Truth and Consequences Page 19

  “No?” said Elke. “Why not?”

  “Well, for the same reason I’m going to be no help to you about that boy. He could have been here, but he might not have too. I really have no idea, because I never actually supervised those students who were back there. So, I didn’t know what was going on. And when the principal found out I was letting kids back there, he said that I couldn’t do it anymore, because of liability issues.”

  “Ah,” said Elke, nodding. “He thought if they got in trouble, parents might sue the school.”

  “Exactly,” said Mrs. Dawson. “If they were off campus hanging out with drug dealers, no big deal. But if they were on campus, safe but not being micromanaged, who knows what horrible fate might befall them.” She was sarcastic as she shook her head.

  “Well, that’s too bad,” said Elke. “It seems like it was a good place for students.”

  “Too bad indeed,” said Mrs. Dawson. “The principal’s so worried about protecting us from lawsuits he’s risking the students’ safety.”

  “But about Curtis Fisher,” broke in Iain. “You don’t know if he was there or not? No memory either way.”

  “None,” said Mrs. Dawson.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Well, I believe Mary Johnson,” said Elke. “She’s very credible. Well-spoken. Sure of herself. I don’t think she’s lying.” Elke was in the conference room, munching on a donut that Amos had brought in earlier. It was a cinnamon donut with maple frosting.

  Iain and Frankie both had cinnamon donuts too. That was the only kind Amos had brought that day. He said they’d been on sale, which had prompted Elke to remind him about getting reimbursed for buying them donuts, which Amos had not been doing, because he hadn’t known he could. He said he wasn’t sure if he should, because the taxpayers shouldn’t be buying donuts, should they? Elke assured him that donuts were essential to their process at the CRU.

  “Too bad the teacher didn’t remember him,” said Frankie.

  “That would have helped,” said Iain. “Two witnesses are more credible than one. But the fact of the matter is, we’re still not to the point where we can take this case before the Conviction Correction Panel. All we have is one eye witness. It’s not enough, not with the evidence against him.”

  “I’d still feel better if we could find the real murderer,” said Elke.

  “Well, that’s tough too,” said Iain. “Again, the evidence we have just doesn’t give us any other clues.”

  “Well, let’s look at everything again,” said Elke. “Get out the crime scene photos, Hart.”

  “I’m eating donuts!” Frankie protested.

  “Right,” said Elke. “First, we finish the donuts, then we look at gross pictures.” She shoved the rest of the donut in her mouth and chewed.

  The other two followed suit.

  A few moments later, they were crowded around the crime scene photos, looking at Allison’s mutilated face and ruined body.

  “So, she’s wearing her clothes and there’s blood on the clothes,” said Elke. “Look. Blood.”

  “That’s spatter,” said Iain. “That means her blood was going on the clothes while her face was being stabbed. Which means she was wearing that shirt while the killer mutilated her face.”

  “Does that mean anything?” said Elke.

  “Well, it’s puzzling,” said Iain. “Because if it’s a sexual murder, usually clothing the victim is done as a sign of remorse and it’s done after the fury of violence. The killer gets done, looks at what he’s done, and wants to cover it up, so he dresses the victim.”

  “But in this case,” said Frankie, “he’s doing it after he dresses her.”

  “Or not,” said Iain, flipping through the file to the next photo. It was a picture of Allison’s torso, and the shirt she was wearing had a big dark red stain in the center. “This is the killing blow, right to the heart. This was done while Allison was dressed. She was stabbed through her clothes.”

  Elke stood up. She walked over to the board and surveyed all the names of the suspects they had written there. “What does that mean?”

  “Could mean a lot of things,” said Iain.

  “Could mean this wasn’t a sexually motivated murder, couldn’t it?” said Elke. “I mean, all that DNA from Curtis, maybe it’s irrelevant if the murder doesn’t have anything to do with sex.”

  “It doesn’t necessarily mean that,” said Iain. “The way she’s been defaced, that’s a certain kind of hatred-fueled rage and that may very well indicate a thrill killer.”

  “But it could mean that it wasn’t sexually motivated, right?” Elke insisted.

  “Yes,” said Iain.

  Elke looked back at the board. “But all we have left is Vincent Richardson and Noel Hughes. And we suspect him for sexual reasons. So…” She threw up her hands. “So, we’re nowhere.”

  Everyone was quiet for several moments.

  Finally, Elke sat down. “Okay, look. Here’s what we need to do. All of us, individually, we need to go through everything again and see if something pops up for one of us. We’ll go back over it tomorrow.”

  * * *

  “Look, look, look,” Thad was saying as he pulled construction paper out of his backpack. “They told us we could make collages on anything. Anything at all. And so I did three, and I did Star Wars, and I did Luke, Darth Vader, and Kylo Ren.” As he pulled them out he handed them to Frankie. “See how cool, Mom? Ms. Braley said I was super creative and that she loved them.”

  Frankie surveyed her son’s work. She had to admit that there was a sophisticated artistic flair to the collages. Or maybe she was just biased because she was the kid’s mother. She thought he was pretty great. There was no doubt about that. “These are wonderful, Thad. I’m going to put them on the refrigerator.”

  “No,” said Thad.

  “No?”

  “Only one,” said Thad. “I’m putting the others on the bulletin board in my room, okay?”

  She smiled. “Okay. Sounds good.”

  He beamed at her, grabbed all the collages back, shuffled through them and then selected two, leaving her with the Darth Vader collage. He scampered out of the kitchen and back the hallway. Frankie put the collage on the refrigerator.

  “He really seems to like that new after-school program,” said Rufus. “Your co-worker was right on the money with that.”

  She nodded, still surveying the collage. The more she looked at it, the better it looked to her. “Yeah, I think it’s because they really engage him, you know? They cater to his interests and encourage him to pursue them. He can be really motivated, but only toward the things he wants to be motivated towards. I think they really work with that.”

  “Exactly,” said Rufus. “Maybe we should do something for that guy. What’s his name? Ivan?”

  “Iain,” she said. “Hudson. But I don’t know what we’d do for him. He likes the job a lot. I don’t know that he has other interests.”

  Rufus raised his eyebrows. “Everyone has other interests.”

  “Not everyone,” said Frankie. “I mean, heck, I barely do myself. I feel like I spend all my time worrying over this job. I can’t get my head around this current case. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “I don’t even know what to say about it,” she said. “I feel like all the people we’ve talked to are saying different, contradictory things, and none of them line up, and I don’t know what the truth is.”

  “Huh,” said Rufus. “Maybe you should make a list of all the contradictions. Maybe that would make things clearer.”

  Frankie turned away from the collage. “That’s actually a really good idea, Rufus. Thanks.”

  “Not a problem,” said Rufus. “That’s what I’m here for. To give great ideas, cook amazing food, and always be right.”

  She laughed, shaking her head.

  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the forehead.

  * * *

  The n
ext morning, Amos greeted Elke when she came in with a copy of the Haven Hills Daily News. Carlos’s article was out. “Read it,” said Amos. “I think you’re going to be pleased.”

  And she was. She sat in her office, sipping her coffee and reading the paper, and she found that she was quite happy with the article. This time, everything that was alleged by Powell was countered by something she had said. It had the effect of making Powell look unhinged, since he’d already had the one article, and now he was just pounding the case into the pavement. Elke and the others in the CRU came out looking good.

  Carlos had even gone to talk to some of the people who’d been wrongly convicted and freed by the CRU. He’d talked to family members too. Of course, they had nothing but good words for the CRU, which only served to make the article even more flattering. Overall, Elke was quite satisfied.

  She was glad to be happy about something, considering she’d had no breakthroughs on the case itself. She’d read through the case file twice last night, reading each and every one of the interview transcripts and looking at all the photos and trying to find anything that they’d missed. Then she’d looked over what they’d uncovered since they started looking at the case, sorting through all the new information.

  All she knew when she was done was that she was confused. She was pretty sure that Fisher was innocent, but she didn’t feel rock solid certain, not the way she had about other cases they’d worked, like the Mukherjee case, for instance.

  It mostly came down to two things, she thought. The drawings and the affair with the sister.

  Sure, maybe the sister was lying, and maybe she had reason to. But maybe she was telling the truth. And if so, it looked bad for Fisher.

  Of course, the fact that Allison had been clothed possibly pointed to a murder that wasn’t sexually motivated, and if that was the case, then that looked good for Fisher.

  But if it was, then Elke had no real idea who could have killed her. What kind of person committed a bloody, violent murder like this if they weren’t some kind of psycho? Who else had the motivation? She didn’t know.

  She went into the meeting with Iain and Frankie hoping either of them might have found something, but she honestly didn’t think either of them would have. If there had been something there, she would have seen it.

  When she got into the conference room, Iain was already there. He looked eager and excited. “So, listen,” he said right away. “I was looking at the DNA report last night, and I got to thinking about it.”

  “That’s great,” said Elke. “You’ve got something?”

  “It’s a bit of a long shot,” said Iain, “but I think so.”

  “Well, let’s wait for Hart,” said Elke.

  But Frankie wasn’t there yet.

  They waited. Moments passed.

  “Look, I’ll tell you,” said Iain, “and then when Hart gets here, I can just go over it again.”

  “No, I’ll go look for her,” said Elke. She left the conference room and went back to Frankie’s office.

  There, she found Frankie on the phone.

  When Frankie saw her, she mouthed, Sorry. Into the phone, she said, “Yes, I’m well aware of that. Look, I’m going to have to get off the phone…. No, I really can’t say anything about that one way or the other…. Like I said, I’m not practicing anymore, so… No, no, what I said was that I would refer you to someone who… I can’t take your case. I’m not a defense attorney anymore.” She rolled her eyes. “Listen, I really do have to get off the phone now…. I’ll email you a list of lawyers I recommend…. Yes, I promise. Mmm-hmm. You too. Take care now.” She hung up the phone and glared at the ceiling. “Oh, my God.”

  “Who was that?” said Elke.

  Frankie came around her desk. “Some jackass who wanted representation. Said he found my number by googling my name. I told him I’m not a defense lawyer anymore, but even if I was, he was not the kind of guy I would defend, because he’s very obviously guilty. He’s being tried for assault and battery, and I know he did it, and I wouldn’t touch that case with a ten foot pole, even before I had this job.” She straightened her jacket, which had an old coffee stain on the lapel. “But never mind that. We ready for the meeting?”

  “Yeah,” said Elke. “And Hudson says he’s got something interesting. He’s chomping at the bit to get it out.”

  “How exciting,” said Frankie, smiling.

  The two women headed down the hallway to the conference room.

  “Finally,” said Iain. “You’re back.”

  “Sorry,” said Elke. “Frankie was on the phone.”

  “Oh, this guy that called me…” Frankie shook her head, fuming.

  “Long story,” said Elke.

  “About the DNA,” said Iain.

  “Right,” said Elke. “Go ahead. Let’s hear it.”

  “Well, as you know, Fisher’s DNA is the only DNA they found,” said Iain.

  “Right,” said Elke.

  “Well, except for the DNA that belonged to a family member that was there through transference,” said Iain. “They didn’t test any of Allison’s family members, but the markers are so close that they’re able to tell that she’s closely related to whoever’s DNA this is.”

  “Is that significant?” said Elke.

  “Maybe not,” said Iain. “But I just started thinking that maybe the DNA wasn’t transference. Maybe it was there because it belonged to the murderer. Maybe the murderer is someone in Allison’s family.”

  “Funny you should say that,” said Frankie. “Because I was making a list of contradictions last night. I thought there were a lot of things that didn’t line up, people telling stories that didn’t match each other. But when I eliminated all the people who had changed their stories, I got down to only one big contradiction.”

  “What’s that?” said Elke.

  “Curtis says he wasn’t having an affair with Holly Ross. And Holly Ross says he was. One of them is lying.”

  “Allison’s sister,” said Elke softly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Elke paced in front of the board. “So, Holly Ross could have done it? But why? What would her motive be?”

  “Don’t think about motive,” said Iain. “Forget motive. Let’s just talk evidence. We have DNA. That possibly puts her at the scene.”

  “It won’t hold up,” said Frankie. “That car was the girls’ way to and from school. They were both in it every day. To say that Holly’s DNA was in there means absolutely nothing.”

  “Her DNA is on Allison,” said Iain. “I checked into it, and they found her DNA under one of Allison’s fingernails.”

  Elke stopped pacing. “Like she scratched her? Like she was struggling against her?”

  “No, that doesn’t mean that,” said Frankie. “Like I said, Holly was in that car all the time. If Allison was flailing around in that back seat and she scraped her fingers over anything back there where Holly’s hair or skin cells could have gathered, she could have, very innocently, gotten her sister’s DNA under her fingernails. We may have DNA, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

  Iain nodded. “Yes, I realize. You’re right. In and of itself, the DNA can’t convict her.”

  “Do we have anything else?” said Elke. “Besides the fact that she might be lying about the affair?”

  “Well, if she were guilty,” said Frankie, “then she would have lied about that. Obviously, she would want to cast suspicion on someone else.”

  “Sure,” said Elke. “But that still gets us nowhere. I mean, that’s circular logic. That’s why I asked about a motive.”

  “And I said no,” said Iain. “Forget motive. We need evidence.”

  “But Hudson, we’ve just gone over the fact that we have no evidence.” Elke threw up her hands.

  “Okay, not yet,” said Iain. “But maybe we could find some.”

  “Like what?” said Frankie.

  “Well, I started thinking to myself,” said Iain, “what are the best pieces of physical evide
nce for a murder? Obviously, DNA, but after that, the biggest thing is a murder weapon.”

  “There is no murder weapon,” said Elke. “They never found it.”

  “Well, let’s assume that it’s Holly,” said Iain. “She decides to stab her sister to death with a knife. Where’s the easiest place to get a knife?”

  “I don’t know,” said Elke. “Maybe from her kitchen?”

  “Right,” said Iain.

  “So, she’d use it and wash it and put it back,” said Frankie. “How does that help?”

  “Maybe,” said Iain. “Or maybe not. Maybe she hid it somewhere, and maybe we can find it. So, I propose that we go to talk to Allison’s parents and ask if any knives went missing near her murder.”

  “What?” said Elke. “How could we possibly do that? They’d know we suspected their daughter.”

  “And think of it,” said Frankie. “If it was Holly, they would have no children left.”

  “And they lost a baby,” said Elke. She thought through it, shaking her head at the horror of their situation. “No, that’s too much. We can’t possibly—”

  “We pretend that we think that someone else took the knife,” said Iain. “Maybe Curtis, maybe Noel, I don’t know. Elke, you could sell them on that. You’re good at talking to people.”

  Elke made a face. “I don’t want to go and talk to them about this. I couldn’t possibly.” She turned to Frankie.

  Frankie’s eyes widened. “Me? You want it to be me? Why is it always me?”

  * * *

  Frankie shook hands with Lisa Ross. “Thank you so much for meeting with me,” she said. “I know that this must be extremely painful for you, and I hate to dig up these kind of buried emotions.”

  “They aren’t really that buried,” said Lisa. “The truth is, I think of Allison almost every day.” She gestured to an easy chair sitting just inside the door of her living room. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “Thank you,” said Frankie.

  The Ross living room was dimly lit. There were two couches and two recliners and all of them were swathed in throw blankets. It looked like a cozy cave. Frankie wondered if this poor woman had hidden here, holed up against the pain of losing her daughter. Maybe, even after all these years, she was still hiding.