by Susan Hunter
Once in my room, I checked my Facebook account. It was blowing up with people asking me about the stalking charges. I was hearing from classmates I hadn’t talked to in years. As I scrolled through the commiserations and questions, I suddenly realized that this might be a way to reach Danny Howard. I tried a search and didn’t find him under his own name, but I didn’t really expect to. I hit it though, when I typed in a search for RalphieP. The kid from A Christmas Story.
He didn’t have any identifying information I could look at beyond the fact he was from Wisconsin. But I felt pretty confident. I made a friend request, and I hoped the name Leah Nash would pique his interest. And then I had to wait.
The next morning Melanie was at the front desk when I walked into the police station. She gave me an odd look. Maybe it was the Blessed Virgin poking her head out of the Piggly Wiggly bag under my arm that caught her eye. I shifted it discreetly toward my back and said, “Is Coop in? I need to talk to him.”
“He’s in, but he’s busy right now.”
“How long will he be?”
“Not sure.”
“Well, I guess I’m gonna wait.”
“Suit yourself.”
She turned back to her computer screen, and I settled in on one of the hard plastic chairs.
But I noticed that instead of returning to her own dimension, where only she and her computer screen existed, Melanie kept sneaking glances at me. What was up with that?
I sat for a while, replaying the scene with my mother, and wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut. Thinking about what I could have said, and should have said, and what actually came out of my mouth. Why did I tell her about Lacey’s phone call? She was never going to forget—or forgive me. How could she? I couldn’t forgive myself.
Finally, I got up and paced the small waiting area, then walked up and leaned on the counter to talk to Melanie.
“Hey, Melanie, what’s taking Coop so long?”
She shrugged. “He’s interviewing a suspect.”
“What’s going on?”
“I couldn’t say. But what’s goin’ on with you, Leah? You’re gettin’ pretty famous. I saw you on the news yesterday.”
“Yeah. That. Well, it wasn’t true, I didn’t send those texts and stuff to Georgia Caldwell.”
“I figured. So, now you’re writing the news and in the news this week, eh?”
“No. I won’t be writing the news this week. I don’t work at the Times anymore.”
Before she could ask the question so clearly on her face, her phone rang.
“Right. OK. Oh, Leah’s here to see you. Yeah. Sure.” She hung up and came over to lift the counter for me to walk through. “Coop’s in his office. He wants to talk to you.”
“Not as bad as I want to talk to him.”
“Don’t be so sure of that.”
I hustled down the corridor, mentally counseling myself to stay calm, to lay out the facts clearly, not to lose my cool if Coop didn’t get on the same page with me right away. I could convince him, I knew I could, if I didn’t push too hard.
“Leah, I was just going over to the paper to see you.”
“Don’t bother. You won’t be able to catch me there. I got fired yesterday.”
“What?”
“Yeah. When KNET got hold of the story that the sheriff’s department was questioning me about stalking Georgia Caldwell, Max lost it. He fired me on the spot.”
“Ah, geez.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. C’mon in.”
I pulled up the chair across from his desk and set my evidence bag on the floor.
“Coop—”
“Leah—”
We both spoke at the same time, then both gave the polite, slightly nervous laugh of strangers caught in an awkward two-step while trying to pass each other on a sidewalk.
“Let me go first, please. I know I was wrong about Miller. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things, but this time I have it right. If you’ll just listen, you’ll see.”
“All right.” He sat back and waited, but the look he gave me was so sad, it threw me off stride.
“OK. OK then.” I was surprised that my hands were sweating. I wiped them nervously on my jeans. “Do you have some water?”
“Sure.” He reached around to the small refrigerator behind his desk, pulled out a bottle, opened it and handed it across to me.
I took a big swig and then started in. I laid out everything I knew about Hegl, including ground we’d covered before to try to make him see the big picture—starting with his involvement with Olivia Morgan, the fatal car crash, his sudden departure from the parish, his bishop uncle and the role he played in getting him out of a felony charge.
I reminded him about Hegl’s opportunity to connect with Lacey during production of The Wizard of Oz, Lacey’s subsequent downward spiral, her animosity toward Hegl at DeMoss, his involvement with Delite, his lie about where he was that night. I told him Delite’s story about someone interrupting them in the administration building the night Lacey disappeared. Her admission that she’d lied about the party.
“And finally this, Coop.” I reached into my Piggly Wiggly bag and pulled out the statue.
“What is it?”
“It’s what he killed Lacey with. Sister Margaret’s marble statue—the one that went missing the night Lacey disappeared. The one I found on a bookshelf in his cottage.” I set it on his desk.
“You found—Leah, tell me you didn’t break into Hegl’s house.”
“I didn’t break in, not technically. We knocked, the door was open. Stuck maybe, but definitely open.”
“I assume ‘we’ means you and Miguel. Was Hegl there?”
“Not at first. He came home before we expected him though.”
The look on his face told me I’d better talk faster if I didn’t want to get another—probably deserved—lecture on using commonsense, and not jumping in feet first without thinking.
“I got Miguel out with the statue before Hegl showed up. And I didn’t accuse him of anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. But, Coop, he has the motive. And look! This is the murder weapon. I’m sure of it. I thought if you could get it tested, there might still be some DNA on it. It’s been cleaned, no doubt, but see this crack here? If blood got in there—”
He had stopped listening to me. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed for a minute, his long fingers resting on his scalp. Then he brought them down, took a deep breath and heaved it out so forcefully, the papers on his desk fluttered.
“Leah, we’ve arrested the person who sexually abused Lacey—and at least two other girls.”
“What? When did you make the arrest?” How could he have let me go on and on when he already had Hegl in custody?
“Early this morning.” He stopped, came around his desk and sat on the edge so that he could reach out and touch my shoulder. His voice was gentle as he spoke, but the sound echoed in my head as though he’d shouted through a megaphone.
“Leah, it’s not Hegl. It’s Karen. Karen McDaid was Lacey’s abuser.”
Thirty-Two
“What?” I heard what he said, I just couldn’t process it.
“I’m sorry, Leah. A senior at the high school came forward a few weeks ago and told us Karen had a sexual relationship with her for over a year when she was a freshman. We’ve turned up two more since then.”
A wave of nausea so powerful surged through me so fast I couldn’t do anything but grab the waste basket and heave. Tears came to my eyes as I gagged and coughed, and I felt the pressure of Coop’s warm hand on my back.
“Sorry,” I choked out, my head still half in his wastebasket.
“Take a breath and hold it a second. That’s right, hold it, now let it out slow and easy. That’s right. That’s good.” I focused on the sound of Coop’s voice, and my breathing came under control. I sat up and took a small sip of water.
“Are you sure? Are you sure someone’s not setting her up? I mean, who’s
saying this? Who’s corroborating it?”
“It’s a solid case—we’ve been building it for weeks. Leah, there are pictures on her computer. They—well, it’s very clear the girls are telling the truth.”
“Pictures? Is—are there pictures of Lacey?”
He nodded.
“Did Karen—did she kill Lacey?”
He shook his head. “She couldn’t have. Karen was in Arizona for the whole month of November that year. That’s when her mother died.”
I remembered then. Karen had called every day to ask if there was word on Lacey. She was so kind, so helpful, such a rock for my mother.
There was a knock on the door, and one of the detectives I knew slightly stepped in without waiting for an answer. He looked at me, then quickly looked away.
“Not now, Randy,” Coop growled.
“Sorry, Lieutenant, but it’s Ms. McDaid. Darmody told her Leah was here when he brought her coffee. She says she’ll sign whatever we want, if we let her talk to Leah. She says she doesn’t want a lawyer, just wants to talk to Leah.”
“This isn’t a hostage negotiation, she’s not getting anything—”
I knew he wasn’t just taking a stand on proper police procedure with a suspect; he was trying to protect me, too. I appreciated it, but I actually needed just the opposite. I had to see Karen.
“Coop, wait. I want to. Let me talk to her.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Please.”
Something in my eyes must have told him that I had to do this. That I wouldn’t be able to eat, or sleep, or breathe until I could confront Karen and stop this rising tide of fury that was building up inside me.
“I’ve got to talk to the DA first. Wait here, Leah.” Then he leaned down and pulled the liner from his trash, knotted it and handed it to Randy, whose face had shown a growing awareness that something unpleasant had happened here. He took it and left the room behind Coop, holding it at arm’s length.
When I walked through the door, Karen was sitting on one side of a metal table, an empty chair across from her. Devoid of make-up, her skin was ashen and seemed to have collapsed in on itself. There were hollows and wrinkles on her cheeks, little lines around her mouth and chin. Her eyes, those slightly uptilted blue topaz eyes that had always sparkled with intelligence and humor, were dull and sunken. Her shiny silver-blonde hair was flat and lifeless. Her hands holding a coffee cup looked corded and old.
Her eyes met mine as I sat down.
“Leah, you came. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”
“I had to, Karen. I had to look at the person who destroyed my sister.”
Her head recoiled. “Leah, don’t say that. I loved Lacey.”
“You loved her?” Under the table my hands clenched into fists and I held them on my knees by force of will. “You ruined her life!”
“No, no, no.” She started shaking, and tears ran down her cheeks. “Don’t say that. Just listen, please, please, please just listen a minute.”
I pressed my lips together to keep more invective from spilling out, and then I nodded.
“Lacey was such a beautiful child, so bright. She reminded me of a little butterfly. She used to make me laugh, and I loved to hear her sing. I always enjoyed it so much when she stopped to see your mother after school.” Karen’s eyes had a faraway look.
“Of course, I always loved you, too, Leah,” she added, as though I might be jealous that I hadn’t made the Pedophiles Pick of the Week list.
“But Lacey was special. I remember that day we became more than friends. Your mother had a weekend retreat, and you were away with that boyfriend nobody liked. What was his name? Zach? Carol asked if Lacey could stay with me for the weekend. We had such a wonderful time. She was so sweet, so unsure, so….” Again, she seemed awash in memories that I didn’t want her reliving.
“She was 14 years old, Karen, and she trusted you. She looked up to you. She was 14. Don’t try to make this some special, loving thing. You molested her, and you kept on doing it, and you are a sick, hypocritical monster!”
“But I told you, I loved her. I would never harm Lacey. We both wanted it. I didn’t force her. I never forced her. But later, she got very upset. Said she was going to tell people. I begged her not to, I knew no one else would understand. So, I had to help her see what could happen to her, to me, to your family if she did.”
“What did you do, Karen? Did you threaten her? Did you tell her it was her fault? Did you say no one would believe her? Did you kill her to keep her quiet?”
“No, no!” she said sharply, a horrified expression on her face. “I would never harm Lacey. But I had to convince her to keep quiet.”
“How did you do that?”
“I told her we didn’t need to hurt each other. Someday, she’d realize how special our relationship was, but some people wouldn’t. You and your mother for instance. That you would be disappointed in her, angry. Like you are right now. And I could lose my law practice. Then your mother wouldn’t have a job.
“And then I told her I would publish the photos I’d taken of her online, if she wasn’t sensible. But she was.” Her voice was barely a whisper now, and I had to bend forward because her head was hanging down, and she was staring at her hands folded in front of her on top of the table.
“You put all that on a 14-year-old kid? How could you do that? And how could you work with my mother every day? How could you pretend to be her friend, her best friend?”
“But I am her best friend. I knew Carol wouldn’t understand. I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to hurt you. What Lacey and I had was beautiful, but it was just for us. What harm did it do?”
“What harm? Are you really that insane?” An idea came to me. “You sent those texts to Georgia Caldwell, didn’t you? And you gave Ross an anonymous tip about me getting fired in Florida. It was you, trying to frame me.”
“You wouldn’t leave it alone. You kept asking and asking about Lacey, and I knew when you realized it wasn’t Miller, you’d keep asking. I had to do something to make you stop. I took your phone when you set it down at the party that night. Then I put it back in your car on Monday morning, when I stopped by your house.”
“You pushed me off the bluff that night. You almost killed me!”
She shook her head, “Leah, no! I wouldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t. I love you.”
“Yeah? Like you loved Lacey, like you love my mother? You make me sick. And whatever feeling is festering in that garbage dump you call a heart, it sure as hell isn’t love.”
“No! No! I love you, Leah. And I love Carol. You have to believe me.”
I stared at her, trying to reconcile the self-deluding, twisted predator that sat before me with the kind, generous woman I had loved and respected. What was it that Father Lindstrom had said? Something about all of us wearing habits to hide our secret selves. Karen’s habit of warmth and humor had been the perfect disguise to hide the twisted ugliness within.
“Actually, no. I don’t. And I don’t have to listen to another self-justifying word you say. Goodbye, Karen.”
I could still hear her calling my name as I slammed the door and walked down the corridor.
I went back to Coop’s office, collapsed in a chair and put my head in my hands. Karen with Lacey. Karen taking advantage of Lacey’s trust, her enormous respect and love for Karen. Then the confusion and the shame she felt. Trying to break free, longing to turn to Mom, or to me, but thinking she couldn’t because of Karen’s threats. She must have felt so helpless. So hopeless. And me too busy and too blind to see. No wonder Lacey lashed out against the people who should have protected her. Me and my mother.
“How could I not have seen that?” I must have spoken out loud, because walking into the room just then, Coop answered.
“Stop, Leah. Lacey didn’t want you to see it, she worked damn hard to protect you and your mother. When you did suspect, you acted on it right away. You wouldn’t let go.”
“Bu
t I had it all wrong. Even when it was staring me in the face. Delite told me it was ‘a big shot,’ and I knew it had to be someone who spent a lot of time with Lacey. No other adult was with her more than Karen. But I never even considered her. This is going to kill my mother.”
“Don’t underestimate Carol. You two are a lot alike.”
“How long did you know? And why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let me think you thought I was crazy?”
“You thought that up all on your own. I admit I did try to steer you away from the investigation. And I felt bad, real bad, when you thought I didn’t have your back. But it wasn’t true. Not for a second.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” The shock was wearing off, and I was starting to feel both stupid and ill-used. “Didn’t you trust me?”
“Leah, come on. It was an open investigation, and you were very personally involved. You couldn’t be objective. I barely could. We had to be very careful. You were so determined to get justice for Lacey. Karen was a close friend of yours. I couldn’t take the risk.”
I leaned forward and opened my mouth to yell at him, tell him he had no right to keep that from me, tell him that he should have trusted me, should have known I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his investigation. And then I slumped back in my chair and didn’t say anything, because I knew he was right. I’d been crazed since I suspected Lacey was abused, and I doubted I would have been able to stay away from Karen, or keep from telling my mother. He was right. It hurt to admit it.
“Who else knew about it?”
“Just me, my team and the DA.”
“Not Ross?”
“Not at first, not until we realized there was more than the original victim involved and we started putting it all together. Lacey was his case, the county’s case. We had to put him in the picture.”
“How many girls did she hurt?”
“Don’t know yet. She’s writing a statement now. So far, we have the three counting Lacey.”
