Chapter 7 #2
“You aren’t convinced.” It wasn’t a question—but then again, Dr. Allan Knight didn’t use questions much. It just wasn’t his way. “Tell us why.”
“I’ve known Harper since she was in kindergarten.
I was a few years ahead of her. Buckbert…
our school system closed recently, but…it has always been very small.
We are just too far from Helery County school system for bussing, but they do that now.
Starting this year. Before that, we had multiple grades grouped into each classroom.
Harper and I were in classes together every few years.
Everyone in Buckbert knows everyone else.
People go to church together, school things, community events, soccer leagues, little league, town festival.
It’s a regular Hallmark kind of movie around here. In most places, anyway.”
Well, Miranda understood. She’d grown up in the same kind of environment. Masterson County had around five thousand people, after all. But for her, it had been right where she’d belonged. She didn’t think Hagan Lindhour had had the same kind of experience.
Lindhour kept talking. She was much more open now. Miranda wondered who the real Hagan Lindhour actually was. “They moved back when I was around seventeen or so, then moved again about four years later. Her dad works for a company that has factories in the region. He’d move occasionally.”
“So you’ve known her for a long time. What makes you think no drugs?”
“Harper never came across as careless or reckless to me. She wouldn’t stop in a dark parking lot, at night, way out here.
Not by herself. Even in Buckbert. She was always so cautious, watchful of her surroundings.
Very protective of her younger sisters too.
Her parents and friends and sisters all confirm that.
Harper was the exact opposite of high risk.
People at the trailer park—they can see over here.
Can hear. Someone could have heard, but no one did.
” Deputy Lindhour pointed toward the two security lights that lit the entrance to the ball park.
“These go on every night at five, no question. Unless someone was really stupid, or really angry—I think they took their time with Harper. When if it was drug-related—it would be fast, and hurried and messy, and almost panicked, right?”
Well, Miranda agreed on that, mostly. There had been a lot of rage directed at Harper Wycoff. A deliberateness that both she and Knight had remarked on when they’d first reviewed the file.
Miranda couldn’t say for certain—profiling was at times more an art than a science—but she would almost lay odds on Harper having known her killer.
Most murder victims usually did. But they weren’t making any assumptions just yet. That was something she and Knight usually both agreed on. No assumptions, period.
“We’ll look at all the angles. Start at the very beginning.” Miranda knew better than to give false hope. It never served anyone well. “So how well did you know the victim, other people in town?”
“People know each other here, even if they aren’t friends.
Know who is switching teams, whose parents are sleeping together, which umpires can be persuaded…
Harper and I went to the same school, and occasionally she’d play up—and sub for area teams an age division ahead of her.
I was in that age division. But were we friends, no, not really.
Different socioeconomic group mostly. Harper wasn’t exactly outgoing, but…
she was popular. Even after she quit softball. ”
And she suspected Deputy Lindhour had not been.
“Do you know why or when she quit?” Softball. It could be all-consuming. And in a small town, there weren’t a lot of opportunities for the kids. So those with skills ended up in a pay-to-play situation. A subculture formed around teams and tournaments and rankings and wins and losses.
Miranda had seen it before. Experienced it.
She thought about the things she had seen for a moment.
Miranda would think seriously long and hard before she ever let Bentley do travel baseball—or any other club sport.
She was not that insane. Not that she was going to let her own experience color the investigation.
She would remember that. And just because Harper was found here at the fields—that didn’t mean it had anything to do with softball. That whole no assumptions thing.
“She quit after her coach died. Most of her team did. I only think half played again that next year.”
“How did he die? Do you think she was close to him?” Miranda asked. A death of someone close to her could cause trauma. Trauma that led to drug use. She had seen it before.
Deputy Lindhour stared at her for a moment. In…shock, possibly? “That is why…I asked for a favor from a friend to get you here. Sheriff Johnson doesn’t want to even consider it—he says it’s too coincidental, and nothing I say changes his opinion—but…why here?”
“Back up a bit. Consider what?” Knight asked. Or…demanded. They really needed to work on his crime scene side manner. “How did her coach die?”
“He was murdered. Here. Just fifteen feet from where Harper’s body was found.
Beaten to death with a softball bat—we think.
Almost eleven years ago next week.” Deputy Lindhour looked at them, a determined but almost broken look in her eyes.
“It’s connected. I know it is. But no one believes me.
And I can’t prove it. Yet. But I’m going to.
Harper deserves someone who actually cares about what happened to her.
And no one else in Helery County seems to care at all. ”
Harper’s coach was murdered.
Well, that was a coincidence, wasn’t it?