“I think you should tell her about Sandi’s cause and manner of death,” she suggested.
“And I think you should, Dr. Hartford,” said Nick, stressing the word Doctor.
“You were a family friend. It’ll be better coming from you.”
* * *
The small, two-bedroom home with a single-car attached garage was falling apart. Emily took in the broken gutters, peeling exterior paint, and a roof that needed to be replaced.
Shirley Parkman was unable to come to the door to let them in. She was grossly overweight and seemed glued to the couch with the TV blaring six feet in front of her. She waved Nick in and Emily followed, accosted by the smell of old frying oil and mildew.
When Nick gave her the news, Mrs. Parkman didn’t seem very surprised at all about the bones belonging to Sandi. In fact, Emily noticed a touch of relief wash over her face when she handed her the death certificate. She even gave a sad smile when Emily relayed that they would have to hold the body just a little longer for the investigation.
“It’s okay, really. At least I know she’s in a safe place. And that’ll give me a moment to figure out some arrangements.”
Emily then remembered that Cathy Bishop had breezed outta town toward her new desert life. “Bishop and Schulz Funeral Home will be under new management soon. I can call you later with the new contact information,” said Emily.
“Yes, that would be good. I guess I never really planned her funeral. I didn’t want to believe she was really … gone.”
Emily offered her condolences. She saw Mrs. Parkman’s eyes travel to the word homicide written plainly under manner of death. Emily thought it best to give her a minute to digest the news.
“Homicide,” said Mrs. Parkman. She spoke with a steady voice, not surprised at all by the verdict. “It’s very strange to see it in writing.”
“I want you to know that we’re investigating this very actively,” said Nick. “We’re starting to piece together the events of her last day.”
“You were part of that last day. Weren’t you the last one to see her alive?” Shirley made a struggling effort to reach for a soda can atop a stack of magazines on the coffee table. Nick got it for her.
“The killer would have been the last one to see her alive,” Nick corrected.
“Oh, Nick, I know you didn’t kill my Sandi. You were a good friend to her. Like a brother.”
“I’ve never really talked with you about Sandi’s death,” said Nick.
“No hard feelings. I wasn’t exactly a social butterfly after she disappeared.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I’ve thought about it a lot over the years. Sandi was not a real happy teenager. She had been through a lot with her stepdad. As you know.”
Nick nodded. Emily hoped this might be the moment Mrs. Parkman opened up about her troubled marriage and any suspicions she might have about her ex.
“Sandi was depressed. I know that. But not enough to be suicidal. She had plans for community college. Cosmetology. She was a survivor.”
“Can you think of anyone who would want to kill her? Nick pressed gently.
“I don’t know.” Mrs. Parkman shook her head, getting lost in her thoughts. “I feel responsible, partly.”
“Responsible for what?” asked Nick, scooting to the edge of his seat.
“For just not being around. I should have known.”
“Known what?” asked Emily.
“I was working a lot back then. I just wasn’t paying attention.”
She knew she had been an absentee parent. She felt the guilt. Emily didn’t blame Mrs. Parkman for keeping her thoughts to herself all these years, especially if the killer was in close range. But now that her daughter had been found murdered—now was the time to come clean.
“Are you saying you’re somehow responsible for your daughter’s death?” said Emily. Nick shot her an acidic glance.
“No. Not directly.” Mrs. Parkman looked horrified, and Nick quickly stepped back in.
“We’re not accusing you, Mrs. Parkman,” Nick offered apologetically.
“I suppose I should have said something a long time ago. But I was scared. Scared of him.” She stopped. Her lips pressed together and her gaze went to her feet.
“Her stepfather?” said Emily.
She nodded. “Sandi put him in prison with her testimony. I stood by her, silently, but I never said in court that I knew this was going on under my roof. Truthfully, Sandi never said a word to me about the abuse. It was Tiffani who first told me about what was happening to Sandi.”
Emily nodded. She was proud of Shirley for owning up to this difficult admission.
“After her stepfather got out of prison, did he exhibit behavior that would indicate he wanted revenge?” asked Nick.
“Absolutely. He was furious at her for putting him away. He came out and started stalking her.”
“What about the restraining order?” said Nick.
“Didn’t matter. He came after her. Me. Tiffani. Police couldn’t always be there to enforce it, so I told Sandi never to be anywhere alone. Not school. Not home.”
“But you said you were working a lot of hours. How could she not be at home alone some of the time?” asked Emily.
She choked out her answer in a gravelly voice covered in guilt. “That’s why I feel responsible. I couldn’t protect her from him. The second time.”
Emily and Nick let a moment pass for Mrs. Parkman to compose herself.
“Mrs. Parkman, where were you the day Sandi disappeared?” said Nick.
“Waitressing at Orion’s Belt.” Emily knew the place; it was an all-night diner on the edge of town. “I got home about seven thirty, after the dinner rush. Tiffani was gone, too. I kinda panicked at first.”
Emily nodded. “Had either of the girls left a note?”
“No. But that wasn’t unusual.”
“Where did you find Tiffani?”
“At a friend’s, spending the night. I just figured Sandi was doing the same, and I was so beat from my day that I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up the next morning to a call from the high school that Sandi had missed her first two classes.”
“What’s the name of the friend?” asked Nick.
Mrs. Parkman stopped to think. “She was a mousy girl. Kinda scraggly. Don’t remember the name. It’s all kinda fuzzy in my memory now.”
“Where is Tiffani living these days?” asked Emily.
“An apartment at Cedar Heights.”
Emily detected a slight vagueness in her answer and pried a little more.
“Is she married?” said Emily.
“God, no.”
“How did Tiffani take Sandi’s disappearance?” asked Emily.
“Devastated. Sandi was very protective of her. You know, especially after the whole thing with their stepdad. She was convinced that he killed her.”
“What made her think that?”
“She never really said. But she was really pent up about it. I just kinda let her work it out, because Tiffani was always really shy. She liked to read. To study. Not like Sandi. But after Sandi … her whole life changed. She got real rebellious.”
“How so?” said Emily.
“Started running around with guys a lot older than her. Skipping school. Dropped out at sixteen.”
“I heard you kicked her out of the house.” Nick’s voice quivered as he clearly struggled to control his emotions. Emily shot him a quick glance, hoping to catch his look. But he bent his head and in a swift motion used his thumb and forefinger to swipe away the wet under his eyes.
“I couldn’t control her no more.” Mrs. Parkman shrugged. “Wait till you have kids. You’ll see. Sometimes they have to learn from the school of hard knocks.”
It made Emily feel awful to hear about a mother just giving up on a daughter who had clearly been traumatized by several major life events. She was immediately grateful that her own parents had cared so much. Well, at least until Mom’s
accident. And Tiffani, poor thing. Here was girl with a promising future. At least academically. She could have risen above her circumstances.
“Mrs. Parkman, thank you so much for talking with us. Again, my deepest sympathies.” Nick rose. “We should get going. I’ll keep you updated as I can. And if you hear or see anything or think of anything that might help the investigation, please reach out. Okay?”
“What am I supposed to do with this? I already know she’s dead,” said Mrs. Parkman, glancing back at the death certificate.
“It’s for your own personal records,” said Emily.
Mrs. Parkman laid it on top of a stack of junk mail next to the magazine pile.
“I don’t got money for a fancy funeral.”
“Bishop and Schulz can work with even modest budgets.”
“I don’t have a budget at all.” An acrid lament hung in the room.
Emily vowed right there to make sure Sandi got the kind of burial she deserved.
As they left, an achy feeling rooted in Emily’s gut. Tiffani. Such a troubled life. A criminal stepdad. A sister missing. A mother who was unable to care for her emotional needs. What a mess.
“We should see what we can do about raising funds for a proper memorial service,” said Emily.
Nick nodded. “I’ll put the word out at the department.”
“I’ll tell Delia. She can spread the word at Brown’s.”
They pulled away from Mrs. Parkman’s house, thinking about these two loyal sisters, suffering together and then viciously torn from each other. Sandi and Tiffani had shared lots of secrets. Secrets that were meant to go to the grave. Because that’s what sisters did. Tiffani knew the truth about Sandi. Or at least enough of it to have dramatically affected her after Sandi’s disappearance. Keeping secrets did that. They changed you, for better or worse. If Tiffani did know something about her stepfather’s role in Sandi’s death, that could be pivotal to this investigation.
The secrets of sisters. Emily had always thought it was cool that sisters had the upper hand on what was really going on in each other’s lives. She had seen it in her friends’ sibling relationships and had always been a little envious.
And then it dawned on Emily that she had a sister now.
“I was reading through Sandi’s file again last night, and the stepdad was never listed as a suspect,” said Nick.
“That’s so strange. I mean, it seems so obvious. He has the most motive.”
“I agree. But he wasn’t listed because his time card showed he was punched in for work during the time of her disappearance.”
“He could have been punched in and then left work early, conveniently forgetting to punch out,” Emily suggested.
“It’s definitely possible,” Nick said.
“Did anyone talk to his boss? His coworkers?”
“There are no statements from them. You have to remember, at the time, he wasn’t being questioned for murder. Most people thought she was a runaway.”
A runaway who’d told no one she was leaving. Left no notes. Took no clothes or purse. Had a bad home history, a jealous, controlling boyfriend, and a sex offender for a stepdad. There were so many red flags! But no one was paying attention to these details of a poverty-stricken teenage girl’s life. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. If Emily stayed in Freeport, she wanted to do something to help young women understand how to protect themselves and value themselves so they didn’t end up in a clandestine grave.
“You wanna grab a bite to eat?” Nick asked her.
“Can’t. Tonight’s the commissioners’ meeting.”
Nick hummed the opening bars of the Jaws theme. Emily chuckled, getting his implication. She was diving headfirst into a sea full of sharks.
19
“This Dr. Payton you hired sent us a bill for three grand,” said Hank Wurthers, who was heading the board of commissioners’ Thursday-night meeting. He was sitting next to a skinny grandpa type with rough, wrinkled hands that belonged to a farmer used to counting every penny and nickel. The seating area was spotted with a couple dozen townspeople awaiting their turn to speak on a particular issue of personal concern.
“That’s his fee,” Emily defended from a podium facing the table of commissioners. “And it’s not out of range.”
“We can’t pay this,” said a man with a crooked toupee sitting on the end of the row of tables.
“It’s a difficult case and growing more difficult by the day. Dr. Payton’s services have already saved this county time and resources.”
“Do you have a cause of death?” said crooked toupee.
“I do, but I cannot release it publicly,” said Emily.
“Well, let’s not belabor this case too long, shall we?” said a teacher type with a clip-on bow tie. “We can’t afford to waste county resources on cases like hers.”
His derogatory tone pricked at Emily. “What do you mean, like hers?”
“It’s no secret that this girl was troubled … and caused trouble,” said clip-on bowtie teacher. Emily didn’t like his assessment of Sandi. Teachers like bow tie lived with their heads in ivory towers and were quick to lump the “troubled” in with those “in trouble.”
“I’m not sure how that affects my professional duty to this case?” Or Nick’s. Or the county’s. Murder is murder. And bow tie’s argument was not justified, no matter how ill-reputed or irresponsible the victim. Besides, based on what Emily knew about Sandi thus far, these claims were untrue. He had no idea what that girl had lived through.
“I think what’s being expressed here is that sometimes these things just aren’t worth the hassle,” said Hank.
These things? Had he just referred to a murdered young woman as a thing?
“What about these things is concerning to you?” Emily stepped carefully, but kept a firm tone.
“Her death was a long time ago,” said skinny gramps. “Ain’t no use bringing it all up again and charging our taxpayers for it.”
“Oh yes, let’s not waste any money on justice for one of our own, precious young people. What if this had been your daughter?” said Emily, trying to keep her voice in diplomatic range.
“We all know this was a girl who took an unfortunate wrong turn, and we’re sorry for her loss, but we all know how she got there, and I for one, don’t think we, and by that I mean the good citizens of Freeport County, should have to foot the bill,” said clip-on bowtie teacher.
“Especially for something that happened ten years ago,” added crooked toupee.
“You’re making a lot of assumptions considering you don’t know the facts of her case,” said Emily.
“Ms. Hartford,” started skinny gramps.
“Dr. Hartford,” she interrupted.
“Some kids are prone to sad demises,” he continued.
“Sandi’s sad demise, as you call it, was not her fault. She didn’t asked to be raped by her stepfather over and over. She didn’t ask for a mother who was scared and couldn’t protect her. She didn’t ask for poverty.”
The entire room sat up on edge.
“It’ll do the whole community a great deal of good if you just release the report and let the cops do their job,” said Hank.
“Just shove it aside into the cold-case cabinet, right? Just another case you can’t fund. What message does that send to our teens today about their value in our society?” said Emily, their ignorance and indigence grating on her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Emily saw a young man in the front row of the audience jotting something down in a notepad. Probably press. Emily almost groaned aloud. After the run-ins she’d had during the Dobson case, she wanted nothing to do with drawing media attention. She needed to right this ship. Now. Or she would find herself in a gale storm with a broken sail.
“Are you going to pay Dr. Charles Payton or not?” Emily demanded.
Hank murmured with his fellow commissioners and then turned to Emily. “We’d like to see a twenty-five percent reduction in his fees,”
he said.
“You’ll have to take that up with him.” She stood her ground.
“Will you be running for county coroner, Miss Hartford?” asked clip-on bow tie.
“Dr. Hartford,” she corrected again. “I’m not sure yet.”
“Then why don’t you rest your grand cause for justice until you’re a little more sure. You millennials have a lot of passion but come up very short in the way of action.”
“Who else is running?” asked Emily, quivering with fury inside.
Hank paused, searching his board for their permission. Once granted by several nods, he revealed, “Melvin Rotsworth and Roger Phizter.”
Emily didn’t know who these men were, but Delia would. Delia would also know how she should handle this stingy, judgmental group of men. This is what she would be facing if she stayed and took the position, which she felt assured she could win. Was the battle for her father’s position one that she wanted to fight? Was it worth the fight? It had worked for him. They would have to respect her and listen to her. And they would need to provide the funding a proper coroner’s office required. This wasn’t some idyllic dream she’d had when she was thirteen, working side by side with her father. He had showed her the importance of proper investigation in finding and convicting criminals.
The people of Freeport County had been blessed with a thorough, compassionate medical examiner in her father. Someone who had cared about justice more than the bottom line.
“‘Societies get the criminals they deserve,’” she said, quoting one of her favorite French forensic doctors, Alexandre Lacassagne. It was a mantra her father had often stated when he was working on a particularly challenging death to remind him of the importance of thorough and objective investigative work.
These men hadn’t deserved a coroner like her father. But Freeport did. Would Melvin and Roger be worthy of the task? She had her doubts.
“I’m not sure what that means, Ms. Hartford,” Hank said. “But I think we need to move on to other business.”
Emily didn’t budge from her spot. “It means … that this community will only be as good as the evil you allow to prevail within it.”
She paused and let her gaze travel to each face. The group of white men shifted their glances to one another or to their paperwork in front of them. None was able to look her in the eye. There was nothing more to do or say at the moment. Frustrated, Emily spun around and marched toward the back of the room. It was only as she was about to exit the auditorium that she heard a ripple of clapping break out from the room. Tossing a look over her shoulder, she saw the tiny crowd on their feet, directing their applause at her.
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