by Robin Mahle
Jarrod, Sam’s husband, called the department when she hadn’t arrived home from work the day before. Wasn’t that the day the killer called? Katie couldn’t remember; her head was still swarming. Sam, where was Sam? When was it that she tried calling her? Last week? Sam didn’t answer; it went to voicemail. Katie should have known then something was wrong. Sam always called back right away, especially with everything that had been happening.
“Kate, come on.”
Marshall led her to the rental car, where she sat quietly, staring through the passenger window at the sun’s early rays that sliced right through the Redwoods. They were heading straight for Rio Dell. Scarborough’s team followed behind as they drove to the rural police station for a visit with Chief Wilson. They hadn’t talked with him since he returned home after the initial Portland meeting.
The skies eventually gave way to the flourishing light as dawn broke through. Katie had lost all track of time and couldn’t remember what day it was. The others were moving at a frantic pace, but she had lost all purpose. With no one else in the car, she finally broke down. “She’s gone, Marshall, and it’s my fault. I did this. He’s trying to get to me through Sam.”
“Stop it, Kate. We don’t know that.”
There was no use in debating. She knew the truth. He had her, or he had already killed her, and nothing Marshall could say would change that. Katie turned away again and stared out the window through watery eyes, not bothering to try to convince him further of what she already knew.
It was the chief’s pitiful look that pushed the knife in deeper. “Katie, I’m so sorry,” he said, arms outstretched as he intercepted the team in the parking lot of the station. She hardly had a chance to get out of the car before he wrapped his burly arms around her, an uncomfortable and unexpected response that caught her off guard. Thus far, she had only been greeted with uncomfortable glances from the rest of the team. No one seemed quite sure how to handle this situation.
“Did they find her?” she asked, dismissing his gesture of kindness.
“No,” Wilson replied. “I think it would be a good idea if you stayed with your parents tonight. I’m stepping up patrols and posting one of my men there.”
“Do they know?”
“I thought you’d prefer to speak to them. We don’t know anything yet, Katie.”
“I can take her there, Chief.”
She recognized the young officer from her last visit, when Spencer was still with her. That seemed like a lifetime ago.
“If it’s all the same to you, Chief, I’d prefer to drive her there myself, check things out, and have a word with your man on site,” Marshall said.
He always took the lead where her safety was concerned, but right now, nothing, not even Marshall’s gallant gesture, meant anything to her.
“I’ll be fine with Officer Miller. You need to stay here with Agent Scarborough and I’d like to spend some time with my family.”
On her way out, Marshall brushed his hand along her arm. She turned to face him. He wanted to say something—she could see it in his eyes—but he only looked at her, presumably searching for comforting words, but none came.
She saw something else too, something that went much deeper. Katie turned back once she stepped outside to see if he was still watching. He was.
Deborah stood on the front porch when she and Officer Miller arrived. He led her into the house and proceeded to search the rooms, ensuring everything was secure.
It was John, Katie’s father, who seemed genuinely grateful to the officer for bringing her home. “Thank you, Officer Miller.” He patted the young man’s shoulder as he escorted him out.
“You’re welcome, sir. We’re stepping up patrols, so don’t be alarmed if you notice a bigger presence out here.”
“We understand and thank you again.”
“Sir, ma’am, Ms. Reid.” He gripped the rim of his hat and lightly tipped it.
No sooner had John closed the door, than Deborah rushed to embrace her daughter.
Katie fell limp in her mother’s arms and released the emotions that had been pent up all night. “Sam’s missing. They can’t find her. What if she’s dead?”
“They’ll find her,” Deborah stroked her hair just as she did when Katie was a child.
“Come on, you two. Let’s go sit down and gather our strength. I’ll get some coffee. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
Katie couldn’t recall a single instance where her father actually offered to do something instead of her mother. Things were so very different now—now that she knew everything. This was what it would have been like had none of this ever happened. And Sam would still be here.
The three of them sat in the family room and watched the news. Deborah set out a basket of pastries she’d picked up from the local bakery yesterday. And they drank their coffee and ate breakfast, not mentioning the possibility that Sam had been murdered. Her story wasn’t even on the news yet.
Katie kept her cell phone in the front pocket of her button-down shirt, which was tied at the waist. The weather was much cooler today and she was glad for the long sleeves. It seemed the Indian summer had finally passed over much of California, bringing only the smallest sense of normality back into her world.
Completely unaware of the countless hours they’d all spent watching the news, the same stories being repeated on a loop, she was already beginning to feel the warmth of the noonday sun radiating from the family room window. They just sat there, waiting for news of Sam, when none came.
A hard knock on the door quickly brought everyone out of their dazes. John leapt out of his chair and made a beeline for the front door.
The footsteps in the distance meant John was not returning to the room alone. Katie immediately turned around and saw Marshall standing in the arched opening that led to the family room. Her father was close behind.
She shot up from the side chair and ran toward him.
One look and she knew immediately. Her head shook hard, trying to rid herself of the impossible realization of what she knew to be true. She’s dead, she’s dead. The words swirled at a dizzying pace through her mind. She continued to stare at Marshall for some sign that this was all just a misunderstanding. Her eyes grew red and pooled with tears at his continued silence. “No—please, Marshall, no.”
Deborah grabbed Katie and pulled her close.
Katie howled an excruciating moan and couldn’t keep her feet beneath her. The heart that beat so strong in her chest was shattering into a million pieces. She wrapped her arms around her mother as cries echoed through the house.
Deborah led Katie back to the sofa, where she remained glued to her mother’s side.
“I’m going to get her some water,” Marshall said to John. But he did not return for several minutes.
When he reappeared, Katie was sitting up, wiping her eyes with tissue. He handed her the glass of water. “Kate, Sam’s husband and parents are at the hospital. Do you want me to take you down there?”
Her body still trembled and she struggled to reply with any confidence. “Yes,” she said in a whisper.
Katie walked into the restroom at the hospital to check her face. The bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks were all that remained of the earlier version of smudged eyeliner and running mascara. She splashed water on her face and held a paper towel against her skin to dry it. Katie couldn’t help but stare in the mirror at this woman who she hardly recognized. She was about to see her best friend lying on a cold metal slab. Stop, stop… she squeezed her eyes tight to halt the stem of tears that tried to force their way down again.
A knock on the bathroom door startled her. “Kate, are you coming out?”
“Yes.” She cleared her raspy throat. “Give me a minute.” Marshall was waiting and it was time to face the reality of the nightmare she had brought to life. Opening the door, she saw Marshall standing only steps away. He moved forward to offer a hand, but she refused it. They walked in silence to the morgue.
T
he double doors could only be opened from the inside and Marshall pressed the button to be allowed entry. They quietly, slowly opened to bring into full view the room’s living occupants: Sam’s mother, Molly, who was at her husband’s side, her father, staring at his little girl, and Jarrod, a widower after less than a year of marriage.
Shallow breaths were all she could manage, which left Katie lightheaded. Her heart pounded in her throat as she looked at the grief-stricken loved ones who surrounded Sam’s body. It was too much; she felt sick to her stomach. What had she done to the woman who was like a sister to her?
Marshall’s grip helped to steady her. “It’s okay,” he whispered.
The hell it was.
Before she could take another step, Jarrod launched in her direction. “How could you do this? How could you get her involved in your fucked up little world? We were doing fine. We were happy and now she’s dead! My wife’s dead and it’s your fault!”
Jarrod raised his hand, but Marshall grabbed it before it could land on its intended target.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Katie sobbed uncontrollably and was shocked by his reaction. Her words were barely audible between the gasps for breath.
Molly released her husband’s embrace and took slow, deliberate steps toward Katie.
She’d been more of a mother to her growing up than her own had been and Katie’s eyes begged for this woman’s forgiveness. Molly opened her arms and pulled her close.
“This isn’t your fault. You are not to blame. Sam loved you just as if you were a part of this family. We all love you, Katie. You can’t control the actions of a madman. This is not your fault.” She repeated those final words over and over until Katie slowed her tears and quieted her quivering body.
The medical examiner approached Marshall, who was still keeping hold of Jarrod. “Have you read the report, detective?”
Jarrod yanked his arm from Marshall’s grip and went back to stand by his wife.
“I’d like to discuss this after the family leaves.”
“Of course.” The doctor walked back to her desk. Sam was shrouded in white sheets in an effort to conceal the violent wounds that covered her body. Katie hadn’t yet been told how she died, but when she finally approached her, daring to stand next to Jarrod, Katie saw that her face was bloated and heavy bruising was visible around her neck. My God, he strangled her.
She wept over her discreetly so as not to make the situation anymore tense and painful than it already was. Jarrod’s anger was understandable and she did not hold it against him. He was a husband grieving for his dead wife.
Finally, it was Sam’s father who gathered what remained of his family and said it was time to leave. “We will see her again, but not today. This is not how I want to remember my Sammy.”
Katie watched as the three people, whom she would probably never see again after the funeral, left the room without saying another word to her.
“I need to talk to the M.E. Are you okay to stay here or would you rather leave?” Marshall asked.
“I’ll stay.”
“We’ll need to perform an autopsy to confirm.” The medical examiner began pulling back the sheets that covered Sam’s body. “But suspected cause of death is strangulation and secondary are the multiple stab wounds to the chest and upper abdomen. We will also need to determine if she died of asphyxiation prior to or during the attack in addition to determining if sexual assault took place. Right now, there is evidence of bruising along the upper thigh and groin areas. The family has given their consent to conduct the examination.”
Katie looked away as the examiner pointed out the various horrific markings that had killed her best friend. She couldn’t help but envision Sam screaming and crying as he repeatedly stabbed her, only to be silenced by hands clutching around her neck. Finally, she threw her hands over her face and desperately tried to block out the images.
“Stop, Kate. Come on, now.” Marshall pulled her hands away from her face. “Look at me. Focus on me.”
The doctor continued to examine Sam with unaffected determination.
Marshall began to take deep breaths. “Come on, you can do this. Take a deep breath.”
She followed his lead, calming herself with each breath. “I’m sorry, Marshall. She’s my best friend.”
“Don’t speak; just deep breaths.” They breathed together, slowly and calmly, her eyes never leaving his. “I need to stay here and talk to Dr. Patel. I’ll walk you to the lounge first so you can get a coffee, maybe something to eat and to sit down. Agent Scarborough is waiting outside and we need to discuss things with the doctor that I don’t think you’ll want to hear. Okay?”
But she’d heard enough already. The matter-of-fact tone with which the examiner spoke reverberated in her mind. Having no desire to suffer any more today, Katie agreed. The thought of listening to them analyze and study Sam’s body the way they did with Angela Richards made the bile want to rise in her.
The lounge offered little in the way of comfort. Burgundy chairs with chrome arms, placed side-by-side, an outdated TV mounted to the wall by a swivel stand and the gurgling of the water cooler that was nearing empty. But Marshall brought her a coffee and a bag of chips from the vending machine. “Sorry, this was all they had.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
He handed her the coffee and placed the chips on the table beside her. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?” Marshall laid his hands gently against her cheeks and kissed her forehead.
Katie was alone. The daylight was turning to dusk. She had no sense of time, save for the dimming light shining through the plastic vertical blinds on the windows. It must have been nearly five o’clock. A calendar hung on the nurses’ station wall. It was Wednesday evening in this small town hospital in Arcata; a hospital that usually took care of kids’ broken bones or ear infections, maybe an injury in a fender bender or two. Murder wasn’t something to which they were accustomed.
She stared at the ground until a pair of feet came into view. Katie raised her head, scanning the long, thin legs clothed in blue jeans and the hands shoved into the jean pockets up to their knuckles. It was Jarrod.
“Can I sit down?” he asked.
A sympathetic smile appeared just for a moment as she obliged, moving her purse from the seat next to her.
He took Katie’s hand and pressed it firmly between both of his. “I was way out of line back there and I’m so sorry. I’ve never raised a hand to any woman; you have to believe me.”
“My God, Jarrod. The last thing you should be is sorry. You were right. None of us would be here right now if I hadn’t dug all this up.”
“Sam told me about what happened when you were a kid; how all those crazy dreams or visions or whatever came back to you. How could you have known any of this would happen?”
“I called her a few days ago, you know, but I got her voicemail. She always calls me back; I should have known something wasn’t right.”
“She left for work on Tuesday morning, just as she always did,” Jarrod began. “We said goodbye and I went back inside the house to work. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Believe me, I’ve run through every word she said to me over and over in my mind. It was just like any other day, Katie.”
He was trying hard to keep it together; she could feel it in his tight grip, like he was holding onto her for dear life. “Sam loves you—loved you very much, Jarrod. She was happy with you.”
“Do they know it was him—the man who took you—who did this?”
“I don’t think they know anything for sure, but they’re assuming it was. With the threats and the media attention…”
“What threats?”
“Threats to me, Jarrod. Not to anyone but me.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him of the only real threat that mattered; the threat that he would find a replacement for her and it seemed he had. Everyone who saw that email, who knew of the phone call, was well aware of the threat. They might not have e
nough to be sure it was him, but Katie knew it was.
“Everything okay here?” Marshall headed toward the two of them.
“We’re fine.” Katie looked at Jarrod; her compassionate smile seemed to put him further at ease.
“Listen, Jarrod, I hate to even ask this, but was Sam wearing her wedding ring when she left for work on Tuesday?” Marshall asked.
“I guess she was; she wore it every day. Why?”
“It’s not on her ring finger. We just wanted to be sure it wasn’t sent somewhere to be cleaned or sized or anything.”
“No. No, she never took it off. Ever. Are you implying my wife took it off for another reason?”
“Absolutely not. I mean to infer no such thing. We were just wondering where it was.”
“If she wasn’t wearing it, then I don’t know,” Jarrod replied.
“All right. I’m sure it will turn up in her things somewhere. If you find it, please let us know.” Marshall turned to Kate. “I think we should get you back home now.”
She stood up, her hand still bonded with Jarrod’s. “Are you going to be okay tonight? Are you staying with your family?”
“Sam was my family.” He stopped short. “No, I’m staying with Sam’s parents at their house tonight. My mom and dad are flying in tomorrow from back east. They’ll help with the arrangements. I’ll keep in touch.”
She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, Jarrod.”
Marshall hadn’t said much since they left the hospital. It was likely that he just didn’t know what to say any more. Katie was grateful, though, for having the time with Jarrod, even if it did little to unburden her mind. She would always blame herself for what had happened to Sam. Just the thought of it made her want to erupt into tears again.
She wanted to talk to Sam, to see her again, beautiful and happy, just as she was on her wedding day. Katie’s mind was relentless in its constant retelling of every detail of their friendship. Apparitions of Sam churned through her head; years of laughter, tears, giggling about boys.