I reached for her hand and squeezed, and the pressure let her pull oxygen back into her chest.
“Tenley has died, Mrs. Andre.” Best to be blunt here, rip that Band-Aid right off. It’s everyone’s least favorite part of this job—except me. Because it’s not about me and my comfort level, it’s about how I can help this person who’s drowning under waves of fresh grief. “A jogger found her at the foot of the Mansfield Dam this morning. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I kept my grip on her hands, her fingers going cold under mine, wishing I could read something—anything—through the emotionless mask that betrayed her Botox devotion. Her eyes fixed on a bitty silver nailhead in the school office wall and stayed there, filling so slowly I watched the tears well, and my heart suddenly felt too big for my chest.
“How?” Erica whispered.
I swallowed hard, shaking my head. There was no room for tears here—not from me. Not once in more than a hundred cases had I broken that rule. I always talked to the families. I was damned good at it. And yet here I was trying to cough an answer around a softball that had found its way into my throat. Maybe it was the date—this random Tuesday in late April would now be the same fault line for her it was for me. A break in her timeline, a shift to a new, dimmer reality she’d never wanted to imagine.
I moved onto my knees, raising my head to catch her gaze. “I don’t know. But I will find out. You have my word.” I was a peon with no clout, a boss who barely trusted me to get his coffee order right, and no jurisdiction here, but I meant every syllable. I could figure out how to deliver on it later.
“Thank you.” Her fingers closed tight around mine as the first tear escaped her lashes—and three sharp raps rattled the door.
4
I jerked Sarah Bauer’s office door inward with a stern Not now ready on my lips. The words died when Graham Hardin’s mouth dropped open and hung there like he’d forgotten how to close it.
Scuttling through the door, I pulled it shut before he could get a look behind me, keeping my voice low and hoping he’d follow suit. “Hey, Graham.”
“Faith?” It came out an octave too high and at least twice too loud when he figured out how to make his jaw work. The gray-green eyes that so perfectly matched his Travis County Sheriff’s Office uniform shot from my face to the name on the door to my badge a half dozen times in as many seconds.
I didn’t even need my six-plus years as his partner to see his temper spiking with each pass. His pinched lips and drawn brow screamed “not amused” to the three secretaries and four teachers clustered around the desk outside Mrs. Bauer’s door. I grabbed his sleeve, hauled him into the copy room next to the principal’s office, and shut the door. No lock to be found. I leaned against it just in case anyone was brave enough to try following.
“Before you—” I began.
“Just what in the blue hell are—” he angry-whispered.
We both stopped, eyes narrowing.
“Ladies first,” Graham bit out.
I wanted to tell him where he could shove the patronizing bullshit, but perhaps this wasn’t the time. Hauling in a deep breath, I tried for a smile. Not at all sure I pulled it off, I plunged ahead anyway. “I’m just trying to help, Graham.”
“With what? We don’t need the Rangers to tell us a girl jumped off the dam, Faith. We might not be elite”—he squiggled his long fingers in the air on the last word, throwing in a derisive tone and an eye roll in case I missed the sarcasm—“but we can still manage a simple suicide case.”
Not that I needed the scorn to know he was pissed at me. His total radio silence for the two years since I’d left the sheriff’s office was a pretty solid clue. I got it, but I didn’t deserve it. And I didn’t have time for it. Not today.
I checked my watch. “Got it all figured out in two hours, huh? That’s convenient. The captain looks good for the cameras, and folks don’t get nervous about going to the lake right before the busy summer season.”
“That theory might fly further if there was any lake left for people to go to. The back of her head is bashed in. Evidence indicates she was at the top of the dam carrying a very expensive bag that wasn’t stolen. Now she’s at the bottom. But we appreciate your loyalty.” He didn’t bother to whisper that time.
I pulled in a deep breath. Recenter. Time was, I’d have been plenty pissed at the Rangers stepping on my case, too. “This isn’t about loyalty, it’s about a young woman who’s on her way to the morgue when she shouldn’t be, and a family that will never be the same. I’m not trying to steal your glory, Graham. I couldn’t give a shit if anyone with an audience ever knows I put a toe in this. I just want to get these people an answer. Same as always.”
“We have an answer. She jumped.”
“What if she didn’t?”
“What if potbellied pigs fly out of Skye Morrow’s ass on live TV at ten o’clock?” His eyes flashed, the words razor-sharp.
“It would probably raise her ratings and make her day.” I folded my arms across my chest. “This girl had college plans, Graham. Big ones. Signing day is next week. Nothing matches the suicide profile, at least not yet. Why would she want to die?”
“Same reason the other two kids did last year. Damn cell phones let bullies at them around the clock. Depressed teenagers can’t see past the end of next week. They think it’s never going to get better.”
“Bullies? You saw her, right?”
“Come on, Faith. You went to high school. Jealous teenage girls are meaner than hungry rattlers.”
I shook my head. It didn’t feel right. “She was a high-profile VIP around here. Even if the parents wouldn’t notice something off, the school staff would’ve. Or her friends. I can’t just take the easy answer as the right one. We owe her more than that.”
Graham’s turn for the deep breath. “You can’t make every dead girl a personal crusade.”
Says who? I wanted to snap, but I squished the words under my tongue before they could annoy him any more. I didn’t care what Graham thought about me. I cared about Tenley. But Graham could shut me out of the case with a quick phone call if I didn’t play this just right. Not that I wanted him to know that.
“You know I’m a good cop. And that girl’s mother is on the other side of this wall”—I laid a hand on the cool beige plaster to my left—“trying like hell to hold what’s left of her shit together long enough to get out of this building. I just wrecked that woman’s whole life with a forty-five-second conversation, Graham. I cannot leave her without an answer. Without the right answer.”
“I guess you might know a thing or two about that.” His voice lost its edge.
“I wish I didn’t.” I blinked hard. Damned if I’d have him think I was resorting to tears to get my way.
He met my eyes, his softening. “Me too. I mean that.”
“I know you do. And I know you know I cannot walk away until I’ve done right by these people. While you try to prove she jumped, whoever killed her could vanish. Leads cool quickly.” Just ask Archie. “We don’t have time to prove there’s a killer to look for before we start looking.”
“We?” Graham raised one eyebrow, his low tone dangerous. “Are the Rangers taking over this case?”
Oops. Back it up a bit.
I shook my head. “Of course not.” I smiled. “But I’m not buried at the moment.” To say the least. “I’d like to help.”
He tapped two fingers on his lips, telling me he was thinking. “You do have that creepy memory thing,” he said finally.
Score. “It comes in handy occasionally. Like, say, for identifying victims.”
“Aha.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking up on the balls of his feet so he towered over me. I stood up straighter. “I wondered,” he continued. “We don’t even have the print run back. How’d you find her mother?”
I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my left ear. Taking that locket wasn’t terribly legal. But Graham knew I thought rules were stupid when th
ey got in the way of justice, and I was stepping on his case—well, someone’s case. The sheriff’s office holds jurisdiction over every waterway in the county, but Tenley wasn’t in the water because of the drought. Not that the captain would let a technicality stop him once he knew who she was.
“I asked the principal to call her?” I let my voice tick up at the end like he should’ve known that.
“But where’d you get an ID? I’m waiting on prints. We didn’t find a wallet.”
My eyebrows pinched together. “If you don’t have her name, why are you here?”
“We found a bag full of gifts at the scene. Two of them addressed to students here and one to the track coach. Looking to see if they can shed some light on anything.” He crooked his index finger. “How about you go ahead and flip that switch for me?”
“I found a locket.”
Graham stuck his hand out.
“I didn’t bring it with me. It’s at the hotel.”
“What did it tell you?”
“Tenley Andre. Senior track phenom. Class president. Girl with no visible reason to leap off the dam. What was in the packages?”
Graham rolled his eyes. “We can’t open them until the lab screens them for prints and fluids.” He’d grown up enough to leave off the “duh, McClellan” at least.
“Thought you said she jumped?” I softened the jibe with a smile.
“You’re not the only one who likes to check all the boxes.” The corners of his lips tipped up. “But two and two is usually four.”
“Until it’s six.” Or 230. “Didn’t you look at her? How could she have jumped and landed so straight? It looked like she lay down, not like she fell. Remember that jumper we had at Pennybacker Bridge? Her hips were twisted around like she needed an exorcist.”
Graham offered a slow nod. “That is weird. Not impossible, but weird.”
“Worth having its own box to check. Especially when you have a ready volunteer helper.”
He scuffed the toe of his boot on the worn green linoleum, tracing the edge of one whole square before he spoke. “The most pigheaded volunteer who ever raised a hand.”
I grinned. “Think of me as your new assistant. Pinkie swear.”
His big laugh filled the tiny room. “The day you willingly sign on as anyone’s assistant anything, I’ll turn in my shield.”
Never mind that that was pretty much exactly what my so-called dream job had turned me into. I stretched my face into the smile that used to be reserved for my mother’s cocktail parties. Back when I’d still been invited.
“I hear you’re the new apple of the brass’s collective eye, future commander Hardin.” I raised one hand when his cocoa cheeks went peachy pink as he shook his head. “Look around you, Graham. Do twelve seconds of research on Tenley Andre and her friends. This could be big. The kind of big that makes careers. I’m offering you every bit of credit if I’m right and none of the hassle if I’m not.”
He folded thick arms across his broad chest. “You’re taking care of the family?”
And there was my way in. Graham hated that part more than anyone else did—he tried to look tough, but a soft heart lurked under all the muscles and bravado. Both were reasons we’d always made a good team. “Got it covered. See? I’m helping already.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he grinned, butterflies flapping in my middle at the flash of bright-white teeth against his dark skin. My hand went to my stomach, my eyebrows puckering. I’d seen Graham smile too many times to count, with nary a noticeable twinge. Then again, last time I saw Graham, he was my partner. Noticing my partner’s smile in a butterflies-inducing sort of way was the short road to getting myself fired. Maybe him, too.
“I’ll let you do your thing, then,” he said. “All I needed to walk out of here with was an ID. Get me contact information for the parents when you’re done here, and if you can’t manage to fly under Jameson’s radar, I didn’t see you today.”
I shook his hand and promised to call him later, then watched him all the way out of the building before I turned back to the office door.
With more time, I could get Graham on board—provided I was right.
My gut was good, sure. Even so, the best instincts can be jammed by lesser interference: the day, the lake, the pretty teenage girl. Bad memories never stay buried forever, no matter how deep you dig or how far you run.
But chasing a ghost beats the hell out of missing a murderer.
5
Tenley Andre was more phenomenon than actual person—at least to the crowd of school officials in the little beige office, which included the principal and the track coach by the time I’d finished arguing with Graham.
Hushed conversations about spin control and counselors practically overlooked and definitely dehumanized the superstar Marshall High had just lost. And with her mother still sitting in the big middle of it—nice, folks.
“I just got a call from the athletic department at Stanford yesterday.” Jake Simpson shook his head, one hand running through his thick chestnut hair. “They want to finalize the formal signing for her scholarship. What the hell do I tell them?”
Simpson oozed smarmy self-importance, from his “Four-Time State Champions” hat to his designer sneakers. So far, his talking wasn’t making me like him any more.
“Nothing.” My reply had a tinge too much edge.
He blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“You’ll tell them nothing. Don’t call them back yet.”
“But I—”
I raised one palm, leaning in and lowering my voice. “Priorities, Coach. I shouldn’t need to point out that this woman just lost her child—never mind that no one has had a chance to speak to Tenley’s father. I won’t have this all over the TV before he knows about it. Which means what you’ve learned in this room today stays in this room until further notice.”
He shrugged. “Whatever you say, ma’am.” My bullshit detector flipped right on over to truckload of steaming manure.
“Thank you so much.” I smiled. “I’d hate for you to spend the end of your season tied up in court because you interfered with an open police investigation.”
Well, I wouldn’t hate it, but it wouldn’t happen, either—without an injunction, I couldn’t keep him from running straight down the hill to channel two and jumping on the air with a photo of Tenley.
I’d bet he didn’t know that.
His blue eyes widened as he nodded. “Of course not.”
Looked like I’d won that hand.
Turning my best no-nonsense glare on the rest of the room, I repeated the request for confidentiality. “I understand y’all want to help your students through this,” I said before the school administrators could speak. “But I need you to keep it quiet as long as you can. If anyone asks, you don’t know where she is.”
Principal Shannon nodded. “Of course, Officer.”
Tenley’s mother raised her head from the principal’s shoulder when he spoke. “I have to go home.” Her voice faded. “Please.”
The track coach started to reach for her, stopped midstep, and shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoelaces fascinating all of a sudden. Huh. I watched for three more ticks. He didn’t move again, so I stepped to Erica’s side and laid a hand on her shoulder.
“I’ll be happy to take you. Is there someone I can call to come sit with you while you wait for your husband to get home?”
Simpson looked toward Erica. “Is Brent flying this week?”
She nodded, her eyes staying on the carpet.
“Her husband is a pilot,” the principal told me. “Continental.”
“We’ll find him,” I said, sneaking a last glance back at the coach, who was looking everywhere except at Erica Andre.
The principal stood and helped Erica to her feet, and I offered her an arm. She hesitated, only taking it when her knees began to shake. Pulling in a slow breath, she stared down at her strappy pink sandals. “I need to go home,” she repeated.
&
nbsp; My chest tightened around my heart as I contemplated the difference between the pitiful woman hanging on my arm and the one who’d arrived an hour ago, the picture of West Austin privilege from her every-strand-in-order hair to her cost-more-than-a-month-of-groceries shoes.
The Botox left her brows unable to move enough to reveal actual emotion, but her puffy, crimson-rimmed eyes and blotchy skin told the story well enough.
I nodded to the school officials huddled around the desk. The vice principal brushed fresh tears from her cheeks, her boss blinking hard as they looked over assembly schedules.
Coach Simpson leaned on the edge of the desk on two hands, his lips stretched into a tight line, eyes hard as blue granite.
“Thank you for your time and your help,” I said, handing the principal a card I’d fished from my back pocket and taking one from the little silver stand on the corner of Sarah’s desk. “I’ll be in touch.”
I patted Erica’s hand, took a half step toward the door. “You ready?”
Erica didn’t move. “Does it matter?”
I put a hand on the knob. “You just tell me when, ma’am.”
“Wait.” Erica’s voice trembled, her fingers going to her hair. She pulled the last three pins and dropped them to the carpet, running her hand through the length and hiding her swollen face behind a curtain of shining bronze.
I could’ve heard a gnat sneeze as we left the building, but Erica kept her head down and I helped hold her up until we reached my truck. I secured Erica’s seat belt before I climbed in and started the engine, then idled to the parking lot exit and pulled my phone from my pocket to look up the Andres’ address.
GPS set, I turned left out of the parking lot. Erica’s head lolled across the back of the seat, looser than a rag doll’s, her glassy eyes staring at nothing.
I focused on the road, ticking back through people and conversations and letting the silence stretch. There were no words that would make this woman okay today. Or tomorrow, or next year.
Getting her an answer was the only thing that might help, however little. So that’s what I would do. I stopped at the corner of Redbud and Forest View, started to reach for the radio, changed my mind.
Fear No Truth Page 3
