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Brook claimed the second chair, but she was now second-guessing her decision to speak with the chief in such a public setting. It wouldn’t be long before another group of students entered the gym. Unfortunately, there was now a lull in the surrounding conversations. It was easy to hear what others were saying, and she didn’t want others to overhear her. She had no choice but to purposefully steer the discussion into another direction.
“I saw Nicole earlier this morning. I heard that she was accepted to Notre Dame.”
Chief Conway’s daughter was also a senior, which was how he’d known Brook’s name. She and Nicole weren’t close, but Morton wasn’t that big of a town. Everyone basically knew everyone else.
“We are really proud of Nicole,” Chief Conway boasted with a smile. He tilted his head to the left. “And you? Did you want to discuss what it takes to be a law enforcement officer?”
“Um, maybe? I don’t know.” Brook slipped her fingers in between her knees. “I was thinking of majoring in psychology.”
“Psychology is a broad field,” Chief Conway said as he leaned back in his chair. He was dressed in his police uniform, and his red hair had been cut short, similar to those representing the military services at the other tables. Nicole had the same color hair and matching freckles. “It’s a college degree that you can utilize in many different ways. Are you wanting to know about being a social worker?”
“Not really.”
Brook was really messing up the opportunity to speak with Chief Conway. She could sense his confusion, but she really needed the next class of students to be ushered into the gym so that the other adults had their attention elsewhere. She’d thought that she had timed the moment perfectly, but she’d clearly gotten it wrong. She should have just said that she was interested in law enforcement and left it at that.
“I have a psychology degree,” Chief Conway admitted, taking Brook by surprise. She hadn’t given any thought to what the chief’s background was before taking on such a stressful position. She couldn’t imagine what it had been like for him to investigate Pamela’s murder. Morton was such a small town, and the chief and his wife were friends with practically everyone. “I then went on to get a master’s degree in criminal justice.”
Brook breathed a sigh of relief when one of the junior classes began to enter the gymnasium.
“Why did you switch?” Brook asked, giving herself more time. She also found herself interested in his choices. “Investigating murders can’t be easy, especially when you know the victims.”
Chief Conway glanced down at her lap.
“Do I make you nervous? Uncomfortable?”
“No,” Brook replied quickly, removing her hands from between her knees. She straightened her shoulders as she thought of ways to get the answers that she wanted regarding Pamela Murray. “I’m not nervous.”
“You wrapped your arms around your abdomen when you approached me, and then you clasped your hands together in between your knees after you sat down. Those are signs that you are unconsciously trying to protect yourself.” Chief Conway shrugged nonchalantly, though Brook sensed that he was trying to put her at ease. “Psychology plays a large part in my role as Chief of Police. I use what I’ve learned to read a victim or a suspect’s body language, as well as the indications my officers might display when explaining their own actions. If you had glanced up and to the left, you would have been telling me the truth.”
Brook realized that she’d looked to her upper right.
“Brook, you can ask me anything. There is no judgement here.”
“I was wondering about Pamela Murray’s murder,” Brook blurted out, leaning forward now that she’d told him the truth. There were a few sophomore boys who were approaching the table, and she didn’t want them to overhear her. “There was never an arrest made in her murder. Did you have any suspects back then?”
Chief Conway didn’t reply right away, and Brook feared that he could see deeper into the meaning behind her question.
“I saw Pam’s mom the other day,” Brook said when the chief took too long to respond. It was best to give him some type of explanation so that he didn’t think she had a personal motive in finding answers. “Seeing Mrs. Murray just made me curious. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“
“No. We didn’t have any viable suspects at the time.” Chief Conway motioned for the three boys to stay behind the yellow tape that had been placed on the floor about nine feet from the table. Since there were a lot of people talking at once inside the gymnasium, she was no longer worried that someone else would overhear their conversation. “Pamela’s murder took place close to seven years ago. Cases that go unsolved are labeled cold cases, but that doesn’t mean we don’t follow up leads as they come in. I do fear that is one investigation that might possibly haunt me into retirement.”
“What about DNA evidence? I saw a television show once that used DNA evidence to convict a murderer. Can’t you catch the killer that way?”
“I can’t discuss the specifics of Pamela’s case with you, Brook. What I can tell you is that most killers do leave behind trace evidence, but their DNA needs to be in one of the few criminal databases that we have access to without a warrant for us to get a match.” Chief Conway sighed in what Brook could only describe as exhaustion. “It would be nice if cases were solved the way you see on television. Unfortunately, it usually doesn’t work out that way. Many of our investigations are solved through exhaustive fieldwork and interviews. Once an individual has been identified, forensic evidence can often be used to solidify the case and explain how the crime was committed.”
Chief Conway had no idea that he’d given Brook some hope that she could finally obtain the answers she’d spent years searching for regarding her brother. Sheneededto prove to herself that she had an overactive imagination.
What kind of sister was she to believe that her brother could be a murderer?
Maybe the same kind of friend who let her bestie walk into the cafeteria by herself right before her boyfriend asked her to prom.
Brook brushed off the overwhelming remorse at not living up to her own expectations. She shouldn’t believe that her brother was capable of murder, just as she shouldn’t believe that her best friend had turned selfish this past year. Sally and Nate had grown close, but that didn’t mean she’d forgotten about Brook.
As for Jacob, Brook had basically only seen him a handful of times over the course of the past six months. He’d moved out after saving enough for a one-bedroom apartment in a rundown section of Peoria. The last she’d checked, he still worked at one of the used car dealerships there. It wasn’t like she went out of her way to see him when he came by the house, but every time that she heard his car pull into the driveway, her stomach cramped in knots.
When they’d been young, he would watch Saturday morning cartoons with her. He would color with her, and he would tell her silly jokes until she spit chocolate milk out of her mouth.
He’d been her protector.
