“With that and the jacket … I’m just afraid …” Emily didn’t know where to go next. “What am I going to do?”
“Do you honestly think Nick is guilty?” Delia asked her, straight faced.
Emily was quiet for a moment before saying, “I want to believe him. I know his character. He’s not like that. But Jo didn’t think Paul was like that either. So, yeah, I don’t like it, but I do have some doubts. Sins of omission are still sins.”
“And now it’s coming back to bite him.” Delia leaned against the kitchen counter with her mug warming her palms. She looked at Emily with resolve in her brow.
“With a little push.”
“Are we not all capable of evil?” said Delia, who had seen her fair share.
Emily had learned this, too, in her cases with dad. Even the best of people could be tempted into dirty deeds if the right circumstances presented themselves. Silence passed between them.
“I’m testing you, doll. Doubt is an essential duty to this job. You’re right to have it.”
“It feels awful.”
“Of course it does. Especially given this situation. You care very deeply about Nick. Maybe you even love him. I know you thought you were trying to help.”
Emily glanced away. She could hear her mother in Delia’s words. But she hadn’t been able to give her and Nick’s relationship a fair shot—in high school or now. The timing had just always been off between the two of them. What if he was convicted for Sandi’s murder?
“I did it because I wanted to find out the truth,” said Emily.
“And now you don’t like the results.” Delia snapped Emily from her emotional introspection. Her eyes flitted back to Delia’s determined gaze. “But you are likely the only person who can help him right now.”
It was bitter medicine to swallow. She would do everything she could to free him. He would do the same for her. He’d saved her life. Now, she had to save his.
Delia took a sip and joined Emily at the table. “I heard about your escapade at the Silver Slipper,” she said with a soft smile.
Emily let out a little chortle. “Not my brightest moment.”
“But a fearless one. That’s heroine material.”
The anxiety began to trickle from Emily. “Where do I start?” She drew in a deep breath.
“We’re going to put this together logically.” Emily felt a wave of relief as Delia clicked into her investigative mode. “Let’s talk this through. What do you have so far? What do you know?”
As Delia served more tea, Emily explained where she was so far with the case, how unhelpful and odd and disconnected Mrs. Parkman had been. Paul and the pack and their dirty deeds. Her lack of conversation with Mina. The DNA evidence. How Tiffani had almost run her off the road.
“Tiffani definitely knows something,” said Emily. “But besides the fact that she’s acting all weird, the only real evidence I have is these rings.”
“You think they’re somehow connected?”
“I know it seems like a stretch, but what do you think?”
“Why would she be protecting the man who killed her sister?” asked Delia.
“Exactly. I can’t wrap my head around that one,”
“Well, let’s take a look.” Delia enlarged the images of the two rings on Emily’s phone screen to get a closer comparison. Delia’s lifetime of experience in the FBI with investigation and tool identification gave her a distinctive edge in seeing the finer details that clinched a theory and corroborated evidence. She spent the next few minutes taking measurements and jotting down a set of computations on scratch paper.
“Your instincts are impeccable, my dear. Unbelievable. You see here—they are the same stone. Right down to the defects. See that vertical scratch on the left side, about half a millimeter in length? It’s the same one in this photo.”
Emily was elated and in awe of Delia’s skills.
“My guess is that James or Tiffani had the stone remounted in a new band,” said Delia. “Now you need to find out why Tiffani and James were together. And if she knows where he is.”
“How? I’ve totally blown my cover with her,” said Emily. “She doesn’t trust me or want to see me.”
“We’ll just have to approach this differently,” said Delia.
“How?”
“Melany.”
Emily gave her a quizzical look. Who?
“My friend. The contractor’s wife. Her husband owns Pepper Cave Construction. Remember?”
Emily nodded, but she wasn’t seeing the trees for the forest here.
“Don’t you think it was odd that of all the plots on Pinetree Slopes, the first one to be excavated was the one where Sandi’s body was found?”
Of course. It was so obvious when Delia said it!
“Can you get Melany to tell you who has the deed on the land and who’s building there?”
“Now you see it, doll,” Delia nodded. “I think this may yield some interesting results. In the meantime, you keep working on Mina and pay Nick a visit in jail. Bring him an extra sweater and a blanket. The mayor doesn’t like to waste money on heating the city cell.”
“Thank you, Delia.”
Delia rose from the kitchen table and set her mug in the kitchen sink. “I’m going to head out. You okay?”
“Yes. Much better.” Emily felt hope rising in her chest. “I’ll just clean up a bit here, grab a few of Nick’s things, and close the house.”
“Good girl.” Delia gave her a hug. “It’s going to be fine. And someday you and Nick will tell this tale around the campfire to your grandchildren.”
“Don’t get ahead of your skis, Ms. Andrews,” Emily cautioned. She knew Delia was just trying to lighten the mood, but there were still so many hurdles to jump. If Nick was proven innocent and released, would he forgive her?
Delia left, and Emily collected herself as she bustled about the house, gathering the items she needed for Nick. She ran upstairs to Nick’s closet and grabbed a sweater, socks, and fresh pair of jeans. She was about to switch off the closet light when a glint caught her eye. A small plastic picture frame. She recognized it because she’d had the same one once. Her own fifteen-year-old face smiled back at her. Nick had his arm around her, and they were standing in her front yard under a red-leafed maple. Her mother had taken the photo just a few weeks before her crash. It was September nineteenth, Emily’s birthday. The four of them— her, Nick, Mom, and Dad—were on their way to dinner to celebrate. Nick’s freshly shaven face still glowed with a summer tan. None of them looked as if they had a care in the world. All so blissfully unaware how much life was about to change. She loved that Nick still had this picture. Still holding on to hope. Something she had given up long ago.
Emily trudged downstairs in a daze. She shut off all but one living room light and turned down the heat. Tomorrow she and Delia would collect their new pieces, and soon the entire puzzle would be complete. She had to have faith in that. Not just for her own sake, but for Nick’s.
47
Later that evening, Emily slid a blanket, sweater, and several bottles of water through the cell bars to Nick. He nodded his thanks, but didn’t say much more for a few minutes as he slipped the sweater over his head and chugged down a bottle of water. The officer on duty was a good friend of Nick’s from the department and had let Emily bring everything in without batting an eye. Emily had gotten the feeling that the officer felt worse than Nick did about the arrest.
“I’m sorry, Nick. I really am.” She gripped the cell bars with both hands and drew herself closer. “Talk to me, please.”
“You were always headstrong. Even in high school. But the stakes weren’t as high back then.”
“You seemed so dead set on not providing a sample. And anyhow, I didn’t think there’d be a match. So it would all go under the radar—”
“And you would have your peace of mind,” said Nick, wagging his head.
Her voice went to barely a whisper. “Nick. The hair. The jacket.
What’s going on?”
“I’ve been running everything through in my head.” Nick matched her volume so the guard wouldn’t hear. “The day Sandi disappeared was one of those days in early spring that changes its mind. You know? It starts out warm but then drops ten or fifteen degrees as a front comes in.”
Emily nodded. She had often been caught in the city in late April or early May underdressed in sandals and a lightweight blouse as a quick-forming storm sprung from Lake Michigan and whipped frigid wind through her bones.
“Sandi had worn a short-sleeved shirt to school that morning, but by afternoon when I brought her home, she was shivering.”
“You lent her your letterman jacket.”
Nick nodded. “It was in my back seat. She put it on, and when she went to get out of the car, she started to take it off. I told her just to keep it. I’d get it back later. The last time I saw her, she was wearing the jacket.”
“And you never said anything? To anyone? You never asked for it back?”
“Worrying about my dumb letterman jacket was the last thing on my mind after she went missing. Tiffani told police that the last time she saw Sandi, she remembered she was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, so I figured … I don’t know … I guess I figured she had left it at home. And I certainly wasn’t going to ask the Parkman family if they could look around for my jacket and return it to me. It just didn’t seem … appropriate. By that time, I was graduated and I didn’t care about a stupid high school jacket I would never wear again.”
“And the hair?”
“Locard exchange principle.” Nick was resigned. “I’m sure that there were hairs of mine stuck to the collar of my letterman jacket. If she grabbed it by the collar, then my hair was transferred under her fingernail.”
It made perfect sense. Transference of matter, particles, material, fibers, hair. It happened all the time without anyone noticing or knowing.
“But it doesn’t mean you had anything to do with Sandi’s death. Or were even with her when she was killed,” insisted Emily.
“I know that. You know that. But how is this gonna look to a judge and jury?”
She looked him in the eyes, still gripping the bars with both hands. “Nick. Don’t get mad when I ask you this, okay? You are innocent, aren’t you?”
Nick’s eye never flickered or flitted from hers. “Emily, I did not kill Sandi Parkman.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze bounced to the wall and then the floor. “I hate that I have to ask that.”
“I know. I hate that you did.” His eyes bounced back to her and held. “But I would have too.”
“Nature of our work, I guess,” she said softly and without judgment. “Will you forgive me for … everything?”
He nodded and lifted his hands to wrap them around hers, and they gripped the cell bars together. After years of being apart, here they were, face to face. Hand to hand. But it still felt so far.
Nick’s hands warmed hers. She could feel his pulse through his fingertips. It was elevated. He was anxious. She started to count the beats and time his heart rate. A hundred and thirty. She looked at his pursed lips, his tight throat, and the slight crinkling in his brow. His eyes didn’t leave hers. They were wide and round like the ones in the closet picture, but lacked brightness. They were dulled with exhaustion and worry.
In this moment, Emily knew she could trust Nick completely. Any doubts that had surfaced in the past couple of weeks and hours were only emotions or imagination on overdrive. All the mistrust, secrets, and disappointments that had lingered between them since they were sixteen melted away as their hands clutched each other around the cell bars. No letting go this time.
She had to get him out of there. At any cost.
“How much is bail? I have a little money set aside.”
Nick shook his head. “Judge set bail at half a million.”
“What?” Emily shrieked, causing the officer on duty to glance up from his phone and look over. “That’s a ludicrous amount!”
“I think he’s just trying to make a point. No favoritism. Or some such political move like that.” He sounded frustrated. “He’s up for reelection next year.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fairness has nothing to do with it. Welcome to county politics.”
She groaned, and he snugged his sweaty grip around her hands.
“What’s the next step for you?”
“I get an attorney. Like I should have done from the start.”
She leaned into the bars with a whisper. “Don’t worry. I have a plan too.”
“Please don’t do anything stupid.” A worried look wrinkled the corners of his eyes. He was thinking about her near-death experience with the Dobson case.
“Delia’s helping me. Certain things have come to light, and we’re getting close to breaking something big.”
“Care to fill me in?” Nick whispered, and rested his face on the bars. She leaned hers in close enough that she could feel warmth from his face radiating onto hers.
“I can’t right now. For your own protection.” She gave him a small, reassuring smile.
“You sound like a spy. I like it.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s sexy.”
She let out a little laugh. If he could flirt with her at a time like this, there was still hope.
“Nick Larson. We’re getting you out of here, and we’re going to find Sandi’s real killer and prove that you had nothing to do with her murder. And when that’s over …” Her voice cracked and a lump swelled in her throat. She willed herself to stop getting choked up. But the lump only grew bigger, and she couldn’t force the words out.
“It’s okay, Em. You don’t have to say anything. I get it.” He held his grip on her, and she dipped her head toward his. Their foreheads touched between the bars. For a long moment, Emily and Nick stood there, eyes closed, transferring unspoken hope between them.
A thought appeared to Emily with the same clarity as the one she’d had at Nick’s house overlooking the lake. There was no other place she’d rather be than with Nick. She didn’t need to travel down any more roads with any more guys. When this mess was all over, she was ready to take him up on his offer to start over.
48
Early the next morning, before Emily’s alarm went off, her phone rang. Emily, who had only been half sleeping anyhow, rolled over instantly and reached for it. She recognized the number immediately.
Skinny Minnie Mina.
She tapped accept. “Hello? Mina?”
“Is it true?” squawked Mina’s voice. “Has Nick been arrested for Sandi’s murder?”
It was the first time Emily had heard anyone say those words out loud, and it gut-punched her.
“Yes.” Emily’s throat and eyes felt dry as she sat up in bed and tried to be fully present.
“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe! It’s not true! It can’t be him! It’s not Nick.”
Emily waited for her to continue. She found it best to let the hysterical talk themselves down.
“It’s ridiculous! Someone’s got this really backwards! What’s the evidence? Why do they think he did it?” Mina took a breath and finally paused.
“I’m not really at liberty to divulge that. I can understand why you’re upset.”
“Yes. I knew Nick in high school. He wouldn’t do this.”
Emily liked the resolve in her voice. Mina would make an excellent character witness. She goaded Mina to see where she would lead. “Sometimes we think people are one way in public, but we really don’t know how they act when no one’s looking.”
“I understand that. But not Nick. You should know that. You dated him. He stood up for people who were being teased. Like me and the Parkman girls.”
Nick the Prick. Emily finally understood his nickname. Not everyone saw Nick as the outgoing, easygoing, cool kid. The jocks. The pack. They hated a guy who stood up for the underdog. Jerks.
“Niceness isn’t a character trait that excludes people from becoming
murderers,” said Emily, hoping to incite more information from Mina.
“I know … but he wasn’t … Tiffani was with me the day Sandi went missing.”
Emily’s spine tingled. She grabbed a pen and paper from her nightstand.
“She was?” Emily prompted.
“Yeah. She showed up to my house a little bit before dinner. She was a mess.”
“A mess how?”
“Shaking. Crying. Or I mean, she had been crying. Her eyes were all red and she didn’t want my mom to see her. I told her to go wait in my room until dinner was over. I asked if she wanted to eat with us, but she wasn’t hungry.”
“Okay. And how long did she stay in your room?” Emily was scribbling it all down.
“All through dinner. I went to my room after and she was laying in my bed all curled up with my stuffed animals. I knew something bad had happened. I thought maybe her stepdad had come back to the house. He was out of prison, you know.”
“Did she say what was wrong?”
“Am I gonna get in trouble for not reporting this sooner?” asked Mina.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean … like arrested?”
“Why would you think you might get arrested?”
“Because … I’m about to tell you that … look, she didn’t want anyone to know … but now that Nick’s being accused of something I know he’s not capable of … what I mean is that Tiffani Parkman is the victim of a rape.”
Emily did her best to hold in her surprise and keep a calm demeanor.
“I see. What do you know about this incident?”
“James VanDerMuellen raped her.” Mina’s voice held conviction on the matter.
What? Emily’s pen punched through the paper.
“What did Tiffani tell you?” Emily kept a calm tone as she dislodged her pen.
“James had come to her house after school before anyone else was home. He basically seduced her. She didn’t want to, but he’d said Sandi was okay with it. He filmed them and told her not to tell anyone.”
Secret Remains Page 25