The Accomplice(48)

“Down, Sam,” Griff said.

Casey smirked and repeated the name. “Sam? Your dog’s name is Sam?” Casey made eye contact with Luna.

“Yeah, why?” said Griff.

“That’s Luna’s husband’s name,” Casey said.

Luna was petting the energetic retriever. She thought about Wally, a mutt she had as a child. Wally always seemed to feel exactly what she felt. Griff’s dog was wonderfully oblivious.

“That was his name when I got him,” Griff said. “I swear.”

“I believe you,” Luna said. “Did you even know I was married?”

“Yes. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Luna said.

“Is he here? I’d like to meet him.”

“He’s not here. Had to visit his mother—”

“Speaking of mothers, how’s yours?” Griff asked.

“The same,” Luna said.

Griff started to laugh. “Still remains the single weirdest day of my life.”

Griff was recalling a day nearly fifteen years earlier. It was the kind of memory that you couldn’t shake, but, like any memory, you couldn’t trust it either. It was so vivid and insane. Luna, present at the same moment in time, would see it from an entirely different vantage point. Still, insane was a fair descriptor.

“I’m sorry. Again,” Luna said.

“Come on, don’t apologize. One of the best days too. Well, the next day,” Griff said.

Back in the house, the guests were slowly dispersing. Owen spotted Leo fading out on the couch. He wanted him gone. He stepped outside to track down Luna. She and his brother were doubled over laughing like no time had passed. How could it be that easy? he wondered. How could Luna look so damn happy at Irene’s wake? Owen walked over to them. The smiles and laughter immediately ceased.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Owen said. “What should I do about Leo? I don’t want him sleeping here.”

“Where’s he’s staying?” Griff asked. “I can give him a ride.”

“No,” Luna said quickly, aggressively. “We wouldn’t do that to you. We’ll call him a cab.”

Griff noted Luna’s use of first-person plural. They were still we. He marveled at the indestructibility of their bond.

“We should probably be going,” Griff said. His we included a dog.

“No. You’re staying. He’s staying, right?” Luna said.

Owen forced a smile. “Yeah, dude, you should stay.”

By midnight there were only five people left. Casey and Mason stayed because they missed their friends and the inebriated nights of their youth. Luna stayed because Griff was there and she wanted just ten minutes alone with him. Griff wanted the same thing. And Owen forced himself to stay awake to make sure they didn’t take another moment to revisit the past.





March 2004


In all likelihood, Scarlet’s body would have been found hours earlier if not for a number of errors on the part of both campus authorities and local police. To begin with, there was no established protocol for communication. When Deerkill PD got the 911 dispatch to search at Black Oak Bluff, they didn’t know that Markham police had received a report of a missing student. And the trooper who took the call interpreted base as the beginning of the Black Oak Bluff trail, not the bottom of the cliff. The trailhead was at least a hundred yards from where Scarlet’s body lay.

By midnight on Friday, Scarlet’s mother knew something wasn’t right. Her daughter always answered her calls and replied to texts. After a sleepless night and a series of unanswered calls and questions, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes arrived at Deerkill station Saturday afternoon to light a fire under the local PD. It did the trick. The Deerkill captain called the state police for assistance. A Detective Miles Oslo with the BCI was assigned to the case. As soon as Oslo arrived in Deerkill, he dispatched two officers, instructing them to walk the entire Black Oak trail if necessary.

Scarlet’s parents had been at the station a few hours when they heard the news of their daughter’s death. Mrs. Hayes didn’t break down; she didn’t crumble or wail or scream. Her eyes watered, but she spoke evenly, without a crack in her voice.

“I know who did it,” she said.



* * *



—

The forensics team didn’t arrive until after dusk. A tent had been erected to shield the body and evidence from the rain that afternoon.

Scarlet’s body lay at the bottom of a twenty-foot cliff. The ME’s preliminary cause of death was a subdural hematoma from the fall, though he couldn’t rule out other injuries. Detective Oslo, after notifying the parents, had slipped out of the station. The coroner didn’t require an official ID at that point, since the deceased had been carrying her school identification card.

Oslo arrived at the base of Black Oak Bluff, spoke to the ME, and ducked under the tent to look at the deceased. Her body was twisted like a rag doll, her right knee bent inward, foot jutting out. She was wearing a gray peacoat over a short black dress with tights. The girl wore high-top Converse, no tread. Her tights were pulled down to just below her knees. She was splattered with mud and blood. Oslo asked the usual questions—cause of death, signs of struggle, sexual assault. Then he nodded at Craig, the campus officer, to walk with him up the path to the overlook. Oslo’s Florsheims sank deeper into the boggy ground with each step. Craig followed behind, stopping several times along the way to catch his breath, marveling at Oslo’s lung capacity. The trail narrowed as they snaked along it. Oslo stopped at the top of the overlook, where some murky footprints remained. The path was no more than four feet wide. He began snapping photos of the ground and what looked like a rain gutter, about four inches wide, carved in the mud. Next to the gutter was an imposing yet suicidal-looking oak, rooted precariously on the edge of the bluff.