Corrigan glanced at his watch. “Okay. Make it quick.”
Briefly, Maggie explained her new theories in light of the second homicide, and how it was possible that Cullen might be innocent altogether.
“The notebook contains the victim’s private thoughts,” she said. “It goes to her state of mind. I’m thinking she could name names and even point us in the right direction. Plus, we know for a fact that Cullen didn’t torch his wife’s car. He was in our custody at the time. Someone else is involved here. That, in itself, gives his defense ammunition to blow our case wide open.”
“You think Sergeant Smits should hang fire?”
“I think I don’t want the state attorney tossing my case because our evidence can be explained away by a reasonably decent defense.”
He nodded contemplatively. She knew what he was thinking: Cullen was in custody, the physical evidence pointed to him having killed his wife, Smits had arranged an audience with the state attorney tomorrow morning, and the department badly needed a win.
“All right,” he said at last. “How much time do you need to examine this notebook?”
“A few hours, tops.”
“You have until noon. That gives you the morning to come up with corroborating evidence confirming the husband’s guilt, or his innocence, either way. I’ll instruct Sergeant Smits to hold back on speaking with the state attorney until then.”
“Thanks, Captain.” She was grateful for his latitude, but she wasn’t sure how she’d fit everything in. Monday had now become her day off, and she’d already promised to spend it at the beach with Steve.
But then, that’s not what this was all about.
Corrigan got up to leave, pausing at the doorway. “The second victim,” he said. “The girl. She was just seventeen, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have the parents been informed?”
“There’s just the mother, sir. And no. Not yet. The body is still waiting processing.”
He hung his head, his expression grave. “This is a screwed-up universe. A parent should never have to experience the death of a child. It’s goes against nature. Leave this with me. I’ll pay the mother a visit.”
“Captain, I . . .”
Corrigan raised a halting hand. “I won’t hear any more of it, Detective. You have plenty to keep you busy. This is my burden to bear. Now, go home and get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter Nineteen
THE PRINCIPAL
You don’t have to do this,” Steve said to Maggie as they turned off the highway at the sign for Crown Pointe High School. “You were injured in the line of duty. Could’ve been killed. Nobody is expecting you to go above and beyond here.”
“Only me,” Maggie said.
It was after nine a.m., and they were in Steve’s Tahoe, making a detour to the school before heading off to the beach. After last night’s storm, Orlando had woken to blinding sunshine and another hot day. And Maggie had woken with her side as stiff as a board and a constant ache in her jaw. A slight twinge in her left leg as a result of it having been trapped under her while her attacker had pinned her down. More Tylenol hadn’t fixed the issues, and Maggie was hoping that things would ease off as the day wore on.
“I see you couldn’t resist bringing a beach read along,” Steve said as they drove along Ocoee Parkway.
Maggie glanced at Dana’s notebook protruding from her purse on the floor at her feet. Owing to exhaustion and her subsequent crashing at Steve’s place, she’d only managed to read about half of it. So far, no mention of marital unrest or Dana fearing for her safety in any way. Nothing to cement Cullen’s guilt.
“What are you hoping to find?” he asked. “Evidence of murderous intent?”
He still sounded a little pissed with her, she thought. But she chose to let it go, knowing that if the shoe were on the other foot, she’d never let him hear the last of it.
“I’m not holding my breath,” she said. She didn’t add that her inspection of Dana’s notebook was more for her own peace of mind than to prove Cullen’s culpability, and that the remainder of the book was calling out to her like liquor to an alcoholic.
The truth was, it was her own guilt that she needed to address here, or hopefully assuage. And Steve would never understand her teenage behavior, even if she laid bare everything on his therapy couch. He would try to tap into her core, to uncover the reason behind her one mistake. He’d attempt to decode it, to analyze it, to neutralize it, but he’d never accept it. Once her fatal error in judgment was out in the open, it would always be there, standing between them, like an elephant in the room, taking up precious attention.
Either with or without therapy, there was no explaining away the things she’d done.
She took a swig from a water bottle, wondering if any of the hundreds of students and teachers at Crown Pointe this morning had any inkling of the vicious murder that had taken place at the lake less than forty-eight hours earlier.
“Don’t spend all day doing work,” Steve said as they turned into the school parking lot. He found an empty space reserved for visitors. “You need your rest. Doctor’s orders.” He glanced sidelong at her, offering a supportive smile. “Patient first, detective second.”
Maggie didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was the other way around, and nothing he could say would ever change that.
No matter how many times they went over it, he’d never fully understand that her work couldn’t be confined to office hours, or that as a woman she had to excel just to be considered equal. Criminals didn’t operate on a nine-to-five basis. Cases evolved naturally, with no consideration to time constraints or vacation days. As such, an investigator had to be flexible in her schedule and her approach, willing to put in the legwork if she wanted to reach the finish line first. In other words, if Maggie wanted to be one step ahead of the bad guys and on a level footing with her male counterparts, she had to be willing to go the extra mile in order to catch her man and the eyes of her bosses.
She saw Steve’s supportive smile slip a little.
She knew he was putting on a brave face on her account, but she sensed he was still upset with her for limping home with her ribs blackening, a whisker away from being pulverized by her attacker. In the predawn light, she’d resisted the compulsion to be standoffish as Steve had fussed over her awhile, both understanding and disapproving at the same time. On one hand, concerned for her welfare, and yet critical of her behavior on the other. To his credit, he’d kept his frustration mostly at bay, but she knew her assault had made him feel powerless. Men had a built-in need to protect their women, and her injury had put a big dent in his machismo.
Spartacus nudged her ear with his wet nose.
The dog was in the back seat, panting despite the air-conditioning. Not for the first time since they’d set out, he put his big paws on the back of Maggie’s seat and tried to lick the side of her face.
“See,” Steve said. “Even Spart can sense you’re overdoing things.”
Playfully, Maggie rubbed her knuckles against the dog’s muzzle, his hot tongue curling around her wrist. “He’s just excited about getting to the beach eventually. Aren’t you, boy?”
Steve brightened. “Makes two of us.”
Maggie gave Steve a wholesome smile even though she felt torn in half. Surfing was Steve’s thing, and always had been, long before Maggie had come onto the scene. She’d agreed to a day of rest and recuperation while he sat on his board, seeking out what he called the perfect wedge. The last time she’d agreed to go on a beach day with him, she’d had to pull out at the last minute. It was the only reason she wasn’t insisting they stay home while she chased Dana’s killer.
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” she said, opening the passenger door and climbing out.
She signed in at the school admin office, then waited two minutes for Principal Wendy Ellis to come fetch her. Maggie had called ahead. She didn’t go into detail over the phone.
&n
bsp; Ellis was a tall brunette. Green-tinted eyeglasses propped on a hook nose. Noticeably long fingers. The first thing she said as they shook hands was, “If one of our students is in trouble with the law, we possess the know-how and the integrity to sort it out.”
Even from those first few words, Maggie could tell that Ellis was one of those people who saw silver linings when everybody else saw rain clouds.
“I need to speak with you about Dana Cullen,” Maggie said, getting right to the point of her visit.
“Dana? Why, has something happened? I notice she hasn’t come in yet.”
“Can we talk in private?”
“Certainly.”
Maggie followed Ellis into the principal’s office, with its big corner windows looking out into a communal courtyard of benches and trees. Even though it had been more than twenty years since Maggie had last stepped foot inside the principal’s office—albeit in the old school—the fear she’d felt back then suddenly came rushing back, squeezing her gut.
“We’re so lucky to have Dana,” Ellis said as they sat. “She’s excellent at her job. The best counselor we’ve had in ages. All the students think very highly of her. If she’s in some kind of trouble and the school is in a position to help her out in any way—”
“Dana is dead,” Maggie said.
Ellis’s jaw dropped.
“I’ll need to see her office,” Maggie said before the principal could ask any questions Maggie didn’t want to answer. “If that’s okay.”
Ellis nodded. She looked like the wind had been knocked out of her. “Who else knows?”
“It’s an ongoing murder investigation, which means I’m not at liberty to discuss the details.”
“She was murdered?” The color vanished from her face. “Who would do such a thing?”
“I need to ask that you be discreet about this. And that includes limiting who you tell.”
“But the students . . .”
“You can inform them in due course.” Maggie thought about the moment she’d heard of Rita’s death, announced at school, and the ensuing emotional chaos. She placed her business card on Ellis’s desk. “In the meantime, until we give you the all clear, please hold back on making any kind of an announcement.”
Ellis nodded. She lifted up her glasses, wiping tears from her eyes with her overly long fingers.
“Do you need a moment?” Maggie asked.
The principal shook her head. “No. It’s just a lot to take in. Dana was a good person. Well liked.” She sniffed, composing herself. “I know it’s too soon to say, but I promise you we will all learn something from this. The whole school. Something positive. You have my word. Dana’s death will not be in vain.”
“There’s something else,” Maggie said. “And again, it calls for absolute sensitivity.”
“Discretion is the better part of valor.” Ellis made the statement without missing a beat, as though preprogrammed to respond that way.
Maggie nodded, all too familiar with the school’s motto and its expectations. “Two of your students found Dana’s body. Lindy Munson and Tyler Pruitt.”
Ellis reacted as though someone had slapped her across the face. “Lindy and Tyler?”
“Is something wrong with that?”
“It’s just that they are the last two students I’d put together.” She pronounced the final word as though it left a foul taste on her tongue.
“What can you tell me about them?”
“They’re both midlevel achievers, with average stats. Their attendance is good. Lindy is one of our more popular students. She’s head of our varsity cheerleading squad. She has a large entourage of friends and followers, whereas Tyler seems to prefer his own company.” Ellis pointed to a framed photo on the wall, one of many highlighting both school and student achievements, mainly in athletics and on stage. In the picture, the orange-suited cheerleading squad were huddled together, with the blonde-haired Lindy in the middle, hoisting a trophy above her head, her grin stretching from ear to ear.
Maggie felt her stomach curl up. She couldn’t tell Ellis that Lindy, too, had been murdered this weekend. Not while Lindy’s mom had yet to learn of her daughter’s cruel fate.
“Did Lindy and Tyler ever visit with Dana in an official capacity?” Maggie asked.
“We encourage all our students to receive guidance counseling.”
“Maybe they visited more often than the norm?”
“I’d have to check.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“I don’t recall Dana ever mentioning either Lindy or Tyler specifically to me.”
“Is it standard practice for the guidance counselor to speak with you about private sessions?”
“No. But if she had any serious concerns . . .”
“Did Dana record her sessions, do you know?”
“Not electronically. That would violate students’ rights. We make sure all records kept are in handwritten form only.”
“I need to see the files on Lindy and Tyler.”
Maggie saw Ellis withdraw, probably at the thought of the implications coming from allowing a third party and someone unrelated to the school system to view what were considered protected documents.
“Alternatively,” Maggie said, “we can pursue a court order, which will only delay our investigation. Either way, you have my assurance that any and all information will be treated in the strictest confidence.”
It was textbook phrasing, but it usually did the trick.
Ellis smiled. “I’m sure we can sort something out.”
“Thank you.”
They got to their feet.
“One more thing,” Maggie said as she followed the principal to the door. “Dana’s husband mentioned a member of the faculty showing an unhealthy interest in her. Do you know anything about that?”
“No, not at all. Did he say who?”
“A teacher by the name of Brandon.”
Ellis paused with her hand on the door handle. “Brandon?”
“I don’t have his last name.”
“You must mean Bianca Brandon. And she’s certainly not male.”
Maggie didn’t let her surprise show, kicking herself that she hadn’t considered a female source for the interest in Dana. “I’d like to speak with her,” she said.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. She left us a month ago. Said she was moving out west. And she didn’t leave any forwarding details.”
Maggie sealed herself inside the guidance counselor’s office, her back pressed to the glass of the door, her breathing deep and her ribs aching as she surveyed Dana’s place of work.
It felt odd being here, like it had when she was in Dana’s bedroom, as though she was trespassing on sacred ground.
Rita’s unexplained reincarnation into Dana and then her subsequent murder had yet to fully penetrate, she knew. The news was still relatively brand new, and it had yet to filter through all of Maggie’s emotional layers. Once it reached her core, that’s when the real test would come.
Even so, over the last thirty-six hours, Maggie had come to realize that there was a lot of baggage surrounding Rita that she hadn’t dealt with over the last two decades. A weight that would take some effort to lift. Of course, she’d been younger back then, naive. Unable to contemplate with wisdom.
Steve would say it wasn’t her fault.
Biologically, the average human brain only truly matured in its midtwenties. Until then, it simply didn’t possess the mental connections to think like an adult. And that was why the average teenager didn’t deal. They dismissed instead. Because self-preservation had to be selfish; otherwise, the human race would cease to exist.
Now that Maggie was able to look back at her actions with mature eyes, it was clear she hadn’t taken ownership of the events preceding Rita’s death, never mind the death itself.
Maggie had buried her past under the present and planted a future on it.
Steve would be quick to reassure her that she needed time
to process the weekend’s revelation. Time to adjust, for her emotions to catch up.
But that wasn’t the primary cause of Maggie’s unease right now.
Every time she thought about what she’d done to Rita, back then, in the handful of months before her friend had supposedly burned to death, Maggie’s mind seemed to jar, stutter, her thoughts fleeing for the hills before she could corral and tame them.
It wasn’t like her.
Not one bit.
Usually, she was as focused as a laser.
But her emotions were diffusing the beam.
Maggie realized she was holding her breath and let it go.
“This isn’t about you,” she told herself.
But it was hard not to feel.
With no windows and only a single strip bulb to illuminate the room, the guidance counselor’s office was small. Yet, as with Dana’s home, everything had a place. Alphabetized books on shelves. Neatly stacked folders in trays. Framed certificates on the walls, including a photo of Dana shaking hands with Principal Ellis.
Maggie went over for a closer look.
In the picture, Dana was dressed in a gray skirt suit, her lank hair scraped up in a scruffy bun, a smidgeon of makeup warming up her sallow complexion. At a glance, she looked happy, her smile mirroring the principal’s grin, but those eyes . . .
Unmistakable sadness.
“What did we do to you?” Maggie breathed.
A filing cabinet occupied a corner, chockablock with student files. Maggie pulled open the drawer labeled H–M and flicked through to the M section. No file labeled Lindy Munson between Jonny Munro and Katrina Murphy. She checked through all of the Ms just in case it had been misfiled, then scooted back a little, seeing if Dana had filed it under L instead. Still, nothing. She moved to the next drawer down, only to discover that the file for Tyler Pruitt was also inconveniently missing.
Either Dana had never filed anything for Lindy and Tyler—which was a stretch—or she’d deliberately removed their files. The question was: Why?
Maggie turned her attention to the small wooden desk, and in particular to the laptop on its polished surface. Dana had stuck Disney stickers all over the gray plastic casing. The screen lit up as she lifted the lid, asking for a password. Hopingly, Maggie tried a few random guesses, but no luck there. After mulling it over for a minute, she called Ellis on the internal phone.
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