The Last Good Girl

by Allison Leotta

  Anna closed her eyes, trying to shut down the image. She felt Cooper sit up next to her in bed. He put his hand on her arm. “You’re shaking,” he said. “What’s going on?”

  She turned to him, trying to find reassurance in his clear blue eyes. But while she found kindness and concern, Cooper couldn’t provide the hope she wanted.

  “I don’t think we’re going to find Emily Shapiro alive.”

  30

  A needle in a haystack might be easier to find, Anna thought, than a corpse in the city of Detroit. At least a haystack had a finite number of straws. In Detroit, there were countless nooks and crannies, rotting cellars, forgotten buildings, rooms known and rooms unknown. And that was just Detroit. Windsor had to be searched too. She went in to the FBI command center and hammered out the details with Sam, Jack, and the team. They needed police, boats, dogs, cold-water scuba divers, volunteers. Lots of volunteers. The scope of their task was mind-boggling.

  But so was Cooper’s response. As Anna and Sam pulled up into his driveway three hours later, they had to slow the SUV. His long circular drive was covered in people. The backyard was filled with people. People stood on the porch and spilled into Cooper’s house. Anna gaped as she estimated. There had to be over two hundred of them, in jeans and flannel shirts, puffy winter jackets and ski hats, carrying flashlights and shovels, assembled on Cooper’s property.

  She got out of the car and climbed the steps to his house, saying, “Excuse me,” as she moved through the crowd. Cooper came out of the front door, followed by his big white dog. They met on the porch. Sparky sat on Anna’s feet and grinned happily as he looked between his owner and her.

  “How’d you do this?” Anna asked.

  “Everyone wants to help. It’s mostly Detroit people, but we even have some students who came in from Tower. I just gave them all a place to meet.”

  The best search efforts were always those that had volunteers working side by side with the police. Especially in a situation like Emily’s where there was so much ground to cover. The more volunteers, the more likely they were to stumble upon a clue, a piece of clothing, the body itself. At Tower University, where Emily had friends, professors, fellow students, there’d been an impressive volunteer turnout. Anna had feared that they couldn’t assemble that kind of response in Detroit.

  Cooper must have been going full-out since she left this morning, making phone calls, sending e-mails, calling in favors. She knew that he was involved in the community. Living with him the last few months, she’d seen the network of activists, artists, musicians, urban farmers, and religious leaders who came to Cooper for advice or to till a section of his community garden. But this response—and his ability to spark it—shook something inside her.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “Anything I can do,” he said, “I will.”

  They stood an arm’s length apart, not touching. Looking up into his kind blue eyes, she felt a connection that was more intimate than anything they’d done in his bedroom.

  The sound of a throat clearing made her realize that the crowd had gone quiet as they watched her and Cooper. She turned and saw Jack walking up the porch steps. She was disoriented at the sight of Jack here in Cooper’s yard.

  “Jack,” she said. “I, ah, didn’t expect you here.”

  “I’m coordinating the Detroit search teams.”

  “I see.” She recovered her composure. “Have you met Cooper Bolden?”

  “Not yet.”

  Anna could hear the struggle in Jack’s voice, trying to keep it casual and professional. She glanced at Cooper and saw in his face resolve to keep himself polite and helpful as he met his rival. Both were tall and good-looking, both skilled at their chosen work, so different from each other. She’d spent months contemplating what her life would be like with each one. She’d never imagined them meeting each other.

  “Cooper,” she said, “this is Jack Bailey. Jack, this is Cooper Bolden.”

  Both men put out their hands in a vigorous male handshake. Both men put on good faces.

  “You’ve assembled quite a team of volunteers,” Jack said. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this. Thank you.”

  “Glad to be able to help,” Cooper said.

  Anna realized she wasn’t breathing. She exhaled. Jack and Cooper might be rivals, but they were not about to throw down. They were good men who would work with each other to find the missing girl.

  A few more police officers climbed the steps, led by Sam. Sam shot Anna a look that said How you gonna handle this one, sister?, before huddling into the conversation. They all stood on the porch, hammering out the logistics. After about ten minutes, they had a plan.

  Cooper led them through the house. The kitchen table was covered with casserole dishes and Tupperware containers full of food, which some of the volunteers were eating. Cooper had turned his house into a command center not unlike the command center that Sam had established at the FBI’s Detroit field office—only with better grub.

  Cooper’s backyard was a large grassy space, surrounded on three sides by the apple orchard. The skyline of Detroit stood gray and solemn behind the orchard. The trees were bare and the ground was brown. A few sad piles of snow remained in shady areas. Hundreds of people stood in the yard, sipping coffee, huddled in groups talking softly. They quieted as Cooper walked out with the team of investigators.

  Cooper stood by his hand-dug fire pit. Jack stood to one side of Cooper, and Anna and Sam stood to the other.

  “Thank you for coming here today.” Cooper’s deep voice carried over the yard. “It means a lot to the family of Emily Shapiro. And it means a lot to me. I appreciate you all giving up your time for this.”

  “We gotcha covered, Coop,” yelled a man.

  Cooper nodded. “This is Jack Bailey, the chief homicide prosecutor from D.C., and Sam Randazzo from the FBI. And of course, a lot of you know Anna. They’re coordinating the Detroit search teams.” He turned to Jack. “You want to take it from here?”

  “Thanks.” Jack stepped forward and spoke to the volunteers. “We appreciate your help today. It’s crucial. Your work may be long and tiring. But please know how important it is.” Jack had an air of gravitas, the experience of a man who’d seen all that there was to see and who knew what he was doing. In this crowd of strangers, he held their attention and respect. “We’re going to split into a bunch of smaller teams, with each team assigned to a particular area that you can go over in detail. Anything notable should be brought to the attention of me and Agent Randazzo.” He gave them a hotline number and e-mail address set up for receiving tips. He laid out the guidelines for the search effort, then stepped aside and let Cooper take the floor again.

  “Okay, folks, we’ll split into teams of twenty.” Cooper starting reading from a clipboard. “First Calvary Baptist Church, you’ve got the ten square blocks bordered by Woodward, Gratiot, I-75, and the river. Artists Without Borders, you’ve got the Metropolitan Building, all fifteen floors, rooftop, and basement.”

  Cooper continued to go through assignments for the volunteers. They were people of all colors and backgrounds, gathered together for the singular cause of finding Emily Shapiro. They would not be paid. They were motivated by the desire to help another human being. In her job, Anna saw so much of the worst things people could do to one another. Seeing the best brought tears to her eyes—the first good tears she’d had in a long time.

  Cooper handed out maps to the teams, each with a different section of the city circled in red. Anna felt a sense of pride watching him.

  He would lead his own team of teenagers, kids from the local high school who worked on his farm as part of an internship program. Anna would stay and work on the international legalities with Jack. She waved as Cooper and his teams set off.

  Within minutes, the yard was quiet. She and Jack were the only people left. It was the first time she’d been alone with him since he’d come to Michigan. She called for Sparky, who trotted after her
as she walked back into the house. Jack came with her into the kitchen.

  She poured two cups of coffee. They stood facing each other, propped against Cooper’s cabinets, sipping.

  “He’s a good man,” Jack said.

  “Yes,” she said. She didn’t want to talk about Cooper with Jack. “Let’s see if we can get Canada up and running by this afternoon.”

  They sat at the kitchen table and started making phone calls. Jack coordinated with the local police to get the Detroit River dredged. DOJ’s Office of International Affairs had a Canadian liaison who made the necessary connections with the Windsor authorities. Anna spoke to the consul, getting the final information she needed for an international cooperation agreement. She coordinated with the Canadian police department on the search on their side.

  • • •

  By two P.M., all the legal work they could do was done. Jack shut his laptop and looked across the table at Anna. It was so strange sitting with him here in Cooper’s house.

  “So this is what I’m up against,” Jack said, gesturing around the kitchen.

  “I wouldn’t say you’re ‘up against’ anything,” Anna said, feeling defensive. “I didn’t come to Michigan looking for something to challenge you with. But you had your own stuff going on. You had to figure things out with Nina. I don’t blame you for that. She was your wife, the mother of your child. When she came back to town, you had to see if you could make it work.”

  “I broke your heart.”

  “Yeah.” Anna sighed. “You did.”

  “I regret it more than anything else in my life. You know that, right?”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  “I want to make it right, sweetheart. Nina was never a threat to us. She’s Olivia’s mother, that’s all. I love you, and only you. There’s a beautiful wedding dress hanging in our closet, a diamond ring in my nightstand. There’s a little girl who can’t wait to be your daughter, and a yellow house waiting for you to make it the happiest place on earth. I want to take you home.”

  Home. The life he described was the one she’d dreamed of for so long. A daughter she adored, a beautiful house. A husband who was a pillar of the legal profession, and who would gently teach her how to become one too. She’d be one-half of a power couple in one of the most vibrant cities in the world. She’d had a terrible childhood, and part of her had always been afraid that if she didn’t work hard enough, if she didn’t make all the right choices, she was doomed to repeat it with her own family. Being with Jack was the ultimate proof that she’d made it out.

  “You can’t want this,” Jack said, looking around Cooper’s house. “Living in the middle of postindustrial nowhere.”

  “Hey.” She bristled. “This city has a lot going for it. And Cooper is helping it come back.”

  “With a chicken farm.”

  “It’s an apple orchard. He just happens to have a few chickens. People around here love him; he’s a highly respected businessman. Detroit is coming back—and Cooper is at the front of that. And—and—and—I don’t want to talk about this with you.” She stood. Jack’s words stung because they were true. There wasn’t a restaurant, store, or even a 7-Eleven for miles. Cooper’s house was surrounded by abandoned lots and urban blight. She herself had a hard time imagining living here forever. “I’m going to help the search teams.”

  Jack stood too. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’ll come with you.”

  • • •

  They drove through the city in silence and parked by Book Tower, a gorgeous thirty-eight-story Renaissance-style skyscraper that was abandoned. Several of its windows were covered in plywood. Jack looked up and whistled.

  She pointed down the street. “The FBI building is a couple blocks from here.”

  Voices came from above and Anna looked up. Cooper stood on the roof of the building, calling orders. She and Jack went inside the shattered foyer. Rotting drywall hung from the walls, and electrical wires hung from the ceiling. Broken chunks of plaster sat in piles on the floor. Anything of value—metal, marble, copper pipes—had been long ago stolen and sold for scrap.

  They walked up the graffiti-covered staircase, breathing hard when they came out at the rooftop. Cooper gave her a big smile, which dimmed when he saw Jack emerge from the stairwell. But he waved them over.

  “How goes the legal strategy?” Cooper asked.

  “It’s all locked down,” Anna said. “How goes the search?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  Cooper led her and Jack over to the edge of the rooftop. She could see the entire city from here. The Detroit River ran to the east, broody and gray. Several police boats moved slowly on the waters, dragging nets. To the west were lower buildings with a few people atop them, walking, pointing flashlights, calling to one another. More people helping with the search. To the north stood several more skyscrapers, standing empty. It was like looking at modern ruins: Angkor Wat or the Library at Ephesus. In the distance, she saw a neat row of trees. Cooper’s farm.

  Cooper rested his hand on the small of her back as he described the various teams. She saw Jack look at the gesture, and she tensed up. Cooper noticed and pulled his hand away. He swept it across the horizon. “If we don’t find anything today, I’ll try Central Station tomorrow.”

  A cell phone rang—Jack’s. A picture of Olivia, grinning in pigtails, flashed on his screen. “Excuse me.” Jack took a couple steps away to answer the call from his daughter. “Hi, sweetie! How was your day? I’m good. No, you cannot have a Pop-Tart for your snack. Guess who I’m with? That’s right. Well, let me see.” He lowered the phone and asked Anna, “Can you talk to Olivia?” Anna nodded, and he handed her the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Anna!” screeched the little girl.

  “Hi, lovey. How are you?”

  “I’m good. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.”

  “Guess what I saw today?” Olivia asked.

  “What?”

  “No, you have to guess.”

  “Okay. A purple hippo?”

  The girl giggled. “No.”

  “Katy Perry?”

  “No, silly. I saw a woolly mammoth.”

  “That was my next guess,” Anna said. “Where did you see a woolly mammoth?”

  “We had a field trip to the Natural History Museum.”

  “That’s awesome. Did you see the dinosaur bones?”

  “Yes! Guess what else.”

  “The Hope Diamond?”

  “Yes! And?”

  “A giant blue whale hanging from the ceiling.”

  “You know everything.”

  “No, I just love that museum.”

  “Me too. I want to go again, with you. When are you coming back?”

  “Um, I’m really not sure.”

  “Anna. It’s no fun here without you. We really need you. My dad needs you.” Olivia’s voice grew serious. “I need you. I love you.”

  “I love you too. I—I’ll see about coming to see you soon. Be good, lovey.”

  She handed the phone back to Jack, feeling the significance of the gesture. Her tie to Olivia was entirely through Jack. Anna’s love for the girl was as pure and true as anything she’d ever felt—but she could only be part of Olivia’s life by being with Jack. Without him, Anna was nothing to Olivia. She was just a woman searching an empty skyscraper for a corpse.

  She walked to the ledge and gazed out at Detroit. It looked as shattered as she felt.

  WEDNESDAY

  31

  Anna was sitting at Cooper’s kitchen table when the case broke. She called the FBI DNA lab right when it opened. “Just checking to see if there are any results.” Officially, evidence was processed in a certain order, but unofficially, it was tested faster if a persistent AUSA or agent was calling all the time.

  “Hang on a sec,” the analyst said. Anna heard a shuffling of paper and the clicking of keys. “Yes, we have a result. The sample taken from the exterior of the Viper’s
trunk tested positive for human blood. And the DNA matches the control sample. To a one in six-hundred-and-twenty-three-million degree of certainty.”

  Anna knew what that meant. She said it out loud, just to be sure.

  “Emily Shapiro’s blood was on Dylan Highsmith’s car?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She grimaced. “What about the scarf?”

  “Let me see, ma’am. Oh, yes, that’s a match too. Epithelial cells on the scarf matched DNA from C-1 to a one in one-point-two-billion degree of certainty.”

  The scarf found in Dylan’s room was Emily’s. Her skin cells were on it.

  “While we’re at it, do you have results on the alcohol taken from the fraternity’s bar?”

  “That’s another office.” He transferred her. A minute later she was asking another analyst the same question.

  “Yes, ma’am. There was one item from your search that tested positive for the presence of Rohypnol. A gallon jug filled with a corn syrup–based red fruit drink.”

  Anna thanked the analyst and hung up. Her chest buzzed with the excitement of the new leads, and the horror of what they meant. Jody came down the stairs, still in her pajamas, carrying Leigh. As soon as she saw Anna’s face, she said, “What’s wrong?”

  Anna shook her head, as her phone rang again. Cooper’s face flashed on her screen. He’d left at seven A.M. to continue his search.

  “What’s up, Coop?” she answered.

  “Anna.” His deep voice was shaky. “We found something.”

  “What’s going on?”

  She could hear him taking a long, slow breath. Then another. The deep breathing was a technique he used when he was particularly upset. His PTSD had been flaring up less frequently, but he was clearly having an episode right now.

  “We found a body,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “Detroit Central Station.”

  “Is it Emily?”

  “It’s a Caucasian woman.” He took a deep breath. “Not all of her.”

  “What do you mean? What parts are missing?”