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He moved to the kitchen and tested the back door. It was locked. He flipped the dead bolt, and as he opened the door, the alarm again chimed a warning. Why hadn’t the killer tripped the alarm? He closed and locked the door.
He opened several cabinets to find dishes perfectly stacked. In a utensil drawer, the forks, spoons, and knives were polished and arranged in neat stacks. On the counter was an arrangement of apples. All the stems were facing up. Complete order.
Opposite the counter was a nook area serving as a home office. There were several pictures pinned to a bulletin board above the desk. All featured a smiling Jennifer with her cat, a dark Siamese with a bent right ear.
A small laptop rested in the center, papers stacked uniformly on the left, unopened mail on the right. He flipped through the unopened mail to find several bills and a couple of pieces of junk mail. He sat and opened the small drawer. Pens, pencils, paper clips, and stamps. He wondered how she found the time to be so meticulous.
He pulled the drawer out a little farther and ran his hand along the back edge inside. The wood was smooth, empty, and then his fingertips brushed what felt like paper.
He removed a stack of five folded notecards bound by a rubber band. The author had used block lettering and bold black ink.
He read each note.
My Girl, you’re still a beautiful woman.
My Girl, would you like a ride to work?
My Girl, I think about you all the time.
My Girl, remember that last summer by the river?
My Girl, what is your biggest regret?
The contents of each note were benign enough. However, if the author were a stalker, the repeated anonymous messages signed only with a heart would have been menacing. The heart written in blood in the shower or the flowers under her bed proved it.
Adler checked, and Jennifer had not filed any police reports. If she had been worried about a stalker, she’d not reached out to the police.
He pulled a plastic evidence bag from his pocket and bagged the notes. He checked the remaining drawer, but it contained more office supplies. He opened the computer and discovered it was password protected by a six-character code.
He tried the year of Jennifer’s birth plus her initials. That didn’t work. He tried her address. Nope. Didn’t work. He typed in Morris. No success. Resigned, he decided he’d have to leave the encryption to the geeks in the tech department.
Next he inspected the refrigerator. Fully stocked with fresh vegetables and several bottles of sparkling wine. There was also a takeout container from a pub just around the corner. In the freezer, chocolate ice cream and a bottle of top-shelf vodka stared back at him.
In the living room, an old fireplace painted in black lacquer looked as if its flue had been sealed and was no longer functional. She had arranged candles in the base of the fireplace in a circular pattern, which he supposed was to create a mood. All staged. He moved to a small closet packed with winter coats and several styles of boots. On the top shelf was a box. He lifted the lid and inside found a scrapbook. He sat in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace and opened it. The pictures dated back several years.
He turned the pages slowly until he came to a collection taken on the boulders at the James River. He spotted Jennifer immediately and noticed all these pictures featured not only her, but also three other girls. He flipped over one of the pictures. The inscription read: Me, Erika, Kaitlin, and Gina. He focused on Kaitlin’s face. The rich sweep of mahogany hair warmed her face and mirrored the color and texture of Gina’s. They could have been sisters.
Both Kaitlin and Gina wore wide grins. However, Kaitlin’s eyes were tired, whereas Gina’s were bright. In another image the girls were standing on the boulders at Pony Pasture. Behind them, the river was low, leaving exposed large granite slabs for kids to sun themselves on warm days. Had these pictures been taken right before Gina vanished?
He replaced the photo and turned the page. After the river pictures the book was blank. The memories ended.
Using his phone he took snapshots of the images. What were the chances Jennifer had narrowly avoided a kidnapping and then fourteen years later ended up murdered?
His phone rang. It was Kaitlin.
“I have that recording.” Her voice had a rusty edge that sounded seductive.
“I’m at Jennifer Ralston’s home now.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you. Wait for me.”
He found himself looking forward to seeing her. Given another set of circumstances, he’d have welcomed the prospect of pursuing her. “See you soon.”
Kaitlin grabbed her jacket and descended the stairs to her car parked in the lot. She drove up into Church Hill and found a spot a half block beyond Jennifer’s townhome.
She shoved her hands in her pockets and moved up the brick sidewalk toward the row house encircled by the yellow crime scene tape. As she stared up at it, Detective Adler strode out the front door. His expression was grim as he stripped off black latex gloves and came down the sidewalk toward her. She wasn’t the only one having a bad day.
“I went to see Randy Hayward,” she said.
“So he agreed to see you.”
“He called me out of the blue and asked to meet.”
“You gave him your number?”
Using a tactic from his playbook, she deflected his question. “He’s an important piece of the puzzle.”
“And?”
“And he said he knows how to find Gina.” She held up her hand before he could voice the rebuttal glistening in his narrowed eyes. “I know, he’s a thief, liar, and con man. But he said Gina’s attacker had cut her ear off. That detail was never mentioned in the press. The cops told me not to tell anyone, and I didn’t. Hayward also knew the earrings she wore were borrowed from me. He gave them to me as a gift.”
Adler’s glare was unnerving. “How long has he been in jail?”
“One month. He couldn’t have killed Jennifer.”
He didn’t respond.
“I know Gina wasn’t your case. But Hayward wants me to find someone whom he can deal with. I thought about you.”
He stared at her. “What does he want?”
“He wants to trade what he knows.”
“For a reduced sentence?”
“I suppose. He’s been in and out of the system for over a decade,” she said. “He knows how it works.”
“I’m not in a position to make a deal with him,” Adler said.
She wasn’t going to let Adler off that easy. “But you know who can?”
“Yes.” He tightened the fingers around the latex gloves. “It’s a hell of a long shot.”
“Isn’t it worth pursuing? Gina vanished in your jurisdiction, and there’s no statute of limitations on murder.”
“Assuming Gina is dead,” he said.
She cocked her head. “You think she’s alive?”
His jaw pulsed. “No.”
The flap of yellow crime scene tape caught her attention, and a glance past him reminded her how brutal Gina’s death had probably been.
Saying nothing, he opened his phone and held it up to her. It was a picture of her with Gina, Jennifer, an
d Erika. Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.
“When was this taken?” he asked.
“The last night.”
“How do you know?”
“Gina is wearing the green dress, and I have on that white top. It’s what we both wore that night. Where did you get this? I’ve never seen it before.”
“It was in Jennifer’s photo album.”
“Ashley snapped several pictures of us when she dropped Jennifer off.” Feeling suddenly unsteady, she handed back his phone and fished in her backpack for the disc of Jennifer’s interview. She wasn’t planning on giving him every interview she’d done just yet because she didn’t fully trust him, but she needed his help with Randy. Give a little to get a little. “This is the interview I did with Jennifer.”
He tapped the disc against his hand. “Let me make some calls about Hayward. I won’t jump too quickly, because I don’t want him thinking he’s in control. He’s not.”
Urgency churned in her belly. “He really might know something about Gina, and maybe Jennifer.”
“He might. Might not. But he does know what you want, and he’s using it.”
Adler was right. Wanting led to vulnerability. “Detective, it’s our best option right now.”
“Okay, I’ll make some calls. He’s kept his secret fourteen years. He can keep it a little longer.”
“Any idea who killed Jennifer?”
“A few.” He made no attempt to share.
She nodded toward the security camera mounted on the house across the street. “There are cameras everywhere here. One of them must have captured something.”
The crooked smile again tugged the edge of his mouth. “I’ve done this before.”
“Right, sure.” She tightened the grip on the strap of her backpack. “Jennifer’s mother died about five years ago. And her father died when she was a kid. It was just Ashley and Jennifer.”
“You keep up, don’t you?”
“When it comes to the girls by the river I do.” She shook her head. “Have you requested Gina’s missing person file?”
“I have.”
She chose her next words carefully. “Be warned, it paints me in a bad light. I’m a different person than I was then. I made terrible mistakes. I can’t make them right, but I can help bring Gina home.”
