Chapter 10
Harlyn
It’s late when we finally make it over to the kitchen island where Boone left the files. I’m tempted to take him up on his offer to meet again tomorrow, but I don’t know if it’s because I want to see him again, or if I’m really not in the right frame of mind to delve into Hayzel’s case.
A yawn catches me off guard, and I’m late to fully cover my gaping mouth. “Sorry,” I mutter the moment my eyes open again.
“Are you sure you want to do this tonight?” He still has his hand over the folder, as if there will be no going back once he opens it.
“I’d like to at least get started, but it’s really up to you.”
Boone looks toward the kitchen, finding the digital clock on the stove. “How about we give it an hour and see how we feel?”
“As long as that isn’t too late for you,” I agree, surprised he thinks we’d need more than an hour. Other than my initial interview with the police, they have never given me more than fifteen minutes of their time to talk about the case.
Boone nods once, then he flips the first folder open.
My eyes land on what looks to be a report.
I exhale soundly. I was a little worried the crime scene photos were going to be on top, but I should have known better.
Special Agent Landry has shown respect and concern from the beginning.
I don’t think he would be careless enough to leave something like that on top of the file.
“I’ve read everything in here.” He places his hand over some of the papers.
I can’t tell if he’s intentionally covering something or not.
“If you’re okay with it, I’d like to hear what happened and how you found her from your perspective. ”
I swallow. I assumed I would have to talk about this with the podcast, so I prepared myself for that eventuality, but since she didn’t delve into Hayzel’s death too much, I thought I’d gotten off without rehashing the horrid details of that day.
If this is what it takes to get someone to listen to me, then I’ll do it. I’m just not looking forward to it.
“If you don’t want to, it’s okay. Like I said, I’ve read the reports,” he offers, trying to let me off the hook.
“No, it’s okay.” I swipe roughly at the errant tear on my cheek that escaped my eye. A dark, humorless laugh comes next. “I’m fine. I don’t know why this is making me emotional. Where do you want me to start?”
“Let’s get what happened that day out of the way, then we can talk about the things that led up to it.” Landry flips over the paper on top to show a blank piece of paper, then he pinches a pen between his fingers as if he’s ready to take notes.
“Somehow, it feels like that entire day is a blur and crystal clear at the same time. I’ve gone over it about a million times in my head, wondering what one thing could have happened differently that might have changed everything, but it was just a regular day.
I left a little earlier than normal. I had an appointment to get things sorted with admissions for the next semester before work. ”
“Where did you work?”
“I was a server at the Sheard Pig. I’d only been there a couple weeks.”
His eyebrows lift before he puts his pen to the paper. “Sheard Pig?” he questions as if he didn’t hear me right.
“Yeah, it’s a Texas thing about wasting time. Like why would I shear a pig?”
“Makes sense, I guess.” He shrugs and jots down the name of the bar and grill. “What time was your shift?”
“Three to close, which was eleven. I got out of there around eleven thirty.”
“Was that your usual shift?”
“Pretty much. Some days I wasn’t scheduled to start until five, but for the most part, I always closed.”
“How many nights a week did you work? Was it an established schedule every week?”
“Four nights a week, Thursday through Sunday. They closed at ten on Sundays though.”
He nods, taking in the information but not taking any more notes as of yet. “What about your roommates? Were they always out in the evenings?”
“On the weekend? Pretty much. Most of the time they wouldn’t be there when I got home from work.”
“Hayzel didn’t work, right?”
“No, she was usually intent on her studies, and she had a pretty busy social life… at least before she moved, she did.”
Boone fans out a few papers, not fully uncovering anything. “And financially you guys weren’t in a position that she would have to work.”
I wonder if he’s looking for her bank records. “No, we didn’t have to work.”
“Your parents then grandparents left you pretty sizable inheritances.”
“And after Hayzel died, I got it all,” I snap. This is a bit of a sore spot for me, always has been. People think because you are rich, it makes it easier to accept you’re an orphan. I would return every penny to get any of them back.
“I’m just making an observation, Harlyn. It’s a lot of money. Could anyone else have stood to gain from her death?”
I feel bad for snapping at him, but I don’t apologize.
Instead, I shake my head slowly. “No, the police already dug into this angle. I gave them my lawyer’s contact information.
From what I understand, everything already has or will transfer to me.
I was her only living relative, and she didn’t have a will. ”
“You don’t know if the process is complete yet?”
“To be honest, no, which sounds pretty dumb, hearing it out loud right now, but it wouldn’t matter either way. I had more than enough money to live on for the rest of my life before she died.”
“Alright, do you have any objection to me reaching out to your attorney?”
I open my mouth to tell him no, that I can get him the number now, but he holds up his hand to stop me from speaking.
“I’d like to find out if anyone filed a petition other than your lawyer, or if there were any objections.”
“I can get you the number, but I’m pretty sure Tristan would have said something to me if that was the case.”
“Tristan, is that your lawyer?”
“Him and Mr. Cavendish. I deal mostly with Tristan if I need anything. I’ll let him know to expect a call from you and to give you any information you need.”
Boone makes another note on the paper, then he looks up at me expectantly. “Walk me through your day, every detail that you can remember.”
I close my eyes for a moment and think back to the day I can’t seem to forget, even though I wish I could.
“After the meeting at school, I grabbed lunch. I called Hayzel to see if she wanted me to get her anything, but she didn’t, so I just went through a drive-through for Popeye’s.
I got a bacon and cheese chicken sandwich, no pickles, mashed potatoes with gravy, and coleslaw.
I was going to go home because I still had an hour before I needed to be at work, but I didn’t.
I sat in the parking lot at work instead, because Hayzel was being a crab, and I didn’t have the energy to deal with her. ”
I slam my hand over my mouth. I’ve never said that out loud before, even though the guilt I’ve felt over it has eaten at me since that day.
Boone reaches forward and gently pulls my fingers from my face. He doesn’t tell me it’s okay or give any other platitudes, he just nods for me to continue.
My voice is softer, less sure, when I speak again. “I got to work a few minutes early, maybe around two forty, but I waited to clock in until three. I don’t really remember much about my shift. It was busy, like usual on a Friday night.”
I’m crying now, but the only way I can tell is by the tears falling into my lap.
My voice hasn’t changed, nor has my breathing.
These are the hard tears to deal with, nearly as bad as sobs because they are just as uncontrollable, but at least I’m not hyperventilating.
“I called Hayzel at ten before the kitchen closed to see if she wanted anything, but she didn’t answer.
I didn’t think too much of it. I actually figured she was mad that I dismissed her earlier. ”
“That’s why you thought she was crabby earlier in the day, because you dismissed something she’d told you?”
“Yeah.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She was talking about her shampoo again, and something else about a dress being moved. I completely brushed her off.”
Boone squeezes my fingers, which are still clutched in his hand. “You can’t blame anyone for what happened other than the person who did this to Hayzel. You never could have known what was going to happen.”
“I still could have listened to her,” I argue.
I can’t count how many times since her death I’ve thought something was out of place or missing.
It forces me to think about how hard it must have been for her to keep trying to tell me, considering my unconcerned reaction.
I haven’t even told Livy about my own concerns because I don’t want her to think I’m going crazy.
His lips thin in a way that makes me think he has something else to say on the matter, but instead he prompts me to continue with my story. “She didn’t answer at ten. What happened after that?”
“I finished my shift, clocked out at 11:37. I only know the exact time because the police showed me my time sheet when they were questioning me. Anyway, I drove straight home when I left work. I think it was probably a fifteen minute drive, give or take, depending on traffic.
“I called 911 at 12:03. I got that from my phone log. It felt like it took them forever to show up, but the operator made me stay on the phone with her the whole time, and my call history says the call to emergency only lasted nine minutes. I can’t tell you what I did in those nine minutes.
It’s all a blur. You might be able to gain access to the recording, but they won’t release it to me since the case is still open. ”
“Tell me about when you arrived home. Was the door locked? Was anything out of place?”