CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sunday, March 18, 2018; 3:00 p.m.
Adler had called Kaitlin’s boss, Susan Saunders, and asked to meet. Ms. Saunders had agreed and requested he come to her university office.
He left Logan poring over the Gina Mason case file and drove back into the city. He parked, entered the quiet lobby in the university communications building, and rode the elevator to the third floor. As he walked down the hallways, memories of his own college days at the University of Virginia returned.
His major had been political science, but in his sophomore year he’d started picking up criminal justice courses. He was still dialed into law school, but after he’d passed the bar, he told his parents he wasn’t ready for a desk job. There was plenty of time for him to be a cop and then, later, a lawyer like his old man. His father hadn’t been happy but reasoned it wouldn’t take long for Adler to get this “cop thing” out of his system. That was seventeen years ago.
He moved along the corridor, following the signs to the communications director’s office. He found the door ajar, the light on inside. He knocked.
“Enter.” The voice carried a stern edge that sounded more practiced than natural.
He pushed open the door, drawing out his badge as he entered the room. “I’m Detective Adler with the Richmond police. I spoke to you about Kaitlin Roe.”
Her gray hair was arranged in a loose topknot, and dark-rimmed glasses emphasized gray eyes. She rose and extended her hand. “Yes, yes, of course. Come in. I’m Susan Saunders. We heard about Kaitlin last night. How is she?”
“On the mend. She’ll be fine. I’m looking into her attack and had a few questions.” And he was honest enough with himself to admit his curiosity for Kaitlin ran deeper than the case.
She gestured toward a seat in front of her desk. “How may I be of service?”
He adjusted his tie and deliberately kept his body language relaxed. “Is she a well-liked teacher?”
“Yes. And she knows PR and can teach it. She can spin a question or answer in a dozen different ways.”
“You’ve sat in on her classes?”
“Sure, a couple of them. She is quiet outside the classroom, but when she’s in front of the kids, she’s very animated. She’s also young and attractive, which has won her some attention from the male students.”
He’d not witnessed this animated side of Kaitlin. He tried to imagine her smiling and her eyes lighting up with laughter. “Any of these students try to ask her out?”
“That’s against university policy.”
A horny student wouldn’t have let policy get in the way of hooking up with Kaitlin. He was older, supposedly wiser than the young men in her class, and he thought about her too often.
Susan turned toward her computer. “I had a student email footage from a class project Kaitlin arranged back in early December. Remember the arsonist who burned several row houses in the city?”
“I do.”
“Two of the buildings destroyed are within blocks of the school. Kaitlin took several classes over there to film and discuss their reactions.” Susan turned her computer screen toward Adler and hit “Play.”
The cell phone footage of the class started off shaky and out of focus. Kaitlin appeared on screen. Her head bent, she was listening to several student comments and then pointing to the burned-out wreckage of the building. He’d been to that same site several times.
The camera swung back around, capturing Kaitlin again. This time she was explaining why it was important to be a witness to moments like this.
“Can you send me that?” Adler asked.
“Sure.” As he recited his email address, she typed it in and hit “Send.”
“Has Kaitlin had anybody hassling her?”
“No.”
“Does she date?”
“If she does, she never mentioned it.”
“Anyone following her around or sending her notes?”
“No, not that I know of. Certainly none of the students have stepped out of line with her.” Susan hesitated. “So you haven’t caught the guy who did this?”
“Not yet.”
Susan drew in a breath. “Surely what happened to her isn’t linked to the Gina Mason project?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must have an idea, or you wouldn’t be here asking about it.”
“I’m gathering facts right now.”
Susan arched a brow. “Should I be concerned?”
He handed her one of his cards. “No. But if you do see anything, would you call me?”
“Sure.”
He made his way through the building and out to his car. He pulled up email on his phone, selected the one Susan had just sent, and opened the video attachment. He replayed the video, finding his gaze drawn to Kaitlin. It was hard to stop looking at her. Muttering an oath, he shut off the recording. Logan was right. He needed facts, not feelings.
While waiting in the hospital lobby for Dr. Coggin, Adler called the Oak Croft Retirement Center and learned visiting hours lasted until eight. He checked his watch and asked them to inform Joshua North he’d be by soon.
The elevator doors opened, and Dr. Coggin exited. Coggin spotted Adler, nodded, and approached. Adler extended a hand to him. The man’s smooth, boyish face belied world-weary eyes.
“Thanks for meeting me, Doc,” Adler said.
Dr. Coggin had been on staff the day Adler and Logan had been brought into the emergency room. The doctor had saved his partner’s life.
“How’s Detective Logan?” Dr. Coggin asked.
“He’s making good progress,” Adler said.
“That’s great. I’m glad to hear it. What can I do for you?” Dr. Coggin asked.
“I’m investigating the stabbing of Kaitlin Roe,” Adler said.
“Right. A nasty stab wound. She was lucky.”
“How is she doing?” Fear had dogged Adler when he hurried to Kaitlin’s bedside after he’d been notified about her stabbing.
“She’s strong and will recover.” The doctor’s gaze grew quizzical, as if he were trying to figure out where this was going. “What can I do to help you?”
Adler would have to tread carefully. “Hypothetically speaking, could you determine if a wound were self-inflicted or not?”
“Theoretically?” The doctor folded his arms and leaned toward Adler a fraction. “Sometimes.”
“Would the angle of the cut be important?” he pressed. Adler didn’t like the line of questioning, but knew it had to be done.
“It’s difficult to stab yourself with the proper force. The natural tendency is to flinch. It’s also difficult to get the range of motion and momentum to drive the blade into flesh while trying not to make it a mortal wound.”
“But a motivated person could stab themselves and make it appear as if they’d been attacked?” Adler said.
“Yes, it’s possible,” Dr. Coggin said. “But no, I don’t think Ms. Roe stabbed herself. I spoke to the paramedic who treated her on scene. She was barely conscious when they arrived, but when the medic tried to cut her shirt off to evaluate her injuries, Ms. Roe started to fight as if she were still under attack. She had to be restrained so they could get an IV started.”
The image of Kaitlin fighting and screaming would be hard to shake. “When do you plan to release Kaitlin?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” he said.
“Could you find a reason to keep her until Thursday? If she’s here, she’s safe.”
“I might be able to come up with a reason or two,” Dr. Coggin said. “I’ll keep the extra security on her floor until she leaves.”
“Thank you.” Kaitlin was safe for now, and he had one less thing to worry about.
The drive to the retirement home took Adler to the Ginter Park area in Northside. It was a neighborhood with an array of architectural styles ranging from Tudor Revival to Spanish Colonial. The retirement home where North was living had once been an orphanage, later a school, before most recently being converted to a senior living facility.
Adler showed his badge at the front desk and was directed to the old man’s room. He found the retired detective dressed in pressed pants and a crisp white shirt playing solitaire at a table.
Adler knocked. “Detective North?”
North’s tired shoulders straightened at the sound of his former title. He kept his gaze on his card game. “So what can I do for you, Detective Adler?”
Adler sat in a chair across from the old man. “I have questions about Gina Mason.”
The old detective looked up. “A popular case these days. About time someone started paying attention again.”
The old man flipped several cards over. The game now seemed to bore him, and he set the cards down. His demeanor shifted from tired to engaged.
“That woman send you here?”
“Kaitlin Roe? No.”
North grunted. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“How did you hear about her?” Adler asked, slightly impressed.
“We do have phones here, and believe it or not, sonny, we graduated from dial-up access to the Internet.” He shrugged. “After Kaitlin’s visit, I called a few buddies on the force and asked around about her. One updated me on her and Jennifer Ralston.”
“Kaitlin will recover.”
“Good. She might not believe it, but I like her. Takes grit to face your past. Where was she when it happened?”
“The home of Erika Travis, now Crowley. She’d received a text allegedly from Erika, who’s now missing.”
“Was Kaitlin set up?” North asked.
“That’s what I think.”
“So how can I help?”
“I’d like to pick your brain about the Gina Mason case. There’s no substitute for talking to the original investigator.”
“Sure.”
“What was Kaitlin like?”
“She had a juvenile record in Texas. Trespassing, drugs, shoplifting. When the case landed on my desk, I figured she was culpable. I leaned on her hard, and when that didn’t work, I leaked her name to the press. By the time she left Richmond, she hated all cops, but especially me. I’d do it again.” His jaw pulsed, and his chin raised a fraction.
Adler knew tough calls needed to be made during homicide investigations. “Would Kaitlin be the type to fake her own attack?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She’s different now. She’s not the flaky kid I interviewed years ago. She’s on a mission now and hell-bent on getting to the bottom of what happened to Gina.”
“All right.” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy with the older detective’s characterization.
“Any leads on the Jennifer Ralston case?” The old man slowly collected the cards, but his fingers struggled to divide and shuffle the stack.
“Not yet. Remember Randy Hayward?”
“Hard to forget that piece of shit. What’s he saying now?”
“Says he can lead us to Gina. Wants a plea agreement to his pending murder charge.”
North sat back, his face scowling with anger and frustration. “He’s admitting to killing Gina?”
“He hasn’t admitted to any crime. And he expects immunity in the Mason case.”
An arthritic index finger tapped on the stack. “Shit. I knew he did it. I knew it,” he muttered. “He’s a smart son of a bitch. His IQ tested high. He knew I couldn’t make a case without a credible eyewitness or a body. Once I even pretended I had found Gina’s body, but he wasn’t fooled. He’s scum, but don’t underestimate him.”
“He had an alibi for the time of Gina’s attack?”
“Yes. His mother said he was at home with her, and she never wavered from that story. Usually I can crack a lie, but not hers. You’d be wise to talk to her again. I hear she’s not paying his legal bills this time, and his buddy Blackstone doesn’t come cheap.”
“Blackstone is working pro bono.”
“Maybe because Hayward’s unearthing a secret too many people want left undisturbed.”
“You think Blackstone is in on this?” Adler asked.
“Blackstone, Hayward, and Crowley were tight, so it’s very possible.” He rubbed his chin as he dropped his gaze to the cards.
“Did Kaitlin tell you she dated Hayward?”
“Not initially. Kaitlin’s connection to Hayward surfaced after his fencing arrest, and we placed him near Kaitlin and Gina the night of the attack. Hayward let it ‘slip’ he knew Kaitlin well. I confronted her, and she admitted they’d broken up over the summer.”
“Did Kaitlin say he might have been involved in the crime?” Adler asked.
“We conducted a lineup of suspects. She recognized Hayward, but she said she couldn’t be sure if he was our guy. Kaitlin asked each man, including Hayward, to speak a few words. She swore she didn’t recognize any of them.”
“Maybe she was too afraid or loyal.”
“Hayward is charismatic, but he can be mean as a snake. The podcast might just be a ruse to help an old boyfriend whom she still cares about.” North shrugged. “She wouldn’t be the first to help out a felon.”
“Do you think she was really involved?” Adler kept his tone in check.
“I know she was afraid of Hayward. After we hauled him in, she said Hayward started hanging around her aunt’s house. He never threatened her, but he let her know he was watching.”
“My partner is going through your old case files for me. He said there were abductions in the Richmond area similar to Gina’s attack? He said the details in the Mason case files were slim.”
“There were two. Both happened about two years before Gina vanished, several miles downriver. Both girls were raped, but neither could identify her attacker.”
“Was the rapist wearing a mask?” Adler asked.
“Pulled panty hose over his face. This attacker made both the girls shower after the attack, so we didn’t get DNA. Both also had long dark hair like Gina. I couldn’t link the cases, but it might be worth your time to talk to them again.”
“Any girls go missing?”
“Not a girl like Gina,” North said.
White. Affluent. Easily missed. “But there are all kinds of runaways, sex workers, and undocumented all along the I-95 corridor.”
“And when they go missing, few care,” North said.
“If Hayward killed Gina and didn’t leave a trail, it makes me think she wasn’t his first. He’d had practice covering his tracks.”
“The drugs have now taken their toll on him,” North said. “He was sloppy with the convenience store stabbing.”
“Let’s hope that trend continues.”
North leaned forward, holding Adler’s gaze. “Do me a favor and bury him.”
“I’ll do my best.”
The two shook hands, and Quinn’s number flashed on Adler’s display. Out in the hallway he answered, “Quinn.”
“I spoke to Ashley Ralston. She’s willing to see us now.”
“Good. Could you search rapes farther downriver during the two years before Gina vanished? Detective North remembers two.”
“Will do.”
Adler drove to the station and picked up Quinn, and together they traveled across town to a new trendy apartment complex near Rocketts Landing located east of downtown Richmond. Ashley Ralston lived in a third-floor apartment overlooking the James River.
Adler knocked on the door. Seconds later footsteps preceded the click of locks, and the door opened to Ashley Ralston. She wore no makeup, and the stress of her sister’s death was etched in lines around her mouth and red-rimmed eyes.
Adler and Quinn held up their badges. “Ms. Ralston.”
She recognized them both, and her frown deepened. “Come on in.”
She escorted them into a small living room furnished with a matching set of new furniture. A dozen moving boxes had been flattened and stacked in the corner, and several framed posters leaned against the plain antique-white walls. “I was just on the phone with the funeral home and the medical examiner’s office.” She ran a trembling hand over her hair. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. I never pictured myself having to do this.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Adler said. “Have you been able to schedule the funeral?”
“Sunday afternoon.”
He had made dozens of death notices during his ten years with the homicide department. It never got easier, nor did dealing with the grieving family’s desperate need for answers. “Looks like you just moved in.”
She shrugged. “A few weeks ago. It was supposed to be my new life after my divorce. Jennifer and I were supposed to take a trip to Paris this summer to celebrate.”
“You were close to your sister?” Adler asked.
“I haven’t seen her much in the last few years. A failing marriage distracted me, but the plan was to spend more time with her.”
“Did she talk about having issues with anyone?” Quinn asked.
“You mean like a stalker? Not until recently. Last week at our lunch a man kept staring at us. I found him annoying, but she freaked out and insisted we leave. Our food had just arrived, and I was annoyed to leave hungry. The waitress packed up our food, and we left.”
“Did the man follow?”
“No. In the car, she told me about her stalker. I asked her if she’d spoken to the cops. She said she did.”
“I remember you told me that at her home. I searched for any police reports made by your sister, but there were none,” Adler said softly.
“Really? She told me she reported this guy to the cops.” Tears welled in Ashley’s eyes. “I guess she lied to keep me from bugging her.”
“Why do you think she didn’t report it?” Quinn asked.
“Embarrassed, I guess. I don’t really know.”
“It’s unfortunate,” Quinn said.
“She was wrong to be embarrassed. That’s why we have cops, to take care of the wackos.” Bitterness twisted around the words.
“So she never mentioned a particular individual?” Adler asked.
“No. I offered her my couch, but she insisted on staying at her own place. I should have made her stay with me.”
“What about Jennifer’s ex-boyfriend?” Adler asked.
“Jeremy? He’s not the type. He’s fairly passive. And I hear he has a new girlfriend. If anything, she still had feelings for him.”
“Would there have been any reason for him to visit her a few weeks ago?”
She shrugged. “Sex. That was always great between them.” She sighed. “I wish Jennifer had talked to me more, but she learned at an early age to downplay the negative.”
“How so?” Adler asked.
“After Gina vanished, Jennifer was pretty freaked out. She always blamed herself. Said if she’d not gotten so drunk, she would have stuck around and been there for Gina. That night has haunted her, but my mother grew tired of hearing about it. So did I frankly, so she stopped talking about it.”
“You were at the river when Gina vanished,” Quinn confirmed.
“I came to pick up Jennifer and Erika. They were both too wasted to be on their own.”
“Did you see Gina and Kaitlin before you left?” Adler asked.
“I did. They were waiting with Jennifer and Erika. They were all trashed.”
“Why didn’t you take Gina and Kaitlin home?” Adler asked.
“They said they wanted to walk. It was less than a quarter of a mile away, and I had my hands full with my sister and Erika.”
“And you were alone in the car?” Adler asked.
“Yes.”
“When Kaitlin interviewed your sister, Jennifer mentioned hearing you arguing with a man,” Adler said.
“She must have had her timeline confused. I did argue with my boyfriend when we returned back to my mom’s house. He was annoyed I’d been gone so long.”
“That would be Derek Blackstone,” Adler said.
“Yes.”
“How long were you gone?”
“Fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“What was Kaitlin’s relationship with Gina like?” Quinn asked, deliberately shifting the focus.
“They fought a lot. Gina was a great kid, but Kaitlin wasn’t easy. Moody. Not a hard worker. Jennifer asked Gina once why she was so nice to Kaitlin, and Gina reminded her that Kaitlin’s brother had killed himself and we needed to cut her some slack.”
“Was Gina dating anyone?”
“Yeah, a boy named Tom Davenport, but they broke up right before graduation.”
“He’s still here in Richmond and works in finance, right?”
“That’s right. He can’t be hard to find.”
“He must have been devastated,” Quinn said.
“He was. He was really angry with Jennifer, Erika, and Kaitlin. He felt like they let Gina down.”
“Did Tom have any recent contact with Jennifer?”
“Not that I’m aware of. It’s been fourteen years. He’s grown up and matured. He knew deep down those girls were kids and would never have hurt Gina.”
“What do you think, Ashley?” Quinn asked.
Ashley threaded her fingers together. “I blame all this on Kaitlin Roe. She was a troublemaker then and she’s still one. Her damn interviews are reopening old wounds. I told Jennifer to stay away from her.”
Adler circled back to Blackstone and Hayward. “Derek, Brad, and Randy were friends.”
“Derek and Brad still are. Randy Hayward tagged along, but he was always stirring up trouble. They recognized Randy as the loser he always was.”
“So you knew Randy?” Adler asked.
“We were the same age and attended the same high school, but I doubt we spoke ten words to each other.” She reached for a tissue and twisted it in her hands.
“Why would Derek defend Randy now?” Adler asked.
“Loyalty. They’ve known each other since kindergarten. Derek is faithful to a fault when it comes to his buddies.”
“You were with Derek when Jennifer called for a ride home?” Quinn asked.
“I just said that. We were at my parents’ house.”
“What did he do while you went to get the girls?” Adler asked.
“He hung out at my parents’ house and waited for me.”
“How long did it take you to pick up the girls, drop Erika off, and get back home?” Adler asked.
“Fifteen minutes,” Ashley said.
Quinn looked confused. “Fifteen minutes to pick up two drunk girls, drive one home, and then put the other one to bed? That doesn’t sound like enough time.”
“Maybe it was thirty minutes, but it wasn’t that long,” Ashley said.
“But you didn’t have eyes on your boyfriend for at least thirty minutes,” Adler said.
“I heard the television in the family room when we came home, and I saw him seconds after I put Jennifer to bed. He was standing in the kitchen drinking water.”
“How did he look?” Adler asked.
“It’s been so long I don’t remember.”
“You remembered he was drinking water,” Quinn said.
“He was annoyed.” Ashley shrugged. “It was date night, and we both weren’t happy about the interruption.”
“Would it be fair to say you really didn’t see Derek for almost an hour?” Adler said.
Ashley’s face flushed. “What difference do a few minutes make?”
“They could have made a big difference,” Quinn said.
“Jennifer almost lost her college acceptance offer because of all the police scrutiny. Derek was applying to law schools and couldn’t be tarnished by a few missing minutes.”
“Why’re you still covering for him?” Quinn asked. “He broke up with you a long time ago.”
“I refuse to throw him under the bus for a crime that had nothing to do with him.”
“But you can confirm there was an hour when you didn’t know what he was doing,” Adler said.
She frowned. “Yeah, I guess. What does all this have to do with Jennifer’s murder?”
“Maybe nothing,” Adler said.
“Are you any closer to finding my sister’s killer?”
“We’re chasing every lead, Ms. Ralston,” Adler said. “I’ll call you as soon as I have more information.”
“Thank you.”
Adler and Quinn left Ashley standing in her door, staring after them. Inside the car, Quinn said, “She covered for Derek Blackstone.”
“Yes, she did.”
“Supposing on that road fourteen years ago Hayward hurt Gina, panicked, and called his buddy Derek, who races to help his friend. Ashley was Blackstone’s girlfriend and might have known this. An hour is enough time to stash a body in a trunk or a shallow grave.”
“Or Blackstone was the one who hurt Gina, and Randy raced to his aid. We know Randy was in the area at the time. Again, Ashley could have known.”
“Either scenario is a reason to stop Jennifer and Erika from talking to Kaitlin.”
“Hi, I’m Gina Mason, Saint Mathew’s class of 2004! Welcome to the Rebels’ soccer team—district finalists three years in a row!”
The taped voice pulled Erika toward consciousness. Her mouth was dry, and her head ached. Her legs and arms felt as if they weighed hundreds of pounds each.
Finally she found the energy to open her eyes, but was greeted by pitch blackness. She blinked, closing her eyes and opening them again. Was she really awake? Was she blind? Panic cut through her as she felt the cold cement wall and floor.
“Hi, I’m Gina Mason, Saint Mathew’s class of 2004! Welcome to the Rebels’ soccer team—district finalists three years in a row!”
Gina’s voice echoed in the room and sent tremors of fear through her. She moistened her lips as she pressed her back to the wall behind her and slowly rose to her feet. Her legs wobbled and her head spun, forcing her to stand very still until she regained her footing.
In complete darkness, she had no frame of reference. She didn’t know how high the ceiling was or if the ground around her was solid or safe.
“Hello?” she shouted. “Anyone there?”
“Hi, I’m Gina Mason, Saint Mathew’s class of 2004! Welcome to the Rebels’ soccer team—district finalists three years in a row!”
“Hello!” Her growing panic sharpened her tone. “Why am I here? Brad, is this you?”
She thought about the skipped yoga classes and the coffee she’d had with the reporter. Had Brad found out? He’d forbidden her to talk about Gina, but she’d been angry with him and wanted to pay him back.
“Brad, if this is you, I didn’t say anything. I promise, baby.”
“Hi, I’m Gina Mason, Saint Mathew’s class of 2004! Welcome to the Rebels’ soccer team—district finalists three years in a row!”
Gingerly she ran her fingers along the cement wall and inched her foot forward, searching for a way to escape. Her stomach churning, she skimmed carefully along the wall until she reached her first corner. Venturing onward, she moved along until her fingers touched what felt like a door.
Relieved and terrified, she pounded on the door and screamed. “Help me! Please let me out of here!”
She struck the door until her hands bled and screamed until her throat was raw.
“Hi, I’m Gina Mason, Saint Mathew’s class of 2004! Welcome to the Rebels’ soccer team—district finalists three years in a row!”
Exhausted and dizzy, she pressed her palms to her ears and lowered herself to the floor. “Stop it!”
She wrapped her arms around her knees as she tipped her head back against cement. She’d been walled in. It felt like a tomb.
Meanwhile, Gina’s voice played over and over.