Page 36 of Little Stolen Memories

“You have to admit, it is a bit funny to think of those three driving around town, trying to solve the murders.”

Foley shook his head and said, “Oh, I have thought about it. Had a good laugh as soon as Whitlock informed me of their ridiculous plan.”

“Who knows? Maybe they’ll surprise us all. Perhaps you should reconsider your position.”

“Noted. What do you have going on for the rest of the day?”

“Cora gave me a key to her grandmother’s cabin. I’m going to drive out and have a look around. She said they haven’t been out there since the murders took place. I have no idea what to expect, but I’m up for anything. I’m just hoping something will come of it.”

CHAPTER 17

Before leaving the police department, I’d pulled Whitlock to the side to discuss his interview with Danny. Whitlock expressed disappointment that Danny had changed his story, but he was glad to hear what we hoped was the truth this time around. Then he excused himself so he could relay the details of the interview to Foley, who was in two minds about how to handle Danny.

As Giovanni and I drove up to the cabin, Whitlock called to inform me they’d agreed not to charge Danny but gave him strict instructions not to leave town.

The winding road to the crime scene offered frequent scenic views of the surrounding area. The sun had just begun its descent, dipping behind the mountains as it offered a soft glow to the start of the evening.

We pulled up to the cabin, and I sat for a moment with the window open, taking in the tranquility—a sharp contrast to what had happened here all those years ago.

When we stepped out of the car, Giovanni stayed in the background, understanding my need to immerse myself in the here and now—and even more important—to the there and then.

In the distance, birds chirped and crickets began their nightly songs. The cabin was surrounded by a variety of trees—oaks, redwoods, and pines, each offering a picturesque, peaceful feeling—a feeling like nothing bad had ever happened there, even though it had.

I took in a lungful of fresh forest air and turned toward Giovanni.

“It’s so calm and tranquil,” I said. “And yet, I can almost feel their spirits all around me.”

Giovanni raised a finger and said, “If you don’t seek death, you won’t die.”

“What?”

“It’s a Chinese proverb. I’ve always taken it to mean if you don’t seek out trouble, trouble won’t find you. Thinking about what took place here, I’m not sure I believe it to be true. They came here to celebrate life, an end of an era following high school graduation and the beginning of a new, bright future. They didn’t invite death. Death invited itself.”

I wanted to believe he was right, that they were, in fact, innocent. I wanted to believe they hadn’t brought their own deaths on themselves in some way.

My thoughts turned toward Xander. Earlier, Hunter had texted me his home address. He still lived in Cambria. I planned on paying him a visit in the morning.

I wondered what he’d have to say about his old classmates.

After all this time, what did he think of them now?

Giovanni wrapped his arm around me. “What would you like to do first?”

I retrieved the case file I’d set on the passenger seat, flipping it open and searching through the pages until I came to the one I was looking for—a handwritten map showing the exact location where the teens were found.

“We’re losing daylight,” I said. “I figure we have a little over an hour to look around. I’d like to go to the places where Aidan, Jackson, and Owen were found.”

Giovanni looked at the map. The areas the teens were found had been circled. Owen was the closest to the cabin, less than twenty feet away from the cabin’s front steps, which made sense. He’d gone out to his car to retrieve something, a task that should have taken him no more than a minute or two.

“Owen was the first one to be attacked,” I said. “I believe it happened right after he opened the car door. According to the police report, blood was found inside the car on the driver’s seat, and there was also a bloody fingerprint on the window. Both the blood from the seat and the fingerprint were a match to Owen. But he didn’t die here at the car, where he was assaulted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Owen was struck twice. The police report states there were distinct dirt marks leading to the side of the cabin, a side that has no windows. Owen must have been dragged there from the car. I assume it’s because the killer wanted to get him out of the way to a place where he couldn’t be seen from the cabin’s front windows.”

I walked to the area where the police had found Owen. There wasn’t much to see. Twenty years ago, there had been a flower garden on this side of the house. Now it was overgrown with weeds. All that remained of the garden were a few empty terra cotta pots and a rusted, red wheelbarrow, which was tipped on its side.

“It’s so different now than it was in the pictures I’ve seen,” I said.

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