by Lisa Regan
She felt a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach as she watched them try to revive the lifeless woman. Every minute that passed was like another nail in her coffin. Breathe! Came the silent shout in Josie’s head. But after twenty more minutes of valiant efforts, Owen sat back on his haunches and wiped sweat from his brow. “You wanna call it?” he asked Sawyer.
Sawyer looked up and met Josie’s eyes for a brief second. His short black hair was soaked and stuck up in spikes when he pushed a hand through it. He looked at his watch. “Time of death 9:12 a.m.”
Owen stood. Addressing Josie, he said, “I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” Josie said.
Patrick gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We don’t know how long she was in the water. It’s possible that reviving her was never going to work.”
“That’s true,” Sawyer said. He looked around them. The guard pushed through the doors, letting in a brief but welcome breeze. Following him was campus police chief, Hillary Hahlbeck and two of her officers. Then came Josie’s colleague, Detective Finn Mettner. Mett had started his career on patrol in Denton and moved up to a detective position. Of the four officers in investigative roles, Mett was the youngest and least experienced, but he had already taken the lead on some of the city’s toughest cases, and Josie had full confidence in him.
Chief Hahlbeck pulled up short when she reached them. Petite and compact with shoulder-length curly brown hair and pale blue eyes, Hillary had been hired by the university almost a year ago. She was at least fifteen years older than Josie, in her late forties, and had experience working for a large police department elsewhere in the state. “Oh lord,” she said in a regretful tone as she stared down at the woman on the tile. “This is not good. Not good at all.”
Josie took a good look at the drowned girl’s unlined face for the first time. Her olive skin had taken on a sallow hue, and her brown eyes were glassy, sightless orbs. She was obviously young, likely one of the university students, and she looked familiar, although Josie couldn’t place her.
Mettner had his phone out and Josie knew that his note-taking app was open and ready to go. “What happened?” he asked, joining them.
Josie said, “I met Pat here because I had one of his work shirts. We walked in from the lobby. I saw her floating in the water.”
Patrick said, “Josie jumped in, got her out, and did CPR until the paramedics got here.”
Mett raised a brow and pointed a finger at Josie’s shirt. “Is your shirt pink? Is that from blood?”
Josie pulled at the collar of the soaked shirt. Her sopping wet clothes hung heavy on her exhausted limbs. “No. No blood. This is from a laundry incident.”
Mettner gave her a raised brow and then began tapping away at his phone. “No blood,” he muttered to himself.
Hillary looked to the security guard. “Gerry?”
Josie turned to see that the guard’s pale skin was flushed pink and his brown eyes were watery, broken blood vessels snaking through the whites of his eyes.
He was crying.
“Gerry,” Hillary repeated, her tone firmer.
Gerry wiped at his eyes with the knuckles of his right hand. “That’s Nysa,” he choked out.
Hillary said, “I know who it is, Gerry. I recognize her from TV. What time did she get here?”
Immediately, Josie realized where she’d seen the dead woman before. Over the weekend, the local news station had run a story on Denton University’s swim team. They had highlighted two sophomores, one of whom was Nysa Somers. She’d been touted as the best swimmer on the team and the recipient of a large scholarship awarded by a very rich Denton University alumnus. Josie remembered the videos of her swimming, her strong, lithe limbs cutting the water effortlessly. At the end, the video had cut to her standing beside the pool with several other teammates, a red swim cap covering her long brown locks. Her head was thrown back in laughter. The image came back to Josie now, in stark contrast to the corpse at her feet. Sadness floated up from deep within her, but she pushed it back down, trying to focus on the scene at hand. They still didn’t know if this was some kind of horrific accident or a crime. Josie needed more information.
Patrick said, “I saw her on TV.”
“I—I can’t believe this,” Gerry stammered. “I’ve been here twenty-seven years and I’ve never had anything like this happen.”
Mettner said, “Gerry? You work in the lobby?”
Gerry nodded. From a breast pocket he produced a tissue which he pressed against one eye and then the other.
Mettner said, “All students enter through the lobby?”
“Yes,” Gerry said. “That’s the only way they can get in. There’s two doors at the back of the building but only campus staff can get into those, with their key cards.” His gaze drifted back toward Nysa. “Jesus. I had no idea. She was in here alone. She comes almost every day to swim. I had no reason to think—I should have checked, I…”
Hillary said, “Gerry, it’s okay. You did your job.”
“Did I? That girl is dead, and I don’t even know what happened.”
Josie wondered how close he had been to Nysa for her death to affect him so much. Or was he simply more sensitive to tragedy than some? Josie had seen countless reactions to sudden, tragic death from people with and without personal connections to the deceased. The reactions ranged from complete stoicism to hysteria. She looked at Mettner, silently communicating her question. He tapped away on his phone, likely making a note to investigate the connection between the guard and Nysa Somers. To Gerry, she said, “Did you see Nysa this morning when she came in?”
“Of course. That’s my job. She was here earlier than usual but yes, she came in the front door. She said good morning to me, smiled, and went into the pool area.”
Josie said, “What time was that?”
“Around six. I usually get here around five forty-five and then open the doors at six, even though on Mondays no one comes in that early. Nysa came in right after I unlocked the doors. Usually she comes in at eight.”
Josie asked, “There wasn’t anyone with her?”
“No.”
Josie looked at Nysa’s body again, her eyes moving from the white tennis shoes heavy on her feet to the white tank top and lacy pink bra underneath that Owen and Sawyer had carefully pulled back over her torso to cover her nakedness. “Was she carrying anything?”
Gerry’s hand froze, tissue inches from his face. “What?”
“Did she have a bag with her? Swim bag? Purse? Backpack, maybe?”
“I don’t—I don’t remember. I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
Mettner said, “Did you see anyone outside with her before she came in?”
“No. I can check the footage to make sure.”
“Footage?” Josie asked hopefully.
Gerry looked around the perimeter of the room. “We’ve got CCTV cameras in the lobby and on the exterior of the building.”
Disappointment stabbed at Josie. “But not in here? In the pool area?”
“I’m sorry, no,” Gerry answered. “They tried a couple of times but with the humidity, they had problems. Cameras kept breaking. New ones are supposed to be installed next month.”
Which didn’t help them now, Josie thought.
Hillary said, “They’ll want to see any footage we’ve got, Gerry. Probably need copies, too.”
Josie nodded. To Gerry, she said, “Did Nysa seem like her normal self? Or did she seem different?”
“No, not different,” Gerry answered. “She seemed the same as always. Maybe a little distracted. Sometimes she chats with me, and sometimes she just goes right in to swim. Today she just went inside. I figured she was focused on getting her swim in before her classes.”
Josie asked, “Did anyone come in after her?”
“No. It was just her till you two showed up. Like I said, Monday mornings are really slow.”
“So she was alone in this area?” Mettner clarified.
“Yes.”<
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“No one else was here working or doing anything else in the building?” Josie asked. “The locker rooms, the back of the building?”
“No. Just me.” He pointed to Patrick, still standing next to Josie. “Until he got here, but he went right to the vending machines. Then you showed up.”
Mettner said, “You didn’t hear anything after Nysa came in here? From the pool area?”
“No. Nothing.” He pressed a palm down on the top of his head. “I keep going over it in my mind, wondering if I missed something. The doors were closed but even with the doors closed, sometimes I can hear the kids hollering to one another. I keep wondering if she screamed. Did she scream? Did I not hear her? But why would she scream? She’s the best swimmer on the university team. She wouldn’t need saving from the water. But maybe something happened, and she did. My wife always says that drowning is silent. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what to think. I—”
Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. Hillary tutted. “Gerry, I know you’re upset but try to pull yourself together.”
“It’s fine,” Josie said quickly. She put a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
“I know this is very upsetting, Gerry,” Josie said. “You’re doing great. Do you think you could pull up that footage for us now?”
“Oh yes,” he said. “All the footage is in a room at the back of the building. I’ll get it for you.”
Hillary nodded at one of her uniformed officers who shepherded Gerry toward the back of the room and through a set of unmarked doors. Gerry used his key card to open the door. Josie could see a cinder block hallway beyond it.
Sawyer cleared his throat. “What’s the plan?”
Josie looked at Mettner. “Call the ERT and Dr. Feist,” she said, referring to Denton Police Department’s Evidence Response Team and the medical examiner. “Get a patrol unit up here to have this place sealed off. One officer at the front door and one at the pool doors. No one comes in or out until further notice.”
Mettner nodded and turned away from her, swiping at his phone and pressing it to his ear. Patrick sat down on a nearby bench. Everyone else stared at Josie, as though waiting for instructions. She was about to ask Chief Hahlbeck to station one of her officers at the door to the pool when a door between the pool and the lobby whooshed open. A female voice drifted ahead of its owner. “…nobody here. What the hell is going on?”
Josie pegged her for a student, given her shorts and oversized hooded sweatshirt. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It swung from side to side as she strode toward them. As she drew closer, Josie saw a smattering of freckles across her face. Big brown eyes widened in shock as they landed on Nysa’s form.
“Miss,” said Chief Hahlbeck, blocking her way.
But the woman pushed the Chief aside and ran toward the body. “Nysa!” she cried.
Josie thrust her arms out and caught her before she could reach the body. Momentum sent the two of them into a half-twirl. Josie kept one hand clamped over the woman’s upper arm as she tried to steer her back toward the exit. “I’m sorry, miss. You can’t be here right now.”
She contorted her body, trying to look back at her friend as Josie pushed her toward the door. “Nysa! That’s Nysa, isn’t it? Oh my God. What happened? What the hell happened?”
Six
Josie guided the young woman into the lobby. The cool air was a balm to her soaked and sweaty body. Steering the woman toward the benches lining one of the lobby walls, Josie told her, “I’m very sorry, miss. You’ll have to wait out here.”
Beneath her fingers, Josie could feel the woman’s arm muscles tense. She sucked in a deep breath and on the exhale, said, “That was Nysa, wasn’t it? Oh my God. Is she dead?”
Josie said, “Would you like to sit down?”
“I can’t. I can’t sit right now. What happened?”
Josie let go of her arm and immediately she hugged herself. Tears glistened in her eyes.
“What’s your name?” Josie asked her.
“Christine. Christine Trostle. I’m Nysa’s roommate. She didn’t come home last night so I thought maybe she’d be here. Oh my God, is she dead?”
Christine’s burgeoning hysteria was palpable. Josie kept her voice calm and even. “We haven’t made a positive ID yet, but yes, we believe that the woman you saw inside is Nysa Somers, and I’m extremely sorry to tell you that she passed away. She was found in the pool. We tried CPR, but we were unable to revive her.”
A small line appeared in the center of Christine’s forehead. “CPR? For what? Did she, like, have a heart attack or something, while she was swimming?”
Josie thought about what they knew. The university’s star swimmer had been found floating face down in the pool. No bag, no bathing suit beneath her clothes. She’d still had her shoes on when Josie jumped in to get her. Had she come to swim at all?
“We don’t know,” Josie told her. “I’m afraid we don’t know much of anything at this point. My name is Detective Josie Quinn with the Denton Police Department. My team will be investigating her death. The medical examiner is on her way, but it may be days or even weeks before we have a definitive answer. What we really need right now is as much information as we can get about Nysa. You said you were roommates. How long have you known Nysa?”
Christine balled her fists inside her sleeves and used one of them to wipe at her tears. She looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Josie knew her brain was trying desperately to process what she had just seen and been told.
“Christine?” Josie said softly.
“Since freshman year,” she said, swallowing.
“You’re both sophomores now?”
Christine nodded and used her sleeve to dab at more tears. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “This can’t be happening.”
Josie tried to keep her focused on answering questions. “Were you roommates during your freshman year?”
“Yes. We were in the dorms. We got to be really close, so when it was time to get housing for this year, we decided to rent a student apartment together.”
“Where are you from?” Josie asked.
“Vermont.”
“Is Nysa also from Vermont?”
Christine shook her head. Her eyes wandered upward to the ceiling. “No. New Jersey.”
“I understand that Nysa was on the swim team. Are you on the team as well?”
Another shake of her head. “No. No way. I’m a terrible swimmer. Jesus. I can’t believe this.” One of her hands snaked out of its sleeve, reached up, and tugged hard at her ponytail. Finally, she met Josie’s eyes. “You said she was in the pool. Now she’s dead. Did she drown?” Before Josie could answer, Christine asked, “How in the hell does Denton University’s best swimmer drown alone in a pool?”
“We’re going to find out what happened,” Josie assured her. “Christine, you said Nysa didn’t come home last night, is that right?”
“Yeah. I was worried.”
“She didn’t come home from where?” Josie asked.
“The library. We had dinner in the commons last night and then I went back to our apartment, and she went to the library.”
“What time was that?” Josie asked.
“Around six, six thirty. Nysa had a paper due in one of her English classes and things can get pretty loud over in our area of student housing, even on a Sunday, so she wanted the quiet.”
“Did she walk? Or drive?”
“She walked,” Christine said. “Her car is still outside our place.”
“She walked from the commons to the library around six, six thirty and you didn’t see her after that?” Josie clarified. “Are you sure she didn’t come back to your apartment? Maybe after you were asleep?”
Christine shook her head. “I’m sure. I texted her at nine—the library is open till nine thirty—and she said she was finishing up. Then I was doing some reading for my history class, and I noticed it was eleven
and she hadn’t come back or contacted me so I texted her again.” Christine reached into her sweatshirt pocket and took out her cell phone. She punched in a passcode and scrolled through a few screens. Then she turned the display toward Josie so she could read the text exchange between the two women.
At 11:03 p.m. Christine had texted: where r u? everything ok?
At 11:04 p.m. Nysa had responded: Everything’s good. Met up with a friend on the way back from library. Don’t wait up.
Then at 11:06 p.m. Christine wrote: Friend? What friend???
There was no response after that.
“I waited up until twelve thirty and then I fell asleep. I got up at seven fifteen because I’ve got a class at eight, but she wasn’t home. I looked in her room, but I couldn’t tell if she had been home or not ’cause her bed was a mess. She never makes it. Her toothbrush was dry as a bone though, which made me think she didn’t come home. I called her phone, but it went right to voicemail.” She swiped on her phone a few more times and then showed the display to Josie again. This time there was a call log showing that Christine had called Nysa three times between seven sixteen that morning and eight thirty. “I called a few times. Nothing. I didn’t know what to do, so after my class I thought I’d check here. I mean, Nysa is in the water every chance she gets. If she’s not home or in class, she’s here. I figured that if she wasn’t here, maybe some of her teammates would be. Maybe someone saw her. So I walked over here. Jesus. She’s really gone?” Her voice went up two octaves. “I just don’t understand. How can she be dead? This makes no sense.”
“Do you have any idea who she might have met up with last night?” Josie prodded. “Who the friend was that she referred to?”
“No. I don’t know. I just figured it was someone on the swim team. Those people are tight, you know? They hang out a lot.”
Josie made a mental note that the swim team members would have to be interviewed. She said, “Christine, when you last saw Nysa, was she carrying a purse or a bag of any kind?”
