Once Forsaken (A Riley Paige Mystery—Book 7)

by Blake Pierce

“That doesn’t sound like it could be coincidence,” Olivia said.

  “I don’t think so either,” Riley said. “But I can’t prove anything—not yet.”

  “What can we do to help?” Conrad said.

  Riley was starting to relax a little. It felt good to know that the Linzes were on her side.

  “Well, so far, I’ve not had any access to official records about the deaths. I don’t know many details. For example, what can you tell me about your daughter’s death?”

  A cloud of sadness passed over the couple’s faces—the first sign of grief Riley had noticed from them so far.

  “It didn’t make any sense,” Olivia said. “We got a call from the school. It was the dean—Willis Autrey. He said that Cory had hanged herself in the gym locker room.”

  Riley’s interest sharpened.

  Another hanging—just like Lois Pennington and Constance Yoh!

  Olivia continued, “Dean Autrey seemed to think she’d been bullied or something, and it had gotten to be too much for her. But that’s just not—”

  She choked on a sob and couldn’t finish her sentence. Her husband gave her a handkerchief.

  He said, “Cory told us that she didn’t fit in especially well at school. She was different, and people can be mean. But that’s been true all her life. And she never let it bother her. She was her own person. She got blue every now and then—who doesn’t? But she never suffered from depression. She was always very happy.”

  Olivia had recovered some of her composure.

  “The dean also said she’d taken a high dose of some kind of painkiller,” she said.

  “Alprazolam?” Riley asked, remembering what the medical examiner had told her about Lois Pennington’s death.

  “Why yes,” Olivia said. “But that’s impossible. She never touched drugs of any kind. Not even aspirin.”

  Conrad squeezed his wife’s hand and said, “You see, she was a Scientist. We’re all Scientists in this family.”

  Riley was puzzled.

  A scientist?

  Hadn’t she just learned that Conrad was an accountant and Olivia a piano teacher?

  But after a moment’s thought, she understood.

  “You’re Christian Scientists,” she said.

  “That’s right,” Olivia said.

  Suddenly, the couple’s behavior seemed less strange to Riley.

  Riley hadn’t known many practicing Christian Scientists. But she’d heard that they could be extremely positive and optimistic, to the point of seeming otherworldly. After all, they believed that the material world was an illusion, and that death itself wasn’t real.

  Grieving just wasn’t their style.

  But these people were hurting nevertheless.

  They felt that a terrible injustice had been done to their daughter.

  Riley couldn’t help but sympathize completely. Even so, she had to take into account the possibility that the couple had misjudged Cory.

  “Olivia, Conrad, forgive me for suggesting this, but … well, I’m raising two teenage girls myself, and they can be hard to deal with at times. Are you absolutely sure that your daughter might not have, well, strayed from your beliefs? I mean, alprazolam is sometimes abused as a recreational drug. And kids sometimes do rebel.”

  Olivia shook her head slowly.

  “Oh, no,” she said, with no trace of defensiveness in her voice. “That really is impossible.”

  “Let me show you something,” her husband said.

  Conrad led Riley over to a wall filled with pictures of Cory throughout her life, looking as bright-faced and cheerful as her parents in all of them. Surrounding each picture were framed, handwritten letters that Cory had written to her parents—from clumsy block printing when she was just learning to write, to the beautiful handwriting she had now.

  Riley almost gasped in amazement.

  Did children even do this anymore—handwrite letters to their parents, or to anyone else for that matter?

  How many letters had April handwritten to Riley over the years?

  Hardly any. And the truth was, Riley hadn’t even expected it—not in this information age, when communication was all about phones and computers.

  But Riley was equally amazed that Cory’s parents had framed so many letters with so many pictures, forming a sort of shrine to their daughter.

  Had Riley ever known such a close-knit family before?

  She doubted it.

  Conrad silently directed Riley’s attention to recent photos and letters, all from since Cory had gone to college. Cory had sent selfies of herself from all over the campus, always smiling and cheerful. Riley hastily skimmed some of them. All were upbeat about classes and grades and everything else in her life. Cory remarked here and there that she didn’t fit in especially well among the other students, but she seemed to take even that in good humor.

  Riley certainly found it unsurprising that a girl so cheerful and otherworldly might not connect with her peers. It was probably the story of her life. But somehow, Cory had never let it get her down. She was as emotionally secure as a young person could possibly be.

  It was like Conrad had said a few moments ago.

  “She’s her own person.”

  Riley sat back down with Conrad and Olivia.

  Olivia said, “You told us that five students supposedly committed suicide. Have you talked with any of the other families?”

  Riley hesitated. How much should she tell the Linzes about what she knew so far?

  As she looked at their open, friendly faces, she decided she’d better tell them everything that she could.

  “Well, like I said, I first got wind of this from my own daughter. Her friend’s sister was found hanging in the family garage. I talked to the girl’s parents, but they completely believed the suicide story. My daughter’s friend didn’t believe it, though. And my daughter didn’t either. That was when I started looking into it.”

  Riley thought for a moment, then asked, “Did you happen to hear about Deanna Webber’s death last fall? Congresswoman Webber’s daughter?”

  “Oh, yes,” Olivia said. “It happened shortly before … before what happened to Cory. Cory wrote to us about it. She knew Deanna a little. She was quite upset about it.”

  “I talked to the congresswoman about it,” Riley said, choosing her words carefully. “She tried to convince me that Deanna’s death really was a suicide. She said that Deanna deliberately overdosed and died in her bed asleep.”

  Olivia and Conrad looked at each other.

  Olivia said, “I’m not sure whether we should say this, but—”

  “Please tell me anything you can,” Riley said.

  Olivia hesitated.

  “I don’t think the congresswoman told you the truth.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Riley was breathless with anticipation as she studied the Linzes’ faces. By then, she knew that Olivia and Conrad were honest to a fault. She had no such feelings about Hazel Webber. She was already sure that the congresswoman was hiding something.

  “This is so important,” she said to Conrad and Olivia. “Please tell me whatever you know.”

  After a moment, Conrad said, “Maybe it would be better if we showed you,” Conrad said.

  He walked over to a bureau and pulled out a letter. He handed it to Riley. It was another handwritten letter from Cory. At a glance, Riley saw that it was not the kind of letter that her parents had wanted to frame and put on the wall.

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  Something awful has happened. Deanna Webber, the congresswoman’s daughter, killed herself yesterday. Or that’s what we’ve been told. I don’t know if that’s true. I knew her a little, and I talked to her a few times. She didn’t seem like a very happy girl. Even so, she seemed to be looking forward to lots of things. She rides in equestrian competitions, and she was excited about one that was coming up this summer …

  Riley stopped right there. She remembered what Hazel Webber had told her. She’d said t
hat Deanna’s hip had been badly fractured and would probably have to be replaced.

  “Her days of riding in competitions were over,” she’d said. “She was heartbroken.”

  Had that been a lie?

  Riley resumed reading.

  Something else seems odd. A couple of family employees came to pick up her belongings—a man and a woman. I stopped by Deanna’s room, where the woman was boxing up her stuff. I told her I was awfully sorry about Deanna, and I asked her how it had happened. She told me she’d drugged herself and hanged herself in the family stables.

  I carried a box out to their van where the man was packing things up. I told him I was sad and shocked, that I never would have thought Deanna would do something like hang herself.

  Then he got mad. He asked who told me that, and I said the woman inside. He said that Deanna did not hang herself, that she’d overdosed and died in her sleep, and that I’d better not tell anybody otherwise.

  Mom, Dad, it sounded almost like a threat!

  Then the man went into Deanna’s room and I could hear him yelling at the woman—something about how she knew better than to say a thing like that, and she’d better learn to keep her mouth shut.

  I got a little scared and left. But I can’t help feeling that something is really wrong …

  Riley saw that the rest of the letter was pretty routine, about classes and activities.

  “When did Cory write this?” she asked.

  “Just a couple of weeks before … what happened to her,” Olivia said.

  Riley’s heart was pounding with excitement.

  “Did she ever tell you the name of the woman who spoke of Deanna hanging herself?”

  “No,” Olivia replied. “I don’t think she knew the woman’s name.”

  “Did she say what that woman looked like?”

  “No, I don’t remember Cory saying anything more about her.”

  “I hate to ask this,” Riley told the couple. “But could I take this letter with me? It might help me to persuade my superiors to open the case.”

  “Of course,” Olivia said.

  “Anything we can do to help,” Conrad said.

  Riley thanked them and left their house. As she got into her car, she felt certain that the so-called suicides really were murders. But she also knew that she’d need even more information to persuade Meredith and Walder. She knew who might be able to help her. She made a quick phone call to set up a meeting.

  *

  An hour later, Riley arrived in Manassas and pulled into the parking lot of the Northern Laboratory of the Virginia Department of Forensic Science. She headed straight for the office of her friend Danica Selves, the district medical examiner she’d called on Tuesday. The stout, short-haired woman stood up from her desk to greet her.

  “Hi, Riley. What’s going on? When you called, it sounded very important.”

  Riley and Danica both sat down.

  “Danica, a few days ago I called to ask about Lois Pennington’s death,” Riley began.

  Danica nodded.

  “You wondered whether it was really a suicide. I told you I was sure that it was.”

  “And now I’m sure that it wasn’t,” Riley said.

  Danica looked surprised.

  “Riley, I did that autopsy myself. I don’t see how I could have been wrong.”

  Riley paused for a moment.

  “Danica, I’ve been investigating a series of so-called suicides of students at Byars College, and—”

  Danica gently interrupted her.

  “‘Investigating’? Riley, are you going rogue again?”

  Riley smiled. Danica knew her all too well.

  “Let’s just say that my work hasn’t been official—so far. That’s why I want to talk to you. I need something more tangible to convince Meredith and Walder.”

  Danica was starting to look intrigued.

  “Tell me what you’ve got,” she said.

  “Five Byars College students have committed suicide, just in this school year. Lois Pennington was one of them. So was Deanna Webber.”

  Danica’s eyes twinkled with interest.

  “The Maryland congresswoman’s daughter?” she asked. “I’d read that she’d committed suicide. I didn’t know that she’d gone to Byars too.”

  “I paid the congresswoman a visit—”

  Danica let out a small laugh. “And she was delighted to see you, I’m sure.”

  “Not exactly. But I managed to interview her. And she told me, in no uncertain terms, that her daughter had deliberately overdosed on oxycodone and died in her bed asleep. She told me that Deanna had been depressed lately because she’d fractured a hip in a riding accident and couldn’t compete anymore.”

  Riley took the letter she’d gotten from the Linzes out of her handbag.

  She said, “But I just now interviewed the parents of another suicide victim—Cory Linz was her name. A couple of weeks before she died, she sent this letter to her parents.”

  Riley handed the letter to Danica. Her eyes widened as she read it.

  “This certainly looks suspicious,” Danica said. “And this would be a very high rate of suicides. I wonder—maybe I did come to the wrong conclusion about Lois Pennington’s death.”

  Riley considered what to ask next.

  Then she said, “One of the other five victims died near DC. Her name was Constance Yoh—another hanging, and another Byars student. But that’s all I know about her so far. What can you tell me about her?”

  Danica typed on her computer again.

  “I don’t believe I worked on that case myself …”

  When the records came up, Danica’s eyes widened.

  “My God,” she said. “Constance Yoh also took a high dose of alprazolam.”

  Danica shook her head.

  “This is very strange,” she said. “What do you know about what happened to the Webber girl?”

  “Very little, except that maybe her mother lied to me.”

  Danica thought for a moment, then said, “I know the chief examiner in Baltimore—Colin Metcalf. Let’s give him a call.”

  A moment later, Riley and Danica were talking to Dr. Metcalf on speakerphone.

  “What can you tell us about the death of Deanna Webber?” Danica asked.

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Why do you want to know?” Metcalf asked uneasily.

  Riley and Danica glanced at each other warily.

  “Well, there seem to be some inconsistencies in the family’s story,” Danica said.

  Another pause fell. Then Metcalf began to speak slowly and cautiously.

  “I did the autopsy myself. It was pretty cut and dried. Her body had been found hanging in the family stable. But …”

  “But what?” Riley asked.

  “I got a call from the family lawyer. He told me to keep the fact that she’d hanged herself out of the news, to say nothing to the media about it.”

  Riley leaned toward the phone.

  “Did it sound like a threat?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t sure. But that family has a lot of power, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say it scared me a little. Anyway, so far I’ve had no cause to do otherwise. I haven’t said anything at all to any reporters about it. But it’s been bothering me ever since. And it’s in the official report, if anybody wants to see it.”

  Riley thought for a moment.

  Then she asked, “Did your autopsy reveal any serious injuries—fractured bones, for example?”

  “Let me see,” Metcalf said.

  Riley could hear the clattering of computer keys as Metcalf found the information.

  “Yes, it appeared that she suffered from a fracture. Actually it was a hairline fracture in the upper thigh, not the hip joint. It looked like it had happened two or three years ago. But it was a clean break and seemed to have healed perfectly. It probably wasn’t bothering her at all.”

  Again, Riley remembered Hazel Webber’s words …

  �
��Her hip was badly fractured. It seemed likely that it would have to be replaced altogether.”

  Another lie!

  Had the congresswoman told Riley the truth about anything at all?

  “What else do you want to know?” Metcalf asked.

  Riley replayed parts of her conversation with Webber and remembered something else she had said.

  “She was taking oxycodone for the pain.”

  What pain?

  Riley asked, “I understand that she was also using a drug. What was it?”

  Again Riley heard the clattering of keys.

  “Alprazolam,” Metcalf said. “Not enough to be a fatal dose, but enough to knock her out pretty much.”

  Riley looked at Danica and asked, “Is alprazolam used as a painkiller?”

  Danica wrinkled her brow a little.

  “No,” she said. “It’s strictly a sedative, used for panic and anxiety. It wouldn’t be of any use at all as a painkiller.”

  Riley felt a tingle of excitement. Surely she now had all the evidence she needed to persuade Meredith. Walder might be a harder sell, but she was determined to try.

  Riley asked, “Dr. Metcalf, could you forward your entire autopsy report to me?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  Riley gave him her contact information, and the call ended.

  Then Riley asked, “Danica, can you give me a copy of your reports on Lois Pennington and Constance Yoh?”

  Danica didn’t respond for a moment. She looked uneasy.

  “Riley, I can do that, but …”

  “But what?”

  Danica shook her head worriedly.

  “We didn’t say a word to Colin about this not being an official FBI case …”

  Her voice trailed off for a moment. Then she added, “Now you’re asking me for information on a case that isn’t even open. I know Carl Walder. He’s liable to have a fit about your going over his head. And Congresswoman Webber is a powerful woman—maybe even dangerous.”

  Riley’s heart sank a little. It was bad enough that she was making trouble for herself. Was it fair to also put Danica on the spot? She couldn’t think of any way around it.

  “Danica, I’m sorry, but I really need your report. It’s the only way I can get this thing going. And I’m sure you believe me. There have been five so-called suicides at one school, and at least four of the victims had the same drug in their system. There was another Byars student suicide that was said to be by gunshot, and I definitely want to check that out. Anyway, there’s no way this run of deaths can be attributed to suicide. I really need your help.”