7
When Steve and Aline came back downstairs after changing their clothes, they joined Fran in the family room, which was still littered with plastic glasses and soiled paper plates. Officer Weld had instructed them not to clean up anything until the Prosecutor’s Office arrived and had had an opportunity to examine both the outside property and the inside of the home.
Steve’s arm was around Fran. They were sitting together motionless on the couch. Then Fran’s voice began to shake and she exploded into high-pitched sobs.
They huddled together in mutual shock and overwhelming grief. “How could she have fallen into the pool fully dressed?” Fran wailed.
Steve said, “We know she was out on the patio cleaning up. Maybe she leaned over to get something that had fallen in the pool and then she fell. It was probably late and she may have been tired.” He did not share with Fran or Aline his private fear that Kerry might have had way too much to drink.
Quietly tearful, Aline was thinking. Poor Kerry, poor baby. She had been in frequent contact with Kerry in the three years she had been away. She could not fathom that she would never see or hear from her again. She couldn’t believe that yet again she was forced to deal with the sudden death of someone she loved.
Fran was quietly sobbing now.
There was a chiming from the doorbell, then the unlocked front door was pushed open. It was Monsignor Del Prete, “Father Frank” as he preferred to be called. The sixty-six-year-old pastor of St. Gabriel’s, their local parish, came in. Obviously someone had phoned him, because he said at once, “Fran, Steve, Aline, I am so terribly sorry.” As they stood up, he clasped each of their hands in his and then pulled up a chair close to them. He said quietly, “I would like to say a prayer for Kerry.” He began, “Dear Lord, in this time of great sorrow . . .”
When he’d finished it, Fran burst out, “How could God do this to us?”
Father Frank took off his glasses, removed a smooth cloth from his pocket and began to clean them as he spoke. “Fran, that is a question everyone asks after a tragedy. How can our all-loving and merciful God fail to protect us and those we love at the time when we most need him? I’ll be honest with you. It’s a question I struggle with myself.
“The best answer I’ve heard came in a sermon given by an elderly priest many years ago. He was traveling in the Middle East and was overwhelmed by the majesty of the Persian rugs he saw. Those gorgeous creations so skillfully woven into such beautiful designs. One day he was in a shop where those rugs were on display. He walked behind one that was hanging on hooks from the ceiling. Looking at it from behind, he was shocked to behold a confusing array of threads that led nowhere. Such beauty on one side, total disharmony on the other, but both part of the same plan. It was then that the message became clear to him. In this life we see only the back side of the rug. We don’t know how or why our unspeakable hardships are part of a beautiful design. That is why having faith is so important.”
The silence that followed was broken by a knock on the back door. As Steve got up, there was the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. A man in his early thirties, with sandy hair and piercing brown eyes stood before them. He introduced himself by saying, “My name is Detective Mike Wilson from the Bergen County Prosecutor’s Office. I am so sorry for your loss. Would it be okay if I asked you a few questions? We need basic background information.”
Father Frank got up and offered to stop back later.
Fran and Steve, speaking almost in unison, asked him to stay. He nodded and sat down again.
“What is your daughter’s age?” the detective asked.
It was Aline who answered. “She was eighteen in January. She just graduated from high school.”
The questions were gentle and easy to answer. Steve and Fran confirmed they were Kerry’s parents and that Aline was her older sister.
“When was the last time you were in touch with your daughter in any way—phone, text, email?”
They agreed it was about five o’clock the previous evening. Steve explained that they had stayed overnight with friends in Massachusetts and gotten up early this morning to pick up Aline at Kennedy Airport. She was coming back from London.
“Are you aware that a party was being held in your home last evening?”
Of course, the answer was no.
“There is evidence that liquor was served at the party. Did your daughter drink alcohol or use drugs?”
Fran’s no was indignant. “She certainly did not use drugs,” Steve said. “I’m sure she had an occasional beer or glass of wine with her friends.”
“We want to talk to her close friends. Can you give me their names?”
“Most of her close friends were on the high school lacrosse team,” Steve said. “The roster is in the kitchen. I can get it for you.” Then he added, “Is there any particular reason you want to speak to them?”
“Yes, there is. As far as we know, there were a lot of people in your home last night. We want to find out who they were and what went on at the party. Your daughter has a severe injury to the back of her head. We need to know what caused it.”
“Could she have fallen and hit her head?”
“That is a possibility. It is also possible that Kerry was struck with an object. We’ll know more after we receive the medical examiner’s report.”
Someone deliberately hit her over the head, Aline thought. They think she was murdered.
“There was a golf club on one of the chairs by the pool. There is evidence that it may have been used as a weapon.”
It was Steve who asked quietly, “What are you trying to tell us?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Dowling,” Wilson began, “we’ll know more after we receive the results of the medical examination, but I am sorry to tell you we are treating your daughter’s death as suspicious and will investigate it accordingly.”
Still trying to absorb what she was hearing, Aline said, “I can’t believe any of the kids she invited here last night would want to hurt her.”
“I understand you feeling that way,” Wilson said empathetically, “but we have to check out everything.”
He paused. “Another question. Did she have a boyfriend, someone special?”
Fran spat out the answer. “Yes, she did. His name is Alan Crowley. He was very possessive of Kerry and he has a terrible temper. If anyone hurt my child, I’m sure he was the one.”
Mike Wilson did not let his expression change. “Could I see that list now? I also want to know who were her closest friends.”
“I can help you with that,” Steve said quietly.
“And one more thing. We did not find a cell phone in your daughter’s clothing. Do you know where it is, and would it be okay if we take it?”
“Of course. It’s on the dining room table,” Fran said.
“I have a consent form in my car. I’ll ask you to sign it to allow me to take and examine the phone.”
“The unlock code is 0112,” Aline said as her eyes filled with tears. “The month of her birthday and then of mine.”
Aline pulled out her phone and began tapping on it. “Detective Wilson, yesterday morning I received a text from Kerry: I have something VERY IMPORTANT to talk to you about when you get home!!!”
Wilson leaned forward. “Do you have any idea what she was referring to?”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Kerry could be a little dramatic. I just assumed it was boyfriend or college related.”
“Aline, I might have to speak to you again as the investigation goes forward. Will you be returning to London?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m home for good. In fact I’m about to start a new job as a guidance counselor at Saddle River High School.”
Mike paused, then said gently to all of them, “I know how awful this is for you. I’m going to ask you to help me in a very important way. Don’t share information with anyone about the wound on Kerry’s head or our concern about the golf club. As we question others in the coming days and weeks, it is critical that as few details as possible be made public.”
The Dowlings and Father Frank all nodded in agreement.
“I will talk to you again before I leave today. And please don’t clean up anything until the investigators go through it and we determine if we need to take anything with us.”