“No, no, I just ... I feel responsible for what happened in some ways, and I don’t want them feeling harassed now because of my trip.”
“When I spoke with Willow and Trish on the phone, they told me they were more than happy to meet with me. It’s completely voluntary of course.” Angie offered a smile that she hoped was warm and encouraging. “I’m not a cop anymore. I’m not in the business of forcing anyone to do anything. I’m just trying to paint for myself a picture of the trip and of Jasmine’s last months leading up to it.”
“You’re indulging Justice Monaghan. Do you know that?” Rachel’s gaze locked with Angie’s, and Angie detected hostility.
“She has questions. She offered me a fee to try to answer them.”
Rachel gave a soft snort. “So maybe it’s more a case of you taking advantage of her, taking money from an old woman losing her mind.”
Angie crooked up a brow. “That’s rather harsh.”
Wind gusted, and Rachel pushed wisps of silver hair off her face. “I’m sorry. But the justice has ... she has a reputation for being a self-centered rabble-rouser. She was like that throughout her career. A pontificating bear on her bench. Ask Willow. She’s a defense lawyer and has had the misfortune of appearing in Monaghan’s courtroom. She’ll tell you Justice Monaghan is probably doing this just because she can, to cause trouble and entertain herself.”
“You don’t like her?”
“I don’t like that she’s digging all this up again. It was hard enough for us to get over it the first time around.”
“I think I can relate to what the judge is doing,” Angie said. “I’ll be discreet with your friends. I just have a few simple questions. Beyond that I really don’t want to upset anyone.”
Rachel looked away. She exhaled deeply. “Fine. What else do you want to know from me?”
“Can you tell me how you first met Jasmine Gulati?”
Rachel moistened her lips. “Jaz took one of my script-writing courses. I used to give a summer series at the University of Victoria. She was an English major, was doing her master’s at the time of the trip, so I knew her as one my husband’s students as well. Doug was an English professor before becoming faculty dean.”
“Doug probably knew my father,” Angie said. “My dad was an anthropology prof at UVic.”
“I know.”
Their gazes met. And it struck Angie just how correct Jock Brixton was—she was infamous. Strangers knew personal things about her life. It would be nigh impossible to conduct future investigations without people knowing who she was, what her past was. What she’d done. But she was determined to use this to her advantage, cut her other losses. It was her only choice if she wanted her own agency and to get onto solid footing with her man.
“Can you tell me briefly your recollection of those last hours before Jasmine disappeared?”
Rachel took a sip from her mug as she cast her mind back. “We’d pulled out the boats in a camping area upstream from Plunge Falls, and we’d moved our gear up to what was to be our campsite for the night. The two guides—Garrison and ...”
“Jessie,” Angie promoted.
“Yes, Jessie. Jessie Carmanagh and Garrison Tollet. They pitched the tents and put out snacks. The rest of the group had gotten themselves set up with drinks. Jaz said she’d seen a hatch in a cove just downriver, and she was going to try a few more casts before it got dark. She left while Garrison and Jessie lit a fire, but they needed more wood. So they left the campsite right after Jaz to gather some.”
“And everyone else stayed put?”
“I also left the camp. After the guides. I followed the bank upriver along a promontory of land that jutted out into the Nahamish. From the point I filmed some footage looking back at the campsite. I wanted the ambience of the fire and smoke in the gathering dusk. I was there filming when I heard men screaming. I hurried back as fast as I could through the trees. When I got back to camp—” She paused, gathered herself. “That’s when I learned Garrison had seen Jasmine’s body going over Plunge Falls. He’d seen her from high above, where he was standing on a shale slope. He had a good view down to the waterfall.”
“You say ‘body.’ Was there a sense Jasmine was not alive at that point?”
Rachel set her mug down carefully. “No. I suppose I say that in retrospect, knowing now that she’s gone.”
Angie put another photo of the women in front of Rachel. She pointed. “In this image Jasmine is holding a purple book. Justice Monaghan believes it was her journal. She says Jasmine journaled compulsively for most of her life.”
“Yes. She was writing in it on the trip. Usually in the early evenings by the fire.”
“Any idea what happened to that book? It was not with the belongings returned to Jasmine’s family.”
“It wasn’t?”
“I have a copy of the itemized list. There’s no journal on it. Any idea what could have happened to that book?”
Rachel pursed her lips, then shook her head. “I can only surmise that it got lost among all the other camping gear at some point.”
