Fatal Past: A Jess Kimball Thriller

by Diane Capri

  The disappearance of Melinda McAllister was strange right from the start. The more we learned about the situation, the stranger the story became.

  McAllister was in Paris for several months, studying abroad. Her roommate, Trina Rickland, attended the same college. Rickland said McAllister left late in the afternoon and never returned home on that Thursday evening.

  Rickland did not report McAllister’s disappearance to officials. After her absence was noticed by fellow students, Rickland was questioned by authorities and admitted McAllister was gone. The timing and other circumstances cast immediate suspicion on Rickland.

  Neighbors said they heard a terrible fight between the girls earlier in the day. Traces of McAllister’s blood were found in the apartment.

  Although Rickland was questioned about the fight, she was not arrested.

  A source from Taboo Magazine reported conversations with other students. According to those who knew her, Rickland would never have harmed McAllister. It was said that the two were close friends. Many students used the same word to describe the two: “inseparable.” Too inseparable, perhaps.

  After McAllister had disappeared, reporters learned additional facts reflecting a strange relationship between the two women. They had recently received matching tattoos, quoting two lines from Our Town, the famous Thornton Wilder play. Rickland had changed her college major to the same as McAllister’s English studies. Rickland and McAllister planned to rush the same sorority following their return to the United States.

  Most chilling were the dozens of images found in Rickland’s possession, showing McAllister in her most private moments. Many of the photographs were obviously snapped without McAllister’s knowledge.

  In a lengthy feature article at the time, Taboo Magazine Reporter Jess Kimball, suggested caution, mentioning Rickland’s explanations for her behaviors. For example, Rickland incredulously said the images were her attempts to practice candid photography. She said McAllister had granted permission for the photos.

  Kimball’s report on McAllister’s disappearance said, “Young girls often copy each other. Trina is distraught and worried. She’s fully cooperated with authorities and turned over every rock looking for Melinda. Remember, no evidence exists to prove that Trina is in any way responsible for her friend’s disappearance.”

  While Kimball’s observation may be true, McAllister’s friends say Rickland was obsessed with McAllister, and this is a case of obsession gone horribly wrong.

  The article continued in a similar style, repeating more salacious details and conjecture, until Sam could read no more and clicked it closed. He was disgusted by the sensationalized, biased reporting branding Trina Rickland guilty of murder without a shred of proof. He shook his head. The gossip rag had glommed onto the tawdriest possible conclusions simply to move copies, and that always irritated him to no end.

  He did some more snooping among the hits from his search. He read the well-written and researched piece written by Jess Kimball. And then he looked for more, scouring the internet until he felt wired.

  Sleep was out of the question. Now that he’d started on the Melinda McAllister case, he couldn’t seem to stop.

  You’re retired, remember? A little voice bleated in his mind. But he shoved it back as he calculated the time difference. After a couple of attempts, he located his cell phone under the bed where he’d accidently kicked it. He found the number in his list of contacts and placed the call.

  “Jess Kimball speaking.”

  Her voice was still familiar to him, though it had been years since they’d spoken. She was young back then when her son was taken from her apartment. Sam had caught the case when the first call came into the station, and he’d never forget it. She’d been sobbing so uncontrollably that he couldn’t make out her words at first. The case never got any easier.

  Sam had found her to be both intelligent and tenacious. Excellent qualities for an investigative reporter, but heartbreaking for a mother whose son Sam had never found.

  She’d followed up with him regularly for the first few years. But after a while, he no longer had the heart to comfort her tortured soul. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d made excuses to avoid her until she stopped calling.

  Which didn’t mean he’d stopped looking for Peter. Quite the opposite. Sam tried everything, without success.

  He’d found Peter’s open case file in his desk drawer when he’d cleared his stuff out of the Denver P.D. headquarters. He’d stared at the folder a good long time. Finally, he left it there, square in the middle of the desktop. Maybe his replacement would succeed where Sam had failed.

  “This is Jess Kimball,” she said again. “How can I help you?”

  He pushed his voice past the lump in his throat. “Hey Jess, this is Sam Sommers from Denver P.D.”

  Her breath caught. “It’s been a while.” Wary. Tentative.

  He winced. He’d been so focused on the McAllister girl that he hadn’t considered how she’d react to hearing from him out of the blue after all these years. “I’m sorry, Jess. I’m not calling about Peter. I wish I did have something to tell you there, but my call is about something else.”

  “I see.” She seemed to breathe a little easier, even over the wireless signal across the miles. “How can I be of service to D.P.D. today?”

  He put a smile into his voice. “Actually, I just retired. Still not quite sure how I feel about it.”

  “Oh, well, in that case, congratulations.” She waited, maybe a little distracted, probably hoping he’d come to the point and hang up.

  “Thank you,” he hedged, suddenly unsure. Maybe he shouldn’t drag Jess into his mess this time. This felt like his last chance to walk away before the poor girl’s case swallowed him completely.

  But he couldn’t do it. Not after he’d seen pictures of Melinda’s face the way it had been when she was alive. So full of light and promise. So like his own daughter.

  “Sam? Are you still there? I’m on deadline here, and I’ve only got a couple more minutes.”

  “Yes. Sorry.” He coughed. “I’m taking some time off before I officially open a private security firm, and decided to come to Paris.”

  “Well deserved, I’m sure.” Now she definitely seemed preoccupied.

  He coughed again and then got right to it before he lost her interest. “Problem is, it seems I’ve found myself on the job again, in a sense.”

  “Oh?” Her voice lilted, and he hoped he’d set the hook.

  “I went on a tour of the catacombs and happened on an unsolved homicide.” He went on to explain the way he’d found the girl and described the body. He followed with a brief report about his interactions with the police. Finally, he got around to Jess’s articles about the missing girl he’d read online. “What with Melinda McAllister going missing in Paris and the tattoo with the same quote, it’s probably her.”

  “Oh, Sam. I’m sorry to hear all of that.” Jess’s solemn tone carried across the miles. “I’m still not sure why you’re calling, though.”

  Sam cleared his throat. “Since you covered the case back when it first happened. I was hoping you might be able to tell me something about the roommate, Trina Rickland, or Melinda McAllister that wasn’t in your articles. Something that might help find her killer.”

  “Well, everything was covered extensively by the news media at the time. The basic story was that Melinda seemed to have had a great life and a bright future. No one knew what happened to her. She simply disappeared.” Jess paused for a few moments. He heard a clicking keyboard. “I was still hoping she was alive. After all this time, I suppose your news is not too surprising.”

  Sam nodded, although she couldn’t see him. “And what about Rickland? Anything there that might help?”

  Jess sighed. Sam pictured her running her fingers through her curly blonde hair like she often did. “Well, I defended Trina at the time because the story needed balance. I’d met her and talked to her, and I didn’t believe she had harmed Melinda.
She seemed as bewildered as everyone else. Most of my colleagues in the press disagreed with me. Their theory was that Trina was obsessed with Melinda and killed her in a fit of jealous rage.”

  “Was there any evidentiary support for that theory at the time?”

  “None that I remember. I’m just looking through my notes.” Jess paused again, murmuring as if reading quickly. “Right. They found no body. Only a few traces of Melinda’s blood in the apartment. Not enough to suggest a serious wound. Witnesses said they’d been arguing the day before Melinda took off, but no one reported arguing that Thursday.”

  Sam said, “Sounds like the whole thing was a witch-hunt. Basically, Trina Rickland was a convenient and juicy suspect. She was tried and convicted in the court of public opinion, even if she was never charged with a crime.”

  “Exactly. The way they framed it, Melinda was the perfect student with a choirboy quarterback boyfriend and a solid, supportive family. Trina didn’t have any of that. Far from it. She was a poor kid. On scholarship. No family at all. She started hanging around Melinda, emulating her, and Trina’s life seemed to get better. She was like a puppy, following Melinda around.” Jess took a quick breath. “Well, you can imagine how the gossip mongers painted everything when Melinda disappeared. Trina’s accusers were loud and harsh. I wanted to believe she wasn’t to blame.”

  He frowned. “You sound like you’ve changed your opinion.”

  “Trina’s had a tough time in life, and Melinda’s disappearance only made things worse. Now that Melinda’s body has been found, the press will be all over Trina again. Such a shame.” The keyboard clicking stopped, and Jess cleared her throat. “Yes, here it is. I didn’t put this in my article at the time because I couldn’t confirm it. I don’t think anyone else mentioned this, but what I wrote down is just as I remembered. Both girls toured those catacombs about a week before Melinda disappeared.”

  “Melinda’s body was found in a place that they’d recently visited together?” His tone was incredulous, and he shook his head.

  “Could go either way, I guess,” Jess said, tentatively.

  “Meaning what?”

  “If someone wanted to cast even more suspicion on Trina, hiding Melinda’s body in the catacombs would have accomplished the goal.” Jess took a breath and let it out in a long sigh. “On the other hand, it feels too suspicious. More like a frame-up.”

  Sam considered the possibilities and made no reply.

  “I hope I didn’t make a mistake about Trina,” Jess said. “Maybe my colleagues were right after all.”

  “Doesn’t feel right to me. Why don’t you come over here, bring your notes, and help me dig out the truth?” Sam could hardly believe he’d said that. He was retired. His homicide investigation days were supposed to be behind him.

  Her breath caught. He raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t meant to suggest it, but he couldn’t take it back.

  “I don’t want to get mired in this situation again,” Jess said.

  He pushed forward. This phone call was costing him a fortune. Might as well make the most of it. “Trina is more likely to get a fair shake if you’re here.”

  There was a long silence over the line. He waited. If she was the same woman he’d known all those years ago, she’d reach the right decision without any further prodding.

  Finally, Jess said, “I need to meet my deadline. Afterward, I’ll reschedule a couple of things and check flights. I can probably get there tomorrow. Let me take down your number.”

  “Call me when you have your arrival info, and I’ll pick you up at the airport. Meanwhile, I’ll see what I can find out.” He clicked off and resettled into the desk chair.

  He opened his laptop again and scrolled to a new picture, this one of Trina and Melinda arm in arm near the Champs-Élysées. They looked like fraternal twins. Not identical, but close enough. Same hair style, same color. Same clothes.

  Like everyone said, the resemblance was eerie, right down to the lip-gloss. Had the tabloids been right? Had Trina become obsessed with Melinda and killed her? But for what reason? He shook his head. That theory made zero sense.

  He wasn’t a Denver P.D. detective anymore, but he felt the familiar pull of an unsolved case, a new investigation. He and Jess Kimball were not so different in that way. Neither one could ignore the chance to make things right.

  His brain was buzzing and his body vibrated with the need to hit the streets and dive in headfirst.

  Screw rest and relaxation.

  Now he was on the case.

  CHAPTER THREE

  By the time Jess arrived late the next afternoon, Sam had worked himself into a fine lather. He’d studied every detail he could find about both Trina and Melinda. He’d traced their social media profiles to see what they’d posted around what he estimated as the time of the murder. Six days after their visit to the catacombs. The day Melinda disappeared.

  If Trina and Melinda had really visited the catacombs together, neither of them had posted about it. In fact, neither girl had posted anything at all on the day Melinda went missing.

  A week after Melinda’s disappearance, Trina’s Facebook page went completely silent. But Melinda’s was flooded with sympathy tributes and heartfelt testimonials about her life.

  Jess knew the case way better than Sam did. He was counting on her to help him uncover the truth.

  Sam collected Jess from the airport. They didn’t bother to stop at her hotel but headed straight for the police station.

  “Have you heard anything from the locals?” Jess had reviewed everything on the flight over and was ready to roll.

  Sam shook his head. “Not a word. I know they’re still in possession of the body, but that’s it. They basically told me to mind my own business, and they’d handle the case.”

  Jess blew a deep breath out through her nose and said nothing more. When he parked in front of the station, she hurried from the car to the entrance, leaving him to follow briskly behind her.

  When they reached the desk, Jess asked in rushed, stilted French if the woman behind the counter spoke English.

  “Oui.” She nodded. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m Jess Kimball.” Jess handed the woman her Taboo Magazine business card. Taboo had a Paris office, and the magazine was as well known here as it was in the states. She waited while the woman examined the card as if it was radioactive. “I’m here to speak with Detective Lacroix, please.”

  “Impossible.” The woman shook her head. “Lacroix retired six months ago.”

  Jess chewed on her lower lip and seemed to consider her reply before responding. “Can you put me in touch with the lead investigator in the Melinda McAllister case? I understand a body was recovered yesterday that might be Melinda’s. I covered the matter when she first went missing. I’d like to help.”

  The woman punched out a number on the telephone and then spoke with someone on the other line in rapid French. Still holding the receiver, she frowned up at Sam. “And you are?”

  “Sam Sommers. I found Melinda’s body in the catacombs.”

  “I see.” She nodded crisply, then mumbled some more, and finally hung up the phone. “He will speak with you after a positive identification of the body has been made. As of now, there is nothing he is able to discuss with you.”

  “But—” Sam managed to protest before she frowned and held up a flat palm to stop him.

  She nodded once as if the matter were settled. “If you would leave your numbers, I will call you when he will try to make some time to speak with you.”

  Jess glanced at Sam from the corner of her eye and shook her head. She’d dealt with Parisian law enforcement before. She recognized a brick wall when she knocked her head against one.

  She gave the woman both of their cell numbers and motioned Sam toward the door.

  When they were out of hearing range, she said, “Crap.”

  “That’s the best you can do?” Sam grinned. “Now what? Get your Paris office on the phone and use
their influence to get us on the inside of the investigation?”

  “Which would mean admitting I can’t do this myself? No. At least, not yet.” Jess said as they jogged down the steps. “Did you find out anything more about Trina and Melinda visiting the catacombs before the murder?”

  Sam shook his head. “If you still have contact info for Trina, maybe we should start with a call to her and get the facts.”

  “Let’s wait until they have a firm positive ID on the body before we drag Trina back into the situation. Besides, if Trina is guilty, tipping her off about Melinda’s body in a phone call would be less effective than a personal interview.”

  Sam nodded. “Okay. So what do you want to do instead?”

  “Check with the guide on the tourist desk at the catacombs. Find out if Trina and Melinda’s names are listed in the guest logs. We can proceed from there, one way or the other.”

  “You think they have those logs on hand from two years ago?” Sam asked.

  “Maybe.” Jess shrugged and held her palm out flat. “Now you get in the passenger’s seat and give me the keys. No offense, but you’re an awful driver.”

  In a matter of minutes, they’d completed the short drive, parked the car, and stood at the tourist desk staring down at another French woman. This one was chubbier and more bored-looking than the last.

  “Hello.” Jess delivered another Taboo business card and smiled. “I’m wondering if you can help me?”

  The woman nodded dubiously. From her expression, Sam figured she didn’t understand a word of English.

  “We are looking for a young woman who might have taken one of your tours a couple of years ago. Can you check and see if you have a record of Melinda McAllister?” Jess pointed to the computer and said the name slowly.

  The woman stared at her blankly. Jess reached over the desk and grabbed a piece of note paper and a pen. She printed the name and handed it to the other woman. Jess pointed at the computer again.

  This time, the message seemed to click. The woman stared at her screen and tapped away at her keyboard. She looked at Jess and shook her head. “No. I…erm…she is not here.” She pointed at the screen. “You would like me to call my…erm…Patron?”