Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
"You okay?" Ben asked from the passenger seat, his voice gentle in the early morning stillness.
The sun was barely up, and she hadn’t had a sip of coffee yet to deal with any of this.
“Of course. I’m fine.”
She was lying through her teeth, and she had a feeling that Ben knew it. His gaze was sharp and assessing. He also wasn’t stupid. He knew…
She wasn't okay. She hadn't been okay in this town since the day they'd found Lori's body.
She'd insisted on leaving before most of the town was awake, hoping to avoid curious stares and whispered conversations that would inevitably follow her and Ben as they visited the landmarks of Lori's last day alive. One of the tasks they hoped to do while here was put together a timeline of the twenty-four hours before Lori’s death.
"I will be," she amended, offering him a tight smile. "It's just being back here, driving these roads again. It makes everything feel so immediate, like it all happened yesterday instead of more than a decade ago."
Ben didn't rush to fill the silence that followed, a quality Kelly was growing to appreciate about him. Unlike most people who offered empty platitudes or changed the subject when grief became uncomfortable, he seemed content to sit in the discomfort with her. He didn’t speak just to hear his own voice.
The streets of Bergen were quiet in the early morning light, almost innocent, as opposed to last night. The fresh morning air should have made her feel invigorated, as if anything and everything was possible, but it only made her wrap her sweater around her more tightly.
She made a left turn onto Maple Avenue, slowing as they approached a two-story colonial with pristine white siding, black shutters, and a white picket fence enclosing a perfectly manicured lawn.
"That's it. That's Lori's house."
She didn’t know why she was whispering. It was only the two of them in the car.
Pulling across the street, she put the car in park but left the engine running.
The house looked exactly as she remembered it, except for the For Sale sign in the front yard.
The flower boxes beneath the windows were empty now, no longer bursting with the colorful blooms Elizabeth Powell had meticulously maintained.
"The Powells weren't just well-off," Kelly explained, her eyes fixed on the house where her friend had grown up. In a way, she’d grown up there, too, if she counted all the hours she’d spent there.
"They were Bergen royalty. Robert Powell owned half the commercial real estate downtown, including the hardware store.
Elizabeth was on every charity board that mattered. When they spoke, people listened."
Ben studied the house with careful attention, his gaze methodical as it moved from the wraparound porch to the dormered windows on the second floor.
"It's a beautiful home," he observed quietly.
"When Lori was grounded, she used to sneak me up to her bedroom window there on the left," Kelly said, pointing. "Her parents were strict about her curfew, and if she was even one minute late, she’d be grounded for a week. We'd sit on her window seat and talk for hours after she was supposed to be in bed. Looking back, I don’t know how her parents didn’t hear us.
I think they had the television on loud in their room. "
The memory caught in her throat, unexpected and sharp. How many times had they sat in that window, planning their futures? College, careers, the places they'd travel together. The men they’d marry, the children they’d have.
All the promises neither of them had known Lori wouldn't live to keep.
It was all so senseless and unfair.
"We should move on," Kelly said abruptly, shifting the car back into drive. "The bus stop is just a few blocks away."
She could feel Ben watching her, but not in that uncomfortable, pitying way.
She didn’t know why he seemed to understand, but he did.
This wasn't just about finding a killer, but about navigating a landscape of memories she'd tried and failed to leave behind. She was still a hostage to her past, and she couldn’t move forward until it was resolved.
The bus stop was located on the corner of Elm and Third, a simple metal bench beneath a weathered plastic shelter.
Kelly parked along the curb and killed the engine this time, staring at the spot where Lori should have waited that Saturday morning to catch the 11:15 to the mall where Kelly and their other friends had been waiting.
"She never made it this far," Kelly said, reaching into the back seat for the case file. "At least, not according to the official timeline. The regular bus driver said she never got on the bus."
"Here," she said, flipping through until she found the photos she wanted. "These were taken supposedly two days after Lori disappeared, when the police finally started treating it as more than just a teenager who ran off.”
Her tone sounded bitter because she was bitter. Perhaps if they’d investigated right away, Lori might have been found before she died. Of course, she couldn’t say that for sure, but the cops waiting hadn’t helped.
"I know this is hard for you," Ben said, his voice quiet. "Being back here, seeing these places. I know that it takes courage to face something like this head-on. I’m glad I’m here to help you. This is important."
His words touched Kelly in a way she hadn't expected. Most people in her life had either dismissed her pursuit of justice for Lori as obsessive or had indulged it as a phase she'd eventually outgrow. She’d never had anyone to share the burden with before.
"I'm okay," she said, and this time it wasn't entirely a lie. "I need to do this. For Lori. For myself."
"Where next?" he asked with a nod.
Taking a deep breath, she hardened herself for what would undoubtedly be the hardest stop of all. She hadn’t gone there since Lori had been found. She’d never even driven past that location, always finding an alternate route.
"The ditch where they found her. It's about fifteen minutes outside of town."
The drive was short, and her hands were visibly shaking when she pulled onto the shoulder of County Road 17, and she cut the engine.
There was a buzzing noise in her ears, and for a moment, she thought she might be physically ill.
Her stomach had tied itself into a tight knot, and there was bile at the back of her throat.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
Kelly didn’t even recognize her own voice, and she certainly hadn’t planned on saying those words out loud.
It was all fields out here, whether corn, soybeans, or cows. When Lori’s body had been found, it was after the harvest, and the fields were bare.
Her hands remained frozen on the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the drainage ditch that ran parallel to the road right next to where they'd parked.
“You don’t have to do this. We can come back another day.”
“There won’t be another day. If I don’t do it now, I know I won’t do it. Plus, we don’t have much time. We’re not in town for long.”
She’d been to other body dump sites for her podcast, but then, she’d never known those victims. It was different when it was someone she cared about.
"This is where they found her. In this ditch. I think the killer put her there because all the corn was gone and people wouldn’t easily spot her."
Ben didn't immediately respond, his gaze moving methodically across the landscape, taking in the field, the road, the distance to any nearby structures.
Kelly knew what he was doing, assessing the scene, creating a mental map of what happened and how. She'd done the same countless times over the years, both in her nightmares and during her waking hours.
But never actually right here.
"Ready?" Ben asked gently.
No, she wasn't ready. Would never be ready. But she nodded anyway, reaching for the door handle. His hand stayed her movements, warm and comforting. As much as she thought of herself as a strong, independent woman, she had to admit that she couldn’t have done this today without him.
She wouldn’t have had the strength to be here alone.
“No, but let’s do this anyway.”
She tried to muster some semblance of a smile for him, although it probably didn’t come out nearly as cheery as she'd hoped.
“If you want to leave, just tell me. I’ll drive us back to the condo.”
“Thank you.”
Pushing open the driver’s door, she stepped into the morning sunshine. The air was a bit warmer now, the sun climbing higher in the sky. A stranger would have said it was a glorious day, oblivious to the grim history of this plot of land.
She retrieved the autopsy report from her bag and held it against her chest like a shield as she walked toward the ditch, her steps measured and deliberate. She could do this. She had to do this. Take it moment by moment.
Later, she could fall apart.
"According to the report, a farmer found her," Kelly said, her clinical tone at odds with the trembling in her hands. "He saw that it was Lori, and he knew that she was missing, of course. He called her parents and then the police."
“He called her parents first?” Ben asked, his brows raised. “And then the police?”
“Yes, and Lori’s dad made it here first, from what I heard.”
“Did he touch anything?”
“I don’t know. I doubt anyone would question anything Mr. Powell did.”
“My dad would have read the riot act to anyone who messed up his crime scene,” Ben replied with a shake of his head. “He would have been pissed as hell.”
“I think I’d like to hear more about your dad,” Kelly said. “He sounds like a good sheriff.”
“One of the best,” Ben agreed. “And I will tell you about him, but now isn’t the time. Maybe later.”