Open House(63)

FIFTY-ONE

Haley

Dean was gone. An officer had taken him away for more questioning, and Rappaport sat across from Haley now, offering what she assumed were supposed to be soft words of condolence. He’d told her his working theory of what Josie did to Emma, and Haley was stuck somewhere between a dream and reality, the pieces slipping into place like a dark puzzle coming together in her mind’s eye.

Icy black water . . .

Emma falling.

Josie, at the top of the cliff, her teeth bared like an animal’s.

Haley couldn’t erase the images—she couldn’t even fight them—so she let them come one after the other. She wasn’t sure they’d ever stop, or if she’d ever be able to think of anything else.

“Should I leave you here?” Rappaport asked her carefully. “Would you rather be alone?”

Haley shook her head.

Rappaport opened a briefcase and retrieved a manila envelope. He unfastened the top, carefully pulling out a stack of photographs. “I hope these won’t upset you too much,” he said, but Haley was already reaching for them. Rappaport went on, “We insisted everyone at the party send us any photographs or videos they took that night. Nothing turned out to be helpful until now. Here’s a shot of Josie,” he said, “and you can see her wearing the bracelet.” Haley leaned closer, finding it hard to breathe as she took in a grainy shot of Josie standing near the keg and clutching a plastic cup. Josie wore a bright red winter jacket that left an inch of her wrist exposed. The bracelet glinted against her skin. “You’re sure it’s the same one?” Haley asked, her heart constricting. She let her eyes travel to Josie’s face. Josie’s blond hair fell over her shoulders the same way it did now, but her ten-years-ago features were slightly rounder.

“It’s a very close match,” Rappaport said. “And perhaps more important, we have photos of your sister, and we don’t see a bracelet on either wrist. It could have been caught beneath her coat, certainly. But I feel confident the bracelet you see here on Josie’s wrist is the one that was found in the gorge. It means Josie had to have a reason to descend into that gorge, and I believe it was to put your sister’s body in the water.”

“How long have you known this?” Haley asked, her words echoing through the tiny room.

“Since right after the bracelet was found two weeks ago,” Rappaport said. “I went through the photos within the hour, and I called Josie in the next morning for preliminary questioning, but I didn’t push hard on her until our second meeting last week when I showed her the photos.”

Haley’s mind raced to put the timing together. She must have met with Josie at the café after Josie had been interviewed the second time. “Did you outright accuse her of killing Emma?” Haley asked. No wonder Josie had gone into full attack mode, trying to pin Emma’s murder on Brad with the pregnancy test.

“No, but like I said, I pressed very hard. She had to know she was the prime suspect based on what we found in the gorge.”

“Why didn’t you arrest her?”

Rappaport shifted in his chair. “Because I had to obtain a warrant, which I now have. Obviously I wish I had tried to hold her, but I didn’t, and now she’s been attacked. My mistake, and because of it, we have two crimes. Josie will still be arrested, likely today before she’s released from the hospital, but with the attack and the circumstances surrounding it being related to your sister’s death, there’s a better chance she gets away with your sister’s murder. All we have to go on is the bracelet and a hunch. And if the case ever made it to trial, any jury would be sympathetic to a woman who was subsequently almost murdered after being questioned about suspicious circumstances. Which means I need to figure out who stabbed Josie, so that I can build a stronger case against her with fewer unknowns. So let’s work together, shall we?” Rappaport asked, sitting up taller. “Let’s figure her out.”

Haley froze, her body made electric by his wording. Figure me out, she heard her sister say, just like in all the dreams, look a little closer. Rappaport stared as Haley started tapping the table with rapid-fire fingertips. “You said you have pictures of my sister,” she finally said, trying to gather herself.

“I do,” Rappaport said. “Are you sure you can handle seeing them?”

Yes, of course she could handle seeing them—she could do anything for Emma. She nodded, and Rappaport retrieved a second envelope, much smaller, and passed it across the table. Haley removed the photos with shaking hands, and there she was: Emma. Her heart seized. Of course she’d looked at photos and videos of her sister during the past decade, but she’d never seen any from the night she died. All she’d wanted that night was to meet Emma in the woods, but she’d never gotten past her mom. If only.

“We just have these three photographs,” Rappaport said quickly, “and you’ll see nothing seems nefarious.”

Haley set the photos in front of her in a row. In two of them Emma looked like an afterthought, just a bystander caught in the background of a shot featuring other kids posing with smiles. But the final photo was a close-up. Emma’s chin was tilted down, her light eyes held the camera, and because of the way her arms were held up to protest the photo, you could see the two bare, jewelry-free wrists the detective was talking about.