If She Heard

“Were you the first on the scene?” DeMarco asked.

“No, that was Smith. But I was right behind him.”

“Can you walk me through what you saw?”

Kate liked this approach. Rather than instantly looking though the offered files. DeMarco wanted to make sure she was seeing the scene as it had played out on the morning the body had been found. Photographs and notes were excellent tools, but rarely as good as hearing the events told from the mouths of those first on the scene.

“According to the mother, Kayla Peterson was home for a friend’s wedding. She went out with some friends two nights ago and the next morning, she wasn’t in her room. But her car was right there in the driveway. When the mother opened the door to check the car, she found Kayla dead on the porch. She’d gotten so far as putting her front door key into the lock before the killer attacked; they were still hanging from the knob when Smith and I got here. From the moment I saw the body, it was quite apparent she had been strangled.”

“Was she fully clothed?” Kate asked.

“She was. The medical examiner said there was no indication that she had been raped or otherwise sexually assaulted. Seems like murder was the only thing the killer was interested in. Same goes for the first victim.”

“Did the ME have any hints at what was used to strangle her?” DeMarco asked.

“He thinks some sort of cord, likely made of plastic. And the force with which he did it was a lot. The ME thinks the killer must be rather strong.”

“Is that Kayla’s car down there?” DeMarco asked, nodding to the only other car in the driveway.

“It is.” He fished around in his pocket and took out a key fob that had been marked with an evidence tag. He handed it over to DeMarco and said, “Help yourself.”

The three of them trotted back down the porch stairs to the driveway. Kayla had driven a 2017 Kia Optima. It looked exactly what Kate would expect a college girl’s car to look like: fairly clean, the console littered with Chapstick, a half-empty plastic bottle of water, and a phone charger. Other than that, there was nothing of note in the car—certainly nothing that would help them determine who had been following her that night.

Following the car, Gates unlocked the front door. He explained to them that when Sandra Peterson had left town, she’d given Gates the keys to her home to help with the investigation.

“Any chance she’d be a suspect?” Kate asked.

“Even if I had the slightest inkling that she was—and I don’t—it would not explain the first victim.”

“That was three days before Kayla, right?” DeMarco asked.

“That’s exactly right. While there is certainly no way to rule her out for certain, I interviewed every single person that was at the bowling alley when it closed up. Not a single person reported seeing Sandra Peterson. One woman knew exactly who I was talking about and thought it was outrageous that I was even asking. Besides…I go back to what the ME said. Whoever strangled Kayla Peterson was incredibly strong. And if you ever end up meeting Sandra Peterson, you’d have a hard time lining that up. She’d quite waifish. Lost a ton of weight when her husband left. And not by going to the gym. She looks almost malnourished. Sickly, at times.”

Kate and DeMarco looked around the room Kayla had been staying in. It showed signs of the girl she once was, the residue of Hannah Montana stickers on the side of a dresser, faintly faded squares on the walls where posters once hung. They found two packed bags sitting at the foot of the bed. One had clearly been designated as the bag for all things related to the wedding celebration. It was filled with nicer clothes, makeup, and what looked like notes for a toast. The other bag was much less formal, with several outfits tossed in along with a paperback book and some toiletries. But there was nothing at all to help them with the case.

“Have you talked to any of the friends she was out with the night she was killed?” DeMarco asked.

“All but one of them. From what I gathered, there were four of them in all, including Kayla.”

“I’d like to speak with all of them,” DeMarco said. She then looked back to Kate, as if seeking approval. Kate only gave a quick nod of the head, appreciating the gesture of having DeMarco seek her opinion.

“Well, it’s Monday afternoon, and they’re all working. I could make some calls and see what I can do to get them all together. Maybe at the station.”

“What about a bar or diner or something?” DeMarco asked.

Gates looked baffled, but nodded slowly. “Yeah, there’s a bar or two in town. Well, right outside of it, actually. Pretty sure a few of the girls frequent one of them, a place called Esther’s Place. I can have them meet you there at six or so.”

“Make sure they know it’s not optional,” DeMarco said. “If they can’t make it, we’ll come to their house.”

Kate smiled. It wasn’t the path she would have taken, but it was an effective one. She knew what DeMarco was thinking. Typically, when the questioning of witnesses was done outside of interrogation rooms or even homes, the flow of conversation tended to be more natural. Kate had never preferred this approach, as the possibility of distraction became an issue. But this was DeMarco’s show and she was going to let DeMarco run it her way.

The trio exited the house and by the time they reached their respective cars, Sheriff Gates was already on the phone, trying to organize the meeting.

“I wonder why he just let the mom leave like that,” DeMarco said as they got into their car.

“The woman just lost her daughter. Unless there is substantial evidence that she is guilty or knows something worthwhile, there’s no point in dragging her through this. Plus, the case files said she has no family or friends around here. And family and friends is exactly what she needs right now.”

DeMarco chuckled. “Damn, I missed you, Kate. I was beginning to worry I put people’s emotions in the back seat when it came to a case.”

“It’s easy to do,” Kate said. “After a while, as sad as it sounds, it can become easy to stop seeing the people we meet on the cases as actual people. We just have a puzzle to solve and they are the tools to help. It’s a shitty way to think, but I think all agents slip into it at some point or another.”

“I can’t see you behaving like that.”

Talk to Melissa, she thought. She’ll tell you all about how I put the job above everything.

The thought brought a sudden sting of tears to her eyes, which she wiped away. It was one more tug from life, pulling her closer. Yes, she had been a miserable mother to Melissa, usually choosing work over her.

She found herself back there again, only now twenty years later and with Michael. She had a chance to get it right this time.

And as that last thought still stung at her mind, she thought, when it was all said and done, she would get it right.

CHAPTER FIVE

The bar wasn’t really a bar at all, but a drinking area within a greasy-spoon sort of diner. There were dartboards and even a by-God jukebox, but the diner section seemed to be why the establishment was there at all. The bar area within Esther’s Place was pushed to the back, as if the owner might be ashamed of what took place there. But when Kate and DeMarco stepped inside at 5:45 to meet with the friends of Kayla Peterson, it seemed like a nice enough—if not slightly outdated—place.

There were three young women sitting at a booth in the far corner. Kate noticed right away that none of them were drinking alcohol, presumably because they were all under twenty-one. Two had waters, and another had what looked to be either seltzer water or Sprite. All three of them seemed to notice the FBI agents at the same time. They didn’t look scared per se, but certainly on edge. Kate wondered how long the girls would wait until after the interview before they went out in search of a drink or two by illegal means.

DeMarco took the lead as they approached the table. “Are you ladies Claire Lee, Tabby Amos, and Olivia Macintyre?”

“That’s us,” the girl in the middle said. She had gorgeous red hair and a tall slender figure that came into view when she stood up and offered her hand. “I’m Tabitha Amos,” she said. “Tabby to most, though.”

“I’m Claire Lee,” the girl on the left said. She was also quite pretty, but in a plain sort of way. She was wearing a thin hoodie and looked comfortable in it; she was clearly not the type that felt the need to look spectacular every time she left the house.

“And that makes me Olivia Macintyre,” the last girl said. She had dark blonde hair that looked almost brown in the dim bar lighting. She wore a pair of stylish eyeglasses and had a mousy look about her.

“We’re Agents DeMarco and Wise,” DeMarco said. She showed her badge discreetly as she approached the table. “Mind if we join you?”

The trio of girls scooted closer together to allow room for Kate and DeMarco to sit at the booth. The moment they sat down, a waitress came over to take their orders. They both ordered waters and, having missed lunch, also a cheeseburger each to go. The girls seemed a little off put by this and Kate could see right away that DeMarco’s decision to meet them here had been a smart one.

“So, as I’m sure Sheriff Gates told you,” Demarco said, “we want to talk about Kayla Peterson. We especially need to know anything you can tell us about that last night you all spent together.”

The girls looked at one another somberly. They all looked upset about current events but mostly well-centered. Kate wasn’t too surprised to find that Tabby Amos was the mouthpiece for the group. Most people would view her as the prettiest, and therefore the most outwardly confident, of the group. She had also been the first to stand and introduce herself.

“Well, it was my idea. The four of us were very tight in high school. Then Kayla and Claire over there decided to go to college and we rarely saw one another. We all got together last Christmas…that was the last time the four of us were together. I thought it would be cool to have one last hurrah before the wedding.”

“When is the wedding?” Kate asked.

“This coming Saturday,” Olivia said.