Truth and Consequences Read online

  Lisa sat down opposite Frankie. “I read in the paper that you were looking into Allison’s case, so I knew it was likely you’d want to come and talk to me.”

  “We wanted to avoid that, if possible,” said Frankie. “I know that digging back into the case again might feel as if you were going through the pain of her death all over again. Truly, we’re just trying to make sure that we have the right person in prison for the murder.”

  “Yes, I understand that,” said Lisa. “To be honest, I was never sure about Curtis’s guilt.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “Well, he seemed like a nice young man, and I had a hard time picturing him doing what he did to Allison. Whoever hurt her, it was brutal and awful, and…” She bit down on her lip. “Curtis took Allison to the Homecoming Dance that year. It was just a few weeks before it happened. And I remember that Allison had on this little strapless dress. They were at the door to leave, and he opened the door, and a cold, autumn gust came in, and he said to her that she was going to be cold, did she have a jacket? He was getting ready to take his off to let her wear it to the car, but she had a shawl that we picked out for her to wear, and we’d forgotten it, and I went and got it…” Lisa stopped, overcome for a moment. A tear trickled out of her left eye. She brushed at it, seemingly embarrassed. “Sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” said Frankie. “It must be so difficult—”

  “It’s fine,” said Lisa. “I like to talk about her. Jeff, he’s so insistent that we move on, and Holly isn’t a particularly demonstrative…” She squared her shoulders. “Talking about Allison is a good thing.”

  Frankie smiled a small, sympathetic smile. “Yeah, okay, I get that.” Damn, she felt like she might cry too.

  “Anyway,” said Lisa, “if you’d seen him, you would have seen the look in his eyes, and it was so genuine. He wanted to protect her. I mean, up until then, I had just thought he was some boy, but when I saw that in his eyes, I realized he cared about her. It made me feel glad. And then…” She shook her head. “Well, then, it just never made sense. So, if it isn’t him, I’d rather he was free and the real murderer locked up.”

  “Well,” said Frankie, “that’s what we’d like as well.” But the poor woman wouldn’t like it if it was her one remaining living child responsible. Frankie was sure of it. She cleared her throat. “I really just have one question, and it might sound a little odd.”

  “Oh, that’s fine,” said Lisa.

  “I wanted to ask about, um, knives. Your knives? We have a theory that the murderer may have taken a knife from your kitchen to, um, well…”

  “Really?” Lisa raised her eyebrows. “It would have been someone we know, then?”

  “I can’t really discuss that,” said Frankie. “It’s a theory is all. You didn’t, by any chance, happen to notice that a knife went missing around that time?”

  “Well...” A shadow passed over Lisa’s face. She looked disturbed.

  “Probably not something you were really noticing at the time,” said Frankie.

  “I think I would have noticed,” said Lisa. “And there was nothing.” She raised her gaze to Frankie’s, and there was a different look in her eyes now. Not just sorrow, but something hard.

  Frankie licked her lips. “Okay, well, that’s, um, that’s good to know, then. Uh, that’s really all I wanted to ask.” Frankie couldn’t get out of there fast enough now. She didn’t want to talk to Lisa anymore. She felt guilty, and she didn’t like that hard look in Lisa’s eyes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “That got us a whole lot of nowhere,” said Elke. She was sitting in the conference room with her feet up on the table.

  “She might have been lying,” said Frankie, who was sitting next to Elke. “She got this look in her eyes. But if she had even an inkling that I suspected Holly, she would have protected her daughter, don’t you think?”

  Iain was lounging against the wall. “Did you hint that to her?”

  “No,” said Frankie.

  “Then why would she have any idea you suspected Holly?”

  Elke threw her head back and looked at the ceiling. “Look, there’s no reason to suspect this girl, you guys. We are pulling stuff out of our asses. I think…” She sat up. “I think maybe we made a mistake taking this case on.”

  “You think Curtis is guilty?” said Frankie.

  “No,” said Elke.

  “Well, if he’s innocent, we can’t give up,” said Frankie.

  “Who did it?” said Elke. “If it wasn’t Curtis, then who?”

  “If you didn’t hint at it,” said Iain, “then the only reason she might think you suspect Holly is if she already suspected Holly.”

  “What mother suspects her own child?” said Frankie.

  “I don’t think that’s the question,” said Elke, sitting up. “I think the question is, ‘What could a child do to make her mother suspect her?’”

  “Maybe,” said Frankie. “But how can we answer that question? I don’t think that Lisa is going to answer it for us, and besides, we don’t even know if she does suspect Holly.”

  “Okay, we don’t talk to Lisa about it,” said Elke. “Who else would know about Holly’s behavior?”

  “Her father?” said Frankie.

  “Her teachers?” said Iain.

  “Teachers,” said Elke. “Good thought.”

  * * *

  “What now?” said Joel Sanders when Elke and Iain came into his classroom.

  “Just a quick question,” said Elke. “It’s about Allison’s sister, Holly Ross.”

  “Oh, well, I never had her as a student,” said Sanders. “Why do you want to know about her, anyway?”

  “Just covering some bases,” said Elke.

  “Well, next door, Mrs. Orange, I think she had her in class at least one year.”

  “Thanks,” said Elke.

  She and Iain ducked out of Sanders’s classroom and knocked on the door next to his.

  A woman with frizzy hair, wearing a jean skirt and a long cardigan, opened up. She smiled at them. “Can I help you?”

  “Hi,” said Elke. “I’m Elke Lawrence and this is my associate Detective Iain Hudson. We’re with the Haven Hills Conviction Review Unit. I wonder if we could ask you a few questions?”

  “Oh, well, that sounds terribly important. Of course, come in.” She had a big, sort of grandmotherly smile.

  Elke liked her. She stepped into the classroom and Iain came in behind her. The room was neat and tidy with two decorated bulletin boards, one which said, Reading is Essential, and another which displayed student artwork. Mrs. Orange looked at them expectantly.

  “We’re actually wondering if you remember a specific student,” said Elke. “You probably would have had her four to six years ago. Holly Ross.”

  Mrs. Orange shook her head. “Oh, I’m afraid that I have so many students every day—seven classes of thirty students each—that I have a hard time remembering from year to year.”

  “She’s Allison Ross’s sister,” said Elke. “Allison is the girl who was—”

  “Oh, I remember that,” said Mrs. Orange. “Quite a horrible thing that was. Okay, yes, now that you jog my memory, I do remember Holly.”

  “What was your general impression of her?” said Elke.

  Mrs. Orange shrugged. “She seemed like a nice enough girl, I suppose. I think she did her homework on time and got good grades. I remember that she was in my college preparatory classes, and I don’t remember anything out of the ordinary with her. I’m fairly sure that even after the death of her sister, she was very studious and concerned about her grades. She did all of her makeup work in a timely fashion.”

  “So, there were no behavioral issues or anything like that?”

  “No,” said Mrs. Orange. “Although it’s funny that you mention that, because I did have an IEP for her. I remember that.”

  “What’s an IEP?” said Iain.

  “Individualized Education Plan,” said Mrs. Orange. “The
y’re done for all sorts of reasons with kids. Most often, it’s a learning disability or something of that nature needs to be modified to help them succeed. Students with dyslexia might require having their tests read aloud and an audio recordings of their readings, that sort of thing.”

  “I see,” said Elke. “What was Holly’s IEP?”

  “Well, it was mostly moot,” said Mrs. Orange. “I think it had been written back when she was in elementary school and had followed her throughout the years, even though she’d outgrown the problems outlined there. I’m all for intervening to help students who need help, mind you, but sometimes I think that they diagnose children far too early with things that are outlandish.”

  “What was Holly diagnosed with?”

  “This poor child had been saddled with antisocial personality disorder when she was five or six, but if you met her, she was a sweet girl with no issues. I imagine she was a bit of a hyper, selfish little girl, but what little girl isn’t, you know?”

  Elke shrugged. She guessed most children were selfish, but…

  “Anyway,” Mrs Orange continue, “the IEP said not to get into power struggles with her. She was to be allowed to leave the classroom if she got angry with no questions asked and no consequences. This way, she could supposedly go and cool down on her own. But, like I said, I never had any issues with her behavior.”

  “Thank you,” said Elke. “That’s very interesting. You’ve been very helpful.”

  * * *

  “Antisocial personality disorder?” said Elke as they got into her car. “That’s the new classification for psychopaths, isn’t it?”

  “It’s more broad than the traditional definition of psychopathy,” said Iain. “But yes, you’re right.”

  “So, what could a little girl do to get that sort of a label?” said Elke. “And whatever it was, maybe that’s why Lisa suspects her.”

  “We should try to get in touch with Holly’s elementary school teacher at the time the IEP was written,” said Iain.

  “Yes,” said Elke. “Good thought.”

  “I’ll get on that as soon as we’re back at the office,” he said.

  * * *

  When they got back to the office, Elke let Iain look into the elementary school teacher, and she decided she’d do a few cursory searches on Holly Ross and her family.

  But when she got there, Detective Powell was in her office.

  Amos was there too. He gave Elke an indignant look. “I told him to leave. He wouldn’t listen. He pushed his way back here. I was about five seconds away from calling the police.”

  “Wouldn’t have made a difference if you had,” said Powell. “I work over there, you know. I’m pretty well liked. They aren’t going to eject me, not while I’m doing my job.”

  “This isn’t your job,” said Elke. “All you’ve done is make yourself look crazy and threaten good people who work here with your stupid accusations in those articles.”

  “Oh, they’re stupid, are they?” said Powell. “Huh. Well, I wonder if you’d find it stupid to know that your younger brother is missing.”

  Elke swallowed hard. “What?” her voice came out unsteady.

  “I’m still calling the police,” said Amos. “This guy can’t come in here and bother you, Elke.”

  Elke shook her head. “It’s fine, Amos. He can stay.”

  Powell’s lips curved into a satisfied smile.

  Elke balled her hands into fists. She wanted to hit something. But what did this have to do with Patrick? Powell had already threatened her and the rest of them, and the quotes in those articles had been crazy. Back when they’d been working the Mukherjee case, they’d had the notion that maybe the police were out to get them, but it hadn’t turned out that way. Still, Elke couldn’t shake that concern. She knew it wasn’t the whole department, but she wouldn’t put it past a few bad apples.

  “But he’s Powell,” said Amos.

  “I know,” said Elke. “But I need to talk to him.” She ushered Amos out into the hall and closed the door behind him. Resting her back against the door, she surveyed Powell. “What do you want?”

  “You seem to have tamed that little reporter I had working on you,” said Powell. “I doubt he’s going to be useful to me anymore. So, I figured I’d try a direct approach. Lawrence, I know you’re still involved in your husband’s drug business. That didn’t bother me so much when you were in Gathopolis, but now you’re here, in my city, and I can’t let that stand.”

  Elke’s lips parted. She stared at him, wordless. She hadn’t expected that at all.

  “Not even going to deny it, huh? Good, that makes things easier. Here’s what I propose—”

  “This is about the Curtis Fisher case,” said Elke. “You put Fisher away.”

  “I did,” said Powell. “But, no, it’s not about that. I still think he’s guilty, but I already worked that case. Now, I’m working your case.”

  “My…?” She glared at him. “What? Aren’t you a homicide detective?”

  “Nah, not anymore. I moved into narcotics a few years back. Now, I’m convinced that you’re the person at the head of Felix Weaver’s empire. We already know that you visit him in jail quite a lot for a woman who’s divorced.”

  “That—that had nothing to do with—”

  “Drugs?”

  Damn it. Elke’s throat was closing.

  “Your brother’s involved too, right? Funny thing is, no one knows where he’s gone off to.”

  “What do you have on Patrick?”

  “Well, nothing concrete. Yet. But we’ll find something,” said Powell.

  Oh, God, this was crazy. “So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You’re not angry about the Fisher case, instead you’ve done all of this because you think I’ve broken the law?”

  “Trying to make you sweat,” said Powell.

  “And you’re revealing all of this to me now because…?”

  “Well, I don’t think you know what’s happened to your brother either. He just up and dropped off the face of the earth. We think you’ve been looking for him, but can’t find him, and maybe now you’d be willing to work with us, for your brother’s sake. So, tell me, Lawrence. Who do you think has taken Patrick? A rival drug gang? Maybe Jeremiah Russell’s boys?”

  “You have this all wrong,” said Elke. “I’m not involved with Felix’s business. Jeremiah isn’t some rival gang, he took over Felix’s business. And Patrick has nothing to do with any of it.”

  “Sure,” said Powell. “Then where is he?”

  “How many people in the department think I’m some sort of drug kingpin?” Queenpin?

  Powell just laughed. “Worried about your new little cover job now, huh?”

  “It’s not a cover,” she said. “This job is all I have. And it turns out I like it, and I’m pretty good at it, so I don’t want groundless accusations like yours to screw it up.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Powell. “You’re very good at playacting, Lawrence. I guess it served you pretty well as a lawyer too, being able to summon whatever emotion you wanted at a moment’s notice. But spare me. You’re not going to convince me. I know the truth. So, how about you think about it?”

  “Think about what?”

  “We could work out a deal. Maybe you roll over on Russell for a lower sentence? Maybe you wear a wire or something, help us take him down. He really does keep his nose clean. And, of course, we’ll help you find your brother.”

  She shook her head at him. “I would never—”

  “Just think about it. You don’t have to answer now.” He gestured at the door.

  She was still standing in front of it. She didn’t move.

  “By the by,” said Russell, “I think we got the right man in the Fisher case, but I did remember something the other day. I never got this into any of the reports. I was crazy busy back then, and filling out the paperwork is the worst part of the job, you know?” He chuckled.

  “You deliberately left things out of the Fi
sher file?”

  “No, not deliberately, as I was just saying. I meant to report it, but I got distracted, and then the DNA came back, and it was the kid, and we didn’t need it, so what was the point?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Murder weapon.” He lifted a finger. “The, uh, home economics teacher at the school was pretty sure it was hers. She kept a hawkeye on her knives, checked them at the beginning and end of each day. She said that day, she had her work study student do it, though, and something slipped through.”

  Elke parted her lips. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Well, if the kid’s innocent, there’s no reason for him to rot away in jail. I think he’s guilty, but I could be wrong.” He rubbed his chin. “I doubt what I just told you will help anyway. I mean, we never found the knife, did we?” He pointed at the door again. “You going to move, or are we going to be spending the night here?

  She jerked away from the door.

  He saluted her and left.

  She went and sat down at her desk. She wanted to call Patrick.

  But no, she should wait.

  Her hands were shaking.

  She stared at them, wanting to start crying.

  Instead, she took several deep breaths and turned to her computer. It took her five minutes to find the name of the home ec teacher at the high school, although they didn’t call it home ec anymore. They called it Family and Consumer Sciences. She was pretty sure they’d called it that when she was in high school too, though, and everyone had still said “home ec.” She couldn’t call the school or go down there, because it was too late. She and Iain had been there right at the last bell to talk to Sanders and Orange.

  Instead, she searched the database for the woman’s name—Donna Friday.

  She had a phone number two minutes later. But the phone numbers in the database were often outdated. She figured it was worth a try anyway.

  * * *

  Iain had managed to track down Holly’s kindergarten teacher, and found a phone number for her. Now, he was on the phone with her.