by Laura Snider
“Mr. and Mrs. Smithson,” Katie said, extending her hand. “So nice to meet you.”
The man eyed Katie’s hand, then stepped past her into the room. The woman shook it. She had a weak grip, and her palms were cold and slick with sweat.
“This is Officer Katie,” George said, gesturing toward Katie.
“Officer Mickey,” Katie corrected.
Mr. Smithson gave Katie a cool nod and Mrs. Smithson flashed a small, tentative smile.
“Right, right. My mistake.” George cleared his throat and straightened his suit jacket. Detectives didn’t have to wear the traditional blue uniform. There was no dress code, so George had started wearing suit jackets with jeans, an attempt to visually elevate himself above the rest.
“Have a seat wherever you’d like.” George motioned to the chairs on the opposite side of the table.
The conference room contained one long table surrounded by ten faux-leather rolling chairs. The chairs were worn, but they were high-backed and had that soft, broken-in feel. Detective Thomanson dropped into the chair next to Katie, and Mr. Smithson chose one directly across from George. Mrs. Smithson waited until her husband was seated and comfortable before choosing the chair across from Katie.
Katie watched the two interviewees closely. People often said plenty without even uttering a word. A few minutes around the Smithsons were plenty to start sketching a picture of the family dynamics. They had what some would term a “traditional” marriage. Mr. Smithson was the head of the household. He held the control. To Katie, that meant the buck stopped with him. All the glory, all the blame. But judging by his demeanor, she doubted he took a shred of the blame. That was left for Mrs. Smithson.
“Mr. Smithson,” George said, threading his fingers together and placing them on the conference table. “Your first name is Isaac, right?”
Mr. Smithson nodded.
“Mind if I call you Isaac?”
“That’s fine.” His voice was gruff but not outwardly intimidating. Deep with an almost hypnotic component to it. The kind of voice that seemed all-knowing, trustworthy. Easy to convince others to do things they might not have done without his encouragement.
“And Mrs. Smithson.” George turned his amber eyes to the woman. “You look lovely today.”
Mrs. Smithson smiled and patted her hair.
Katie blinked several times in rapid succession, annoyed.
“Her first name is Lyndsay,” Isaac said, hooking his thumb toward his wife. “You can call her whatever you want. She answers pretty well to ‘woman,’ too.”
Katie bristled. If the man was this disrespectful in front of police officers, Katie shuddered to think how he treated Lyndsay behind closed doors.
“Lyndsay it is,” George said, smiling broadly.
Of course, George would ignore Isaac’s maltreatment of his wife. He tried to pretend gender equality was important to him, but his actions told a different story. He didn’t care unless there was benefit in others believing that he cared. That benefit certainly didn’t reside anywhere within the vicinity of Isaac Smithson.
“I’m sure you know why you are here,” George said.
Isaac nodded. Lyndsay shifted her weight, staring down at her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Katie pulled a notebook and pen out of her pocket. She clicked the end of the pen and looked up at Isaac. She and George had discussed their approach before the meeting and decided it was best for George to handle the questioning. At least, George had decided it would be best for him to take the lead. Katie, as the inferior officer, didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.
“You have come to the police station of your own accord. You are not under arrest. You know the way in and out of this place, right?” George nodded toward the door.
“Yes. Same way we came in,” Isaac said.
Katie doubted Isaac knew the way out, but he wasn’t the type of man to ask for directions. The hallways in the police station were deliberately confusing, especially the one leading to the interview room. It wound around several cubicles and down two separate hallways. The walls of the building were all the same unadorned cinder block, leaving no clues, no breadcrumbs to mark the way out. Every turn was identical.
“You are free to leave at any time.”
It was something they told all interviewees unless the person had already been arrested. Not that Isaac and Lyndsay’s interview was expected to implicate them in any wrongdoing. The baby was their daughter’s, not theirs, and all evidence indicated that Rachel had been alone in that hotel room. Advising them of their rights was just standard procedure. It allowed all questions, even inculpatory ones, without first reading Miranda warnings. Miranda put people on edge. It made them guard their words. It was something best avoided during an investigation.
“We understand,” Isaac said.
“I’d like to get a little background on you and your family.”
Isaac nodded.
“How many children do you have?”
“None anymore.”
The guy had disowned his only child. Even before her conviction. Katie was struck with a sudden pang of empathy for Rachel. The girl truly was alone in the world. Much as Katie had been ever since she was sixteen. Rachel was eighteen, but in today’s world, that still felt like a child. Katie shook her head, reminding herself of Rachel’s horrendous actions. The girl was nothing like Katie had been as a child. Katie had to make tough decisions, but she never physically harmed anyone. Rachel had. She’d killed a helpless baby.
George tapped his fingers on the table. “Rachel was an only child?”
“Yes.”
“By choice or circumstance?”
Isaac’s eyes drifted toward his wife. “Circumstance. My wife couldn’t have more than the one. We tried. I wanted a boy, you see. But something is wrong with her body.”
“Miscarriages?” Katie asked.
Isaac ignored Katie entirely, directing his answer to George. “The babies all died in the first trimester. Something about a hostile environment.”
“Did that upset you?” Katie stared right at Lyndsay as she spoke, but the woman made no move to answer.
“It bothered me back then,” Isaac said to George as though they were the only two in the room. “Miscarriage after miscarriage. But knowing my wife, they would have all ended up as girls anyway. Seeing how Rachel turned out, I wish I would have stuck with no kids.”
Me. I. My. The world revolved around Isaac Smithson, at least in his eyes. Katie’s gaze traveled toward Lyndsay, who was sitting so still she looked petrified. Her eyes remained trained on her intertwined fingers, cast downward in a demure fashion. Deference to her husband. Katie would get no answers from her. At least not while her husband was around.
“So, just the one child,” George said. “Do you want grandchildren?”
Isaac shook his head. “We won’t have any. The only chance was that one sitting there in the morgue. Rachel won’t get knocked up where she’s going. I hear she has a public defender representing her. A woman. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that girl is getting out of jail.”
Isaac was underestimating Ashley. A mistake that far too many had made in the past. But Katie wasn’t going to correct him. He’d find out once he came face-to-face with the local public defender.
“Did you know Rachel was pregnant?” George asked.
Isaac sat up straighter and Lyndsay twisted her hands in her lap. This was the million-dollar question. One asked in all the news coverage and debated in the rumor mill down at Genie’s Diner. Everyone wanted to know the parents’ role in Rachel’s crime. If they knew, they could have done something. Found a doctor and provided prenatal care for Rachel. Kept closer tabs on their girl. Any small change might have resulted in the birth of a healthy baby.
“No,” Isaac said, slowly yet firmly. “We knew nothing.”
Katie could hardly believe that an eighteen-year-old could hide a full pregnancy, but it was possible if Rachel hadn’t g
otten very big. It was approaching winter, the season for large, baggy clothes.
“Who is the father of the child?”
“I don’t know for sure.”
“You don’t have any ideas? No boyfriends? Friends who might have turned into something more?”
“None that I knew about. But she was in school. Who knows what kind of trouble she got up to while there?”
The school would know, Katie thought, but did not say.
“If you ask me, that school counselor was a little too interested in her. He kept pulling her out of class. Talking to her. She didn’t have anything to say, but he kept trying.”
School counselor? Katie wrote on her notepad.
That was easy enough to follow up on. There should be records at the school. She hoped the school counselor didn’t turn out to be the baby’s father. Or any adult, for that matter. Rachel was seventeen when she conceived. A minor. An adult paramour would complicate the prosecution. Create sympathy for a girl who didn’t deserve any.
“Anyone else?”
“No.” Isaac pressed his palms into his eyes. “Well, actually, yes.”
“Who?”
“There was a guy who spent some time hanging around the house. He was in his twenties.” Isaac paused to think for a moment, then nodded. “Early to mid-twenties. He would stroll by the house around the time that Rachel was walking home from school. I told him to stay away from her, but he kept turning up.”
“Who was it?” George asked.
Katie sat up straight, pen poised and ready to jot down the name.
“I don’t know his name. He was a police officer from one of the Des Moines suburbs.”
“Do you know which suburb?”
“No. But like I said, he was young. In his twenties.”
It was a hint, but it didn’t narrow the field all that much. Des Moines was a city of suburbs. There was Ankeny, Clive, Urbandale, West Des Moines, Waukee, Pleasant Hill, Altoona, Norwalk, and Grimes. And those were just the names that instantly came to mind. There were more. Thousands of police officers in the Des Moines area would fit Isaac’s limited description.
“How about clubs or after-school programs?”
“None. Rachel went to school and came home. She was a loner.”
Katie clicked her pen, then leaned forward. “How about other people? Did anyone else visit your house regularly?”
Rachel’s baby had a father. It wasn’t immaculate conception, that was for sure. The lab would test the baby’s DNA, but unless the father was a felon or his DNA was already on file for some other reason, there was little chance they’d match it to anyone.
Isaac’s cool gray gaze slowly slid toward Katie. His lip curled into a sneer. For a moment, Katie thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he did.
“Nobody,” Isaac said. “I keep everyone off my property. Even cops.”
Katie narrowed her eyes. “Why cops?”
“I told you one has been hanging around my house, waiting for Rachel. I heard what happened around here with that John Jackie fella. The guy worked for you and he was a serial killer. I’m not letting the devil in through my front door. Especially if they are hiring people like you.”
Katie knew that he meant women. She had more talent and intellect in her pinky finger than he did in his whole body. And women, including Katie, were perceptive, a gift that Katie used to her advantage in investigations. It often took a while with witnesses, but she could differentiate between lies and truths.
Katie’s instincts told her that this man was lying. But why? It could be something as simple as a desire to make himself look better. Or it could be something far worse.
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Undetermined Death, Ashley Montgomery #2
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Acknowledgments
Writing is solitary work, requiring a commitment to put in the work, the everyday grind, to get the stories from my head onto the page. Bringing a book to publication, however, takes a village. It requires the hearts and minds of many. I have numerous people to thank for assisting me in my journey to publication of this book.
First, I must thank my family. My husband, Chris, and children, H.S, M.S, W.S, for their ever-present love and support. You make every day an adventure. I am fortunate to have all of you in my life. My parents, Madonna, Dennis, Alan, and Tammy, and siblings, Stephanie, Anne, David, Rachel, Megan, Kristen, for your constant affection and unrelenting belief in me. You are all integral parts of my life. You have shaped who I am today. You created the early stories, some of which have bled their way into my characters and their lives.
A special thanks to my agent, Stephanie Hansen, of Metamorphosis Literary Agency. Her constant determination and encouragement created the gateway for my books to see publication. Without her, this book would not exist in its current form. She literally makes dreams come true.
Thank you to all members of the Severn River Publishing Team. You saw potential in my books and in me. Your professionalism, organization, and attention to detail transformed a good book into a fantastic series.
Finally, I want to thank all the public defenders out there. This book is my wholehearted thank you for the work that you do every day. I am not one of you anymore, but I will always remember the days I spent fighting alongside you. You deserve applause. You deserve recognition. You deserve respect.
About the Author
Laura Snider is a practicing lawyer in Iowa. She graduated from Drake Law School in 2009 and spent most of her career as a Public Defender. Throughout her legal career she has been involved in all levels of crimes from petty thefts to murders. These days she is working part-time as a prosecutor and spends the remainder of her time writing stories and creating characters.
Laura lives in Iowa with her husband, three children, two dogs, and two very mischievous cats.
