Chapter 15 #2
He nodded. “These”—he passed Newton the folder he’d been carrying when he entered the office—“are the photos from the Gerard scene. There’s more.”
Kale tensed, startled. When had the chief made this decision?
The last Kale had heard, Newton wasn’t to know that one detail.
Now she would understand that Kale had not been completely honest when she asked him to describe the scene.
Didn’t bode well for their tenuous working relationship.
Then again, apparently there was a lot he hadn’t known.
She studied the photos briefly, then shot a fleeting look at Kale before passing the file back to the chief.
Oh, yeah. He was going to hear about this.
“What’s your theory on this undisclosed detail?” she asked. She didn’t look surprised or moved in any way.
“I’ve spent the past two hours on a conference call with our FBI liaison and the state forensics folks. The consensus is that Valerie Gerard likely knew her killer. This murder was personal. And that’s the way we’re investigating it.”
A flicker of surprise showed on Newton’s face. “No more curse theories?”
The chief adopted a long-suffering face. “Folks are going to believe what they believe, Ms. Newton. All we in law enforcement can hope for is to ferret out the facts.”
“Is there anything else you’re keeping from the press?” Her tone was nothing short of skeptical. Obviously she wasn’t convinced she’d gotten the whole story, even now.
The chief’s hesitation had Kale turning to him.
There was something new. Being kept in the dark, under the circumstances, put him at a serious disadvantage.
Giving the chief credit, he was neck-deep in alligators in this investigation.
He didn’t have time to hold Kale’s hand by keeping him apprised of every update.
Kale had to keep that in mind. In truth, he’d just as soon never have known that one part.
“There is one other thing.” The somberness of the chief’s tone set Kale further on edge. “Let me forewarn you, Ms. Newton, if a single word of this gets out before I personally release it to the press, you will be sitting in jail for the duration of your stay.”
“You have my word,” she said immediately.
Kale felt himself holding his breath.
“Valerie Gerard’s cause of death was ultimately massive hemorrhaging and exposure.
But the autopsy revealed another piece of evidence, not directly tied to cause of death.
” He unlocked the middle drawer of his desk, reached inside and pulled out an envelope.
He passed it to Newton. “This item was found in the victim’s throat. ”
What the hell? Kale got up and moved to stand next to the chief’s desk so that he could look over Newton’s shoulder as she withdrew a photo from the envelope.
The round metal object looked like a large coin. Parts of what might have been a narrow cloth band lay next to it in the photograph.
“It’s a medal,” Newton suggested. “Like in the Olympics.”
Willard nodded. “The lab was able to raise the inscription. It’s a medal Valerie received for winning a spelling bee in the fourth grade.”
Kale couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’ve confirmed that this medal”—he tapped the photo—“is in fact the one Valerie won back in fourth grade? Not some kind of duplicate?” This just wasn’t possible. This meant . . .
“It’s the one. The date and name of the school are inscribed. We checked with the Gerards and verified the location of where it was kept in the home. When we searched the home, the medal was missing.”
Kale put his hand over his mouth, then let it fall uselessly to his side. “That means it was someone here . . . someone we know.”
“It would seem so,” Willard agreed. “But we’re not limiting our investigation by that factor. Yet.”
“At this point,” Newton spoke up, “you actually have no evidence to connect Valerie Gerard’s murder with Alicia Appleton’s disappearance. Or to the murders twenty years ago.”
“None.”
“She could have run away from home,” Newton theorized. “Or been abducted for other, equally heinous purposes.”
Willard nodded. “All we can do is react to the tips that come in and whatever we dig up, which, I don’t have to tell you, is not looking good. We have absolutely nothing to go on in Alicia’s case.”
“If her disappearance is related to the murder, the sooner you nail a suspect, the better chance you’ll have of finding her alive.
So,” Newton pressed, “the real questions are, who would this medal have been relevant to?” Her attention lingered on the crime-scene photos.
“Who would have known where it was kept and subsequently gained access to that location? And who among those might have had motive to dislike both girls?”
Willard chuckled, but Kale recognized its severe lack of enthusiasm and total absence of humor. “You keep it up, Ms. Newton, and I’ll be recruiting you for my staff.”
Newton pushed her lips into a forged smile. “I’m afraid you couldn’t afford me, Chief.”
“And I’m afraid,” the chief suggested, “that you’ve wasted your time and your magazine’s money on this one. I don’t think you’re going to find the kind of story you were looking for here now that the true nature of the crime has been revealed.”
“That’s the thing, Chief.” Newton stood. “The true nature—the truth—is my story.”