Vinny didn’t respond.
Hunter’s smile slipped. “Can we come in?”
“My mother isn’t here.”
“We’ll only be a minute.”
Vinny turned and walked back into the kitchen. “Suit yourself.” She didn’t hold the door open for them. As it was, she could just imagine what her mother would say if she found out Vinny had let Hunter McKenna into the house.
“Why aren’t you in school?” Hunter asked. Her partner was surveying the house without any effort to disguise the fact.
“I’m home schooling now.”
“Because of what happened?” Hunter asked.
Vinny opened her mouth and started to answer, then stopped. “Wh-what do you mean, what happened?”
A shadow flickered on Hunter’s face. It disappeared almost as quickly as it appeared, but she’d seen it.
She was sure she’d seen it, and hadn’t imagined it, although she had to admit that the painkillers she’d taken just before she’d gotten dressed were starting to kick in. She was starting to feel good. Relaxed. Confident. And a bit foggy.
“Well, I know this has been a difficult time,” Hunter said.
“What are you doing here?” Vinny blurted out.
“Evelyn, you know you’re going to have to answer questions about what happened.”
Hunter’s words sounded gentle, sympathetic. Vinny almost expected the woman to reach out and hug her, but she didn’t.
What if they knew about the gun? She swallowed. Her mouth was dry, and she longed for a drink. Longed for enough painkillers to knock her out of the fog and into a deep sleep. “I don’t know anything about Adam. I told you.”
Something about the way Hunter was looking at her made her feel as though giant spiders were crawling up the back of her neck, into her hair. She shifted her weight from her left foot to her right, and then back again as she glanced at the nameless male partner, then back at Hunter, then at the floor.
“I’m talking about what happened with Jonah.”
“Huh?” Vinny’s head snapped up. “What happened to Jonah?”
Hunter glanced at her partner, who raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak. When Hunter looked back at her, Vinny could see the concern in her eyes.
“Evelyn, he raped you.”
“He raped me?”
“You sound like you’re asking.”
“Wh-wh-what makes you say that?” Vinny thought about what Jesse and Dylan had said, the night before. Why did people think Jonah had raped her?
“Your mother contacted the police. Jonah was brought in for questioning.”
Vinny couldn’t find anything to look at. Her stomach twisted and the rest of her body was numb. “I haven’t seen Jonah.”
“Since the attack?”
“Since I don’t remember. I-I-” She wanted to say there’d been some mistake. That they were wrong.
Why would Mother say Jonah had raped her?
Hunter stated a date. “That’s when it happened.”
The date played over in Vinny’s head. Vinny’s mind scrambled. She knew it was wrong. Tried to piece together the days, but without school as an anchor they blurred together. She took a shaky breath and forced herself to think carefully.
The other night… Jesse and Dylan. The night before, at the dug-out with Jesse. She rubbed her forehead. She thought about Jesse massaging her back, his hands on her shoulders, her neck… That was… when?
How many days had it been? She closed her eyes as it all came into focus. Vinny knew where she’d been, and it wasn’t with Jonah.
“It’s very serious to be accused of raping someone,” the male police officer said. “You’re going to have to answer some questions.”
“Well, not to you, and not right now.” The words were out of Vinny’s mouth before she’d fully processed them.
“Excuse me?” he said.
“I’m a minor.” Her gaze darted back and forth between the man, Hunter, the floor and the wall. “And I’m taking medication and I don’t have to talk to you.”
“Evelyn, you know we’re only trying to help.” Hunter’s voice. Soothing. Reassuring.
“You can help me by getting out.”
“Evelyn-”
“Out. If my mother finds you here…” Vinny stared at Hunter. It wasn’t until that moment that Vinny realized she was crying. She could feel her hands shaking as she raised them and took a step backward. “I want you out.”
Hunter stared at her, then glanced at her partner and nodded.
“Okay, Evelyn. But sooner or later, you’re going to have to talk to someone. And it might not be someone who cares about you and what you’re going through. Please.” She reached into her pocket and removed a business card, which she left on the counter. “Let me help you.”
Hunter watched her for a moment and she looked away. It seemed to take every ounce of energy Vinny had to hold herself together until she shut the door behind the detectives.
***
Solomon then brought her back to the point when she left Thomas in the hospital, Evelyn still unconscious, he asked her what she was thinking when she left, and what happened next with the investigation.
***
Formalities. There were times Hunter hated them. She would hate them even more when she took her daughter for one of the most important events in her young life.
She tried to push the personal distractions aside as she listened to Noah state all the things that needed to be recorded at the beginning of the interview.
CYA. The legalities of protecting yourself.
Had she done enough to protect Audra?
Ever since she’d seen Evelyn Shepherd being pulled out of the dug-out thirty-six hours earlier, she’d been forced to face a long-held fear she’d suppressed and ignored.
The keen awareness that even your child isn’t your own.
Not really. And definitely not if you aren’t living with the other parent.
Snap your fingers and your child could be taken from you in the blink of an eye.
The courts were less forgiving than ever before if they sensed alienation. She’d settled into an uneasy avoidance of reality that had allowed her to carry on, convinced Audra’s father would never impose upon her.
Convinced he was consumed with the issues with his ex-wife and older child that had ultimately torn him and Hunter apart.
Willing herself to believe there’d never come a time when he’d stake a claim for an active place in their child’s life.
Telling herself Audra was hers…
She finally did force those thoughts aside as Noah wrapped up the formalities and posed the first question.
“What were you doing at the farm yesterday morning?”
The wide-eyed blonde turned to look at her mother and then tossed her silky hair over her shoulders. She was wearing a dress shirt and grey pinstriped pants. Hunter wondered if the girl had chosen her own clothes, or if her mother had picked them out for her. “Well, you know, the reporters had questions.”
“And you were happy to oblige.” Noah wasn’t asking. He was stating.
Heather Whitby stared back at him. “I-I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything helpful, either.” Noah leaned back in his chair.
She flushed. “I dialed 911.”
“Which makes you citizen of the year.”
Heather looked at her mother, who remained silent and looked at her watch for the fourth time since she’d been seated. Hunter found herself wondering if the woman had spent more time with her daughter this morning than she had in the past week combined. She was clearly a businesswoman, dressed in a tailored suit, manicured fingernails, styled hair. Something about the blue shade she wore struck Hunter as being ice cold, and Hunter liked blue. She studied the face.
Maybe it was just the person wearing the outfit.
The tears started to roll down Heather's cheeks, but they appeared carefully controlled. None trickled down her nose
or greatly affected her make-up. “All I did was help. I don’t know why you’re being so hurtful.”
Noah leaned forward. “Sweetie, your routine may work well for the cameras, and it may even get you an extra $100 from your mom when you want a new pair of shoes, but it won’t get you shit with me.”
The part of Noah that a tailored suit couldn’t rein in. Hunter almost smiled but kept her focus on the girl’s mother, who seemed unaffected by her daughter’s theatrics or her situation, or even Noah’s language.
Heather lifted her tiny hands and wiped the tears from her face. The crying stopped and she glared across the table at Noah.
“That’s what this was about, wasn’t it?” Hunter said abruptly. She looked at the clothing the girl was wearing while Heather looked at her, mouth open. “It was about the cameras.”
Hunter flipped through some pages in front of her. “You’ve been in the drama group at school and it says here you had a few walk-on roles in locally filmed TV shows and movies.”
Heather’s fingers combed through her hair but she said nothing.
“You said you just happened to stumble across a girl in the woods, who’d overdosed. But she was inside a dug-out. The entrance was at the far side of the clearing, near the trees. There’s no way anyone would just walk past the door by accident. You knew it was there.”
Mrs. Whitby turned to look at her daughter. Heather shifted in her seat.
Hunter leaned forward and stared into her eyes. “A fire was still burning by the dug-out. There was a party there last night. You were there.”
Heather’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t. I swear.”
“You’ll be grounded for a month and lose your cell phone if I find out you’re lying,” Mrs. Whitby said as she glared at her daughter. “If you made me cancel my meeting for this-”
The girl’s head hung and Heather slumped in her seat. “I swear to you, there wasn’t any party last night. Not that I knew of.”
“We can arrest you right now for obstruction of justice, interfering with a criminal investigation.” Television shows had made this part of Hunter’s job so much easier. She didn’t have to prove they could file charges. The average person had heard so many similar statements during TV interrogations they believed they were true.
Heather’s tears were back, and this time, they seemed to be real. “If there was a party last night, I didn’t know anything about it.”
Her voice was emphatic. Pitched high with fear, but still said with conviction.
She was telling the truth.
“Then what were you doing at the clearing this morning.”
Heather looked at her mother, her eyes pleading for intervention, but when none came she glanced at Hunter, then at the table. “I got a text message.”
Hunter arched an eyebrow and glanced at Noah.
“And?”
“It told me if I wanted,” Heather glanced at her mother again and sighed, “some stuff, to go to the dug-out.”
Mrs. Whitby’s head spun and she stared at her daughter. “And just what stuff might that be?”
Heather stared at the table.
“I asked you a question.” The tone made it clear she wasn’t asking for an answer now; she was demanding one.
“Mrs. Whitby, please. Heather, who sent you the message?”
Heather flushed. “Jesse.”
Hunter’s head jerked upward as her gaze met Noah’s. “Jesse Forbes?”
Heather nodded glumly.
“Do you have your cell phone with you?” Hunter asked.
It didn’t take long for them to get the information. Noah read the message and wrote down the number it came from, then concluded the interview with an admonition to stay in town and be prepared to answer further questions.
Heather appeared indifferent to their warning and Hunter couldn’t blame her. Mrs. Whitby had already launched into a, "You just wait until we get home," lecture and didn’t censor her threats, even while inside the police station.
“Damn,” Noah said after Mrs. Whitby was out of earshot. “She’s a piece of work.”
“Reminds me of Rose Chadwick.”
“We’d better go check up on that report. Jesse Forbes could be the key to everything.”
***
Hunter felt as though she’d received a physical blow. She was standing outside the station, forcing polite smiles at any colleagues who walked by, trying to process what Elijah had just told her. “What?”
“We found his body in the old barn on the Colville Farm property this morning,” Elijah said. “I left you a voice mail. Jesse Forbes is dead.”
“Shit. We were questioning someone.” Hunter pulled out her phone. She hadn’t even heard it buzz. “Any thoughts on time of death?”
“A couple of days. Doc said he’d know more once he had him on the table, but the body wasn’t in bad shape, considering.”
“No chance it hasn’t been that long? More like twenty-four?” Noah asked.
Elijah shook his head. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what he told me.”
Hunter nodded. “Thanks.”
She leaned back against the building as Elijah met up with his partner and headed toward his car. After a moment she shook her head and offered Noah an uncertain smile.
“This just got interesting,” he said.
“Just?”
“You know what I mean.
“It makes you wonder…”
His eyes narrowed as he waited for her to continue.
“How’d the media jump to the attempted suicide angle so quickly? And where did it come from? Evelyn was the only teen we found,” she said.
“I figured they thought it connected to Adam Fields somehow.”
“Because Adam Fields broke into a house, turned the water on, shot himself in the head and fell down into the tub, laying perfectly inside it after he’d wiped the blood spatter off the walls and hid the gun he used?”
“We haven’t released all of those details,” Noah said. “The press is working with what they’ve got, just like us, trying to piece it together.”
Trying to piece it together.
She sprang up from the wall and ran across the parking lot, stopping the car that had just backed out of its spot. Hunter rapped on the window with her knuckle and could have sworn she heard Mrs. Whitby’s sigh over the sound of the electronic windows opening.
“Heather, what about Adam Fields?”
The girl sat frozen, with a deer-in-the-headlights look.
“Was there a party that night?”
The girl glanced at her mother, who smacked the back of her head. “For heaven’s sake, answer them. Now.” A cell phone rang. Mrs. Whitby pulled it from her pocket, glanced at the display and flipped it open.
Heather looked like all the air had just been pushed out of her lungs. She nodded.
“Where was it? At the dug-out? The pit by the old farm?”
She shook her head. “It started out at the pit. But then some of us moved. To the hill.”
Hunter glanced at Noah, who’d caught up with her and was standing a few feet away. “The hill?”
“You know, it’s by the old farm, but from the other side you look down on those new developments.” She mumbled the directions.
"Was there anything special about that party? Anything else that was different?"
"Just that," Heather sighed, "I dressed like Ivy and Ivy dressed like me."
Mrs. Whitby snapped the cell phone shut. “Not another word,” she said to Heather as she pointed a finger at her. Mrs. Whitby looked at Hunter. “We’re done. No more questions without our lawyer.”
Hunter stepped back as the window slid up. Heather glanced at her, eyes wide, and then the car pulled out onto the road.
She ran back to Noah to tell him about the lead. He was talking to their boss, but by the time she got there the boss was gone.
“You aren’t going to like this,” Noah said. She started to respond but he held up a hand
. “Jesse Forbes is on our plate, too. We have to go to the autopsy.”
“Now?”
Noah nodded. “Now.”
Hunter groaned. They finally had a solid lead in the Adam Fields investigation, and it would have to wait.
KISS THE DIRT
- INXS -
Hunter McKenna Testifying
Fifty hours after Evelyn Shepherd had been pulled out of the dug-out, Noah stood at the top of the hill, spouting a string of swear words. When he finally came up for air Hunter gave him a look.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?”
The angry face cracked into a grin, but then sobered up again. “I’m surprised you can be so nonchalant about this.”
“I started to get over it the minute you told me we had to go to an autopsy. At least the house makes sense now,” Hunter said as she looked down the hill, toward the cul de sac and the back of the house where Adam Fields' body had been found.
“Too goddamn little too late if you ask me. We’ve got nothing. Rain’s washed away any possible trace evidence.” Noah bent down and studied a beer bottle by the cold ash that filled the makeshift fire pit. “Three kids in less than a week.”
“Evelyn’s not dead.” Hunter felt a chill go down her spine as she said the words. It was one of the possibilities she’d been forcing herself not to think about.
“I just meant the calls, not the outcomes,” Noah said. “It’s all got to tie together somehow.”
“We’ve got a body in an empty house with a gunshot wound to the head. Another teen whose body was found in a barn at an abandoned farm on the other side of a hill that looks down over the house where the first teen was found. And an overdose victim in the hospital, unconscious.”
"From a dug-out in the strip of trees near this hill." Noah shook his head and waved his phone at her. “But you're wrong about one thing. Call came in while you were chasing after the Whitbys. Evelyn Shepherd regained consciousness yesterday and was released.”
“And you didn’t tell me until now?”
“I thought Tom would tell you.” He had a sheepish look on his face. “You’re meeting him later, right?”
Harvest of Ruins Page 15
