Katherine’s mouth twists like she tasted something bad. “Is this about us or the Lassiters, Agent Schultz?”
“Scholl. Agent Matthew Scholl.” I give her a reassuring smile. I want to win her over, but she’s giving me fed up vibes.
“How well do you know the Lassiter family?” I’ll get right to it then. I’m not sure how long until Roger escorts me out the door.
“It turns out not well at all.” Katherine carefully places her coffee cup down and picks the towel back up to twist. “I once considered Joan one of my best friends.”
“Lousy friend if you ask me,” Roger grumps under his breath.
“Roger, shhh.” She swats at his arm with the towel. “Joan was easy to like. Direct, down to earth, and didn’t put on airs.”
I would agree. My dealings with Joan Lassiter gave me the same impression. I could see Katherine and Joan as friends. They both appear to be strong and direct. “At some point that changed?”
Roger rolls his eyes and says, “Are we going down memory lane here?” He squirms in his seat. “What does any of this have to do with those nasty daughters of hers?”
Before I can school my features, my mouth drops open. In all the interviews very little negative was said about either of the twins. It was hinted at that one of them could be on the cruel side, competitive but that was downplayed. “What do you mean?”
Katherine gives him a look and he heaves out a humorless chuckle. “Forget it.”
“Agent, those girls were evil incarnate. No one would be honest at the time about them, out of respect for John and Joan, but…” Katherine shakes her head and drops her eyes to the table. “From a very young age you could see signs of what was to come.”
Unexpected. But I need more. Examples of what she’s talking about. “Could you tell me what those signs were? Do you remember an instance?” I make sure my phone is recording and tap the pen against my thigh. A small notebook stays blank in my other hand.
“Kath, don’t go down this road,” Roger warns her as he stands to lean an arm on the chair he just left. “Remember the fallout last time.”
Roger leaves the room saying harsh sounding words that are inaudible to me. Katherine watches him leave, remaining still. When she turns to face me again, her eyes are filled with tears. “We’ve never healed. Losing our son, then our daughter. It’s been too much. He’s not usually this unfriendly, I apologize.” Daughter? There is a lot about the Bradfords that are absent from the original case file.
“You lost a daughter?” I don’t mean to get offtrack, but I want to establish rapport with her. I want her on my side.
“Carolyn.” She sniffs and clutches her hands together in front of her. “She’s two years younger than Rafferty. Idolized him.” A faint smile briefly graces her face. “She…” Katherine takes a deep breath. “She took her life. I think losing Rafe… it was too much.” My heart seizes up for seconds, this poor family. There are moments in my career where I want to hit rewind. It’s in these personal moments where raw pain is on full display. It squeezes the hell out of my heart.
“I can’t imagine.” I shake my head. “I’m so sorry for your losses.” I hope she can hear the sincerity in my statement. But how often is that common refrain used, and it comes across as nothing but obligatory?
Katherine whispers, “Thank you.” She gets up and rummages in a cupboard over her coffee station to make another pot of coffee. Then she stops what she’s doing and makes her way to a photo album lying on a side table. She strokes it lovingly as she walks back to the dining room table. Sliding it my way after gazing at the family photo on the cover. “All my kids look like they were cut from the same cloth. So similar in looks. That’s Amelia, she’s four years older than Rafferty, that’s my son, and that’s Caroline. She always had such an adorable head of blonde curls.” Her voice catches at that.
I look down at the photo and freeze. Jesus Christ. It’s like looking at the baby I held at Camp Carroll or Willa Peterson’s child, Waverly. Identical. What the fuck is going on here? I must look shocked, since Katherine says, “What? What is it?”
Swallowing a couple of times, I temper my voice carefully, “Do you know anyone by the name of Willa Peterson?”
She shakes her head no. “No. Who’s that?”
Indeed. Who the actual fuck is that?
I page through the photo album and on the last page my breath catches again. I know why Waverly, the Camp Carroll baby and the Bradford’s daughter all stick in my head. Eden. Eden resembles them all. I cover my mouth and swear to myself.
“Mrs. Bradford, do you know the name of Christine Davis?” Eden’s mother was from a wealthy family in the area. Could there be a link there?
“I don’t? Who are these people you’re asking me about? Did Rafe know them?” A hopeful lilt in her voice makes me feel like an ass. She’s wanting answers about her son and I’m on a completely different track.
Katherine can’t give me much more about the Lassiters’ disappearance other than vague insinuations that they were little psychopaths. She’s convinced herself that Rafferty was murdered because of them. That he’d never end his life. I don’t ask her about his years of drug abuse contributing to his death. I’ve done enough dredging in this woman’s past today.
18. CALEB
I’m seeing the Center with different eyes now. The nurses, especially the one that hates me, all talk down to the residents. Like we’re dumb. Maybe we’ve had a different journey in life than most, but that doesn’t mean we’re not smart. The hospital is sending in a homecare nurse to change bandaging on my wound and check for infection. I’m happy about that. I don’t have to question what they may be doing to me.
Dr. Xiong wants to talk about my attack today. Matt’s warning about the staff is on my mind. I don’t want to tell her anything. “Caleb, I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re going to be okay.”
One of the pictures on her wall is crooked and I can’t stop looking at it. “Oh…” How do you respond to that? Someone tried to kill me. “I don’t feel very okay.”
