The Girl in the Woods (12 page)

 

 

Birdy and Kendall left a now sobbing Jennifer Roberts and went toward the car. Molly scurried over.

“Are you the police?”

Kendall didn’t correct her. “You look upset,” she said, “Ms.?”

“Molly O’Rourke. I live next door. I knew this would happen. I just knew it.”

Birdy looked up and saw Jennifer in the window.

“Why don’t you meet us at the sheriff’s office?” she said, giving Kendall a sideways glance.

“I have to feed Candy, my dog, and then I’ll come down.”

“Ask for me, Detective Stark.”

Molly went back inside.

“She looked scared,” Birdy said as they drove back up the hill.

“I don’t blame her,” Kendall said. “There is something very off about Jennifer Roberts.”

“I
don’t know why I can’t stop crying,” Molly O’Rourke said, as she took a chair in an interview room at the Kitsap County sheriff’s office.

“It is completely understandable,” Birdy said, gently touching the younger woman’s shoulder. “You’ve had a bad shock.”

Kendall gave the young redhead with the suddenly blotchy complexion some water and a box of tissues. Both were needed.

“It isn’t that,” Molly said. “I’m sick about this because I knew this was going to happen. I let it happen. This really is my entire fault. Ted did not have to die.”

“What is it, Molly?” Kendall asked. “What are you thinking that you’ve done?”

Molly dried her eyes. “I’ve had the feeling for a long time. But the other morning when I left for work, I just knew. I just knew something was going on. I should have called the police, but I didn’t. I don’t even know why.”

Birdy and Kendall exchanged glances. It was crucial that Molly told them what she knew from her perspective, not with the benefit of anything they had learned so far from talking to Jennifer or the paramedics.

“That’s an early start,” Kendall said.

The young woman said she had to be at the convalescent center by 5:30 a.m. and that it took her at least twenty minutes to get there.

“So what did you see? What troubled you?”

“I was standing out there with my dog so she could do her business and I noticed the lights go on in the bedroom upstairs. Candy was taking her sweet time—like the little brat always does.”

“It was dark?” Kendall asked.

“Right,” Molly said. “Not yet five a.m.”

“All right, then what happened?”

“The lights were on for a while, I don’t know . . . a few minutes, and then they went off.”

Kendall narrowed the focus. “What was so unusual about that?”

Molly shifted in her chair. “Well, I knew that Ted didn’t get up to go to the bathroom. He was practically bedridden. I figured he’d had some kind of episode and woke up Jennifer and she went to check on him. She’s a pretty lazy person so it had to be some kind of major commotion for her to get out of bed.”

“Maybe it was as simple as that,” Birdy offered. “That he needed some help with a bedpan.”

Molly didn’t think so. “This is kind of embarrassing,” she said. “I really don’t know why. At the center, a lot of residents wear Depends at night. But I don’t know, I still think of Ted as being so vital,” she said, choking up, then pulling herself together. “I saw Jennifer unloading groceries last week and I couldn’t help noticing that she had a package of Depends.”

“You notice a lot of things,” Kendall said.

The young woman looked up, a little defensively. “Our houses are very close together.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Kendall said. “I mean that you’ve been observant. I appreciate that. You were really fond of Ted, but you obviously don’t care much for Jennifer.”

“You wouldn’t like her either,” Molly said. “I don’t see how anyone could. She was such a conceited liar. She once told me she was a runner-up to Miss Arizona. I Googled the pageant’s website and there was no Jennifer listed in the past thirty years. She didn’t know how to tell the truth about anything. When she came up here, she told me she was pregnant. She said she’d gotten pregnant on her wedding night.”

“But she only has a teenage son and a daughter,” Birdy said. “We saw their photos.”

Molly nodded. “Right. They are nice enough kids. But about the baby. I kept wondering about it. At first, I thought that she was going to be one of those pregnant movie star types that barely shows and then has the baby and they are suddenly back in a bathing suit. She kind of took care of herself like that.”

“But what about the baby?” Birdy asked.

“I don’t think there ever was one. I think Ted thought there was one, for sure. He told me one time that he had some very bad news. He said that Jennifer had a miscarriage. He was devastated.”

“I’m sure he was,” Kendall said.

“Yeah, but guess who wasn’t? I went over there with some mums that I thought were pretty and a card and told Jennifer that I was sorry for her loss. She thanked me and was nice about it, but the next day was garbage day. I took my trash to the street, you know, next to the Robertses’ and do you know what I saw?”

“No,” Birdy said. “Tell me.”

“Well, their can’s lid wasn’t down tight and I noticed some stuff sticking out. I thought that I should shut it because if the raccoons got into it, then I’d be the one that had to clean it up. The wind always blows stuff into my yard. You know what was sticking up, holding the lid up?” she asked, not waiting for Birdy or Kendall to answer. “That potted mum. Jennifer had just thrown it out. I only gave it to her the day before. I opened the lid and the card was there too. She didn’t even open it.”

It was cold, but neither Kendall nor Birdy said so.

“What about Ted’s health?” Birdy asked. “What do you know about it?”

“Nothing. I mean, honestly, I don’t know what was wrong with him. He was fine until she showed up. Seriously. At first he complained of stomach cramps and she put him on some special raw foods diet, but it didn’t seem to work. She told me about that. Said it was all the rage down in Scottsdale. I didn’t know anything about it, but I did watch him get better, then sicker, then, well never better again.”

“What did he or she say was wrong with him?” Birdy asked.

She pondered the question before answering. “God, there were so many stories. One time she told me he had stomach cancer. I asked who his oncologist was—I’m not exactly really in the medical field, but I wanted to be a nurse—and she said it was someone in Seattle. I Googled that too, but couldn’t find anything.”

“I seems like you were very suspicious,” Kendall said.

A look of recognition came over her. Molly had heard that before. “That’s what my mom says. She thinks I’m overly dramatic. But I was suspicious. One time I kind of confronted her about it. I said that Ted looked really bad and I worried that he might die.”

“How did she react?” Birdy asked.

The memory brought Molly to tears again. “I’m sorry,” she said, taking another tissue. Her eyes were red; her face was suddenly very white. “I think I’m going to throw up,” she said.

“Can you make it to the restroom?” Birdy asked.

Molly gripped the armrests of her chair. “It’ll pass. I’m just upset. Give me a second.”

Kendall slid the wastebasket a little closer to Molly. Just in case it was needed.

Molly acknowledged the gesture by holding up her finger, indicating just a second. She could get through the interview with a little more perseverance.

“When I confronted her, she just looked at me with those weird blue eyes of hers and said, ‘there are worse things that could happen.’ It was like Ted’s dying was expected and meant nothing to her. It was after that . . . it was after that . . .”

“Go on, please,” Kendall said, pushing her a little. “I know this is unbelievably hard.”

“I should have called nine-one-one,” Molly said. “I really should have.”

“None of this is your fault. We don’t even know what happened,” Kendall said.

Molly bucked up. She was tough. She could get through this.

“You might not,” she said. “But I sure do.”

Color returned to her face and along with it, a bit of resolve.

“She killed him,” she said. “Jennifer killed Ted. It is as simple as that. There was nothing wrong with him until she showed up here in Washington. I really liked Ted. He was a good man. She was trouble and he just didn’t have a chance.”

I
t was almost 5 p.m. when Tess Moreau arrived at the coroner’s office. It looked as though the life had drained from her. If her eyes were shut, she would look no better than Ted Roberts did when he was wheeled under the lights of the autopsy table. Her hair was flat and stuck to the nape of her neck as though she hadn’t showered. She also smelled, rather reeked, of wine.

A merlot
, Birdy thought.
And not a good one.

The forensic pathologist knew better than to ask if Tess was all right. That question had never been uttered a single time in her office. Never would be. No one who came there had ever been all right.

“I went to see Detective Stark, but she’s away. I don’t want to talk to anyone but her. Or you.”

“Kendall’s at a school meeting,” she said. “She has a little boy.”

Awkwardness took over. Tess had something on her mind, but she didn’t seem able to get it out right then. She held her hands together. Her knuckles were white.

“You need some coffee, Ms. Moreau. May I call you Tess?” Birdy didn’t wait for an answer. She went to the house’s old kitchen and found a couple of old, but clean Fathoms O’ Fun mugs. The coffee had been on the heat for hours and smelled like it, but Tess didn’t balk. She needed caffeine.

More than that, she needed Darby.

“Black coffee okay? We’re out of creamer. And unless I buy it or swipe a packet from the coffee stand, no sweetener either.”

Tess was happy for anything with caffeine. She was tired and every bone in her body ached from the kind of hard sobs that come in the middle of the night.

“Black is fine,” she said.

Birdy filled the mugs.

“When can I have my daughter back?”

“I expect tomorrow,” Birdy said.

Tess took a sip. “I want to see her,” she said.

“That’s not a good idea,” Birdy answered. No mother should ever see her child in that condition. In cases in which the body can be presented intact, unblemished by decay, Birdy understood the importance of having a mother or father look at the departed.

“But I need to,” she said. “To make all this real.”

“Darby was a beautiful girl, Tess.” Birdy motioned toward her office for Tess to take a seat, and Tess obliged. “Hold on to that. You don’t want to see her. I don’t want you to imagine the worst either. The girl you loved is gone, but she will always live inside of you.”

Tess set her cup down on the edge of Birdy’s desk and produced an envelope. It had been folded and unfolded so often that it almost appeared as if it would break apart.

“Did you bring something of Darby’s?” Birdy asked.

Sometimes parents did that. They wanted people in law enforcement to know who had been taken from them. That the victim of the car accident, drug overdose, or homicide had been a real person. One dad brought his son’s last report card to prove that he was not some loser. That the drug overdose had been an anomaly. Another father brought in his little girl’s favorite Barbie. Tess didn’t speak. Birdy didn’t force her to either. She drank her terrible coffee and waited.

“I should have done something about this,” Tess said.

“You couldn’t have prevented it. We don’t think Darby was targeted by anyone. Her murder was random and as senseless as senseless can be.”

Tess didn’t say a word for the longest time. She looked deep into her black coffee, her own sad reflection looking back at her. “No. No. It wasn’t.”

“What do you have there, Tess?”

“Where?”

“In your hand,” Birdy said. “The envelope.”

Tess looked down. It was almost as if the frayed paper had landed there of its own accord. Fluttered down from the sky into her lap. She nearly seemed surprised to see it.

“I brought this for Detective Stark.”

“What is it?”

“See for yourself. You will see what kind of a mother I really am. What kind of a mother I
was
.”

Tess had been drinking. A lot.

Birdy held her hand out to receive the paper, but Tess didn’t hand it over.

“Do you have a family? Husband? Kids?” Tess asked.

Birdy shook her head. “No. I haven’t been so lucky. I do have a nephew staying with me, but I know it’s not the same thing.”

“No, it isn’t,” Tess said.

“Let me see what you’ve brought. Maybe I can help?”

“Can you bring my daughter, my husband, my baby back from the dead?”

“You know the answer.”

She handed Birdy the paper.

“Can you forgive me? Can anyone?”

Birdy kept her eyes on Tess, who was now wobbling a little. Birdy was not going to let the woman drive home. She didn’t want her back in the office on the autopsy table. The envelope had been addressed to Tess’s house on Olalla Valley Road, but the stamp hadn’t been canceled. She opened it and pulled out the brief note held inside.

 

 

“What’s this?” Birdy asked.

“A warning I didn’t heed. A mistake that cost me Darby.”

“Who sent it?”

“I have an idea.”

“Who?”

Tess stayed mute.

Birdy wanted to tell her to spit it out, but she chose a kinder set of words.

“Please tell me so I can help.”

Tess swallowed more coffee. “Brenda,” she said. “Brenda Nevins.”

The name was so well known that Birdy couldn’t quite believe her ears. It was like hearing the name Michelle Obama and thinking that there must be some other woman with that identical name.

“The killer?” the forensic pathologist asked anyway.

Tess wobbled and started to crumble.

“But why? What did you take from her?”

“Her time. That’s what.”

“But she’s never getting out,” Birdy said.

Tess shifted in the chair. “Her time in the spotlight,” she said. “A TV crew was going to film her for some big interview. She thought she could charm them. You know, tell them she was framed.”

“She wasn’t framed,” Birdy said.

“Of course she wasn’t,” Tess said. “But she lives in her own world. She’s the star of the show and the rest of us are the bit players who do whatever she wants. We’re there to make sure she’s the prettiest, smartest in the room. She pushed things so far that she spent half her time in the hole.”

“Why was she in the hole?” Birdy asked.

Tess gave her a knowing look. “Oh. It was a good one, I’ll tell you. I caught her having oral sex with a guard on a dog-grooming table.”

“Nice,” Birdy said, though it was so outlandish it was hard to process the scenario Tess had described.

Tess drank some more coffee, replaying that image in her head one more time. It was one of those once-ina-lifetime images that never fades from memory, like seeing a baby’s first steps. Except that particular prison porn scene fell completely on the other end of the spectrum of unforgettable images.

“She threatened me,” Tess said. “The guard too. Said I’d be sorry if I ever told.”

“What was his name?”

“The guard?”

“Oh, it gets even better,” Tess said, watching Birdy’s expression. “You mean,
her
name.”

“I just assumed,” Birdy said.

“A lot goes on inside, Dr. Waterman, but I figured you would know that. Her name is Missy Carlyle.”

“What happened to her?”

“She got fired, of course. Took a while. The union fought for her. Honestly, I liked Missy. Some of the gals working in corrections are a little scary, but she was very nice. Very good at her job. She won an award the same year I did.”

Birdy was speechless.

“She turned on me though,” Tess said. “Said I was a liar and everything. Then they produced a tape of the encounter and she was gone.”

“Why do you think that Brenda’s behind the threats?” Birdy asked. “Why would she bother?”

“Dr. Waterman, you might be an expert at what you do, but you don’t know much about the people who do the really nasty things in life. I mean, I get that you see their handiwork in your job, but you don’t understand the motivations behind it.”

Birdy bristled, but didn’t fire back. She didn’t lose sight of the fact that the woman sitting in her office had lost a daughter, had too much to drink, and had been the victim of some kind of terrible harassment from a homicidal maniac.

“No, I guess not. Enlighten me.” Her request was said in the kindest way possible. It wasn’t a pushback, but a genuine call for some kind of an answer from someone with a unique perspective.

Tess looked at her. “I’ve worked in the prison for a decade,” she said. “Every now and then someone like Brenda comes in and you get to see evil close up. Like they really are there in a zoo, a place of observation. They think they are there to do their time. Most of them do. Brenda’s there because it is the only place where she can continue to be what she was born to be.”

Birdy was fascinated. “Tess, tell me, what is that?”

“A game player. Brenda was playing a game when she killed her husband, her child, and then later that poor sap of a fiancé. Just because she’s been put away doesn’t mean the game is over.”

“May I keep this?” Birdy asked, indicating the letter and the envelope.

“I guess so,” Tess said. “I was going to give it to the detective.”

Birdy slid it into another envelope. “I’ll take care of that.” It was doubtful that there would be any latent prints on the paper. There would be no DNA lurking under the stamp. It, like the seal to the envelope, was self-adhesive.

No one’s tongue had licked either.

The image of Missy and Brenda on the dog-grooming table came to Birdy’s mind and she wished it hadn’t.

“I’ll take you back to your friend’s place in Gig Harbor,” she said.

“Dr. Waterman,” Tess said. “Are you sure about me not seeing Darby?”

“Yes,” she said. “If you do, you will wish for the rest of your life that you didn’t. Trust me.”

Tess let a single tear roll from the corner of her eye to the floor.

“I do trust you,” she said. “I have no choice and really, nothing left to lose.”