Page 61 of Criminology of a Character

“We did.”

“And he’s dead?”

“He opened fire on the police,” Bel answered. “The Bajka Sheriff shot him in self-defense.”

“Good.” Mrs. Wyatt grabbed her husband’s hand. “I shouldn’t say that, but I’m glad he’s dead.”

“It’s okay,” Bel said. “I think all the family members agree with you.”

They spent the next few minutes discussing the case, and she answered all the questions shewas allowed to. When the couple could no longer bear the details of their daughter’s death, they settled into their seats to wait for the reason a detective had driven so many miles to see them.

“Can you tell me about when Hazel went missing?” Bel asked. “I know the basics, but I would like to hear the full story if you’re comfortable.”

“Hazel was in college when she made friends with a woman in her early thirties,” Mrs. Wyatt started. “Her name was Annalise, and she’d returned to school as a student. Her reasoning had something to do with her boyfriend. She wanted to appear more intelligent because he was a CEO or something. I don’t know the specifics, but she and Hazel got along well. Hazel liked having an older friend. Our daughter was always mature, and she wasn’t a party girl. She liked that Annalise was reserved and sophisticated. Instead of frat parties, they’d go to wine tastings, museums, and plays. Welikedher for Hazel. Every parent is relieved when their kid has no interest in getting wasted in a frat house.

“Three years ago, Annalise invited Hazel on a summer trip.It was after graduation,andHazelhadmanaged straightA’s while working part-time all four years.We felt she should see the world before transitioning to a corporate job. Annalise’s boyfriend was footing the bill, so they both left with promises to keep in touch. Only we never saw them again.”

“Annalise is missing too?” Bel asked.

“Yes. I wonder if she was in…” Mrs. Wyatt trailed off.

“Do you have any photos of her?” Bel asked.

“Yes. The last text Hazel ever sent me was a selfie of them at the airport. Theywere going tobe traveling a lot, so she warned me they’d be without service often. She said it might be a few weeks before she could call home, so she sent me this picture tosay goodbye. It’s why we didn’t realize she was missing at first. She cautioned us there would occasionally be no contact.” Mrs. Wyatt slid her phone across the table, and Bel’s heart ached to see the two girls smiling at the camera in a message thread that had sat unused for three years.

“Can I send this to myself?” Bel asked. “I don’t recognize Annalise, but not all The Matchstick Girls had missing person reports filed. This might help us identify her if she was with Hazel.”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” Bel texted the photo to her phone before returningherhost’s cell. “Annalise’s boyfriend? Did he have a name?”

“She never mentioned it, unfortunately,” Mrs. Wyatt said. “Just that he was rich, and they were in love. Sometimes I wondered if he was real because Annalise was usually with Hazel, and we never saw him. I assumed they were long distance, and he didn’t care to hang out with college students, but he always struck us as odd.”

“Did Annalise worry you?” Bel asked.

“No. She was nice. Maybealittle too trusting and unrealistic, but she was lovely. Beautiful too.”

“Do you know her last name?”

“Yes. It was Sept.”

“Thank you.” Bel pulled up her camera roll and selected the photo of the butterfly Hazel had been clutching when she died. “I have one more question for you. We found this gum wrapper origami clutched in your daughter’s hand. Do you have an idea why she would’ve been holding this? We’re trying to determine its importance and who it belonged to.”

“Oh, those.” Mrs. Wyatt ran a finger over the image, and everything inside Bel stood at attention. “Yes, it makes sense Hazel had this. Annalise had this nervous habit with gumwrappers. She loved this brand and flavor, which I don’t understand because it’s blandin my opinion, but every time she chewed gum, she folded the wrapper into these origami butterflies.”

Bel’s spine stiffened,and for a moment she didn’t believe the words spilling from Mrs. Wyatt’s mouth.

“Annalise folded these?” she finally asked.

“Every time she chewed gum, which was often,” Mrs. Wyatt confirmed. “It was hard to ignore. Plus, Hazel kept the butterflies. She thought they were cute, and when she’d collect enough of them, she’d string them up as garlands for her bedroom. Hazel was young and still girlish, and she viewed Annalise as this sophisticated role model. She wanted to be like her. That’s probably why she was holding the butterfly. She was afraid.” Mrs. Wyatt choked on her words, and Bel looked away tokeep fromsobbing. A single tear escaped her eye, though, andfor minutes, the three of them mourned the girl who never saw the future she deserved.

“Would you like to see them?” Mrs. Wyatt eventually asked. “The butterflies?”

“I would love to.” Bel smiled as the woman’s eyes slid to her throat again before she stood from the table.

“We kept Hazel’s room the way she left it for when she came home, and how we wanted her to come home. But these past three years of waiting and wondering have been too much. Expecting the worst and knowing it had happened, but refusing to believe it?It’s better we know. At least now we can mourn her and give her a proper funeral.” She paused before the bedroom door. “Did she suffer?” She stared at Bel’s neck as if she was afraid that whatever had scarred the detective had killed her daughter.

“I don’t think so,” Bel said. “She was drugged, and the body goes numb when it freezes. I won’t lie and say it wasn’t terrifying, but I don’t think she suffered.”

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