Page 9 of Little Stolen Memories

I took a seat at the table, and Harvey pushed the word search to the side, giving me his full attention.

Knowing my new case would strike a chord with Harvey, I took a deep breath in and then said, “Cora Callahan came to see me today.”

My mother, who was heading my way with cups of tea in each hand, gasped, and said, “Am I to assume you’re talking about the woman who was almost murdered twenty some odd years ago?”

“I am.”

“She’s returned after all these years, eh?” she continued. “I cannot believe it. I never thought she’d show her face in this town again.”

“Me either,” Harvey added. “It’s shocking, to be sure.”

“Her father is ill,” I said. “I don’t think he’ll be alive much longer.”

“Oh, dear,” my mother said. “I’m sorry to hear it. I’ll stop in this week, see if there’s anything I can do for Bette, her mother.”

“You know Cora’s mother?”

“We’re in the same Pilates class, though she isn’t as vigilant about attending as I am. I bet she’s glad to have her daughter home.”

Harvey ran a hand along his jaw. “That investigation haunts me to this day, as you well know, Georgiana. I’ve never been able to reconcile the fact that it wasn’t solved, that I couldn’t bring closure to all those families. They relied on me, and I’ve always felt like I let them down.”

Knowing he felt the way he did … well, it just made taking the case even more satisfying for me. If I could solve it, it would help ease his regrets about never being able to find the man the locals in town had named “the Cabin Killer.”

“You did your best, Harvey,” I said. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and find something you couldn’t before.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said. “How can I help?”

“I’d like to talk to you about the interviews you had with Cora. What did she say back then when you questioned her?”

His expression soured, and he leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “The young lady was a mess back then. Never seen anyone cry as much as she did. Made it near impossible to get anywhere with my questions. Her recollection of the events was all over the place.”

I thought my visit with Cora had gone well for a first interview. She’d been emotional here and there, but I could also see how time and maturity helped her process what she’d experienced in the past.

“I get the feeling Cora has blocked out certain aspects about the night of the murders,” I said. “She admitted to having nightmares she can’t seem to shake, but they’re spotty and sometimes unclear, little stolen memories of a night she’d just as soon forget.”

My mother, who’d been standing next to me, listening to the back-and-forth banter I’d been having with Harvey, set the cups of tea down and took a seat next to me. “Why did Cora come to see you this morning? What does she want from you?”

“Aunt Laura is friends with Bette.”

“I had no idea.”

“She stopped by the house the other day to see how Bette’s been doing, and they got to talking about the investigation and what a shame it was that the case had never been solved. Cora learned I was a private investigator, and this morning, she came to see me. She’s hired me to reopen the case.”

My mother leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “After all these years, why do you think she wants to reopen old wounds? Seems a bit foolish to put herself through it a second time.”

I didn’t find it foolish at all.

I thought it was brave.

Cora was facing the demons of her past head on.

“Cora’s never gotten the closure she needs and deserves, and I expect she never will until the man responsible for the murders is held accountable for his crimes,” I said. “She’s lived her entire adult life looking over her shoulder, wondering where he is now, and knowing he’s out there, somewhere. In the back of her mind, she’s always thought he’d come back for her one day to finish what he started.”

“Must be awful, living in fear like that all this time,” my mother said. “I cannot begin to imagine what she’s been through.”

Harvey ran a hand along his jaw and said, “There were so many oddities about the case. For starters, we never could establish a clear motive, or why someone would murder a group of teenagers and then just disappear without a trace. What was the reason? Why did he want all of them dead? I’ve asked myself these questions all these years, and I still haven’t been able to make any sense of it.”

“In my opinion, the motive behind the murders is personal in some way,” I said. “It must be. I believe the killer knew the teens were going to be at the cabin that weekend, which leads me to believe the murders were premeditated. For whatever reason, he came for all of them. He wanted them all dead.”

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