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“The only thing is, I’m pretty sure he didn’t. Move her, that is.” Sarah Jane gestured for Matthew to come closer. She turned her computer screen so that he could see it. “On Tuesday night, Simon Jordan was online. He posted a live video clip of himself playing a video game. He responded to comments as they came in, so I don’t think it could have been a recording. When he ended the live stream he stayed in the comments, and he also watched and commented on other posts. He was pretty visible.”
Matthew watched as Sarah Jane pulled up video clip after video clip. To him the content seemed inane. Pointless. Simon didn’t mention Nina or the fact that she was missing. He talked about the game he was playing and bitched about his course load at Northwestern. He seemed a little agitated, a little wound up, but you could watch the video and assume that this was a normal college kid who had nothing extraordinary going on in his life. His online activity slowed and stopped at around 2:00 A.M.
“If people arrived first at the house at six A.M. and he went offline at two A.M., that leaves him four hours. He could drive to Stowe and back in less than two. Do we think he could have moved the body in that time?”
Sarah Jane was nodding. “I’ve been thinking about that. And I think he absolutely could have, but he would have had limited time to bring her somewhere else, right? So it might make it easier for us to figure out where he brought her to.”
Matthew was still looking at the computer screen. Sarah Jane had stopped the video, and Simon’s face was frozen in a kind of smirking grin. Matthew gestured at the screen. “If Simon was doing all this to try to generate some kind of digital alibi, it wasn’t very effective. He left himself a window of four hours, which means he’s not in the clear.
“Let’s say it takes him fifty minutes to drive to Stowe. An hour to get to her, dig her body up, fill in the hole and disguise the area, and get her to his car. He’s got two hours and ten minutes left, including the hour it would take to drive home. I think he must have chosen a location somewhere between Stowe and Waitsfield. Somewhere he knows well. Ideally there’d be a building, right? So he doesn’t have to dig again. Worst-case scenario for him, somewhere he could stash her body quickly for a few days until he can find a permanent way to dispose of it.”
Sarah Jane looked grim. “That makes sense. I’ll start looking for possible locations.”
“It might be worth looking back over his social media feed. Look for local climbing or hiking routes he’s been on in the last year. See if you can find any derelict buildings nearby. Or weekend homes, I guess, might be an option. Though that would be higher risk.”
It would be like finding a needle in a haystack, but without a body this case was going to be all but impossible to solve.
“I feel like I’m going to end up with a pretty long list,” said Sarah Jane.
“Yes. But let’s get out and drive the routes away from the Stowe house today, and look for cameras. A lot of weekend homes have cameras on their gates now, or on their front door. If we’re lucky enough to nail Simon’s car on camera a few times, maybe we can start narrowing things down. I know it’s a lot of work, Sarah Jane, and the chances of a result are slim, but cases have been broken on smaller chances.”
Sarah Jane’s back straightened. “Absolutely.” She put her hands on her keyboard, hesitated, then said, “My friends call me SJ. You could, if you like. Not that we’re friends.” She flushed and kept her eyes on her screen.
“SJ,” Matthew said. “That works.”
Back at his desk he picked up the phone and dialed Arnie Waugh’s number. He was confident that Waugh would answer, Saturday or not, and he wasn’t disappointed.
“Mr. Waugh—”
“Call me Arnie, please.”
“Sure,” Matthew said, having no intention of it. “I’m following up on my call from yesterday, about Simon’s phone. If he’s willing to release it to us I can send someone to pick it up in the next half an hour. We’re happy to provide him with a replacement if he needs one.”
“I’m afraid we’re not going to be able to facilitate you there.”
“Mr. Waugh, I hope you told your client that this is a pointless delay. We’ll get this data one way or the other. Probably as early as next week.”
“Fact is, Detective, there’s a little bit of a problem with the phone.”
“A problem.”
“I called my client last night. He explained—and he was very embarrassed, I’d just like to make that clear—he explained that his mother borrowed his phone, to take a photo I believe, and then she dropped it in a lake. Entirely by accident, of course.”
Matthew looked across the squad room to Sarah Jane. He wanted to lock eyes with someone, to communicate the magnitude of the bullshit he was hearing, but Sarah Jane—SJ—had her head bent over her work.
“Which lake?” Matthew asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“Which lake, Mr. Waugh?”
“I believe it was a small lake on their own property. It really was an innocent mishap.”
“Right. So your client will consent to us searching for the phone?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Divers. We can send in divers, with specialist equipment. A small body of water like that, it shouldn’t be too much of a challenge to retrieve the phone. We can get a warrant, or you can get your client’s parents’ consent. What’s it going to be?”
