Emily backed away and scanned the room, trying to drown out the sound with her mind. Soon her eyes came to one uncluttered wall shelf that displayed a set of four tarnished three-by-five frames with a layer of dust coating the glass. In each frame was a picture of Sandi, a life span. Sandi as a baby. Sandi’s first day of school. Preteen Sandi on a horse. And prom-picture Sandi. With a young man. Emily did a double take. She picked up the frame and wiped the grime off the glass. A clean-cut, tuxedoed James stood out. She leaned in to get a closer look. He was holding up Sandi’s hand in one of those awkward posed-portrait shots. And that’s when she recognized the black-onyx class ring. James. Odd as it seemed, it could be no coincidence that Tiffani possessed the same black onyx stone cut in a diamond shape. Why did she have the same stone? Did it belong to the guy in the Facebook picture? And was that guy James? There was most definitely a connection between James and Tiffani. This proved it.
If Nick had any hope of proving his innocence of this crime, he would need to hunt James down. Emily quickly captured the image of the prom picture on her phone seconds before Mrs. Parkman waddled back in.
“Would you like to stay for dinner, dear?” said Mrs. Parkman, heading toward the kitchen. Emily’s stomach curdled at the thought of the rats in the wall and what might emerge from the Parkman fridge.
“I think you have rats in your house, Mrs. Parkman,” Emily said.
“Oh?”
“I heard scratching in your wall. You should call an exterminator.”
“Oh?”
“They could be carrying diseases. And that’s not safe for you.”
“I’ve never heard them,” said Mrs. Parkman.
“Maybe because you have your TV turned up?”
“I’ve never seen any droppings.”
“Maybe not. But I heard them just now.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ll tell Tiffani. She’ll know what to do,” Mrs. Parkman said, opening the fridge. The smell of curdled milk and rotting vegetables wafted out. And Emily quickly thanked Mrs. Parkman and made her exit.
* * *
Emily waited in her car in Nick’s driveway until his truck pulled in an hour after dark. She got out of her car and walked over to his as he shut off the engine and hopped out, dressed in his hunting gear.
“I know what it looks like,” he said with a tired lilt in his voice.
“Who told you?”
“I was with Paul. A text came through from Jo as soon as we were in signal range.”
“Nick.” Her voice was trembling. “What was your jacket doing buried in that woods?”
Nick reached into the back of his truck to unpack his gear. Emily could see the lifeless form of a buck under a black tarp in the bed of his pickup. Nick popped the gate down.
“She was cold. I lent her my jacket.”
She scrutinized him. “Look at me and tell me that again.”
He turned to face her, leaning against the truck. “I’m not looking for your trust or approval. I know who I am and I know what I did. Or didn’t do.”
“Then what are your theories? Because you’d better start producing some in light of this new evidence.”
“I don’t know. Okay? I’ve talked to everyone I know to talk to.”
“I think Tiffani knows where James is.” Emily whipped out her phone. “Look at the ring from the Facebook photo. Now look at the picture from the Parkman’s. James’ ring from high school. Same stone.” She held up Sandi’s prom picture.
“How do you know that’s the same stone?”
“It’s a very unique cut.”
He took a look at the photo. “That’s not definitive.”
“I have a gut feeling.”
“‘She has a gut feeling, Your Honor!’” he mocked.
“Come on, admit it. It’s not a coincidence.”
“You’re right. It’s an impossibility.”
“If you can’t find James, at least start with Tiffani.”
Nick didn’t respond. “I know how to do my job, Em.”
“Why won’t you call her in for questioning? What’s the problem?”
“I did. After you told me about what the girls from the club said, I went to check it out, and there’s shady business going on. I put some undercover cops in place to watch Wanda.”
“Good. Thank you. And what did Tiffani say?”
“Nothing I don’t already know.”
“I talked to Mrs. Parkman. Skinny Minnie,” blurted Emily. “She was one of Tiffani’s best friends. I thought that might ring a bell, since you’re the king of nicknames.”
“You should stop looking into this.”
“You need help, Nick.”
“You’re undermining me and making me look ineffective.”
Nick went around to the back of his truck. Emily took a deep inhale.
“I gotta get this thing hung and dressed.”
How could he spend the day traipsing around the woods with his buddies when his head was about to be placed on the chopping block?
Nick proceeded to tie a rope around the deer’s hind legs. A pulley system was in place to lift the deer from the back of the truck. Emily didn’t want to stick around to see the rest. She huffed back to her car as more snow began to fall. His stubbornness would be his downfall.
44
Emily didn’t hear from Nick on Saturday. Or Sunday. Today was Monday, and the passing days without word made her nervous. But this morning, Skinny Minnie was on her mind as she took to the high school library and searched the yearbooks for the years Tiffani had been at Freeport High. There was a waif of a girl in Tiffani’s class named Mina. Did Mina translate to Minnie? It was worth a shot. Mina DeBoer. Emily found her profile listed on LinkedIn. She was a family therapist practicing with a private agency in Pittsburgh. The head shot accompanying her page showed a thin-faced, young woman with a bob and a plain brown sweater tastefully accessorized with a gold necklace that held a small cross pendant. She wore her makeup simple. She expressed a small, sincere smile. No teeth. No exaggeration in the facial lines, but she looked relaxed and confident. Her profile page listed only the agency’s 800 phone number and a generic email, most likely for privacy reasons. Mina wasn’t on any of the other social media platforms. Again, probably to protect her privacy. Smart gal.
Emily left a brief message via the agency contact page but wasn’t hopeful that it would be received, as so many weren’t. Why did people use contact pages and then never check them or have their emails forwarded to their inboxes? She made a note to remember to call the practice later that day. Then she relaxed with a walk on the property to clear her mind and think about the future.
When she got back to the house, Emily left another message for Mina and then cracked open her surgical textbook to refresh herself. If she did decide to slip back into residency after the new year, she didn’t want to seem rusty.
Before dinner, Emily was about to call Mina’s office again when her phone range. She recognized it as an Ann Arbor area code.
“I’m Samantha, Dr. Payton’s research assistant,” said the voice on the other end. “Dr. Payton asked me to reach out to you.”
“I see.” Hiding behind an assistant. What a snake move. “How can I help you?” said Emily.
“Dr. Payton wanted me to tell you about some lab results.”
“Okay. Go ahead.” Emily grabbed a pen and paper.
“We were able to get a DNA sample from the root of the hair that was submitted.” Her voice was clinical. “From the sample, we looked at twenty-one loci points. And we came up with a match.”
Emily held her breath. A match. A real lead in the case.
“The match that was detected belongs to a Nicholas Larson.”
Emily’s pen hit the paper, leaving an asymmetrical blue dot of ink seeping into the white page. Her hand became limp as she dropped the pen.
“Hello? Are you there?” said Samantha. “Ms. Hartford?”
“Dr. Hartford,” she mouthed, and then found her voice. “Ye
s, I heard you.”
“Ah … yes. Um, could you read that name to me again?”
“Nicholas Larson.”
“I … are you … sure?”
“We are positive it is the sample from the remains.” Her voice remained emotionless. “The database shows his address is in Freeport.”
“Um … right. Okay.”
“I’ll send this all in my follow-up email so you can review it yourself.”
Emily’s mind whirled to process what she had just heard.
“Ms. Hartford? Are you still there?”
“Did you send the report already?
“Yes. I just emailed it to the investigating officer listed on the paperwork. Sheriff Larson at the Freeport sheriff’s office.” She didn’t seem to see the connection at all. It was just a formality to her.
Emily’s throat was pinched. It was only a matter of time before Nick would see it. Maybe he already had.
“Is there anything else I can—”
Emily hung up and grabbed her keys.
Her hand was on her car door handle when her phone rang, startling her. The screen announced, No Caller ID.
Was it Mina? She dove for the phone.
“Hello. This is Dr. Emily Hartford,” she said, getting into her car and starting the ignition.
A wispy voice answered. “This is Mina DeBoer, returning your call.”
45
“Thanks for calling me back, Ms. DeBoer. I’m sorry if this call seems rather out of the blue. I’m the acting coroner in Freeport, Michigan …”
“Oh my God!” Panic immediately shot through the phone line. “Did something happen to my mom?”
“No, I’m not calling with bad news.”
“Okay. Thank God.”
Emily heard a sharp exhale on the other end and made a mental note to work on her conversation leads. “I just need to ask you a few questions regarding a case I’m working on.”
“Oh. Will this take long? I have a client in five minutes.”
“I’ll be quick. I’ve been working on the case of Sandi Parkman. Did you know Sandi and her family?”
“Yes.”
“Were you aware that Sandi’s remains were found recently?”
“My mom sent me a news link about it.”
“I was wondering if I could talk with you about your relationship to Sandi and the family.”
“Am I … am I being questioned or something?” More tension in Mina’s voice.
“What? No. Nothing like that. I’m just trying to fill in some of the blanks. Mrs. Parkman mentioned that you knew the family.”
“Well, I knew Tiffani mostly,” Mina said, exhaling.
Now Emily was anxious. There was so much at stake here, and it would be only hours—or less—before Nick was arrested. She was desperate to discover if Mina might offer something, anything, that might direct suspicion away from Nick and toward a real suspect. She tried to keep the calm in her voice.
“There’s nothing to worry about. It would be really helpful to the investigation.”
There was a sustained pause on the other end. “I can call you back?” said Mina in a flat voice.
“Ah. Sure. Of course. When is a good—”
But Mina had already hung up.
* * *
Emily called Nick’s cell to see if he was home or at his office or maybe out on a call. No answer. She phoned the department next, and the assistant on duty said he had taken a sick day. Nick was never sick.
She made the trek to Nick’s house over snow-covered roads. How had everything tumbled so quickly into such a great tribulation? Her world was spinning. And she felt like she was losing grip as everything unraveled around her. Her eyes went hot with tears. Pull it together. Now is not the time to fall apart.
Her car didn’t handle well on the slippery country roads, and it took twice as much time to get to Nick’s as it normally did. Nick would have checked his emails for the morning and seen the report. That’s probably why he had called in sick. She felt the ticking of the clock with each bump on the snow-packed surface. Her heart was pounding through her fingertips as she gripped the steering wheel. She wanted to deliver the news in person and explain what she had done.
Nick’s house was the fifth one on the right after she turned onto the road that circled the lake. Through the bare tree lines, she could see the flashing red strobes from a police cruiser parked in his driveway. She was too late.
Emily pushed on the accelerator, and her car gently slid to the right shoulder. She corrected in time to avoid sliding off the road. She slowed the last twenty feet and pulled into his driveway.
Through the giant picture window at the front of the house, she could see Nick and two of his officers standing in the living room talking. There was nothing animated about their gestures. It seemed a friendly visit between colleagues. But Emily knew differently. They were there to arrest him.
Emily coasted to a stop and threw the car in park. She jumped out and shuffled through the snow to the front door.
As she went for the knob, the door opened. She could now see that his hands were cuffed behind his back.
Emily’s mouth gaped. “Nick!”
Each officer had an arm as they turned him toward the door to guide him out of the house. Emily thought they looked horribly uncomfortable and apologetic. It had to be awful to be arresting your own boss. Nick’s face was expressionless.
“Nick. It was me. I was in your bathroom—”
“Not a word,” he commanded.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stop talking.”
“Is there someone I can call?”
“An attorney,” he said, without turning back to look at her.
The officers helped him down the slippery front steps. All she could do was watch as they escorted Nick to their squad car and drove away.
Emily stood there, looking into his empty house. From her vantage point she could see the kitchen counter, where she noticed Nick’s phone. She certainly didn’t want the cops coming back to confiscate it. She slipped off her wet boots and went inside. She grabbed the phone and started to guess the passcode. Nick’s birthdate. His street number. His badge number. Denied. Denied. Denied. She had one more try before it would lock her out. On a whim, she punched in her own birthdate. The phone lit up. Emily elbowed her shock to the side and found Nick’s dads’s number in his contact list and called him. She explained what had happened so his parents wouldn’t hear it from the cops, a friend, or worse, a news source. Then she called Delia.
Emily did nothing to hide her panicked tone as Delia bombarded her with questions. No, she couldn’t say over the phone what had happened. No, Nick was not okay. Yes, Nick was alive. No, Nick was not injured. Could she just please come to Nick’s house.
Emily shuddered after she ended the call. For the first time, the question of Nick’s innocence suddenly became very real for her.
Her thoughts somersaulted around her brain. She pressed her palms against the sides of her head and wandered over to the giant slider doors that led onto the back deck from the kitchen.
She stood there, staring out toward the frozen lake. The whitewashed landscape had a clearing effect on her mind. And a single thought was set in place. She had betrayed him.
46
While she waited for Delia to arrive, Emily dialed Mina’s number at least a dozen times. It was borderline harassment, but Emily didn’t care. The current situation had left her a little crazy. On the last try, Emily left a message. Although she didn’t leave any details, she knew she sounded desperate. Because she was.
Instinctively, Emily grabbed Nick’s phone and pressed her birth date. She couldn’t help herself as she began to scroll through Nick’s email and texts, just in case there was anything that might … No, wait! She couldn’t. It would be tampering with evidence. She could go to jail. Lose everything. She set the phone down and wiped her fingerprints off it. She paced around the kitchen. Then she returned to the ph
one and picked it back up. She would peek. She wouldn’t delete or change anything. No harm in that. Right?
She found that Dr. Payton’s assistant had sent the same email she’d sent Emily to Nick’s personal email three hours earlier. Dr. Payton had waited to call her until he was sure Nick had received the news. Snake!
She also found multiple emails, texts, and phone calls that correlated with Nick’s search for James VanDerMuellen. He had researched the high school class ring company and gotten his hands on a copy of the receipt for James’s ring. He had hired a digital forensics expert to conduct a deep-dive Internet search on James that had turned up nothing in the past couple of years. It was like James had scrubbed himself from the Internet. Nick had contacted countless family members and friends by text, email, or phone. The same message echoed through each response. “We haven’t seen him. We don’t know where James is. He’s disappeared. He owes me money. We’re worried.”
Nick had done his due diligence.
Delia came bounding through the front door without ringing the bell. Emily nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Don’t you knock?”
“Maybe you should lock the door,” said Delia. “What’s going on, doll?”
“The ninth hair. It’s Nick’s,” she blurted out, struggling to hold back her tears. “They just arrested him.”
“Oh, God. I can’t believe this.” Delia held Emily for a moment and then gently led her to the kitchen table.
“I’m making you some tea. Sit there and tell me everything.” A little mom treatment was exactly what Emily needed.
Emily handed her the lab report she had meant to give Nick. After a moment, Delia looked up at Emily with a slight terror in her eyes that Emily had never seen before.
“I can’t believe … are you sure?”
She nodded. “But the worst part is, Nick didn’t know his sample had been submitted. I did it.”
Delia left a long pause between them, filled by the sound of the gas flame hissing under the kettle on the stove. She stood motionless by the kitchen sink, staring into it with a disbelieving gaze.
Secret Remains Page 24