Trust (8 page)

"How many of you were there?"

"About ten I think. Half girls and half boys. There were only a few couples but it was mostly just friends and some innocent flirting."

"So, you were drinking at the beach, then what happened?"

"It got dark and late and we all sort of lost track of time a bit. We'd been playing drinking games and most of us had too much. We didn't handle liquor so well back then and didn't know how to judge when we'd had too much."

"This is really surprising to me, considering you rarely have more than a second glass of wine now."

"I never loved the drinking, not like some of the others did. What happened that night stayed with me. I just went along with the crowd to be social. Things got a little ugly though, as a few of the guys started fighting. They were both interested in the same girl, Nancy Hines. It was stupid. She got upset and ran off crying, and after a while, everyone kind of scattered and drifted home. I went to leave when most of the others did, a few of the guys stayed behind to go after Nancy and calm her down."

"So who was murdered?"

"Nancy. The police found her body two hours later behind a dune. Someone had called them on us because we were being loud. They just happened to find her as they were walking around yelling at us. They hauled all of us in for questioning. After a while, they let the others go, but they kept me and two of the boys behind.”

“But if you left before the others did, why would they focus on you?"

"I had dated one of the boys; we'd only gone out a few times, but I was crazy about him, and devastated when Nancy Hines started flirting with him and he dropped me to go out with her. A few of the other kids had told the cops that and they said it gave me motive. I was pretty jealous and upset, that's for sure, but not enough to kill someone!"

"So, why confess then? How does that possibly happen?"

"It used to be quite common actually. All three of us confessed and they were later deemed false confessions. We were coerced."

"All three of you? That's so bizarre. How did they do it?"

"We were just kids and they basically scared us into confessing. I'd told them I'd been drinking and was confused about what happened when, and couldn't remember everything. I think I actually may have blacked out for a period and they hammered me about that. Kept saying if I couldn't remember, how did I know for sure that I hadn't done anything? They reminded me of how angry I was at Nancy and they almost made it sound reasonable. I actually started wondering if maybe I had done something. They kept us there for hours, asking us the same questions over and over again. And they lied. They told me that the other two boys said they'd seen me chase after Nancy carrying something in my hand and then I disappeared. They didn't see me again that night, so I must have done it. They made me doubt myself. And they didn't give us anything to eat or drink for hours. I had to beg to use the bathroom. It was awful."

"They did the same to the others?"

"Yes, they had us in separate rooms and they told all kinds of stories, making us think the other two had seen something that proved the other person was guilty. Finally, I was so exhausted and confused that I actually started believing I must have done it. So, I sort of confessed. At that point I wanted to go home more than anything else."

"So, how did they rule that it was a false confession?" David was fascinated by what Lauren had told him and a little disturbed. It was a side of her that he'd never been granted access to before.

“One of the boy’s fathers was a defense attorney. He demanded access to the interrogation videotapes and filed a petition to have the confessions dismissed, as it was clear that all three were coerced.”

"Did they ever find the real killer?"

"No, they never did."

"How was she killed? What was the murder weapon?"

"A miniature golf club. One of the kids had grabbed one and brought it with us to the beach."

"Really? Couldn't they tell who did it by the fingerprints?"

"No, because all of our fingerprints were on it. We made up a drinking game using the club and a few extra balls that someone had. Everyone took a turn swinging that club. So, the results came back as inconclusive."

"Well, that's quite a story." David reached his hand over and touched Lauren's briefly. "Thank you for telling me."

"There's something else." Lauren began cautiously.

"What?"

"We moved away after that summer. Even though our confessions were tossed out, and the media wasn't as bad in those days as it is now, it was still pretty bad. Our case was somewhat groundbreaking then and there was a lot of coverage because of the false confession aspect. There had been another similar case where three boys confessed to a murder none of them committed and their confessions also thrown out, and the murderer—an older man—caught soon after. These cases resulted in the law, changing how interrogations were conducted, really clamping down to stop the abuse, especially as it could result in a wrongful arrest and verdict, and worst of all, that the real murderer gets away with it.

"I didn't realize that."

"We moved far away, clear across the country to Seattle. My parents had divorced during the summer and my Mom decided to take back her maiden name, Stanhope. She suggested that I do the same, and she also thought it would be a good idea to start using my middle name, so it would be a completely fresh start, so we legally changed it."

"I thought your middle name is Melissa?"

"It used to be Lauren."

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Chapter Nineteen

O
n his way home from work the next day, David swung by his grandfather's house. It was only Monday and they'd be seeing each other the next night for dinner, but still David had a strong urge to go talk to him. He was easy to talk to and sharp. He'd always enjoyed bouncing tough problems off him. He'd called first to tell him he was going to come by, but there was no answer. With most people, he'd assume that no one was home, but with his grandfather, he knew he had a good fifty-fifty chance that he'd be there. His hearing wasn't the best and he refused to wear a hearing aid, so if he wasn't close to a phone or was engaged in one of his many projects, he wouldn't even hear it ring.

But when David pulled up, his grandfather's truck was in the driveway. He pulled up behind it and then walked up to the front door and rang the bell. When no one answered, he knocked and then got nervous when there was still no response. Gramps didn't have the best heart. He took medicine to keep it under control, but sometimes when he'd been doing really well for a while, he would stop taking his medicine, or wouldn’t rush to refill one of his prescriptions when he ran out, thinking that because he was feeling fine, he didn't need the medicine anymore.

Two visits to the ER straightened him out. The first time, he'd ignored getting his Coumadin levels adjusted. He was supposed to check in every few weeks to have his blood levels checked and that would determine what dose of blood thinner he'd need. Gramps loved spinach, and after learning how to cook it himself, he went on a bit of a spinach binge, having large amounts for several weeks in a row, which resulted in his arm turning black.

As it turned out, spinach reacted with the Coumadin in a strange way, but if he'd had his blood checked, they would have been able to easily adjust his dose to compensate. The second visit was when he ran out of all his meds at once and decided to go without since he felt absolutely fine. Of course, his doctor read him the riot act, reminding him that the only reason he felt fine was because of the meds. That last visit scared him enough that he stopped fooling around with his meds. At least David thought he had learned his lesson.

David walked around the house, peeking in the living room first. Maybe his grandfather had the stereo blasting or the TV so loud that hadn't heard the bell or his knock at the door. It wouldn't be the first time. But no, the living room was empty. He walked around to the back and found his grandfather high up on a ladder, changing a light bulb.

"Gramps, what are you doing? Let me do that." His grandfather should not be climbing ladders; his balance wasn't the steadiest and if he slipped and fell there was an excellent chance that he'd break something.

"I can change a light bulb." He gave the bulb one final twist, then carefully backed down the ladder.  "See, all set."

"I can see that. I wish you'd call me though for stuff like this. It only takes me two seconds to run over here."

"Thank you, but I'm not exactly feeble yet. What brings you out here anyway?"

"I was just driving by and thought I'd stop in and say hello."

His grandfather stared at him for a moment, weighing what he'd just said. "Hmmm, all right then, why don't you come in and sit for a bit. Have a piece of Lucy's Banana nut bread. She dropped a loaf off earlier. She even added chocolate chips, just for me 'cuz I once mentioned how much I like it that way." Lucy was one of several lady friends that liked to spoil Gramps. They'd met in a bereavement support group shortly after Grams died. Lucy was a few years younger, and like Gramps had been married for many years before her husband, Lou, passed away after a long illness. Lucy lived nearby and the two of them played bingo together every week.

"What can I get you to drink? Coffee, soda, beer?" Gramps held the refrigerator door wide open and was fishing around, looking for something.

"You have beer?" Gramps didn't drink beer.

"There's a can or two buried in here somewhere. Alan left a few cans behind after one of our card games, maybe a year or so ago." He pulled out a can of Orange soda for himself.

"What kind of beer?" David asked, more out of curiosity than interest.

"Let's see. Keystone Light."

"I'll have what you're having." Gramps poured two glasses of soda and then cut two thick slices of banana bread and stuck them in the microwave for twenty seconds.

"This makes all the difference. Melts the chocolate just enough. Tell me what you think." He handed a plate to David and they sat down at the kitchen breakfast bar. David took a bite of the bread, which was warm, soft and chock-full of walnuts and gooey chocolate.

"Good stuff. So, what's going on with Lucy? Are you going to marry her?" he teased.

"I'm not marrying anybody! I was married to your grandmother for over fifty years. I'm not doing that again. Besides, Lucy and I are just friends. She's good company."

"How long did you date Grams before you decided to get married? How well did you know her?"

"I knew all I needed to know after three dates. We'd gone dancing on our third date and out for ice cream afterward. That's what we did in those days. Not like today. I came home from that date and told my mother ‘I’m going to marry that girl.’ And I did, less than a year later. There was never any doubt in my mind that she was the one for me." Gramps took a big bite of his banana bread, washed it down with a gulp of orange soda and then said, "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." They ate their bread and discussed the Red Sox for a bit. And then David changed the subject to the real reason he was there.

"Gramps, have you been following the news the past few days?"

"You mean all the garbage they're saying about Lauren and that boy?"

"Yeah."

"You don't think there's a lick of truth to it, right?"

"No, of course not!"

"So, what's the problem then?" Gramps polished off the last crumb on his plate and reached to cut another. "Want one more?"

"Sure, why not?" David pushed his plate over. Like his grandfather, he had a hard time saying no to anything with chocolate in it.

"I know there's nothing to it and I know Lauren. But, it's been stressful for her and the media has a way of twisting things. If I didn't know her, I'd be inclined to lean toward thinking there must be something to it—where there's smoke there's fire and all that. Plus, you know how a lot of people are; if they see it in print they think it has to be true."

"Your grandmother was like that," Gramps agreed.

"I'm afraid that it could get worse if they keep digging. Do you remember the Nancy Hines murder? It was over twenty years ago."

"’Course I do. It wasn't one of our finer moments."

"Do you remember the kids involved; the three who confessed?"

"You know two of 'em."

"Two?"

"Our assistant Sheriff, Jack, for one, and your partner Billy. The other was a girl, Melissa Hopkins. Tiny little thing, with big eyes and real short hair. What do they call that?" He snapped his fingers. "Pixie cut, that's it. Her family moved away shortly after. Can't say that I blame them."

David was trying to wrap his head around all this.

"Jack, well that actually does make sense. He told me years ago that something had happened to him when he was a teenager that inspired him to go into law enforcement. He didn't go into a lot of details, just said something about being charged with something he didn't do and that it worked out in the end, but that the process needed fixing. He never talks about it."

"Why relive the past?" Gramps was always a big believer in moving forward.

"But Billy—that's a surprise."

"Don't see why it should be. You know Billy grew up here and is the same age as you and Jack. They've been friends for years too. Like I said—good kids. They've done well for themselves."

David debated for a moment whether or not to tell his Grandfather about Lauren, but then remembered that was the main reason for his visit.

"So, I learned something interesting on the ride home from Maine."

"What's that?"

"You know that girl you mentioned, Melissa Hopkins? Well that was Lauren." He explained about the divorce and the name change.

"Interesting. Her hair's long now and maybe a little lighter than I remembered and of course, many years have passed. No wonder no one recognized her. Smart of her to change her name. Those media fools would have had a field day with that nonsense.”

The thought had crossed David’s mind as well. “Any advice you might have for dealing with this?”