Page 117 of Before She Disappeared

CHAPTER 31

I head to Franklin Park; it would be faster to take a bus, but after the night’s adventures I could use the exercise to settle my churning mind. The park is on the map Charadee from Dunkin’ Donuts drew for me the other day—a massive green space just beyond the rec center. The rec center is my next stop, but I doubt Frédéric will be in till late morning. And maybe it’s my mood, or maybe it’s another sign of my obsession, but I want to see where Livia’s body was found.

I agreed with Lotham last night. How terrible to lose a child most of the world never knew was missing. Is that why I do what I do? Because I can’t stand the thought of a life not mattering? Of a child being forgotten? Or a person sinking without leaving behind a single ripple in the universe?

I don’t know. The vulnerability of Livia Samdi or Angelique Badeau speaks to me. After all, my own ties to this world are delicate at best. Should one of these cases take a wrong turn, that speeding bullet finally catch up with me... I don’t know that there would even be a funeral. Maybe I’ll just be gone. Which is both terrifying and comforting.

The walk is longer than I expected. A solid hour up a broad avenue. The weather is mild, the sun having traded in its summer warmth for fall chill. But the exercise refreshes me, helps clear my head and makes me glad I headed outdoors.

I come to the zoo first. It’s small but charming, a classic city setup. This early it’s still closed, but I spy a few women with young children prowling the fenced perimeter. No doubt they’ve been up since the crack of dawn and are already desperate for distraction.

I find a path and walk, though given the massive size of the park, wandering around aimlessly is probably not my best strategy. I decide to stick close to the main road that winds through the green space. I’ve played this game before, and the sad reality is that a human corpse can be carried only so far. Ergo, any body dump is going to be near a major thoroughfare.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later I come across the first police cruiser, parked alongside the road to ward off looky-loos. Deeper into the park, near a copse of trees, I can just make out a sliver of yellow among the leaves. Crime scene tape. I have arrived.

I make a left turn, cresting a small rise. From this angle, I can peer down at the secured area. Another uniformed officer is pacing the perimeter, around and around. Poor officer has probably been here most of the night and is now doing his best to stay awake.

I can’t see much. A few trees, a smattering of thick green bushes. I should’ve asked Lotham more questions. Was the body found laid out peacefully? Hands crossed over chest? Or just tossed to the ground? I’m no expert on murder, but I’ve been around enough investigations to know there’s a difference. One being more personal, tinged with regret, colored by remorse. Say, what might happen if a family member had been forced to take dramatic action versus a third party who’d grown impatient with a terrified teen.

Livia’s nails were chewed down to the nub, Lotham had said. A clear sign of stress.

I continue my study, and within minutes, I know what I need to know. There are plenty of other places to dump a body in this city. Dumpsters, back alleyways, abandoned buildings. But this placement: beautiful, serene, private.

The kind of person who would bring Livia’s body here is the kind of someone who cared.

Livia’s mysterious older brother? Or perhaps her other brother, drug-dealing J.J.? What about Angelique herself? Had she been forced to participate in this atrocity? Again, control 101. Establish fear and intimidation through death and destruction of the people your subject cares about most.

The pieces of this case swirl around me. Two girls with promising futures. At least one scam involving fake IDs. Coupled with a second scam involving a scenic university in Western Mass. Except what did that mean? Because both Livia and Angelique were pictured at the college, yet I didn’t believe for a minute they’d run away to join some college under fake names.

I stand on the pathway. I can hear birds chirping, feel a soft breeze on my face. It is peaceful. It is beautiful.

I gaze down again where a girl’s body was abandoned just last night. Livia Samdi deserved so much better. She deserved being found alive. She deserved growing up, discovering her own unique self. She deserved a life.

I feel now, more than ever, the weight of my own failure.

So many missing persons cases. And yet none I’ve brought home alive.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Livia Samdi. Then I stand quietly and just be. Weigh the magnitude of my regrets. Resolve to do better, because that’s the best any of us can do.

Then, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes later, I head back down the path, keeping away from the police, to the entrance of the park. Ten a.m. I already know where I’m headed next. Hopefully Frédéric will now be at work at the rec center.

Only one way to find out.

—

I have to walk all the way around the rec center building again. It’s very quiet here, and with the outdoor fields and courts, it reminds me of the hushed beauty of Franklin Park. Is that significant? My mood has gone dark. Even with the sun on my face, I’m thinking of dead girls, and personal failures and memories that won’t help me now.

Focus. I round the giant metal structure, finding the back doors unlocked and stepping gratefully inside. Once more the space is hushed and quiet. Lights out in the long corridor with pools of deeper dark marking the abutting classrooms and gym area. Such a huge space. Filled with plenty of nooks and crannies for Marjolie to sneak off with her boyfriend DommyJ. Not to mention shadowy corners perfect for drug exchanges, fake ID sales, and...?

I have that tremor again. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Starting my day with a handsome man who asks too many personal questions? Visiting a crime scene? I’m a mess of nerves. I don’t like this building anymore. In its own way, it’s also a crime scene. Where Angelique stood up to a bully with the help of her new friend. Where Livia Samdi thought her life was finally looking up. Where some summer programming happened to be going on in the background, but that had nothing on the real drama taking place among the teen participants. If these walls could talk...

I find my way to Frédéric’s office on my first try. In my jumpy state, I’m walking softly, as if I don’t want the ghosts of teenagers past to find me. As a result, when I rap lightly on the partially opened door, Frédéric startles, knocks a pile of papers off his desk, and whacks his computer monitor.

“Sorry.” Not the most auspicious start to a conversation.

“How did you get in here?” he asks sharply.

“The back door was open.”

---