Girl Taken: A Detective Kaitlyn Carr Mystery Page 15

  "I just didn't want to be serious with anyone, and I wouldn't say that I was with a lot of men. I just dated. I needed to see what was out there."

  "That's not a good way to approach relationships, Kaitlin."

  "Really?" I ask, starting to feel frustrated. "It's better to just be with one guy and put up with him despite the fact that he's a drug dealer, loses all your money, is an alcoholic and an addict, right? That's better?"

  I shouldn't be throwing my dad's problems in her face, but I can't help myself. I know that it was probably a nice thing on some level that she stayed with him through thick and thin. Who knows where he would have ended up if she hadn't, but the truth is that he still ended up dead. And I can't help but blame her for part of that. Maybe if she hadn't put up with all of that and had told him that he couldn't have a family then he'd still be here.

  But you can play the what-if game until the cows come home and you won't get anywhere because there is no final answer. There is no way this would have happened if you had done this. I don't say any of this out loud, and I know that me saying the bare minimum hurts her, but of course she doesn't admit it.

  That would be too honest.

  Instead, her approach is more passive-aggressive.

  When I was young, there was a Santa's village in Lake Arrowhead that she was desperate to go to. She wanted to take Violet. I didn't want to go. I was a teenager and I was annoyed with everything, but she didn't give me a choice.

  Instead of coming forward and telling me that it was very important to her that I go because she went there as a little girl, she’d taken me as a kid, and now it was Violet’s turn, she put her foot down and said, "You have to do things as an adult that you don't want to do, and this is just one of those things, so you're going."

  The ability to be vulnerable was just beyond Mom, and now I realize that a lot of my issues as to how I interact with the world comes from that. Mom has always had these walls up, and I have learned how to put mine up as well.

  Well, I'm going to take mine down at least with Luke because he deserves that.

  "Tell me what happened with Natalie," Mom says, changing the subject.

  Chapter 32

  Natalie's memorial service is held later in the afternoon. The family won't be able to do a funeral for some time because the coroner will have to do an autopsy and run all of the tests and collect the evidence. That takes some time.

  But since she's been missing so long and had so many people searching for her, her family organized the memorial service to allow everyone to grieve. It's not unusual but typically people wait longer.

  I'm invited. Everyone in the town is invited. And though Mom does not want to go, I push her to come. It's important.

  The memorial service is being held at Boulder Bay Park, about five minutes from the village on the south shore of the lake. It’s big enough to include as many people as possible. It's held in the afternoon, a little bit before sunset, so that a vigil can be done with candles after darkness falls.

  It takes a little bit of coaxing for my mom to get in the car. I know that these kinds of places are usually where you can gather some clues about what happened. People show up to memorials to watch and participate, and that often includes perpetrators and witnesses to the crime. With so few leads in Violet and Natalie's disappearances, and now murder, any leads are much welcomed.

  I open a can of LaCroix on the drive over as I sit at the red light and it makes a loud swishing sound. As I press the metal tongue into the fizzy water, Mom glares at me as if I’d broken some cardinal sin of how one should behave at a time like this, bringing reality into a very somber moment.

  But we're not there yet. I’d talked to Captain Medvil earlier in the morning, and unfortunately, they have no additional information. Preliminary findings from the medical examiner found that she was not sexually assaulted, but the clothing that she was wearing did not belong to her, according to her parents.

  It’s unclear why she was wearing it, where she was, or what had happened. It's a little bit of solace to me that she had not been sexually assaulted because that's a very real fear that all women have. Whatever happened to her, at least there were not any physical signs of abuse. Of course, it doesn't mean that nothing happened.

  There's no parking in the big lot in front of the park, and so I drive around for a while looking to squeeze in between cars on a nearby street, eventually letting Mom out closer to the venue, grabbing a spot on the big hill and walking the rest of the way.

  The memorial service is packed. Almost the whole town is here. People band together in tragedy to support and mourn one of their own. There was an eighth-grade girl who got hit by a car and lost her legs, and the town raised fifty thousand dollars through her GoFundMe page to pay for reconstruction surgery on her face. Unfortunately, nothing could be done to make her walk again.

  When I finally get to the memorial, I tie my scarf around my neck even though it's not particularly cold. The temperature is hovering in the low fifties with a beautiful sunset painting vivid shades of fuchsia up in the clouds above. It has been threatening to rain somewhat, but not a single drop has fallen.

  Natalie's brothers, parents, and her extended family that drove in from all around Colorado and Arizona, stand together and huddle up front near the microphones. Her dad says a few brief words and thanks everybody for coming. He then introduces the preacher who will be doing a benediction. When the family sits down on the white wooden chairs, I overhear two women gossip about how they have been donated by the Big Bear Lodge, one of the most popular wedding venues in town.

  The preacher is long-winded and says more than a few words about God, loss, and the questions that we continue to have despite our best efforts at finding the truth. His voice is soothing and puts me at ease. And he reads a couple of segments from the Bible, as well as poems from Yeats, and Taylor Swift, Natalie's favorite songwriter.

  A few extended family members come up and read messages, which her brothers and parents had written, but are now too sad and too overwhelmed with tears to read. I clap with everyone else and I bow my head down for a moment of silence. The rest of the time I look out into the audience and scan the faces that are here, wondering if one of them is responsible for her death.

  After the speeches are done and people start to make their way up to the family to give their condolences, I look around for Neil.

  Not spotting him at first, I finally see him in the back standing somewhat apart from his family, staring at the huge blown-up picture of Natalie in the front by the podium.

  It was taken right out here on the lake on a boat with pine trees and the warm water behind her and she is full of life.

  Someone had been cropped out of that picture, where you see a little bit of a glimpse of hair to the side. Then I realize who it is. It's Neil himself. I had seen this exact image of the two of them in Natalie's room. It was tucked into the mirror on her dresser along with ticket stubs and pictures cut out of magazines.

  "Hello, Neil.” I approach him, extending my hand. I take him by surprise and he takes a step back before clearing his throat and whispering, "Hi."

  Chapter 33

  Neil shifts his weight from one foot to another. I feel like he has something to tell me, but he can't quite do it.

  "Would you like to talk somewhere in private?" I ask, reaching over to pull him aside, but then become very cognizant of the fact that I shouldn't touch his arm.

  "Yeah, I think so."

  We make our way away from the crowd toward the city park bathrooms. It's a simple box design with stalls inside, running water, no mirrors. We don't go inside.

  A few times I look over my shoulder and see him following along. He looks uncomfortable, but willing. His hair is cropped short, a recent haircut with new sideburns. A few pimples are popping up. His skin is tan, which isn't unusual given that it's winter, because we are located on the ski resort.

  "Did you get to snowboard?" I ask.

  "Yeah,
I actually went a couple of days ago,” he says, his face momentarily lighting up at the thought. "Maybe it was wrong, but I just really needed to get away. You know?"

  "I totally understand."

  I'm trying to be nice because it's my only way in, if he has something to tell me about Natalie or Violet. As we make our way closer to the bathrooms, I say a silent prayer that we can go around back for total privacy without anyone spotting us, especially not his father, who would put an end to this conversation pronto.

  I reach into my purse and casually pull out my phone as if I'm looking at a text message. He barely registers the gesture.

  But instead of texting, I click over to the recorder side and then I feel even more ballsy and empowered and I press the camera to record it directly.

  I hold the phone in the most casual way, by my side, knowing full well that I'm making a video of his shoes, but hoping that when he starts talking, if he starts talking, I'll get something significant.

  "I'm really sorry about your loss,” I say. "It's just such a tragedy."

  "I can't believe that Natalie’s dead,” he says slowly.

  Something seems to be dawning over him. He looks toward me but is focused somewhere far away in the clouds.

  "What do you think could have happened?" I ask, choosing my words wisely and looking behind us, hoping that no one approaches us and stops the questioning.

  "I don't know. I hope that this and Violet’s case aren't connected, though."

  "Why is that?" I ask.

  "Because, you know, Natalie's dead and I just hope that Violet isn't."

  He tears up a little. He turns his face away, burying it in the crook of his arm. His shoulders move up and down as he sobs.

  "I'm really sorry."

  I walk over a few steps and put my hand in between his shoulder blades. I give him a slight pat.

  "Do you think that you'll be able to find her?" Neil asks, his voice breaking in every syllable.

  "I really hope so."

  "Why is Natalie dead? Who could have done this to her?" Neil weeps.

  If he's acting, it's a really good performance, but there's an honesty there that is hard to deny.

  He's genuinely torn up. I bring my camera up a little bit in my hand, keeping it at my side, hoping that from this angle, I get a glimpse of his face.

  This is a major betrayal, I know, and if he catches me, he'll never talk to me again. But I keep pushing the envelope. I keep wanting more.

  "Is there anything you're not telling me? Did they have plans to go somewhere together that night? Did they happen to break the rules somehow and you're just trying to protect them? Please don't. We need to know everything. Absolutely everything."

  "No, it wasn't anything like that. I mean, they didn't have any plans."

  "Yes. I know. That's what you said.” I edit myself. "But sometimes kids and teenagers lie about small things and they think that they can get away with it. They do it to protect themselves from their parents. What they don't realize is that it's the little things that help people like me in law enforcement find out the truth.”

  "No, I told you absolutely everything. I know that sounds terrible, but that's it. I don't know anything else. I have no idea who took them or where they went."

  "Do you think there's any chance that they ran away?"

  "Natalie? No," he says. "She did end up dead, right?"

  "Yes, but she could have run away and then been killed at a different time. Not kidnapped,” I clarify.

  "I guess. Doesn't seem likely though, huh?" he says and I nod.

  I'm just making suggestions. I want him to talk and want him to give me any clues to the disappearances that he might have, but he genuinely looks clueless.

  "What about Violet?" I ask. "Any chance that she ran away from our mom?"

  "She talked about it. You'd know, right?"

  I sigh. "I don't know."

  "Where would she go besides to come see you?"

  "The last time that she did that, she called me. I don't know why she wouldn't have this time,” I say, realizing that I've said too much, but I’m willing to give him something in return for the truth that he has offered me.

  Neil stands, looking at me for a few moments. I open my mouth to say something else when Mrs. D’Achille comes out of nowhere.

  "What are you doing here?" She yells at Neil. "Get the hell out! This is my daughter's memorial."

  "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for your loss.” He starts to say.

  When he opens his mouth again, she slaps him across his face. He grabs on to his face. His cheek turns red, a combination of humiliation and physical discomfort. But she continues her attack.

  "Mrs. D’Achille, please!” I yell.

  I get in between them when she raises her hand again. Instead of fighting back, he just stands there and takes it.

  "Neil, move. Go,” I say.

  "No, I'm really sorry. This is my fault."

  "Stop talking." His dad rushes us, throwing his index finger in Neil's face. "Shut the hell up."

  Neil cowers to the side but Mrs. D’Achille continues her attack. She rushes him and tries to kick him and hit him again, and when I get in the way she kicks me instead.

  "You should have figured all of this out so that my daughter wouldn't be dead. Arrest him. He's the one who did it. He just said that he did."

  "I didn't kill her!” Neil yells.

  "Are you insane? You just said that you're sorry,” Mrs. D’Achille cries.

  "Yes, I am. Natalie was my girlfriend and at one point I loved her. I'm sorry that she's dead but I had nothing to do with her murder and I had nothing to do with Violet's disappearance. How can you not understand that?"

  "You're lying! You’re lying!” She throws her index finger in his face. He doesn't flinch or move away but his father blocks her this time, pushing me to the side.

  My shoulder collides with the concrete wall. A few more people notice the commotion behind the bathrooms and when they rush over, the situation turns into something of a brawl.

  Mr. D’Achille yells at Mr. Goss, Neil's father, for threatening his wife. Her brothers join in and hurl curse words to everyone.

  The only deputy that's here besides me runs over and tries to put a stop to the arguing with just about as much success as I have had. After a few minutes, Luke shows up, glaring at me, upset that I am in this situation in the first place.

  He helps the deputy and the captain make peace. He pushes everyone aside, but then Mr. D’Achille throws a punch at Mr. Goss, knocking him down to the ground.

  Neil snaps and charges him, pushing him to the ground, but his body is quickly covered with punches from Natalie's brothers.

  The commotion and the brawl and the fighting reaches peak levels, but a few more uniformed officers arrive from the sheriff’s department and help us pull everyone apart.

  I was about to discharge my weapon to draw everyone's attention away from what they're doing, but I was wavering on whether that would do more harm than good.

  So far, it is just fists. But with a gun within reach, it could have been much worse. To prove a point that something like this cannot happen in this town, Captain Medvil makes a show of putting everybody in individual police cars and taking them down to the station, including Mr. Goss, the district attorney who threw the first punch.

  I doubt that any charges will be pressed but being in the back of a police car for people who have never been in one before can be quite a scary situation.

  Unfortunately, Captain Medvil takes Mr. and Mrs. D’Achille in his car and I see them ranting and raving at him from the back, which leaves me wondering whether he'll regret this decision.

  Chapter 34

  When we get to the police station after the memorial, I'm there just to talk to Captain Medvil about Natalie's case, but he is preoccupied. Luke and I wait in the lobby. He doesn't have any more information than I do. Eventually, Captain Medvil gets off the phone and calls us in.

  "What the
heck was that?" he asks.

  ”What are you talking about?" I shrug.

  "Why were you talking alone with Neil? You knew that was going to provoke a fight."

  "I didn't do anything. He seemed like he wanted to say something and so, I wanted to hear it."

  "Well, did he?"

  "No," I admit.

  "What was he even doing there? I mean, he and his dad know how we feel about them now. They're the primary suspects."

  "Are they?" I ask, leaning over, my arms still crossed in front of my chest.

  "I have no idea. This case has very few clues. We're just hoping that the crime technicians find something of use."

  "Any preliminary results?" I ask.

  "No, not really. More questions than answers."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Her body was found very clean, like she'd recently taken a shower. Like she hadn’t been exposed to the elements this whole time. Not at all. Definitely not living on the streets or anything like that. She was wearing clothes that neither of her parents identified as hers. They fit well, expensive."

  "What do you mean by expensive?"

  "Not Walmart. DKNY jeans, a shirt from some fancy boutique. They weren't dirty."

  "How was she killed?"

  "No injuries spotted with a cursory check. They're doing an autopsy and a toxicology test.”

  I swallow hard. This is unexpected.

  "Her hair was washed, clean, just like everything else. It's like she got dressed that morning, put on makeup, died, was put in a bag and dropped at the side of the road. It's baffling."

  Before I'm able to reply, my phone rings. I look down at the screen and I see that it's Catherine. I tell them that I have to take this call.

  "We're not done talking about what happened with Neil, and I want to see that video you made,” Captain Medvil says, my heart sinks. “I saw you. I want to see what you recorded.”

  “Sure.” I nod and answer the call.

  "I'm calling with good news," she announces right away. "We got the search warrant. The crew is headed down there right now to search the boat and the apartment at the same time. If there's any evidence there, I'll let you know."