Her Last Word(6)

“We’re still collecting evidence,” Adler deflected. “Did she receive any letters or communication giving her reason to worry?”

“She said no, but I’m not sure. It was like she was always trying to convince herself this problem couldn’t be real in the face of everything else she had going on.”

“What else was happening in her life?”

“She had trouble at work, and this house was way too expensive for her to maintain.” She brushed away a tear. “And she kept telling me she was over the breakup but, again, I wasn’t convinced.”

“A breakup. Who had she been dating?” Quinn asked as she joined them on the sidewalk.

Ashley dragged the back of her hand over her nose. “She saw a guy from work for a while. He ended it months ago, but she still missed him.”

“How did it end?” Quinn pressed.

“As far as breakups go, it was benign. Jennifer said it was smarter to keep the sex out of the office.”

“What’s the guy’s name?” Adler asked.

“Jeremy Keller. He’s one of the partners at her company, Keller and Mayberry.”

Adler pulled out a black leather notebook. “What’s your address and phone number?”

She recited the information.

From a pocket in the notebook cover, he pulled out a business card. “What type of cat was Morris?”

“A purebred Siamese. He has a chip.”

“Okay. I want you to call me directly if you recall anything else. I’ll likely have more questions for you later.”

She took the card and absently flicked the edge with her finger. “Sure. Thank you.”

“You said you live in Rocketts Landing?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you drive?”

“No, I Ubered over.”

“I’ll have an officer take you home.”

As she turned to leave, Adler asked almost as an afterthought, “What was the lecture you were planning to attend tonight?”

“A local communications professor was speaking. We went to high school with her. She’s making some kind of documentary or podcast about a classmate of Jennifer’s who went missing fourteen years ago. I’m not really sure about the particulars of this lecture. It could be anything, knowing Kaitlin. She always did march to her own drum.”

“What’s Kaitlin’s last name?”

“Roe.” She pulled out her phone. “I have the address. Jennifer texted it to me.”

Adler scribbled the name Roe.

“It’s a warehouse studio just across the river in the Manchester district.” She rattled off the address and time. “She’s probably still there. There was a reception after her talk. Until ten, I think. What does Kaitlin have to do with Jennifer?”

“Maybe nothing. Trying to piece together her last day.”

“Jesus, it’s her last day.” She tipped back her head, but the tears rolled along her cheeks. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

He motioned to the patrolman who’d approached. “This officer will take you home.”

She looked up at the house. “I can’t leave my sister.”

“We’ll look after her,” Adler said. “I promise.”

She wiped away another tear and allowed the officer to escort her to the waiting patrol car. She didn’t take her eyes off Adler as the car drove away.

Quinn handed him a printed postcard encased in a plastic evidence bag as the medical technicians carried the stretcher onto the porch and down the steps toward the waiting van. “It’s a handmade invitation to a lecture scheduled for tonight,” she said.

Adler studied the postcard. The time was underlined with three red lines.

He flipped the card over to see a black-and-white image of huge boulders in the rapids of the James River. The picture captured the rising sun illuminating a thick mist hovering above the river’s waters. He knew the location of the picture. It was Pony Pasture, a popular spot where people gathered on warm days to sun, swim, and drink.

“Kaitlin Roe.” Saying the name drew the memory closer to the surface. And then he remembered.



INTERVIEW FILE #3

MOTIVE FOR MURDER

Talk to a homicide detective about motive, and they’ll tell you there are three primary driving forces: sex, revenge, and money. Gina was a girl everyone liked. She lived a clean life. After she vanished, the police dug into her past expecting to find signs of risky behavior that had lured the killer to her. Revenge: Whom had she wronged? Money: Whom did she owe? Sex: Whose heart had she broken?

The police search turned up nothing in Gina’s behavior that signaled trouble. So they shifted their focus to the people who knew her. Cops understand that most murder victims know their killers, and the chance a random stranger is involved is almost nonexistent.

The spotlight landed on me. My past substance-abuse problem meant I was the likely troublemaker. The provocateur. For weeks, that spotlight didn’t move. The cops examined every aspect of my life, grilling me about my brother’s death, my troubles in Texas, and my poor academic performance at Saint Mathew’s. As much as they pushed and dug, they didn’t initially find any motive or evidence linking me to the crime. That connection would come six weeks later when a pawnshop owner called in a tip about an unrelated crime.