The Night Shift(40)

Ms. O’Shaughnessy smiles. “I love to talk about my daughter. People forget that. It makes them uncomfortable. But she was my baby, my life. And after her no-good father left, she was my best friend. We told each other everything.”

Keller isn’t a mother yet, but her heart hurts for this woman. She’s gotten a taste of what’s to come. On those days when the twins haven’t kicked in a while, she waits for long, excruciating minutes until she feels movement. That sensation only gets more intense, exponentially stronger, with each second of our children’s lives, Keller surmises.

“I wonder if you could tell us a little about your daughter’s life at the time.”

Keller doesn’t need to know so much, it’s a question that risks a long, irrelevant detour, but she feels like Ms. O’Shaughnessy needs it.

“Oh, where to start? She was wonderful. A spitfire, like me when I was young. But she knew who she was and made no apologies for it.”

Ms. O’Shaughnessy reaches for the glass of brown liquid, which Keller assumes is not iced tea. Jameson, by the faint aroma and slight slur in Ms. O’Shaughnessy’s voice.

She tells them about a headstrong young girl who was fiercely independent. Candy didn’t want or need a boyfriend, and probably partied more than she should. She worked hard to help her mom, given that her deadbeat dad was years behind on child support. Her mom worked as a bartender at a Hilton hotel, and Candy worked at the Blockbuster. She’d been accepted to nursing school over in Irvington.

“She had the temperament for it. She liked to help people, but she also took charge of situations, didn’t rattle under pressure, and most certainly would put an arrogant doctor in his place if she needed to.” Ms. O’Shaughnessy has a faraway look, possibly imagining her daughter in a nursing uniform, living the life that was stolen from her.

“Did she ever talk about Vince Whitaker?”

“Ah, ‘he who must not be named,’” Ms. O’Shaughnessy says. “I don’t remember her talking about him directly, but she talked a lot about the gals she worked with at the store.”

“What did she say?”

“She said one of the gals, I always mixed up their names, was seeing some boy her parents wouldn’t approve of. You know teenage girls.”

Keller has never been one for drama and in high school she surrounded herself with sensible girls, but she understands.

Ms. O’Shaughnessy continues, “Candy told me one of the girls got herself in trouble.”

“Pregnant,” Keller says, a statement, not a question.

Ms. O’Shaughnessy nods. “And the guy was obsessive, abusive. Candy said she was gonna give him a piece of her mind. Her and Mandy both.”

“By Mandy, you mean the other victim, Amanda Young?”

“Right.”

“So you think maybe they did that, and—”

Ms. O’Shaughnessy cuts in with an exaggerated nod. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. I mean, why else kill them all?”

It’s the same theory as Grosso’s. Yet something bothers Keller. If Katie McKenzie had taken care of the pregnancy, would Vince Whitaker kill her over that? Or were they fighting about something else?

A tear spills down Ms. O’Shaughnessy’s cheek. “It was just so like her, speaking up for someone. Trying to help.”

Keller and Atticus remain quiet, allowing Ms. O’Shaughnessy to collect herself. She dabs her eyes with a tissue, the eyeliner smearing now.

Keller finally asks, “Did Candy ever talk about the survivor, Ella Monroe?”

Ms. O’Shaughnessy thinks about this. “I always get them mixed up. You know, back then, they were mostly her work friends. She and Mandy were tight, but the others, they ran in different circles. I think she talked about Ella, the rich kid, but nothing sticks out in my mind. I mostly remember her saying they were gonna help the religious girl with all that drama she was having with the older guy.”

“How about the parents of the other victims? Do you keep in touch with them?”

Ms. O’Shaughnessy shakes her head. “At first, we got together, you know, for support. But I didn’t really connect with any of them.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“The fathers were all macho, you know? Like they were gonna break into the jail and beat the kid up. And I’ve had enough macho types in my life. And, I don’t know, one girl’s parents were Bible-thumpers. And the other dad had some condition, so it was hard to be around him.”

Keller thinks about Walter Young at the insurance company.

“I met Ella’s folks only once. And they were hoity-toity.” She takes a pull of the drink. “And after a while, we all lost touch. At some point, I just decided that I needed to accept it and that Candy would’ve wanted me to move on.”

Keller turns to Atticus to see if he has anything more. He leans in, looks Ms. O’Shaughnessy in the eyes, and speaks in a soft voice: “She was lucky to have you as her mom.” It’s unnecessary, serves no purpose since they’re closing the interview.

Ms. O’Shaughnessy gazes at Atticus. “This one,” she says, pointing her drink at Atticus, then directing her gaze to Keller. “We’ve gotta find him a nice girl. He’s a keeper.”





CHAPTER 33