by Lisa Regan
Kelly shook her head. “No. Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Josie asked, “When is the last time you spoke with Lana Rosetti?”
“Not since high school,” Kelly answered.
Gretchen handed Kelly a business card. “You’ve been very helpful. Call us if you remember anything else.”
Eighteen
2004
The air was abuzz with energy and excitement. People milled around the outside of the baseball field. The bleachers were already full. Some Denton residents had brought their own folding chairs and set them down wherever they could find a place. The sun had begun to sag, but the heat and humidity hadn’t let up. Josie held her long black hair off her neck for a moment, reveling in the feel of the air on her nape. She waited at the chain-link fence along the first-base line where Denton East players’ friends and families gathered before the start of each game to wish the players luck. Bodies pressed in behind her, but she held firm. Lisette was standing in the long concession line.
A roar went up from the crowd as the players ran onto the field. Josie knew Ray immediately from his loping run. He turned his head and winked at her before taking his place on the mound. He and the catcher warmed up while the other players ran around the field and threw balls back and forth, getting ready for the championship game. Josie let her hair down and put her hands over the top of the fence. A film of sweat covered her bare arms and legs. Around her, people shouted encouragement to the players. Several minutes later, the team broke to let their opponents come out and warm up. Tapping his glove against his leg, Ray sauntered over to Josie. He looked the picture of confidence, but she could tell by the way his eyes shifted all around that he was nervous.
She leaned in for a kiss when he reached the fence. “Don’t be nervous,” she told him. “You’re going to do great.”
He tucked his glove under his armpit and used one hand to smooth her hair out of her face. “You think so, Jo?”
Josie grinned. “I know so. This is going to be your best game. Wait and see.”
“I hope you’re right.”
They kissed again until someone nearby hollered, “Get a room!” Then the coach came onto the field with a group of men dressed business-casual in collared shirts and trousers and called for the team. Ray looked over his shoulder. “Shit,” he said. “I gotta go. We gotta take pictures with the sponsors before the game starts.”
Josie reached up and straightened his ball cap. “I’d wish you luck, but you won’t need it. See you after.”
She watched him jog off, her heart stuttering in her chest. God, she hoped they won. Ray had been enjoying the baseball season so much, it had lifted him out of the depression he sometimes fell into. He’d worked hard, too, and she hoped she was right about all that hard work paying off. At home plate, the team lined up and knelt with the coach and four local businessmen standing behind them. Josie recognized the founder of their local coffee shop, Komorrah’s Koffee, with his wispy white hair and stooped shoulders. Josie had heard he would retire soon and turn the business over to his daughter. Then there was the owner of the pizza shop just outside the university campus. Josie put him in his fifties. He had greasy blond hair and a moustache that looked as though it was struggling to grow in. He looked as though he ate as many pizzas as he sold. There were two other men who looked to be in their mid-to-late thirties. One was tall and lanky with thick, wavy brown hair and a thin pair of glasses that kept sliding down his nose. She was pretty sure he was the owner of a local software company that had had a lot of success recently, although she couldn’t remember his name. The last guy was average height, tanned and toned, with brown hair cut close to his head, spikey and gelled on the top, like he was trying to appear younger than he actually was. She didn’t know his name or remember which business he owned, but she’d seen him on television a few times. Something about remodeling the historic downtown theater.
The click and flash of cameras behind her drew Josie’s attention. She turned away from the field to see several people holding up cameras. Josie muscled her way through the siege of people. They closed in on the fence the moment she stepped away, shouting at players and snapping photos. It took several minutes to find Lisette along the side of the bleachers, sitting in a lawn chair along the third base line. A matching chair sat beside her, its seat overflowing with food she’d bought from the concessions. “There you are,” Lisette said. “Better sit before someone else tries to take this seat.”
She pawed through the food she had bought, which would have been enough to feed the two of them for a week, let alone for a single game. There were four hot dogs, a half dozen bags of chips, French fries slathered in catsup, and some brownies.
Josie said, “Gram, this is too much.”
Lisette shook her head. “Ray will be hungry after the game. We’ll give whatever we don’t finish to him. Oh no. I forgot to get napkins. Would you be a dear and run over to the concession stand? Grab a handful.”
With only a few more minutes to game time, people were flocking toward their seats, jostling for space anywhere they could find it. Josie went around the back of the bleachers where it was just grass littered with food wrappers terminating at a taller chain-link fence. Beyond the fence was a parking lot and beside that, a wooded area. People still streamed in through the narrow entrance from the parking lot, and she had to fight her way to the concession stand, nearly falling on her ass when a wall ran directly into her. Not a wall, she realized, as strong hands gripped her upper arms, but a man. She looked up into the face of one of the sponsors. Tanned and toned. “I’m sorry,” he said, smiling down at her with wide lips and straight white teeth. He might have been sexy if he hadn’t held onto her for a beat too long and if his thumb hadn’t brushed lightly over the side of her breast while he did it.
Pulling away from him, Josie put her chin down and tried to pass him. “It’s fine,” she said. People flowed around them without a glance.
He touched her shoulder, stopping her in place. “Do I know you?”
Josie hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “The pitcher is my boyfriend,” she said. “You’ve probably seen me with him.”
His smile had become conspiratorial, as though they were sharing a secret of some kind. “That kid is good,” he said. “On the field.”
Josie felt her cheeks pinken. “I have to—”
Before she could finish her sentence, something behind her caught his eye. Relief flooded through her as he said, “It was nice meeting you,” before he stepped around her and went on his way. Josie didn’t look back. She made a mental note to put him on her list of pervy men.
The concession stand was still packed, and several patrons yelled at her when she tried to cut the line to grab a handful of napkins. Tapping one foot against the worn dirt path in front of the stand, she dutifully waited ten minutes for the napkins. She rushed back, this time taking the long way around the outfield, hoping to avoid Mr. Tanned and Toned. And gross, she thought. Still there was a crowd near the bathrooms. If she didn’t get back to her seat soon, she’d miss the national anthem. Poor Lisette would think she’d been abducted. As she strode past the line for the ladies’ room, a player from the opposing team came running past, weaving through bodies as he went. He bumped her shoulder, spinning her and knocking the napkins from her grasp. Josie swore under her breath and squatted, gathering the napkins in her hand. Someone standing in the line yelled after the kid, “Watch it, jerk!”
Clutching the mess of napkins to her chest, Josie moved on. The announcer came on, welcoming everyone and asking them to stand for the national anthem. Before she turned toward the third base line, someone stumbled from behind the ladies’ room building and directly into her path.
“Hey,” Josie said. “Watch out.”
Beverly Urban stood in front of her, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Her thick curls were mussed.
“Shit,” Josie said.
But no sneer slid across Beverly’s face. No cutting words came f
rom her mouth. She simply stared at Josie, as though she were looking through her. The first strains of the national anthem played over the speaker system. Pink splotches covered Beverly’s neck. In one hand, she clutched something. A piece of white fabric. Without thinking, Josie said, “You okay?”
As if snapping out of a daze, Beverly’s eyes narrowed. She stuffed her fist into her skirt pocket. “Get away from me,” she snarled.
With a roll of her eyes, Josie took a wide step around her. “My pleasure,” she said without looking back.
Nineteen
The address they had for Lana Rosetti was on the western side of Denton in a neighborhood of single homes with ample acreage around them. The lawns were beautifully landscaped, although waterlogged as the rain continued to fall at a steady pace. So far, only part of the area had been flooded. Josie and Gretchen followed several detours until they came to Lana Rosetti’s home, relieved to see it was out of the flood zone. A sign on the front lawn said: Rosetti Psychology.
“She’s a psychologist?” Gretchen asked.
“Guess so,” Josie said as they got out of the vehicle and walked up the driveway. Five steps led to a landing in front of the dark-red front door. On either side were potted plants. Josie rang the doorbell and they waited. A few moments later, a woman answered. She closely resembled Lana Rosetti but was too old to possibly be her. Her thin frame was draped in an ankle-length floral print dress. Wavy blonde hair fell to her shoulders. Bright blue eyes looked over a pair of glasses as she studied the two detectives. “Can I help you?”
They showed her their credentials. Josie said, “Mrs. Rosetti? Lana’s mother?”
“Yes, that’s me. You can call me Paige. Are you looking for Lana?”
Gretchen said, “We’d like to talk to her if we could. Is she here, by any chance?”
Paige studied both of them for a long moment. “May I ask what this is about?”
“Of course,” Josie said. “We’re investigating the death of one of her high school friends. We were hoping to talk to her about anything she remembers from that time period that could help us in our investigation.”
“Oh dear,” Paige said. “Maybe you should come in.”
They followed her through an airy foyer with light hardwood floors into a kitchen which was dominated by an oversized rustic wood table at its center. A laptop stood open on one side of it. Paige glanced over her shoulder at Josie. “You went to high school with my daughter, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Josie said. “But we weren’t friends.”
Paige motioned to the mismatched wooden chairs tucked beneath the table. “Please sit,” she told them. “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”
They both declined. Gretchen said, “Is Lana here?”
Paige smiled. “No, but I’ve got a video call scheduled with her in seventeen minutes, if you’d like to wait around.”
Josie said, “We’d much rather meet with her if that’s possible.”
Paige laughed, taking a seat in front of the laptop. “Oh, I’m afraid that’s not possible. My daughter and her family are halfway across the globe. The only time I get to see or talk to them are these prescheduled video calls and half the time they fall through. The infrastructure where they are isn’t the best.”
“Where is she?” Gretchen asked.
“Burundi,” Paige answered. “It’s in Africa. Lana and her husband work with Doctors Without Borders. My grandson is there with them.”
Josie said, “Maybe we will have some coffee.”
Paige laughed. “Good choice.”
She brewed a pot of coffee as they waited for Lana to come online. “You said this was about a high school friend?”
“Beverly Urban,” Gretchen said. “Her remains were recently found here in Denton. It appears she was murdered just after her junior year of high school ended.”
Paige said, “Oh how sad. That’s terrible.”
“Do you remember Beverly?” Josie asked.
“I do. I remember that her relationship with Lana could be rocky at times. I thought she must not have a good home life because she often acted out. She was very attention-seeking and my Lana, back then, was too nice for her own good.”
“Did you know Beverly’s mom?” Josie asked. “Or ever have occasion to talk to her?”
Paige set mugs and spoons in front of them, along with a bowl of sugar and a small carton of milk. As they each prepared their coffee, she took a moment to think about it and then shook her head. “No. I didn’t. I thought about it sometimes. Beverly could be cruel toward Lana, but then they always worked it out. Then Beverly moved away, and it was no longer an issue.”
A ding sounded from Paige’s laptop. Josie and Gretchen sipped their coffee and waited while Paige and Lana connected and chatted briefly. Then Paige explained that the police were there and why. They heard Lana’s voice. “Oh my God. Poor Beverly. They’re there right now? I’ll talk to them.”
Josie and Gretchen stood and crammed into the frame behind Paige. They could see themselves in a small box on the top right-hand corner of the screen. Lana appeared in a box that filled the center of the screen. Her curly blonde hair was tied back in a messy ponytail. Her skin was sunburned, peeling along her nose. She wore a faded gray Doctors Without Borders T-shirt. It looked as though she was inside a drab green tent. Josie made introductions. It took longer than expected as every so often, the screen froze and their words were lost. Josie felt frustration mount inside her, but she stayed calm and focused. Finally, they got to their questions.
Gretchen said, “Lana, we understand you were good friends with Beverly. We have reports that she wasn’t seen by anyone close to her after your junior year of high school ended. Was that the last time you talked with her?”
“The last time I talked to her was about a week after school ended. We hung out at my house. She slept over. She went home in the morning, and I never heard from her again.”
Josie asked, “Did you go to her house? Call around? Try to find out where she went?”
“Of course,” Lana said. “No one was there. No one else had seen her. We knew she was moving so I just assumed that’s what happened. They moved away.”
The screen went haywire for a moment. Where Lana had been was just a mess of lines. They waited as it snapped back. Gretchen said, “We spoke with Kelly Ogden earlier today. She told us that there were several males that Beverly was interested in at the end of your junior year in high school.”
“That’s right,” Lana said.
Josie jumped in. “Kelly said there were four. Does that sound right to you?”
“Yes.”
“Was one of them Ray Quinn?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember me?”
Lana leaned in, her eyes and forehead taking up most of the picture. “Yes, I remember you. Honestly, I don’t know that anything was going on between her and Ray. She said there was, but I’m not sure. I didn’t really believe it. I think she wanted something to happen with Ray, but he wasn’t interested.”
Gretchen asked, “Was one of the guys she liked a man who was doing construction work at her house?”
Lana sat back in her chair and scratched at the loose skin on her nose. “Yes. I do remember that. He was older. She really liked him. He did seem interested in her. I was at her house once when they were flirting. I don’t remember his name though.”
“Do you know who the other two men were?” Josie asked.
“No. Beverly was secretive about them. That’s why Kelly and I weren’t sure how much of what she was telling us was true. I can tell you this, though. She was only sleeping with one of the guys she was into. She made it sound like she was some kind of irresistible seductress, as though men couldn’t control themselves around her, but she was actually only intimate with one guy. That’s what she told me anyway. I’m not sure which guy that was, but I do know he had a tattoo.” Lana laughed. “For some reason, she thought a guy with a tattoo was so… grown-up.
Sexy.”
Gretchen said, “Yeah, that’s what Kelly told us. Do you know kind of tattoo this guy had?”
Lana smoothed a wayward piece of hair out of her eyes. “Oh, I think it was—” The sound cut out and onscreen, Lana’s visage froze, twisting as lines burst across it.
“Oh boy,” Paige said. “I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to talk to her. Just wait a minute. She’ll come back, hopefully.”
After a long moment, Lana came back on. They asked her about the tattoo again. “Don’t quote me on this, but I’m pretty sure it was a skull. I don’t know where on his body, though.”
Gretchen had her notepad out, jotting down this new detail.
“Lana, was Beverly into drugs at all?” Josie asked.
Lana shook her head. “No. I never saw her using any.”
“Do you have any idea who might have killed her?”
“Oh God, no. I’m so sorry. I don’t. I know she was seeing an older guy and she fought with her mom like crazy, but I can’t imagine anyone killing her. Oh but—” She broke off and Josie thought the connection had been interrupted again, but Lana was just taking a moment to think. Almost to herself, she said, “I guess it really doesn’t matter now. In fact, if she was killed right after school ended, you’ve probably already found out on autopsy. Beverly was pregnant.”
“Yes,” Josie said, surprised that Beverly had shared that with Lana but not Kelly. By all appearances in high school, Kelly had been closer to Beverly. Then again, Josie realized, Kelly was more of a minion. She had done whatever Beverly told her to do. Her function wasn’t to provide counsel or comfort. Lana had obviously been the more sensitive of the two friends, refusing to carry out Beverly’s crueler ploys. “That was confirmed on autopsy. Do you know who the father was?”
Lana frowned. “I’m afraid not. But as I said, it could only have been one of the men. That’s actually how I found out she was only intimate with one person. When she told me about the pregnancy, I asked her if she knew whose it was and that’s when she admitted to me she wasn’t as active as she made herself out to be.”