The Girl in Kellers Way

by Megan Goldin

  ‘I have thirty seconds, Dennis. Spit it out.’

  ‘We found a torn piece of a disposable glove in the soil at the scene,’ he said rapidly. ‘There was a partial print on the inside of the latex that, incredibly, withstood the ravages of time. But it was too small and too faded for us to do a proper analysis. I sent it to a friend at the FBI lab three weeks ago. He got back to me this evening to say that it’s a match.’

  ‘A match for whom?’ I put up a finger in Joe’s direction so he’d know I’d get off the line in a second. I’d promised the boys not only to take them to the barbecue but to help out and mingle with the other parents. My kids deserved my undivided attention for two lousy hours. There were too many school events and sports meets that I missed.

  ‘The prints are a match for Julie West. My FBI pal assures me there’s no doubt. The only problem is that the forensics probably won’t stand up in court. The technique they used is new. A defence attorney would drive a truck through it on the stand. But my pal says it’s accurate. He swears by it, Mel.’ The words tumbled out of Dennis’s mouth.

  I couldn’t blame him for being excited. It was the biggest break in the case. We had motive. We had opportunity. And now, we had evidence Julie West was present at the crime scene.

  ‘Great,’ I said, trying not to emulate Dennis’s euphoria. There was still a long, tough road ahead until we got an indictment. ‘I’ll talk with Will about our next move.’

  ‘Hey Mom.’ Sammy sat down next to me on the bleacher as I hung up the call. He dipped his head in the way he does when he’s disappointed but doesn’t want to show it. ‘It’s all good, Sam.’ I squeezed his shoulder. ‘Let’s go cook some sausages.’

  I texted Will while I barbecued the rest of the sausages and six dozen hamburger patties. The kids scoffed them down in five minutes flat.

  Will and I decided that we’d head over to the Wests’ house straight after the barbecue. I kept quiet until after ice-creams were served and people started making noises about heading home. That’s when I told the boys I needed to drop them at home and go to work.

  ‘C’mon Mom,’ said Sammy. ‘Nobody’s leaving yet. Everyone’s staying until much later.’

  In the end, I arranged for Jason Scott’s parents to drop them at home. Our regular sitter would meet them at the house and ensure they went to bed on time because I had no idea when I would be getting back. The Scotts lived at the end of our street so it wasn’t out of their way. I’d really hoped to go home to change and wash out the grilled-sausage smoke in my hair before heading to the Wests’ house, but I was running late and there wasn’t enough time.

  ‘Why do you smell of cooked meat?’ Will asked when I picked him up in the police car park.

  ‘Dinner,’ I said ‘For about sixty hungry baseball players!’

  I sprayed myself with a perfume to mask the smell of barbecue when we parked outside Matthew West’s house. It did nothing to make me feel less grimy.

  ‘Let’s do this,’ said Will as we climbed out of the car. It was pitch dark, but someone was home. The driveway gates were wide open and a car was parked outside the garage.

  While I’d been barbecuing, Will had convinced the prosecutor at the DA’s office that we had enough evidence for an arrest warrant and a search warrant. The plan was that we’d ask Julie West to come willingly back to the station for a discussion but, if she didn’t agree, the judge would have the warrants signed by 9 p.m. at the latest, after his weekly squash game. The prosecutor’s office was sending an attorney over to the judge’s fitness club with the documents drawn up and a black pen at the ready for his signature.

  I knocked on the stained glass panel next to the Wests’ front door. A light immediately turned on inside, followed by footsteps in the hall. There was a loud click as the bolt opened. Matthew West looked expectant and then disappointed when he saw us.

  Under the bright light of the hall chandelier his face was flecked with worry.

  ‘Thank God you’re here,’ he said, running his hands nervously through his hair. ‘Julie and Alice haven’t come home. Julie’s not picking up her cellphone. Her phone and the car’s GPS tracking have been turned off.’

  ‘Were they supposed to be out?’ asked Will.

  ‘Yes, Julie said something about trying out a new ballet school. But they should have been home by now. I have a bad feeling,’ he said, swallowing hard, ‘that Julie may have taken Alice.’

  ‘Why would she take Alice?’ I asked.

  ‘Julie’s had anxiety issues. It’s become worse since Laura’s body was found. She doesn’t sleep. She has memory lapses. She’s constantly jealous. And she’s erratic. One minute she’s hyper. An hour later she can barely move.’ He checked his watch. ‘They’re almost an hour late.’ He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he led us into his study.

  ‘Is Julie getting therapy?’ I asked when we were sitting on the expensive leather couch in his dimly lit study. He poured himself a drink with trembling hands.

  ‘Julie wouldn’t see a therapist,’ he said. ‘God knows I tried to get her to see someone. I’ve been doing everything I can to help her. I’m clinically trained. Our family doctor has been prescribing her medications, but she doesn’t always take them. I never thought Julie would lay a finger on Alice. She adores her. But she’s been so irrational lately; paranoid at times. I should have never left Julie alone with Alice. I should have seen the signs.’ His voice was raw.

  ‘We’ll need a complete list of the medications your wife is on and any medical records,’ said Will. ‘Before you do that, please write down your wife’s cellphone number, the licence plate number of her car and her credit card numbers.’ Will handed him his notebook. ‘We’ll run the numbers through our system and trace them if she turns on her phone or uses a credit card.’

  ‘There’s something else,’ said Matt, as he wrote out his wife’s cell number.

  ‘What?’

  ‘After our conversation about insurance I realised that I’d been lax, so I had all our jewellery assessed by my insurer. One of the pieces was a diamond pendant that Julie inherited from her grandmother. Anyway, I received a letter from the jewellery assessor this afternoon suggesting the diamond in Julie’s pendant was the diamond from Laura’s engagement ring. Laura was wearing that ring when she disappeared. I immediately contacted the assessor to tell him there was a mistake.’

  ‘What did he say?’ asked Will.

  ‘He said he’s certain it’s the same diamond. I can’t believe I’m saying this,’ said Matthew, almost to himself. He took a deep breath. ‘I think that Julie might have killed Laura.’

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Julie

  I walk with the barrel of my gun pressed into Emily’s back. We stumble into the darkness of the forest with only a thin beam of light from my torch to show us the way.

  ‘Keep walking,’ I order. Her shoulders heave as she weeps silently.

  Our bodies are pressed together as if we’re a single being. I get a whiff of the familiar honeysuckle scent of Emily that’s infused my marriage for so long. The scent is different tonight though; it’s mixed with fear, and the pungent earthy odour of the forest.

  I shove the gun between her shoulder blades. She flinches. I could end this with a gentle squeeze of the trigger. Ever so softly. And it would all be over. The temptation is overwhelming.

  We reach a clearing. Emily’s tired, barely able to stand. Her legs are trembling violently. From the cold? From fright? I don’t know. I care even less.

  ‘Stop here.’ She turns to face me, uncertain but compliant.

  Emily’s pale, fragile face reminds me of a doe the moment after it’s shot, when the realisation it’s dying clouds its eyes and the pupils flicker in terror at the unknown.

  ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ Emily whispers. ‘I don’t want to die.’ An owl hoots somewhere in the forest. She jumps in fright.

  I almost feel sorry for her as she cowers in fear, shivering uncontrollably. She’
s pitiful now that she’s in my territory, under my control. My senses are at their peak. Adrenalin pumps through me. I’m finally taking back my life. Did Emily really think that I was going to sit back and allow her to destroy it all?

  I take off my jacket and throw it to Emily. ‘Put it on,’ I tell her. ‘It’ll keep you warm.’

  She puts on the jacket with a confused expression. She’s not sure how to interpret my gesture.

  ‘Sit down,’ I order abruptly. When she fails to respond, I push her down onto a pile of leaves. I sit opposite her, cross-legged like a high-school camper. The forest is my natural habitat. I’m not afraid of the dark or the shadows. My whole life with Matt has been filled with shadows, and deception. His deception. And mine.

  ‘Tell me, Emily.’ I hear sobbing. I’m surprised when I realise the sobs are mine.

  ‘Why Matt? Why did you have to go after him?’

  ‘I didn’t go after him,’ she says. ‘There’s nothing between us. Please believe me.’ Her voice rises in hysteria.

  Her words take me back to when I was a student. To Matt’s sudden interest in my work. Extra study sessions. Mentoring. His warm breath against my neck as he leaned over to point out a line in a textbook. I felt flattered by his interest. Intoxicated by him.

  ‘Stop blaming everyone but yourself, Emily!’ I shout so suddenly that it makes her jump. ‘You played a part in this too. It wasn’t just him.’

  ‘Please, I swear to you,’ she says, tears streaming down her face. ‘There’s nothing between us. I have a boyfriend, Charlie. We’re talking about getting married. I’m not having an affair with Professor West. I swear it.’

  ‘I’m not having an affair with Professor West,’ I mimic her prissy, entitled voice. ‘Enough games, Emily.’ I’m composed again. I speak so quietly that she strains to hear me.

  ‘I can prove it,’ she says. ‘Look at my phone.’

  I train my gun on her as she opens her purse and throws me her phone. She tells me the passcode and I unlock the phone.

  ‘Look at the photos from this morning. Last night.’ Her voice is laced with desperation.

  I scroll through her photo folder. There is a series of shots of Emily with a man, mid-twenties, light brown hair, round silver glasses. Definitely not Matt. The photos document their evening at a restaurant last night, right down to a picture of a dessert plated up in layers of luminous colour.

  I scroll to the next set of photos, back at her apartment where there’s a selfie of the two of them on the couch, arms around each other. The next photo is of Charlie sleeping bare-chested next to her in bed. I recognise the floral sheets. I check the date of the photo. She’s telling the truth. It was taken this morning.

  I scroll through her text messages. She’s been messaging ‘Charlie’ all day, flirty messages filled with emojis.

  ‘How long have you been together?’ I think back to the times I parked my car outside her apartment at night and watched the silhouette of a man through the drawn, illuminated blinds. I assumed it was Matt.

  ‘We’ve been together for almost five months, but we’ve kept it low-key because he wanted to break up with his old girlfriend in person. She’s in Seattle. He shares an apartment with roommates, but he spends most nights with me. I swear I’m not having an affair with your husband. He’s my professor, and my faculty advisor. I would never do that. Professor West,’ she looks suddenly embarrassed, ‘he’s a lot older than me.’

  I turn my head as we both hear rustling in the bushes. It’s from squirrels or raccoons scampering up a tree in search of food. ‘Please let me go,’ she says, following my glance. ‘I don’t blame you for being upset. I would be angry too if I thought my husband was cheating on me.’

  She looks at me expectantly to see if her words have worked. Ever the psychology student.

  ‘Please,’ she begs as I remain silent and impassive. ‘I’m really scared. I don’t want to die.’

  I look at us as if I am watching from above. Two women in a forest clearing. Me with a loaded gun pointed at her head. Emily terrified that she is about to die. What has Matthew done to me? What have I become?

  ‘Nobody is going to die,’ I tell her. I am not yet sure what to do. Or how I will keep that promise. I know Matt is having an affair with someone. If not Emily then who?

  I stand over Emily’s huddled frame. I have the power to determine her fate. And my own. I know what I have to do.

  ‘You can go,’ I tell her. She looks at me, uncomprehending. ‘Go.’ I toss her the car keys. They fall onto the ground next to her. ‘All I ask in return is that you take care of Alice. Make sure she’s safe.’

  Emily bends to pick up the keys. She takes a first hesitant step in the direction that I gesture towards with my gun, back to the car. She takes another step and another until she disappears through the trees. I turn in the other direction.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Julie

  I navigate through the forest as if I was born in this wilderness. The nocturnal hum of animals and night-birds foraging for food rises into a crescendo that eventually drowns out everything, even the police sirens wailing in the distance.

  I work my way across the forest using instinct and occasionally the light of the moon when it creeps through the foliage. I jump over logs and run through thick brush. I trip more times than I care to count. My clothes get torn, thorns scratch my skin and draw blood. When a chopper hovers low over the forest, I press myself against the rough bark of an oak tree until the harsh spotlight of the chopper moves in the opposite direction.

  I make my way to the edge of the forest and enter familiar territory. I can see into our house from my hiding place in the brush. It looks naked and exposed with the curtains wide open and the rooms lit up. I watch uniformed police rifle through my cupboards and carry boxes from my bedroom to the downstairs hall. A female and a male cop come onto the patio, where they spread a map across the table and hold a heated discussion. They both wear navy bomber jackets with ‘Police’ written in yellow letters. Even in the dark, I recognise the woman. She’s the detective who came to the house to question me. I can’t hear what they’re saying over the deafening cacophony of cicadas.

  I sit with my back against a tree and drift off. When I wake, the house is dark and quiet. I walk in the shadows towards the back gate, which has blown off its hook in the wind. Matt should be more careful. The deer will tear up the flowerbeds by morning.

  I collect my spare key from under a pot plant, soundlessly unlock the French doors and slip inside. The house is dark except for a strip of light under Matt’s study door. I open it to find him sitting like a statue on the brown leather sofa. He is drinking a double bourbon, neat, with the open bottle on the floor next to him. The flush across his face tells me this is far from his first drink.

  ‘Sit down,’ he says unsteadily, tapping his hand on the seat next to him. I obey. I don’t know why. Force of habit, I guess.

  ‘The police think you did it,’ he slurs.

  ‘Did what?’ I ask in a shaky voice.

  ‘Killed Laura.’ He says it so matter-of-factly that it makes me flinch.

  ‘Why would they think such a thing, Matt?’ I ask as a wave of nausea rushes up my throat. We sit so close that I can smell the stink of alcohol on his breath.

  ‘You’re asking the wrong question, Julie.’ He talks to me like a grade-school teacher lecturing a failing student. ‘The correct question is: why wouldn’t the police think that?’

  Matt pauses to let me contemplate the implications of his words.

  ‘Julie, you had an affair with me while I was married to Laura. That would give you a pretty good motive to kill Laura. Don’t you think? If that’s not enough, you were the last person to see Laura alive. And you have no alibi.’

  ‘That’s not evidence of murder, Matt,’ I defend myself, trying to rationalise the irrational.

  ‘Don’t worry about the evidence, my darling,’ he says, patting my cheek with his hand. ‘There’s
no shortage of evidence.’

  ‘I didn’t kill Laura!’ I snap. ‘Matt, you must know that.’

  ‘How can you be so sure, Julie?’ Matt challenges me. ‘Most days you can barely remember your own name.’

  I recoil at his cruelty. ‘I know that I didn’t kill Laura,’ I insist.

  ‘Come on, Julie,’ says Matt. ‘You had everything to do with Laura’s murder.’

  ‘That’s not true, Matt.’

  ‘Think back, Julie,’ he commands. ‘Your boyfriend Alex found Laura hiding in the boathouse down by the lake. Alex put her in a chokehold and squeezed her carotid artery until she was dead. You held her feet so she’d stop kicking.’

  He lifts my chin so that I look at him as he speaks.

  ‘You cried afterwards, Julie. You’d never killed anyone before. The two of you put Laura’s body in the trunk of your car and drove to Kellers Way to bury her. You and Alex struggled to dig your shovels into the hard earth. When you returned to your apartment before dawn to shower, you had to scrub your hands until they bled to get the soil out from under your fingernails.’

  ‘No!’ I cut him off, putting my hands over my ears to block out his voice. ‘That’s not what happened. I did not kill Laura. Stop saying that I did. You’re confusing me.’

  ‘Julie.’ He bends his head to look into my downcast eyes. ‘It’s time to admit the truth.’

  ‘It’s not true,’ I protest as tears stream down my face. ‘It can’t be true. I would never kill someone. You must know it wasn’t me, Matt.’ I rummage around in my mind for facts to back up my assertion. ‘You would never have allowed me near Alice if you’d thought I was capable of murder.’

  ‘Everyone’s capable of murder,’ he says, ‘if there’s a good enough reason. Did you, Julie? Did you have a good enough reason?’