A Deadly Fall
Page 3
“She is. She’s Sarah,” he said matter of factly. Judy’s best friend. I’d been part of the force long enough for Captain Edwards to know who was closest to our family and to keep an especially close eye on them when anything seemed amiss in town.
“Oh no,” I said as reality struck. “I can’t believe Judy didn’t recognize her. I know it’s been a while since she’s been in town, but they were inseparable for so long. And they had just been together last Friday. Why hadn’t Sarah’s name come up in a missing persons report?”
“We don’t know yet. We’re still trying to contact Jack. He’s been away on a business trip and is flying back right now. It looks like a hiking accident. There was a bad storm on Sunday, and the time of death is Sunday afternoon. If she was hiking and got caught in the rain, no telling how slippery the rocks and roots were, or how bad the visibility was. The location of her body looks like a bad fall that killed her.”
“But Judy is always talking to her when she’s in town. Just about every day. We found her on Tuesday, today’s Wednesday. Judy would have tried calling her between Sunday and now. She would have known something was up if she wasn’t hearing from her. Can we pull phone records, credit card purchases?”
“It was only two days between her death and when you found the body. We can’t pull that stuff yet. You know that. We need to find Jack. Why don’t you take another day. You’re too close to this. Take Judy out somewhere. I’m sure she’s still reeling from yesterday even if she doesn’t know it’s Sarah yet. You won’t want her to find out from the news. We haven’t released the name yet, and we won’t for a day at least. We have to notify her family first. But break the news to her in person, gently.”
“I need to be here. I’ll talk to Judy, make sure she’s with someone who can help her deal with this, but I need to be here. I need to work on this case. It’s my job and I can add information that others probably can’t.”
“Tomorrow you can start. That’s an order.”
I walked out of the office in a daze. Judy was going to be devastated. Hell, I was devastated. Ever since our family had moved here at the beginning of high school, Sarah and Judy had been inseparable. By the time they were in middle school and I was getting ready to leave for college, Judy was always tying up the phone lines with Sarah on the other end. She’d get off the school bus and immediately pick up the phone, continuing whatever conversation they’d been having. I never did understand how girls talked as much as they did.
Even with Judy traipsing all over the country, their friendship never seemed to be put on hold. Judy always came home for Sarah—her wedding and both miscarriages and seemingly insignificant life events as well. At least seemingly insignificant to an outsider. To them, everything was significant.
Judy always stayed with me when she visited, but it was Sarah who she was really visiting. I would get the short version of all of the events, including Judy’s personal struggle with changing her lifestyle and heading back to school. It was ultimately Sarah’s joy in her settled down life with Jack that convinced Judy that single traveling wasn’t going to fulfill her life’s mission.
And where was Judy now? I sent her a text, Let’s meet for an early lunch. And then it was a waiting game. I needed to figure out how to break the news while offering as much support as possible. She was going to be put through hell by having to give a statement and possibly testify if any viable suspects were dug up.
Sounds great. How ‘bout The Lazy River? she wrote back.
Meet you there at 11. Now we had a plan. I just needed to make my own plan. And fast. Somehow it was already past ten.
***
“What’s up, how’s work going today? Any progress on the ID of the body?” Judy asked as our food was placed in front of us and we both started to dig in. I’d had to make small talk and avoid work related topics until she had some food in her. I knew she wouldn’t be able to eat once I dropped this bomb on her.
“You never ask about work,” I said with a smile, not letting anything away just yet. I wanted to give her another few moments of thinking life was all good.
“I don’t usually show up first on a crime scene,” she laughed.
“Actually, there is progress. I was sent home. Captain told me to take today and start working again tomorrow,” I said, seriousness creeping into my voice and body language.
“Sam, what’s going on?” she asked, worried. She’d always been able to read me like an open book, even before we were close.
“Judy, there’s really no easy way to tell you this—” I paused. It was too much.
“Sam, you’re scaring me.”
“Judy, the body we found was Sarah.” There, I’d said it. Let the terror take over.
“What? No! It couldn’t be! I just saw her on Friday!” she said, clearly in denial.
“I know.”
“Does Jack know yet?” she asked.
“No. He’s away on a business trip. He’ll be home later today. He’s on the flight now so we haven’t been able to contact him.”
“It can’t be her,” she said again, clearly not having heard me talk about Jack.
I couldn’t break her heart anymore by trying to convince her. I knew when she was ready she would let the doubt creep in and then start to deal with reality. I’d let her at least finish lunch. Maybe bring her to Krista’s for the afternoon. She’d stopped working since she’d found out she was having twins and wanted to take it easy to avoid any early deliveries or complications.
“It’s can’t be,” she said again. “Tell me it’s not her.”
“Judy, it’s Sarah,” I said again.
“But. . .but. . .”
“Judy, I know it’s hard to accept, and I know you just saw her, but the body we found yesterday in the woods was Sarah. I’m here to help you get through this. Right now, it’s all about you and helping you deal with this. What can I do today to help you?”
“I need to see the body,” reality was settling on her and her eyes were losing focus. I’d seen that look before in the families of other deceased. We didn’t deal with many murders or deaths in our neck of the woods, but every detective knew the look of the recently informed.
“Judy, I’m not sure that’s a good idea—”
“Sam, I’m not going to believe it until I see the body,” she said, cutting me off.
“OK. I can bring you to the station. Let me pay for lunch and we’ll head over there.”
Marissa – April 2008
“License and registration,” the officer said to me.
I handed them over.
“Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked.
“Yes, I was speeding in a 35 mile per hour area,” I said.
“I have you going 55. There’s nothing worth going 20 miles per hour over the speed limit for. We have them for a reason. For your safety. And you’re putting everyone in danger by ignoring it.”
“Yes, sir,” I said with a deadpan expression. I wasn’t going to let him push my buttons and hike up the fine.
He walked back to his car to give me a ticket, I was sure.
“I’ll give you a warning this time,” he said when he came back minutes later. “I heard about your sister, Sarah. Some things are worth rushing for. But take it slower the last few miles.”
I was shocked. I didn’t know cops made exceptions like that. I was five miles from Sarah and Jack’s, back in my hometown, hoping to help Sarah. She’d had a miscarriage days earlier—her second one. She hadn’t suffered too much after the first one ten months earlier. It was early in her pregnancy and had only found out the week before that she was pregnant. They hadn’t been trying, but were excited nonetheless.
This time she was five months along and they’d been trying. The first pregnancy had kick started their desire to start a family together and they couldn’t wait to be parents.
“Sarah? Where are you?” I called quietly when I let myself into their house after knocking and no one coming to the door.r />
“She’s sleeping right now. She’s been sleeping a lot the last week,” Jack said as he walked to the front door.
“How are you?” I asked Jack, putting my bags down to give him a hug.
“Hanging in there. We were really excited to be parents in a few months. She’s taking it especially hard, but she’ll get through it. Thanks for coming to help get her out of her funk.”
“That’s what sisters are for. I know I don’t make it out here much, but she does mean the world to me,” I said.
“I know. She talks about you a lot and the childhood you had.”
“But she never makes it out to visit!” I said with a laugh. In all my years in upstate New York she’d only come out once. Before she was married.
“She doesn’t like the drive. I encourage her to go when I’m away for work, but she says she doesn’t want to do the drive alone. And I can’t miss that much work to come out.”
“It’s OK. I know it’s a commitment. I only make it out here about once a year. We all have our own lives and own agendas that don’t fit into everyone else’s when we grow up. I just know we had all these plans when we were young and then we seemed to have completely lost touch.”
“It’s the same in our family too. I hardly ever talk to my brothers and only see them once a year at family holidays. It’s funny how people brought up in the same environment, from the same parents, with as similar backgrounds as possible, can be so different later in life.”
I didn’t have a response for that, but let it mull over in my mind, nodding my agreement.
***
“Sarah! I hope I didn’t wake you!” I rushed out of my chair to hug her. I was shocked at her appearance. She was pale and fragile looking. Not the Sarah of our childhood or her early adult life. She had always been fit and tanned from all of her time spent outdoors. Since marrying Jack, she’d made sure to hike at least twice a week, in all weather. She always talked about how being on a trail rebalanced her. Mentally, emotionally and physically.
“Marissa—” she started, but then just collapsed into my arms and sobbed.
“Sarah, I’m here. I’m here,” I consoled her.
“Marissa, it was a girl.”
“I know. There will be more.”
I could tell she didn’t want to hear anything from me. I could only imagine her pain. I hadn’t ever gotten close enough to someone to even consider starting a family, but here she was, having lost her second baby. There was no comparison. I couldn’t relate. All I could do was let her mourn her loss.
Jack went outside to let us be together. I offered the only solace I could—a sister’s long absent embrace.
“Sarah, let me make something for lunch. You look so thin.”
“I can’t eat. This is all too much.”
“Sarah, you have to. Jack is still here. And Casino. I bet he’s been missing his twice weekly hikes with you.”
“We stopped those when I found out I was pregnant,” she said.
“So he’s been waiting five months for them to start again!” I said with enthusiasm I knew she didn’t feel.
“Marissa, do you ever wonder about the miscarriages Mom had? We could have had more than just each other. We could have had another sister or a brother or two,” she said, a lost look in her eyes.
“But maybe we wouldn’t be here then.”
“You would have. There was only one miscarriage before you were born. And another between us. Why do you think they kept trying?”
“Because they knew we’d be worth it. Sarah, you can’t think like this. You’ll get through it,” I reassured her.
“I don’t want to. It’s not worth it. What if I can’t have kids? It’s too hard to lose a baby. She was so little. I saw her. She was a little person. But she never even got to take a breath.”
We were sitting on the couch now. I watched Sarah, but her eyes were unfocused at a spot on the rug. She wasn’t truly here. She was back in the hospital reliving her nightmare. There was nothing fair about it, but I needed to convince her life was still worth living.
“She was blue when I saw her. The doctors had to do an emergency c-section. I went into labor too early. I should have been on bed rest. I should have quit working. I should have taken it easier from day one.”
“You can’t look back. You have to look forward. You can’t change what happened. She would have been lucky to survive even if she’d been born alive. She was four months premature. Think about the challenges she would have had. What kind of quality of life could she have enjoyed?”
“She would have been my daughter. I would have taken care of her no matter what health problems she had.”
“I know.” I couldn’t argue with her. She was beyond depressed and needed to want to be helped out of it before I could get through to her.
***
“Sarah! You’re up early!” I had been with them over a week and had barely made progress with Sarah’s depression. Jack and I were tag-teaming her, trying to use food and activities that were her known favorites. Casino was also a huge help, his puppy-dog-eyes pleading for at least a short walk or game of fetch with his favorite person. Judy was also planning to visit within the next few weeks. Nothing had worked.
“I thought I’d make everyone breakfast!” she said with a grin. Pancakes were piling up on a plate and bacon was sizzling away in the pan on the stove. “Coffee?” she asked.
“I don’t mind if I do,” I said. I wasn’t sure this mood would last, but I was happy to see her focusing on a new task.
“I’m going to plant a garden today,” she declared with certainty.
“That’s great!” Jack and I had been enticing her for days to start buying seeds and getting the yard ready for planting. Each day was getting warmer and we didn’t want to miss our window of opportunity to plant in time for a successful harvest in the fall.
“Do you want to come to the store with me after breakfast to pick out seeds?” she asked as I sat down, ready to enjoy the feast she’d created.
“I’d love to!” I said, purely happy for her return to life.
“Look who’s up!” Jack said and walked over to kiss his wife at the stove. “It’s great to see you in here.”
“What have you been eating this last week? I hope you haven’t made Marissa cook for you!” Sarah teased. We all knew Jack was hard pressed to make anything other than a cheese burrito in the microwave. If Sarah had her way, she wouldn’t even have a microwave. She probably partly blamed it on her miscarriages.
“Hah! If you only knew. Your sister is barely a better cook than I am!”
“That can’t be true! We grew up in the kitchen. Mom loved cooking and I learned everything I know from her!” Sarah staunchly defended me.
“You grew up in the kitchen. I spent most of my childhood with Mom depressed about the miscarriage a year after I was born. It wasn’t until middle school and you were in elementary school that she started cooking again.”
“But that would have been the perfect time to start learning! I was too young still to learn anything then,” Sarah said.
“She was a terrible cook! When I was in high school, she took a cooking class and got serious about it. But by then I was already used to eating frozen dinners after she went to bed because her meals were inedible,” I said, laughing. I couldn’t believe Sarah remembered this so differently!
“Well you’ll have to stay here longer so I can teach you a thing or two,” she said and put three plates of pancakes and bacon on the table. “Bon appétit!”
“Thanks Sarah!” Jack and I both said, digging hungrily into our breakfast.
***
“It’s so good to see you happier today, Sarah. I was really worried about you,” I told her when we were in the car together. Jack was taking the day to give Casino some exercise on a hike. Sarah still didn’t feel quite up to that amount of exertion, but I was confident she’d get there sooner rather than later.
“It’s good to be back. It was so h
ard losing the second baby. I don’t think I told you, but I didn’t find out if it was a boy or girl until. . .until the miscarriage. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to pick a name. I was too worried about a repeat of what happened last time. It was too much.”
I sat in silence as she drove, happy she was finally unloading some more instead of keeping it all in.
“I tried to keep myself optimistic, but there was always a fear in the back of my mind. And then. . .and then I started feeling not good again, like the first time. Like last summer when I lost the first baby. But I was so much farther along this time. When I started having contractions, Jack didn’t believe me at first. But when my water broke, it was too late. We rushed to the emergency room and they took the baby out immediately. But they were too late too. Her lungs weren’t fully developed and she couldn’t take a breath. But, I know we’ll be able to have a baby. I know we will. We’ll be the best parents.”