36 Hours (13 page)

Authors: Allison Brennan

BOOK: 36 Hours

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Jodi chatted aimlessly about working at the bookstore while going to college at the California College of Arts. She took the train to the city three days a week for classes.

Max hadn’t come home just because Jodi asked. It was the way she’d asked her. As much what she’d said as what she didn’t say.

She’d said she didn’t believe that Kevin committed suicide, but she didn’t tell Max why she didn’t believe the police report.

After the waitress brought them coffee and pastries, Max said, “I read everything you sent me. There’s nothing in the newspaper or initial police report that indicated that Kevin was murdered.”

Jodi cringed at the word, or maybe it was Max’s blunt statement. She needed a lighter touch. She’d just come off an investigation where being direct was expected and, in fact, necessary to find answers. Jodi was a survivor, one of the walking wounded in a family that was facing the unexpected death of a loved one.

Jodi said, “I know what Kevin’s death looks like, I know what everyone thinks. But I swear, Maxine, he was finally getting his life together. He hasn’t used in years. I mean, he might have drank a bit, but he wasn’t using drugs.”

The files hadn’t indicated anything of the sort. Kevin was a heavy drinker and had been arrested three times on drug possession. Marijuana twice, heroin once. He’d done six months in prison for the last bust. During the death investigation, two ounces of marijuana had been found in his apartment, along with empty whiskey and beer bottles. The only constant in his life seemed to have been a part-time job in a coffee place. Enough to pay his rent, buy his alcohol, and not much more.

Max didn’t tell Jodi any of this, because Jodi must have known the life Kevin lived. She watched the girl twist her long brown hair into knots. Max had many questions, but she didn’t want to lead Jodi down a specific path. When it was clear Jodi was too nervous to talk without prompting, Max asked, “Why did you ask me to come to Kevin’s funeral?”

“You were friends.” Her voice was quiet and squeaky.

Max leaned back and pulled a bite-size piece off her carrot cake. She gauged Jodi’s state-of-mind. “I haven’t spoken to Kevin since I left twelve years ago. If he told you something different, he wasn’t telling you the truth.”

Jodi swallowed and leaned forward. “Ever since I can remember, Kevin has been trying to find out what happened the night Lindy Ames was killed.”

Four months ago, right before Christmas, Kevin had left a message asking her, in her capacity as an investigative journalist, to follow a lead he had on Lindy’s murder. A murder that occurred when they were high school seniors, a murder for which he’d been arrested, stood trial for, and walked away a man in limbo: the hung jury was split evenly, six to acquit, six to convict.

Worse, she’d been friends with both Kevin and Lindy; in fact, growing up, she and Lindy had been inseparable. Only during their senior year had they drifted apart, and Max was unclear why that had happened. Lindy had become moody and secretive. Lindy, of all people, knew how Max hated deception, so when Max caught her in a series of little white lies, Max had over-reacted. Max could see it now, but then her best friend’s dishonesty—especially about such trivial things like where she was going—had hurt and offended her. Would anything have been different had Max been more tolerant of Lindy’s behavior?

She’d asked David to call Kevin back and say she wasn’t interested in hearing from him. David wouldn’t have been swayed by his pleas as she might have been.

A twinge of guilt crept in. When she heard his message, the time slipped away and she was the nineteen-year-old friend of a boy on trial for murder who’d lied to her to ensure her loyalty. Had she said no to his olive branch out of spite? As payback for making her feel gullible?

“Did you know Kevin called me before Christmas asking for my help in Lindy’s cold case?”

Jodi nodded. “He said he understood why you didn’t want to, but--” She bit her thumb. “What happened after the trial? Why did you stand by Kevin, then turn your back on him?”

“Do you really want to know?” Max wasn’t sure she wanted to say anything, because after twelve years her reasons for walking away seemed petty. But she’d never forget how she felt when Kevin told her he’d lied about his alibi. It was as if she’d been gutted—not because she thought he was guilty, but because he’d been able to lie so smoothly and she hadn’t known.

Jodi straightened her spine. “Yes.”

“Kevin lied about his alibi.”

“I don’t understand. He had no alibi—he said he was home. The prosecutor said he could have easily snuck out of the house.”

“He did sneak out of the house.”

She looked stricken. “You—you think he’s guilty.”

“No. But he made me doubt him because I didn’t understand then why he lied, and I understand less now.” She sipped her coffee to calm her nerves, because remembering how inadequate and helpless she’d felt been back then made her queasy. “After the trial, Kevin told me that he wasn’t home, that he was with Olivia Langstrom.”

Jodi looked as perplexed as Max felt both then and now. “Why didn’t he tell the police that?” she asked.

“I asked him the same thing. He didn’t think he’d be arrested for a crime he didn’t commit. And then, when he was, he said they couldn’t have evidence against him because he was innocent. And yet, the circumstantial evidence was enough for six of the jurors to think he was guilty.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it doesn’t. According to Kevin, Olivia was physically and emotionally abused by her father. She was going through a hard time, and thinking of running away, but Kevin thought she was going to hurt herself. They talked half the night at Fake Lake and he took her home between three and four in the morning.” The man-made lake had been a favorite party spot for Atherton teens.

“She could have told the judge that. Or the police or someone!”

“She could have—she
should
have—but she didn’t, and Kevin thought if he changed his story after the arrest no one would believe him. And he’d promised Olivia he wouldn’t say anything. She was afraid of repercussions.”

“So he went through hell to protect her reputation?”

Jodi was having the same questions and doubts that Max did.

“You wanted to know what happened. That’s what happened. I didn’t trust him anymore. I didn’t understand why he lied in the first place, or why he felt the need to tell me about Olivia after trial. I felt manipulated and used because I’d defended him. I defied my family and lost friends because I stood by Kevin. And the lies he told seemed so …” How could she put it? It
still
didn’t make sense to her. “So
unnecessary.
I didn’t want anything more to do with him. He could have saved himself—and me—and you and your parents so much pain if he’d told the truth from the beginning. And that’s what I had a hard time coming to terms with.”

Jodi didn’t say anything for several minutes. She stared into her coffee cup and Max gave her the time to process the new information. Unless he was retried, he hadn’t planned to tell anyone.

Except it
was
important. Had he told the truth from the beginning, the police could have followed other leads. They may have found out who really killed Lindy, and brought him to justice. And that, frankly, was what Max couldn’t forgive. And because Kevin had told her about Olivia, it made her feel culpable. And though Kevin told her never to tell anyone, she’d gone to the police. At least, she tried to. The detective in charge of the investigation nearly threw her out of the police department and threatened to arrest her for giving a false statement.

If that happened now, after all the cold cases and hot trials she’d worked on as a reporter, she would never have left without finding the truth. Now, she feared the truth was unattainable. And Lindy would never see justice done.

Finally, she asked Jodi, “Did Kevin share any information or theories about Lindy’s murder?”

Jodi shook her head. “Nothing specific. He didn’t want to talk to me about it. My parents—they had a real hard time during the trial. We moved to Los Gatos, but they were never the same. Kevin moved to San Francisco. I barely saw him while I was growing up. We just reconnected a few years ago.”

It pained Max how cruel families could be. Not only had Kevin lost friends, he’d been disowned by his family.

“Though he wouldn’t talk to me much about what he was doing,” Jodi continued, “I know he was researching a lot.”

“What kind of research?”

“I don’t really know. He had a lot of legal documents, but he put them away whenever I came over.”

“Where’s his research now?”

“I went to his apartment on Wednesday, once the police said I could go in, but his laptop was gone. It was the only thing he cared about, he didn’t even own a TV. He had a file cabinet but—I didn’t look in there.”

“Did you get a copy of the final police report?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t seen it.”

Max suspected she wouldn’t look at it. Jodi was a young, grieving sister and the police report would be a blunt and impartial light on Kevin’s last days. She didn’t need to see it.

But Max did.

“Where was Kevin living?” Atherton was a small town in the middle of a major metropolitan area. She could be dealing with any number of police departments.

“An apartment on Roble Avenue.” Roble was nearby, in Menlo Park.

“On Wednesday,” Jodi continued, “before I called you, I got this in the mail.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter, then hesitated.

Though Max was curious about what had prompted Jodi to call her, she didn’t reach for the document. She waited and sipped her latte.

Jodi bit her lip, a nervous habit that was beginning to annoy Max. If it was anyone else, she would have immediately branded them as deceptive or hiding something. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, Max was right in picking out lies and diversions. But coupled with Jodi’s overall demeanor and the tragic circumstances, Max suspected Jodi was simply confused and didn’t know what to do with information she had.

Jodi said, “I need to know that you believe Kevin didn’t kill Lindy Ames.”

How did Max answer that when she didn’t know what she believed? She said, “When Kevin was arrested, I stood by him. I never believed then that he killed Lindy, because he told me he didn’t. He was my best friend. I postponed college for a year so I could stay here and support him during the investigation and trial.

“But after the jury came back undecided and the prosecution said that they wouldn’t retry unless new evidence surfaced, and I learned that Kevin lied about his alibi, I didn’t know why. Why did he lie? Why did he feel the need to tell me? I can’t give you what you want. I came to listen, and to say good-bye to Kevin. I can’t promise anything more.”

In the back of Max’s mind, she asked herself:
Where is Kevin’s laptop?

Tears welled in Jodi’s eyes. She put the envelope on the table, then pulled out her cell phone.

“On Monday morning, I woke up and had a text message from Kevin. That was before I found out he’d died late Sunday night.” Her voice cracked.

She pressed a couple buttons and handed Max the phone.

The message from Kevin was brief.

Call Max. I love you J.

Jodi pocketed her phone. “I have to go back to work,” she whispered. “The funeral is at St. Bede’s tomorrow at noon. I don’t think anybody’s going to come.”

Max took Jodi’s hand. “I’ll be there.”

Jodi handed Max a key on a Minnie Mouse key chain. “Kevin’s apartment. If you need it.”

“You’re going to be okay, Jodi. I promise. It takes time.” Being okay was one thing; forgetting was impossible. You never forgot the people you lost.

She watched Jodi leave, her head down. When she was out of sight, Max picked up the envelope.

It had been mailed on Saturday from Menlo Park, addressed to Jodi in care of the bookstore where she worked. There was no return address, but the initials in the corner were K.L.O.

Why would Kevin send his sister a letter at her place of employment?

Max hadn’t asked where Jodi lived, whether with one of her parents or in an apartment or if she had a roommate. Because she hadn’t been investigating Kevin’s death.

Now she had two questions.

She removed the single sheet of paper and unfolded it.

It was an uncertified copy of Lindy Ames’ death certificate. Cause of death: asphyxiation by manual strangulation.

Max turned over the paper and read the note Kevin had written:
Lindy drowned.

BIOGRAPHY

Allison Brennan is the
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of 21 books and numerous short stories. She lives in Northern California with her husband and five children.

For more information about her books, visit her website at:

Allisonbrennan.com

Follow her on Facebook:

Facebook.com/AllisonBrennan

Or Twitter:

Twitter.com/Allison_Brennan

BOOKLIST

http://allisonbrennan.com/books

NOTORIOUS

(Coming April 1, 2014)

DEAD HEAT

(Coming June 3, 2014)