Her Last Word
Page 45
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Kaitlin had asked Susan to pick up a few things at her apartment. She set her laptop aside. “I’m glad to see a friendly face.”
Susan set the vase by the bed and sat, balancing Kaitlin’s small knapsack on her lap.
Sitting up a little taller, Kaitlin studied the floral arrangement, remembering the flowers sent to Audrey Mason’s hospice room and her own lecture.
“How are you feeling?” Susan asked.
Kaitlin looked away from the flowers. “Good. I’m on the mend and ready to leave.”
“Do the police have any leads in your case?” She leaned in a fraction.
“The cops are on it. It’ll be fine.” Drawn back to the flowers, she studied the blossoms. “Where did you get these?”
“They were delivered to the office. I thought I’d bring them along because they’re so lovely.”
“Was there a card?”
“No, the delivery man said they were for you.”
Kaitlin frowned. The flowers delivered to her aunt and to her lecture room also had no cards attached.
“What’s wrong?” Susan said. “You look worried.”
She smiled, but her mind didn’t settle. “Nothing’s wrong. I expected there would be a card.”
Susan studied the flowers. “The news is reporting the woman stabbed in Church Hill might have had a stalker.”
Kaitlin touched one of the soft flower petals. “That’s what I heard.”
“You’re so careful about giving out your phone number and contact information. Even the faculty picture of you doesn’t really look like you.”
“I’ve always been a stickler for privacy. It’s nothing.”
Susan moved the bouquet to the windowsill. Sunlight caught the flowers, creating shadows among the delicate petals.
Susan returned to the edge of the bed. “You think the guy who stabbed you sent the flowers, don’t you?” she asked.
“No,” she said too quickly. This conversation dug into her worries. “Do me one more favor and give these flowers to the nurses. They’re so kind. I want them to enjoy them.”
“Okay.” Susan looked suddenly nervous. “Don’t worry about your class, I’ve got Lexi covering it.”
“There’s not much to cover. The kids should’ve turned in their interview films to me on Sunday, and then they’re on break. I should be up and running when they get back.”
“There’s no rush.”
Kaitlin detected an underlying meaning. “I can do my job, Susan.”
Susan fiddled with a silver bracelet. “I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”
“And if I say I’m fine, and I’ll be back in a week?”
Susan released the bracelet and then fumbled with a loose thread on her sleeve. “Then I would say take the rest of the semester off. Give yourself a chance to heal and for the police to catch the guy who did this to you.”
Embers of resentment simmered.
“They’ll catch the guy who stabbed me. You have nothing to worry about.” The statement was meant to convince herself as well as Susan.
“I know. I’ve already spoken to Detective Adler, and we discussed your case.”
“Detective Adler came to see you?” She hated being discussed.
“Yes.” Susan looked sheepish. “He wanted to know if there were people who wanted to hurt you. I told them I didn’t know of anyone. Everyone I know thinks you’re great.”
Susan was killing her with kindness, but Kaitlin sensed more. “If you’re firing me, have the backbone to say the words.”
“I didn’t say I was firing you. You need to rest, and then we will reevaluate in a few months.”
“I have a signed contract for the summer session. So you better find good cause, or you’re opening yourself up to a lawsuit.”
Susan’s lips thinned. “That’s drastic.”
Kaitlin tipped her head back. “Susan, you’re looking out for yourself and the university. I get it. But honestly, it gets a little old when the victim gets the shaft and everyone piles on.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
Kaitlin refused to have this discussion. “Don’t forget the flowers.”
Susan’s lips pursed into a wan smile. She took the vase, holding it slightly away from her, and then left the room without looking back.
Kaitlin gripped her remote control, resisting the urge to toss it across the room. She tapped her index finger on the “On/Off” button, knowing the last thing she wanted to do was watch a stupid game show.
She closed her eyes and immediately assessed her situation. She had money in savings, which was enough for the next few months of rent but not enough for the lawsuit she’d just threatened Susan with. She had time and a place to heal. She would soon work out her next move.
Anxious to get her life back, she tossed off her covers. Drawing in a breath, she pulled her legs over the side of the bed. Fire burned in her belly. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to return to her work. Her life.
She took a step a little too quickly. She hissed in a breath as sharp pain gripped her. “This is bullshit.”
Like it or not, she needed more time. For now, she was trapped.
INTERVIEW FILE #17
GINA’S BOYFRIEND, TOM DAVENPORT
Friday, February 16, 2018
“Tom Davenport.” His voice is deep, crisp, and sounds annoyed over my speakerphone.
“Tom, this is Kaitlin Roe.” Davenport dated Gina the spring semester of her senior year. They were king and queen of the prom and voted Most Likely to Be Amazing. Everyone thought they’d be together forever. Until Gina broke up with Tom six weeks before she vanished. She told me that their relationship didn’t make sense anymore. She was going to Duke and Tom was attending Virginia Tech. Time to enjoy their new lives at college.
“Who?” Papers shuffle in the background.
“Kaitlin Roe. From Saint Mathew’s High School. I was Gina Mason’s cousin.”
Silence settles between us. Then he mutters a curse. “What do you want?”
“I’m making a podcast. I’m trying to find Gina.”
A chair squeaks in the background.
“She vanished fourteen years ago.”
“But no one has found her. I’m hoping a podcast will draw attention back to her case.”
He laughs, but the sound is bitter, not joyous. “That’s kinda rich, don’t you think?”
“Why?”
“You hated her.”
Gina was everything I wasn’t in high school. And admiration and resentment are a razor’s edge apart. “I’m trying to make it right.”
He swears again. “You can’t make it right.”
“I can try to find her.”
“The time to fix this was fourteen years ago, before you abandoned Gina.”
The line goes dead.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Monday, March 19, 2018; 7:00 p.m.
Adler returned to his desk, a large fresh coffee in hand, to find a stack of surveillance footage of the Jennifer Ralston residence. On the top was a note from Quinn. For your viewing pleasure. Footage supplied by two homeowners near Ralston residence. I’ve been summoned to the forensic department on another case. Q.
He loosened his tie and sat. Leaning back in his chair, he sipped his coffee and selected the first disc. He hit “Play,” and a rear view of Ralston’s residence appeared. Judging by the angle, the camera was mounted on the house across the alley.
Susan set the vase by the bed and sat, balancing Kaitlin’s small knapsack on her lap.
Sitting up a little taller, Kaitlin studied the floral arrangement, remembering the flowers sent to Audrey Mason’s hospice room and her own lecture.
“How are you feeling?” Susan asked.
Kaitlin looked away from the flowers. “Good. I’m on the mend and ready to leave.”
“Do the police have any leads in your case?” She leaned in a fraction.
“The cops are on it. It’ll be fine.” Drawn back to the flowers, she studied the blossoms. “Where did you get these?”
“They were delivered to the office. I thought I’d bring them along because they’re so lovely.”
“Was there a card?”
“No, the delivery man said they were for you.”
Kaitlin frowned. The flowers delivered to her aunt and to her lecture room also had no cards attached.
“What’s wrong?” Susan said. “You look worried.”
She smiled, but her mind didn’t settle. “Nothing’s wrong. I expected there would be a card.”
Susan studied the flowers. “The news is reporting the woman stabbed in Church Hill might have had a stalker.”
Kaitlin touched one of the soft flower petals. “That’s what I heard.”
“You’re so careful about giving out your phone number and contact information. Even the faculty picture of you doesn’t really look like you.”
“I’ve always been a stickler for privacy. It’s nothing.”
Susan moved the bouquet to the windowsill. Sunlight caught the flowers, creating shadows among the delicate petals.
Susan returned to the edge of the bed. “You think the guy who stabbed you sent the flowers, don’t you?” she asked.
“No,” she said too quickly. This conversation dug into her worries. “Do me one more favor and give these flowers to the nurses. They’re so kind. I want them to enjoy them.”
“Okay.” Susan looked suddenly nervous. “Don’t worry about your class, I’ve got Lexi covering it.”
“There’s not much to cover. The kids should’ve turned in their interview films to me on Sunday, and then they’re on break. I should be up and running when they get back.”
“There’s no rush.”
Kaitlin detected an underlying meaning. “I can do my job, Susan.”
Susan fiddled with a silver bracelet. “I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”
“And if I say I’m fine, and I’ll be back in a week?”
Susan released the bracelet and then fumbled with a loose thread on her sleeve. “Then I would say take the rest of the semester off. Give yourself a chance to heal and for the police to catch the guy who did this to you.”
Embers of resentment simmered.
“They’ll catch the guy who stabbed me. You have nothing to worry about.” The statement was meant to convince herself as well as Susan.
“I know. I’ve already spoken to Detective Adler, and we discussed your case.”
“Detective Adler came to see you?” She hated being discussed.
“Yes.” Susan looked sheepish. “He wanted to know if there were people who wanted to hurt you. I told them I didn’t know of anyone. Everyone I know thinks you’re great.”
Susan was killing her with kindness, but Kaitlin sensed more. “If you’re firing me, have the backbone to say the words.”
“I didn’t say I was firing you. You need to rest, and then we will reevaluate in a few months.”
“I have a signed contract for the summer session. So you better find good cause, or you’re opening yourself up to a lawsuit.”
Susan’s lips thinned. “That’s drastic.”
Kaitlin tipped her head back. “Susan, you’re looking out for yourself and the university. I get it. But honestly, it gets a little old when the victim gets the shaft and everyone piles on.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
Kaitlin refused to have this discussion. “Don’t forget the flowers.”
Susan’s lips pursed into a wan smile. She took the vase, holding it slightly away from her, and then left the room without looking back.
Kaitlin gripped her remote control, resisting the urge to toss it across the room. She tapped her index finger on the “On/Off” button, knowing the last thing she wanted to do was watch a stupid game show.
She closed her eyes and immediately assessed her situation. She had money in savings, which was enough for the next few months of rent but not enough for the lawsuit she’d just threatened Susan with. She had time and a place to heal. She would soon work out her next move.
Anxious to get her life back, she tossed off her covers. Drawing in a breath, she pulled her legs over the side of the bed. Fire burned in her belly. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to return to her work. Her life.
She took a step a little too quickly. She hissed in a breath as sharp pain gripped her. “This is bullshit.”
Like it or not, she needed more time. For now, she was trapped.
INTERVIEW FILE #17
GINA’S BOYFRIEND, TOM DAVENPORT
Friday, February 16, 2018
“Tom Davenport.” His voice is deep, crisp, and sounds annoyed over my speakerphone.
“Tom, this is Kaitlin Roe.” Davenport dated Gina the spring semester of her senior year. They were king and queen of the prom and voted Most Likely to Be Amazing. Everyone thought they’d be together forever. Until Gina broke up with Tom six weeks before she vanished. She told me that their relationship didn’t make sense anymore. She was going to Duke and Tom was attending Virginia Tech. Time to enjoy their new lives at college.
“Who?” Papers shuffle in the background.
“Kaitlin Roe. From Saint Mathew’s High School. I was Gina Mason’s cousin.”
Silence settles between us. Then he mutters a curse. “What do you want?”
“I’m making a podcast. I’m trying to find Gina.”
A chair squeaks in the background.
“She vanished fourteen years ago.”
“But no one has found her. I’m hoping a podcast will draw attention back to her case.”
He laughs, but the sound is bitter, not joyous. “That’s kinda rich, don’t you think?”
“Why?”
“You hated her.”
Gina was everything I wasn’t in high school. And admiration and resentment are a razor’s edge apart. “I’m trying to make it right.”
He swears again. “You can’t make it right.”
“I can try to find her.”
“The time to fix this was fourteen years ago, before you abandoned Gina.”
The line goes dead.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Monday, March 19, 2018; 7:00 p.m.
Adler returned to his desk, a large fresh coffee in hand, to find a stack of surveillance footage of the Jennifer Ralston residence. On the top was a note from Quinn. For your viewing pleasure. Footage supplied by two homeowners near Ralston residence. I’ve been summoned to the forensic department on another case. Q.
He loosened his tie and sat. Leaning back in his chair, he sipped his coffee and selected the first disc. He hit “Play,” and a rear view of Ralston’s residence appeared. Judging by the angle, the camera was mounted on the house across the alley.
