by Dawn Eastman
Katie nodded, thinking of Caleb.
“Well, high school was tolerable for her, but it was torture for me. As we walked along, I started to feel better just to have someone with me who understood. She stopped in a shaft of sunlight that had burst through the trees. She looked so beautiful. She took my hand and slipped the pink beads from her wrist to mine. ‘Now, I’ll always be with you,’ she said. ‘Just hold this bracelet and you’ll know I’m thinking of you.’ ”
Katie sat, silent and surprised. She had assumed that Eugene had a one-way crush on his high school friend. But maybe Alicia had really cared for him.
“I can see why you still have them,” Katie said.
Eugene blushed a blotchy red. “I’ve never told anyone that story.”
“It’ll be our secret.”
“I’m sorry to keep involving you in this mess,” he said. “You don’t deserve it. It’s just that you were kind when no one else was. I guess what they say is true—no good deed goes unpunished.”
Katie took a deep breath and decided to plunge in. Maybe she would get a real answer now that they were sharing this moment.
“Eugene, did you meet with Taylor before she disappeared?” Katie asked. “It’s just that I know she’d been interviewing people involved in your case.”
He looked at her then. His eyes were sad, and she saw something else there. Fear? Anger?
“I did. She was very nice,” he said. “She said her father was a police officer and he’d never believed I was the one who killed Heather. She was trying to find out who did.”
“She was?” It made sense now that Taylor’s files were so thorough. Katie remembered that Taylor had said her father had died in the last couple of years. She must have seen this project as a way to finish her father’s work. No wonder she’d been so desperate to clear Eugene. “Who did she think did it?”
Eugene shook his head. “She didn’t say, and I’m not even sure she had narrowed things down. She just asked me about that night and we talked a little about prison and that was it. She left, and the next thing I heard, she was missing.”
Katie thought about how to phrase the next question. Would he even tell her the truth if she came right out and asked him if he had harmed Taylor?
“You didn’t see her later that night, or in the morning?”
Eugene narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t kill her, Dr. LeClair. I hardly even knew her.”
Well, that was easy, Katie thought as she squirmed uncomfortably under Eugene’s stare. She wasn’t accustomed to accusing people. She liked the role of advocate and helper much more than opposition and confronter.
“I’m sorry, Eugene,” Katie said. “I felt I had to ask. The police will ask.”
He shot her a look. “I’m not talking to them.”
“I think you should. You were possibly one of the last people to see her alive. It’s only natural that they’ll want to talk to you.”
He started to speak, and she held up her hand to stop him. “I think, more than cooperating with them, you should go to them for protection. Think about these people who have been targeting you over a girl who was killed years ago in another town. How do you think they’ll react to a murder in Baxter?”
Eugene’s shoulders slumped. “I can go away again. I’m good at hiding.”
Katie shook her head. “That will just mean that the police have to look for you, and that will pull them away from finding the real killer.”
“And what if they think they’ve already caught the real killer?” Eugene said. “You want me to walk in there and turn myself in. And you think they’ll continue to investigate? They’ll just all go out for beers and toast their policing skills while I sit in prison and wait to be sent back to Jackson.”
“That’s not …”
“I can’t go back there, Dr. LeClair,” Eugene said so quietly Katie almost didn’t hear him. “I barely survived the first time. Look at me. I’m not exactly the kind of guy who inspires fear. I had to be vigilant every hour of every day for ten years.”
“Okay, let me talk to Chief Carlson. I’ll try to figure out what they’re thinking, and then we can reevaluate.”
Katie stood up, and Eugene regarded her with such undisguised hope that she had to look away.
“You stay here with Caleb,” she said. “You can trust him.”
Eugene nodded, and the beads began to click.
31
John Carlson stood in the woods watching the Ann Arbor team go over the area and photograph the body of the young woman. He had sent Mrs. Munch back to her house with Molly Hart, a young female officer. He knew that Officer Hart had glared at him behind his back, but she was really good at dealing with victims and witnesses. She thought he chose her to keep her away from the action, but he chose her because she was the best officer for the job. He had a hard time navigating all the rocky waters of gender bias and usually tried to ignore it as best he could. He’d have to deal with it eventually, he knew.
Taylor Knox had been beautiful. But lying in the leaves, her face gray, eyes bloodshot, and with angry red marks on her neck, she merely looked dead. The crime scene team had already told him that she had been dead for a while. Carlson swallowed hard and turned away.
He had welcomed the job as chief of police in this small town knowing that it was unlikely he’d ever have to deal with a murder of a young woman. He’d watched Andy Griffith reruns as a kid and imagined the job of dispensing wisdom and fishing with his son as the best one could hope for. The son had not materialized, and now neither had his fantasy of a quiet town where the worst criminal was the local drunk.
Carlson felt the anger rising up from the pit of his stomach. How had this happened? Why? What was she doing here? Did she have a connection to Baxter? He would have to begin the process of digging through Taylor’s life and uncovering every person she had known. Fortunately, the AAPD had done a lot of that work when she was missing. It all felt so invasive. As if that was the true violence against the victim. He knew this was an unusual stance for a police officer. His wife, as a journalist, was comfortable invading people’s privacy. He wondered sometimes if she believed anyone deserved privacy at all.
But this wasn’t a missing person case anymore. This was murder. He sighed and smoothed his sparse hair over the top of his head.
If Taylor had been researching Heather Stone’s murder, as Katie suggested, how would he be able to connect the dots? He’d have to look into Taylor’s life and reopen the old case to see who could have felt threatened by a twenty-year-old sociology student.
He flipped open his notebook. His list was short for Taylor. Her roommate had said everyone liked her and she had no enemies. The boyfriend had seemed distraught, but Carlson had learned that that didn’t always mean innocent. The problem was that since no one was exactly sure when she had disappeared, it was hard to check alibis.
Carlson made a note to find out where Taylor’s boyfriend and roommate were on the evening Katie had met with Taylor.
His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. The name KATIE LECLAIR popped up on the screen. Think of the devil …
He clicked it open. “Hey, Doc,” he said. “I can’t talk right now; can I call you later?”
Katie ignored him and said, “I need to talk to you. How soon can we meet?”
“I’m in the middle of a murder …”
“I know. That’s why I’m calling. I have information.”
Carlson’s shoulders slumped. Of course she had information. She’d probably have the case wrapped up by dinnertime.
He looked at his watch.
“Meet me at my office in half an hour.”
32
The cheery yellow door mocked Katie’s dark mood as she pulled it open and entered the police station. The same young woman sat at the desk, but she was not chatting on the phone. She was fielding what sounded like real phone calls and not enjoying it one bit.
“No comment,” she said, and pressed a button on
the phone.
“I can take a message,” she said to the next caller. Then, “Hold, please.”
She glanced at Katie and gestured that she should go back to Carlson’s office.
John Carlson had just arrived. He hung up his jacket on the hook behind his door and gestured for Katie to have a seat in the molded plastic chair in front of the desk.
“What can I do for you, Doc?” he said wearily as he eased himself into his chair. Carlson rubbed his face with both hands. His eyes were red and tired looking.
“Eugene Lowe is at my house,” Katie said.
Carlson perked up at this. “What? Why?”
“He says he didn’t hurt Taylor.” Katie held up her hands when Carlson started to interrupt. “But he did see her just before she disappeared. He may have been the last person to see her before she went missing.”
“This was for the project you told me about?”
Katie nodded.
Carlson put his head in his hands. “Why?” he said to his desk.
“Why?”
“Why was she interviewing Eugene?” Carlson put his hands down and looked at Katie.
“Apparently, her father was a police officer who had worked on the Heather Stone case. He always thought Eugene was innocent. I don’t know if she took the class in order to do this project or if it was a coincidence, but she used her father’s notes and researched the case on her own.”
Carlson looked at the ceiling in the same way her mother used to when she and Caleb had been particularly challenging. “I don’t suppose you have any of these notes?”
“I do, actually.” Katie slid the thumb drive across the desk along with the password.
“Do I want to know how you got this?”
Katie shook her head. “I don’t think any of it will be news to you. It mostly references interviews and reports that her father had.”
“And why is he at your house and not here in the station to give a statement?”
“He’s afraid,” Katie said. “He’s afraid he’ll be accused of this new murder and afraid that whoever has been harassing him will ramp up their efforts with this new death.”
“He’s not wrong,” said Carlson. “We need to talk to him if he saw Taylor close to the time she disappeared. And whoever is bothering him is not likely to wander off and leave him alone at this point.”
“I agree,” Katie said. “I told him I’d talk to you about the best next steps. I told him he could trust you.”
“Katie, I can’t promise anything.” Carlson rested his arms on his desk and leaned forward. “I need to talk to him, and if his story is suspicious, I’ll need to keep him here until we figure this thing out.”
“Yes, good,” Katie said.
“Good?” Carlson looked at her in surprise. “You want me to arrest him?”
“I want you to keep him here for at least a couple of days,” Katie said. “It will be safer here than at his house.”
“I see,” Carlson said. “Do you want me to pick him up for his staycation, or will you bring him in?”
“I think you should pick him up,” Katie said, ignoring the sarcasm. “And be sure to use the sirens.”
“You want a big production?”
“I want everyone to know he’s in police custody,” Katie said. “It will be safer for him and for his mother.”
* * *
True to his word, Chief Carlson arrived at Katie’s house with sirens blaring. She had explained to Eugene that the safest course for now would be to cooperate with the police and to do it in a very public way. She didn’t want Eugene’s mother to be in danger and wanted whoever had been harassing Eugene to know he was in custody and untouchable.
Katie led the chief into her living room where Eugene sat, still running the beads through his fingers.
Carlson stood in front of Eugene. “Eugene, we need to take you down to the station to answer some questions,” he said in a soft voice.
Eugene nodded and stood up. He cast a desperate look at Katie—a combination of fear, relief, and (most upsetting to Katie) trust.
She hoped her gamble would pay off. He would certainly be a suspect in Taylor’s murder, and she herself wasn’t sure what to think. Even knowing the beads were Alicia’s gave her a shiver of apprehension.
The noise and flashing lights had drawn the neighbors out onto their porches to watch the spectacle. Katie realized too late that it wouldn’t reflect well on her own reputation to have someone dragged out of her house in handcuffs.
Fortunately, no dragging was necessary and Carlson didn’t use cuffs. Eugene got into the back seat and gazed gloomily out the window as the car pulled away from the curb.
Caleb slung an arm over her shoulder as they stood on the porch and watched the police cruiser disappear around the corner. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.
“Me, too.” Katie turned to walk back into the house. “Let’s get to work.”
33
They sat together at the dining room table, laptops open, huge mugs of steaming coffee at the ready. Katie pulled the autopsy report out of its large yellow envelope and began reading. She wondered why Linda hadn’t been able to obtain the full autopsy report at the time of Eugene’s trial. In reading the trial transcript, it hadn’t seemed as if the full report had been submitted then either. Were the prosecutors hiding something? Something that made Eugene seem less guilty? She’d already scanned the list of conclusions but wanted to go back over the physical exam section itself.
Detailed description of the head wound was included along with photos. Something that surprised her was a note about bruising to Heather’s upper arms and marks on her neck. There were no photos of the bruises, which also seemed unusual. Katie didn’t read autopsy reports very often, but it seemed like bruising on the victim of a violent death would be worth a photo. She flipped to the end again—there was no mention of the bruises. She’d seen only a photocopy of the final page at the Gazette offices.
She’d assumed Heather had been pushed and accidentally hit her head. But bruising—described as recent—painted a picture of a different kind of assault. And why were there no defensive wounds noted? Surely she would have fought back. Eugene was a stranger to Heather. Katie found it hard to believe he could have tried to strangle her, as the bruising suggested, and then pushed her away so that she fell and hit her head on a brick without any broken fingernails or other evidence of a struggle. Unless she knew her killer and trusted him. Could she have let someone she knew get close enough to put his hands on her neck and not fight back?
Katie’s initial examination of Taylor’s files had focused on the police interviews with Eugene and the files on Heather’s roommates. The interview with Eugene had yielded no new information, as Eugene had refused to say anything more than his initial “I found her like that.” She still needed to go through the other interviews.
She pulled up the files on the computer to see if Taylor had noticed anything about the pathology report. Katie couldn’t tell. Taylor had not included a mention of it in her notes and had just listed the pathologist’s summary. Then she remembered that there was an unclaimed report back at the pathology department. If Taylor had ordered it but had never seen it, then there was something besides the autopsy report that had made her suspicious.
Katie explained all of this to Caleb, and he agreed it seemed strange. The two of them split the rest of the interviews and notes and began to read.
Katie’s files included Heather’s two roommates, Hope Frost and Brad Humphreys. She reviewed the information. They had both been at the party that night, but Brad had left the party early and Hope had remembered leaving right after she saw Heather fighting with one of her exes. She said Danny Lloyd had grabbed Heather’s wrist, but he let her go and stormed off when some of the other guys at the party stepped in. It became clear to Katie that the party had been huge and that no one had been sober. What a mess it must have been at the time. Trying to get a bunch of college kids to put t
ogether a timetable of events seemed an impossible task.
“Caleb, have you looked at Danny Lloyd’s interview yet?”
“Nope, I’m still reading the report from the campus security guy who found Eugene hovering over Heather’s body.”
“I’ll take that one,” Katie said. “You can take Brad Humphreys.”
“’Kay.”
Katie opened Danny’s file but was disappointed almost immediately. He said he had stormed out of the party, but two of his friends had followed him and all three had gone home from there. The timing was iffy; two of them claimed they left at ten, but Danny said it was later. Either way, he couldn’t have killed Heather if he had left the party while she was still alive. But could he have gone back to the party? Katie went back to Hope’s interview. Hope said Danny and Heather had been together in the spring. She’d thrown him over for Nathan Nielsen. Hope made it clear that she approved of the decision.
Katie scrolled down the files, looking to see if Taylor had taken notes on her meeting with Danny. She found a to-do list and his name was on it. Eleven a.m., October 16, meet with Danny Lloyd. That was the Thursday before she’d gone missing. There were no notes from that meeting, but Russell had said she’d given him the thumb drive on the seventeenth. Maybe she’d met with him and updated her files on her computer. If so, she hadn’t backed up that information on her thumb drive. Because there was no mention of the meeting on the drives Russell or Abby had given her, Katie was left to wonder if Danny’s version had been accurate. Could he have felt more threatened by Taylor’s questions than he let on? Had he really been immune to Heather’s taunting? If the meeting had been recorded on Taylor’s computer, then it was out there somewhere. Probably with Taylor’s murderer.
Katie went back to Hope’s interview, trying to find the thing that had triggered Taylor’s conviction that Eugene was innocent.
Officer James: What happened after the fight with Danny Lloyd?
Hope Frost: I’m not sure where Heather went at that point. I assumed she’d gone to the bathroom to take a minute after the fight, but then I didn’t see her again.