandi stuff.
“I guess we find out if you’re willing to try,” Nick said.
“Slowly.”
“Slowly. So, Friday then. Let’s head to Rock River.”
Rock River was the biggest city near Freeport, an hour away, with shopping malls, several universities, a sporting arena, and a world-class symphony.
“Can we go for ramen?”
“I have no idea what that is, but as long as it’s not from the sea, I’ll try it.”
Emily couldn’t help but let out a laugh. His palette hadn’t changed a bit in twelve years. Meat with a side of meat. Good ole midwestern fare. Good ole midwestern Nick. It was nice to be home.
8
Emily’s body shuddered and went into a cold sweat when Gerard Blatts, her father’s estate attorney, read her father’s will to her the next afternoon. “What? Who?” She managed the guttural response from her clenched throat.
The attorney reread the statement. “‘I leave my grandfather’s watch and all my stocks and bonds to Anna Johnson.’”
“Who is Anna Johnson?”
“Your sister. Well, half sister, technically.” Mr. Blatts
handed her a sheet of paper with Anna’s full name and address, phone, and email.
“I don’t have a half sister,” she said, handing it back. “I’ve never heard of this person in my life.”
“Your father never explained the logistics of it.”
“Logistics?” What an obtuse statement.
“Your father never told me who her mother was or when it happened. I don’t even know how old this woman is. I literally have no other details other than that address and what she’s entitled to via your father’s last will and testament.”
“You mean she could be younger than me?”
“Maybe. It’s possible. I really don’t know.”
Emily’s theory about her father’s potential affair was spooling questions in her mind. And then it hit her. Anna was the “other woman.” But had it been an affair or not? Had her father produced another offspring before he was married to Mom? Or had it happened during? Mom and Dad had been married eight years before Emily was born. She had to admit she didn’t know a lot about their marriage before she’d come into the picture. It seemed odd that neither of them had ever mentioned Anna to her. Had Mom known? If Mom hadn’t known about Anna, then why would Dad have kept it a secret from her?
But what if she had recently found out before her fatality? That coupled with her secret terminal cancer … Well, that was enough to put anyone over the edge—the edge of an embankment along a windy, two-lane road where she crashed to her death. A thought bolted through Emily. What if Mom’s accident had actually been a suicide? A queasiness churned up in her stomach. That would explain why Dad had wanted to keep her mother’s cause of death from her all these years.
“Why didn’t he tell me any of this before he died?” she asked, a hollow feeling emptying her chest cavity. And then almost immediately answered herself in her head. He tried to tell me.
“I was instructed very clearly never to contact Ms. Johnson. That is your job.”
“Me? Oh no …”
“Your father stated in his will that he wanted you to reach out to her. I think he hoped you two might foster a relationship down the road.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, tension constricting her voice. “That’s asking a lot. Too much.”
“Are you angry about the way things have been divided? Because we could contest this will, based on—”
“Angry? No. In shock? Definitely.” The will stated that Emily would retain the bulk of her father’s estate. The house. Vehicle. Bank accounts. Retirement funds. Besides, even if Dad had left her nothing, she would never have asked her father for anything. She had survived estranged from him thus far. And she could survive without his estate. But confusion riveted her. Another huge enigma. How many more would she have to uncover as things went along?
“Did my father have contact with her? Did he know her?”
“I don’t really know. He didn’t mention any direct contact. So I’m guessing not. At least not recently.”
“I don’t understand. How am I supposed to just call this woman up out of the blue and tell her that I’m … her long-lost—This is ludicrous!” She couldn’t bring herself to say sister. It was too strange.
“I’m sorry. I know this piece of news is hard to swallow.”
“What do I do?”
“Give yourself a little time. But not too much. If you don’t inform her within thirty days, I will be compelled to send a certified letter. And if that happens, I suspect you’ll find her knocking on your front door shortly thereafter. So if I were you, I’d take the reins on this.”
“Can you arrange a meeting for us? Maybe here. Somewhere neutral?”
Mr. Blatts shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dr. Hartford. The instructions were explicit. I am not to reach out to her.”
Emily sighed and rose from the high-backed leather armchair. She paced to the window of his office that overlooked downtown Freeport. Thirty days. The last thing she wanted was legal trouble.
“Have you ever had any cases like this before?” Emily asked, hoping for his advice.
He shook his head. “Put yourself in her shoes. You’ve never known your biological father. You’ve always wondered about him. Hoped to meet him someday. How would you receive the news?”
Emily was suddenly flooded with compassion for this Anna Johnson. Here she had been, yearning for family connection all these years. Emily folded up the piece of paper and slid it into her coat pocket.
“How much is she getting from the stocks and bonds?” Emily asked, thinking about all the years Anna had been cheated out of knowing their father.
“If she sold them today … roughly half a million.”
A thought flitted through her brain: Is this guilt money? She quickly dismissed it. Dad had always been a generous and fair man. He must have known enough about Anna to know she needed the money. This was her father’s desire and she must respect it, even if she didn’t understand it.
“There are instructions in this envelope for Anna on how to access the funds,” said the attorney. “I know this is a difficult time, and I’m here if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
She took the envelope and left his office. As she stepped onto the main street of Freeport, suddenly it hit her. She had a sister. Maybe this wasn’t a bad thing. She had always wanted a sister.
Emily pulled the paper out again and looked more closely at the address. Rock River. This whole time, her flesh and blood had been just an hour away. A sudden sadness overwhelmed her, filling her with a tangible, tight pain. Her sister would never know the amazing father, Dr. Robert Hartford, of her youth. Just as Emily would never be able to know the father of the last twelve lost years. No amount of inheritance could ever make up for that.
9
“You have a sister? Holy moly!” Nick exclaimed from the morgue sink as he shook the excess water off his hands and reached for a paper towel. Emily had asked him, once again, to please assist her by taking pictures during the autopsy examination with Dr. Charles Payton, who had yet to arrive. Nick had eagerly agreed. After his help with the Dobson autopsy, Nick knew the ropes and she didn’t have to instruct him on how to angle up the camera equipment over the body.
“It’s a half sister.”
“How old is she?”
“I dunno. Not sure if it happened before or after he married Mom.”
“Tricky. Have you called this Anna yet?”
“I’m still trying to figure out what to say.”
“I wonder if she’s as smart and driven as you are.”
Emily appreciated the offhanded compliment. “I don’t know how I feel about her. Or how to approach this.”
“Meet her at a neutral place. Wait. Maybe it would be better if she came up here to see the house? You can show her photo albums of your dad, where he worked.”
“Maybe. It might be a lot to take in. I have no idea how she’ll react. What if she hates me?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“What if she wants to sue me for more of my dad’s estate? What if she’s bitter and angry?”
“Stop, Em. You’re spooling over nothing.”
He was right. Emily pushed the fears aside. She needed to focus on the task at hand, because Dr. Payton would be arriving any moment. “Hank Wurthers told me I needed to get board approval before hiring this forensic anthropologist. What do you think about that?”
“The county commissioners are overstuffed windbags. They like to piss on territory that’s not theirs. Don’t mean to be crude, but I call it like I see it. Hank and his buddies on the board like to lord their so-called power. They forget they’re servants of the people.”
“Hank says they’re putting the coroner position up for public vote. Although I can’t imagine who else is going to apply who’s actually more qualified than me.”
“So does that mean you’re staying here in Freeport?”
Emily glanced up at Nick. His face registered a glowing hope.
“I’m putting a pin in that
decision.” Emily finished arranging the bones on the stainless-steel table. “I got a call from Dr. Claiborne, and I’m also under some pressure to make some decisions about finishing my surgical residency. Going back to the pace, the pressure … just feels a bit overwhelming right now.”
A knock at the door halted their conversation.
“Door’s open,” hollered Nick.
Emily took one look at the tall, sandy-brown-haired man entering the morgue and almost gasped out loud. He couldn’t have been older than thirty-five. He had the body of a soccer player and the even, dark tan of a surfer. Lean legs in skinny jeans. Tight torso under his slim-fit white button-down with sleeves rolled into cuffs. And tall. Had she mentioned tall? He towered a good three inches over Nick. And probably four over Brandon.
“Hello. I assume I’m in the correct location. I’m Dr. Charles Payton, the forensic anthropologist from the University of Michigan.”
“Pleasure to meet you. Thanks for driving all the way up,” said Nick.
“Hi, I’m Emily,” she said.
“Dr. Hartford, right?” he asked.
“Yes, yes … Dr. Emily Hartford. That’s me.” Why did she sound like a child answering roll call? She was suddenly and painfully aware of how untidy she must appear. Her hair covered by a net. Her thick, black rubberized apron tied loosely around her middle, doing nothing for her figure. And faded jeans that she hadn’t washed in three weeks.
“I was expecting someone with crow’s feet and gray hair,” she joked.
He smiled at her, easing her nervousness. “Hopefully I’m still a good decade away from that.”
Amazing. Those pearly whites were nearly blinding. She snapped out of her thoughts.
“My condolences on your father’s recent passing.” He continued reaching out his hand for hers, but instead of shaking it, he held it for a moment in a gesture of consolation.
“Thank you,” she managed, before her words got choked off by that mounting lump in her throat that seemed to rise at very strange moments. The lump softened, and she could swallow it away. She held on to his warm hands and inhaled a light, earthy scent. His cologne—something organic based. After just the right amount of time, so things didn’t feel awkward at all, he released his grip.
Secret Remains Page 5