The Herd(53)
Ratliff nodded. “Did you notice anything else unusual up there?”
“I’m not up there much in the winter. No one is. There’s a sign saying the door is alarmed, but we discovered early on that nothing happens if you push it. But this is the first time I’ve been up there since maybe October.” My thoughts were popping out of me in the wrong order, swirling nonsensically.
“So…you’re saying you wouldn’t have noticed if anything else was disturbed.”
“Right. But I didn’t touch anything. You guys saw the exact same roof I did.”
“Okay. The crime scene investigators are doing a thorough job.”
I frowned. “Will they be looking through the entire coworking space?” When we’d left, the Herd was still crawling with forensic experts measuring and swabbing and photographing.
She raised an eyebrow. “I imagine so. It’s unlikely the body was dropped there from somewhere else.” My eyes widened and she shook her head. “Sorry—that was callous.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m just realizing we’ll have to close the space tomorrow.” Another thought unfurled: I was still the Herd’s publicist. Would I be tasked with breaking this news? “Will you guys be making an announcement? Holding a press conference?” It was like all my knowledge of public relations had leaked out with my snot and tears: How did police briefings come to be?
“Our media relations department will handle that,” she replied. “In conjunction with the family. You don’t have to worry about it.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Ratliff didn’t say anything else, so I went on: “It’ll be big news, right? Because she’s a public figure?”
She hesitated. “It’s likely we’ll have to keep the local media apprised of the investigation, yeah. But we’ll wait until the timing’s right.”
I stared at the scratched tabletop, then looked up at her. “What are you going to do? To catch this person?”
“Detective Herrera and I will be following up on all leads. We take every homicide investigation seriously.”
“Just like you take every missing-persons case seriously.” I raised my eyebrows.
“We’ll be taking into account everything we learned about Ms. Walsh over the last week. The stolen phone, the defacement, the planned escape to Mexico—we’ll be poring over everything for leads.”
The email…from Mexico. “You must be able to track down whoever sent that email yesterday. That had to be her killer, right? She must have been long dead by then.”
She folded her hands on the table. “We’ll wait for an autopsy before we try to place the time of death. But at first glance, my medical examiner—” She hesitated. “They aren’t sure if they’ll be able to pinpoint it. Because of the weather. It’s like a deep freeze.”
Like a chest freezer. I thought of the hulking one in our basement in Kalamazoo, how Katie and I would run down there, feet pattering, to choose a flavor of pizza or ice cream. Eleanor, frozen in time like a gallon of rocky road.
Something clunked in my brain. “But we can look at what she was wearing, right? See if it’s what she wore to the Herd that Monday?” The thought chugged along. I was so tired. “Daniel was pretty sure she didn’t come home that night. Which would mean someone else faked those emails and texts from her the next day. You guys should look into that.”
“We’ll be exploring all leads,” she said again. She jumped and then glanced down at her phone. “Unless there’s anything else you need to tell me, we’re gonna let you get home and get some sleep.” She paused and I fought to keep my expression neutral. There was one other thing, a massive one, but I’d already confirmed this wasn’t about that.
I managed a bland smile. “Will I need to come back in?”
“Not sure yet. Will you be available?”
I sighed. “I’m flying home on the twenty-third. For Christmas.”
“That should be fine, as long as you remain accessible.”
Didn’t realize I needed your permission, I wanted to say. Instead: “Just let me know how I can be helpful.”
* * *
—
Katie was asleep in the waiting room, cheek in palm, elbow on an armrest. I felt a crackle of annoyance that Mikki had left her here. But it was late and I probably wouldn’t have waited for anyone other than my sister either. I woke her and we blurrily figured out that her subway wasn’t running; I was about to order her her own Lyft when she asked if she could stay with me.
At home I set her up on the couch, carrying pillows out from the linen closet even as she crashed her head onto the decorative moleskin cushions there. I collapsed into bed, my door left open a crack, as always, for Cosmo. I was asleep within minutes and then woke, swimming only halfway toward the surface, from pressure on the bed. Not Cosmo—Katie climbed in next to me, then curled away. We’re not a touchy family; we hug hello and goodbye and say “I love you” when we think of it, always with a wide globe of personal space. I was almost nervous as I reached out and rubbed her back. Without turning, she curled an arm across her chest and touched my fingers near her side, held them there and then gave a little pat. I rolled away then and together, we fell asleep.