by Justice
“I play violin.” She waited a beat. “Actually, I play at the violin. I’m terrible.”
“Don’t be too easy on yourself, young lady,” Decker said.
Terry smiled and looked at him, her eyes as warm as melted butter. “I’m just being honest. I’m an excellent student, but I stink at the violin.”
“You don’t play like Chris, huh?”
“No, not at all.”
“He’s a remarkable musician,” he said.
“Yes, he is.”
“He’s also a good-looking guy.”
Terry was silent.
“A little distant, even cool in his personality,” Decker went on. “But he’s well-spoken…articulate. Classy in his own way. From what I understand, Cheryl was a real party girl. So what was the attraction between them?”
She laughed softly. “You’re asking me?”
Decker said, “Yeah, you knew Cheryl, didn’t you, Terry?”
“We knew each other by name, but we weren’t friends.” She began to knead her hands again. “Not that we were enemies. We weren’t…anything.”
Decker said, “What’d you think of her?”
“I didn’t,” Terry said. “She never crossed my mind.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors.”
“I try to avoid gossip.” Her voice was soft. “I wasn’t friends with Cheryl…or with Chris for that matter. We didn’t hang out in the same circles.”
“But you were friendlier with Chris than with Cheryl, weren’t you?”
She cleared her throat again. “He was my student…one of my students. I’m a tutor…mostly math and science, but sometimes humanities and languages, too. I tutored Chris for a while.”
Decker flipped the cover of his notepad. “And when was that?”
“At the beginning of the term. Maybe seven months ago.”
“How long did you tutor him?”
“About three months.”
Decker looked up. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you stop tutoring him?” Decker clicked his pen. “His grades going into finals weren’t exactly spectacular.”
Terry squirmed. “I wouldn’t know. We didn’t talk much after he quit.”
“It was his idea to stop the lessons?”
“Mutual.” Terry fidgeted. “It wasn’t a good match.”
“A good match?”
She paused. “We both thought he could benefit better from someone else.”
“Why?”
“Sometimes that’s the case.”
“So you broke it off?”
“It wasn’t a relationship.” Terry took a deep breath. “Why are you asking me questions? I haven’t really seen Chris for months. Like I said, we didn’t have the same group of friends.”
“Yes, I can believe that. But that doesn’t mean you and Chris couldn’t have remained friends after you stopped tutoring him.”
“But we didn’t,” Terry said.
Decker studied the girl for a moment. It seemed to unnerve her. “So you haven’t seen Chris in months, right?”
“Basically, yes.”
“What do you mean by basically, yes?”
“Just…I mean I’ve seen him in school…in orchestra. But we haven’t really talked to each other.”
“There you go again, using the word really—”
“I mean like we’d say hi when we passed each other in the hallways.”
Decker leaned in close. “And that’s been your only contact with him since you stopped tutoring him?”
“Basically, yes.”
“Basically, again?” Decker questioned. “Terry, why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
“That is basically what’s going on.”
“‘Basically for a third time,” Decker said. “You know what, Terry? You’re a terrible liar.”
She blinked back tears. “I’m not lying. I’m skirting the truth with the judicious use of modifiers.”
Decker laughed and so did she until gentle rills rolled down her cheeks. Leaning in close, Decker reached over to her neck and pulled on the gold chain until a tucked-in charm was fully liberated. A gold cross dangled on the end. He showed it to her.
He said, “Two days ago, when I visited Chris at his apartment, he was wearing a crucifix exactly like this one. This morning, he wasn’t wearing it.”
Terry didn’t answer.
Decker said, “When was the last time you saw him, Terry?”
She wiped her eyes. “It would be really silly to lie, right?”
“Right.”
“I saw Chris around six this morning.”
Decker paused. Whitman was being tailed at that time. The stakeout didn’t mention anything about Whitman being with a girl. Something didn’t jibe. “You saw Chris at six in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“You met him at the Laundromat?”
“Laundromat? What are you talking about?”
Decker paused. “What are you talking about?”
Terry turned red. “I…I spent the night at his apartment.”
“Ah.” Decker wrote as he spoke. “Do you have a key to his place?”
“No, not at all. I came to his place last night…sat on his doorstep and waited for him to come home from the police station.”
“How did you know he was at the police station?”
She covered her face and let her hands drop. “Is your official title Detective or Sergeant?”
“It’s Sergeant. Go on.”
Terry spoke slowly. “I hadn’t talked to Chris in months. He stopped talking to me when I stopped tutoring him.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know why. I guess he was mad at me for suggesting he find another tutor.”
“Why’d you tell him to look elsewhere?” Decker said. “The truth this time, Terry.”
“The arrangement became…uncomfortable.”
“Was he inappropriate?”
“On the contrary.” She cleared her throat and took a drink of coffee. “Chris had been unfailingly polite.”
“So what was the problem?”
“That was the problem,” Terry said. “There were feelings between us that couldn’t be acted upon. Because Chris was…suffice it to say that it couldn’t work between us.”
Decker paused. “He told you he was engaged?”
Terry breathed a sigh of relief. “Exactly! He was engaged to someone else. At first, I didn’t believe him. He’s just a kid. I thought it had to be an excuse…that maybe he was gay or wasn’t attracted to me. Later I found out that neither was the case.”
She looked at the ceiling.
“Eventually, I believed him. And that made things uncomfortable between us. I told him to find someone else.”
“Then he got mad at you?”
“Real mad. He stopped…talking to me. I knew his behavior was childish, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”
“You were affected by it?”
“Of course. I liked him a lot. I wanted to remain friends. Obviously, he didn’t.” She laughed nervously. “Maybe he liked seeing me suffer.”
She turned bright red.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I was just trying to be funny. Chris was wonderful when I taught him. You know, Sergeant, I’ve never been attracted to dangerous boys. Lots of girls are, but not me.”
“What do you mean by dangerous?”
“You know, the white gang wannabes who shave their heads and brandish weapons to impress the girls.” Terry rolled her golden eyes. “Even a tame school like Central West Valley has a group of those kinds of guys. They think it’s cool to terrorize, you know. They have contests who can be the first to make this girl or that girl. Once one of them came to me for tutoring. Yeah, right! I made up an excuse, told him I was booked. But he kept pestering me. Giving me creepy looks. Then he showed up at my house! That really freaked me out.”
“What happened?”
“Luckily, he happened to come on one of the days I was with Chris. This was very early on…maybe I’d been tutoring Chris for a week. He stepped outside and talked to the guy. I don’t know what he said—I never asked, Chris never said—but neither the guy nor any of his little friends ever bothered me again.” She studied her nails. “I was very relieved and very grateful.”
Bet you were, Decker thought. And didn’t he know it.
“Even when Chris was mad at me, I knew he was hurting.” She shrugged. “I just didn’t know how to rectify it.”
Decker picked up the crucifix and let it drop on her vest. “Obviously he stopped being mad at you. How did it come about?”
“It happened real suddenly.” Terry thought a moment. “One minute we weren’t speaking; then the next, we talked about running away together.”
Decker wrote as he spoke. “When did this take place?”
“Prom night, if you can imagine that. Then this terrible thing with Cheryl happened….”
There was silence.
Decker locked eyes with the girl. “Terry, did Chris call you the morning of Cheryl’s murder? Answer me honestly.”
Terry shook her head no. “No, he never called me. But he did come to my house yesterday afternoon.”
“What went on?” Decker asked.
“We talked. He told me he was going in for questioning, and a lie-detector test. He also told me he had come to say good-bye. He said he couldn’t see me again.”
“He came to your house just to tell you good-bye?”
“Apparently.”
“And he didn’t say anything about Cheryl?”
“Yes, he talked about Cheryl. He was distraught over what had happened. His pain was like spilling over. After he left, I felt so drained. Empty. I know I should have stayed away from him last night…but I wanted to find out what happened at the police station. I still…cared for him.”
She covered her face, then looked up.
“I told my stepmom I was sleeping over at a friend’s house. Instead, I went to his apartment. I’ve never done anything like that before. But it was something that I just had to do.”
Decker regarded her face. Her frank sincerity reminded him of Rina. “When did you leave for Whitman’s apartment?”
“Around five in the afternoon. I walked over…took my books and studied while I waited.”
“He came home late.”
“Around one in the morning. He wanted me to go back home…but after I explained the situation, he had no choice but to put me up. So I spent the night at his place.” She fingered the cross. “He gave me his crucifix. He said it was his mother’s.”
“Did you do more than just talk to him, Terry?”
The girl blushed.
“Did you have sex with him?”
“No,” she said, quickly. “No, I didn’t…we didn’t. Honestly. It’s true.”
Decker regarded her face. “I think you’re skirting the truth again. Terry, it’s important for me to know the extent of your relationship.”
“Why? Do you want to know if Chris has ever been violent with me? The answer is a resounding no. Never even a…a hint of it. He’s always been wonderful with me…gentle, considerate, sweet.”
She looked up.
“You know, it was totally my fault that he stopped talking to me. He was hurting and I didn’t want to hear it.”
Decker kept his face flat, but felt weary inside. Another girl willing to die on the cross for the jerk she loved. Though the teen was articulate, she was still adolescent, her grasp of reality still a mite out of her reach. He said, “Terry—”
“No, really. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have broken it off right then. I should have known better. Because I know what it’s like to hurt. To reach out and be rejected…over and over.”
“Yes, rejection is painful, but—”
“All those times I’ve tried to reach out to my father. But you can’t talk to walls. You know, I’ve worked real hard to nurture Melissa. Last thing I’d ever want is for her to grow up warped like me.”
“You’re not warped—”
“Oh, yes, I am. Chris could see it first time we ever talked. He knew damaged goods because he’d been there himself. Do you know what he did for me?”
Decker knew he was going to find out. “What?”
“He gave me my grandparents.” Tears were streaming down the girl’s cheeks. “He called up my maternal grandparents—my late mom’s parents. I was too scared to approach them. Absolutely petrified. But he could read my heart. One day, I came to his place, expecting to tutor him. Instead, I wound up talking to my grandparents for almost an hour. He found out their number in Chicago and called them up cold. Can you imagine any boy doing that for a girl without expecting anything in return?”
The question was rhetorical so Decker didn’t answer.
“My God, it was the first time in history anybody had ever done something for me,” Terry said. “At that point, I knew I loved Chris more than anyone in the world.”
“I understand—”
“I never knew that adults could actually be proud of their children’s accomplishments,” she went on. “You know, when I won the National Merit Scholarship, my dad didn’t even come to the awards ceremony. He was sick, he was tired, he had a job interview, he was drunk, I don’t remember. I was too young to drive, so I walked to school by myself…and walked home by myself afterward. I lied and told everyone my parents were meeting me later to take me out to dinner. Yeah, right! All I had waiting for me was a sink filled with dirty dishes. Which I washed, I might add.”
Abruptly, she stopped speaking and wiped her cheeks. “So you can understand why I have a special feeling for Chris.”
“Of course.”
“He did not murder Cheryl Diggs. He didn’t even care about her. Why would he kill her?”
Decker rolled his tongue in his cheek.
Terry sighed. “Yes, I know she was pregnant. It wasn’t his. He was sure of that.”
Decker paused. “When did Chris tell you all this?”
“Yesterday.”
Decker started writing in his pad. “And you honestly believe everything he tells you, Terry?”
Terry stared at him. “He told me he passed his lie-detector test. Is that true?”
Decker paused, then nodded.
“So that says a lot, doesn’t it?”
“It could be he’s telling the truth.” Decker looked the girl square in the eye. “Or it could be that Chris, unlike you, is an excellent liar.”
“Why don’t you believe what you see?”
“Trouble is, Terry, I do believe what I see,” Decker said. “And I don’t see Chris the same way you do.”
Terry bit her lip and looked down.
Decker studied her for a moment. “Or maybe I do. You have some doubts, don’t you?”
“He didn’t kill Cheryl Diggs,” she said, firmly.
Decker thought a moment. He hated doing it, but there was no easy way to drop a bomb. “So Chris never got physical with you?”
“Never. When we were working together, he never even uttered a cross word to me.”
“So you’ve never seen him violent…or deviant maybe?”
The girl was taken aback. “Deviant?”
“Terry, I believe you when you say you didn’t have sex with him. But you two were physical last night, weren’t you?”
She blushed and nodded.
Decker kept his face devoid of emotion. “And it wasn’t the first time you two have ever been physical, was it?”
Red-faced, Terry looked down. “No. Last night was the first time we ever did anything.”
“Terry, please don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Then you’re hiding something from me.”
“No, I swear I’m not.” The girl grew agitated. “Why don’t you believe me?”
Decker shifted gears. “Last night, when you were with him, did he show any sexual deviance to y
ou?”
“Of course not!”
“Didn’t turn him on to get rough—”
“Boy, are you off base!” She looked repulsed. “I told you I don’t like dangerous guys. I would never allow anything like that.”
“Not even for Chris?”
“Not even for Chris!” She was adamant.
“How about if he asked a special favor from you, Terry? And he swore he wouldn’t hurt you.”
Panic had crept into her eyes. Decker felt terrible, but a girl had been murdered and he was determined to find her killer. He kept his voice even. “Did Chris ever talk to you about his sexual fantasies? Maybe fantasies about bondage?”
Her eyes darted from him, to the staircase, then to the front door. She was terrified as well as confused. Maybe those pictures had come from Whitman’s imagination.
Decker spoke soothingly. “Terry, did Chris ever talk about tying women up?”
Her eyes suddenly got wide.
Bingo!
In a whisper, Decker said, “He tied you up, didn’t he?”
Terry turned ashen. “Oh, my God, the sketches!” She broke out in a cold sweat. “I’m…I feel a little dizzy. Excuse…”
She stood up. Decker caught her before she hit the floor.
25
Still pale, but at least she was conscious, trembling with raw, hard shakes. Decker had dug up an old sweater from the coat closet, had placed it over Terry’s shoulders. Sitting at the dining-room table, he waited while the girl sipped tea, her shoulders hunched as she gripped the mug to get warm. Not that it would help much. The house wasn’t cold. Her chill was internal.
She raised her eyes from her teacup, the color as clear and gold as filtered cider. Her voice was very soft. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“You can ask anything you’d like.”
“Did you actually see the sketches?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“I don’t know,” Decker said. “I saw sketches of you nude, I saw sketches of you tied up and secured on his bed. Are there more?”
“No…that’s about…” She returned her eyes to her drink. “Do you have children?”
“Yes.”
“What would you have done if…” Her eyes lifted and met his. “If your daughter posed like I did?”
