Page 86 of Coram House

Jeannette Leroy slipped and fell. Sister Cecile had her head smashed in with a rock.

Tommy ran away. Tommy drowned.

Some or all of their deaths were an accident. Or they weren’t. The thread connecting them is meaningful—or not. It all depends on what angle you look from. What story you want to believe.

One afternoon, when I was in Maine working on what would becomeThe Isle, I stood on shore and watched black clouds roll toward me. I could actually feel the pressure building. That sense of electricity—that something was about to happen—that’s what I feel now. The difference is, this time it’s coming from inside me.

Since I got here, I’ve told myself that I’m the outsider looking in. That I’m impartial, a reporter. That it’s not my story. But it’s not true anymore. I don’t know when that changed exactly. Maybe it was when I heard that scream in the woods. Maybe it was finding Rooney’s body this morning. Or maybe the moment came before. The first time I read Sarah Dale’s deposition. Now it’s my story too.

Officer Washington reappears with a paper cup and tells me Detective Garcia is on her way. I’m about to ask where Parker is, but her phone rings and she ducks into the hallway. I watch the crows. For a while they flap and caw, adding more to their numbers. Then, all at once, they go quiet. It’s eerie. A waiting kind of silence.

I hold my breath.

One crow lifts into the air. Then a hundred other silent shadows fill the sky. By the time Garcia comes in, the tree is empty.

“Thanks for your patience,” she says, taking the seat across from me. Stray hairs poke out of her bun like spikes. She’s unraveling.

There’s a knock and the door opens. Office Washington holds out a folder. “The rest of the files just came in.”

“Thank you,” says Garcia, flipping it open. “You should go home.”

“Can I get you anything, Alex?” Officer Washington asks. “Water? More coffee?”

“No,” I say. “Thank you.” I’m already jittery.

Officer Washington gives me a smile and then shuts the door.

“All right, Alex,” says Garcia. “Let’s get started.”

I take a deep breath and walk her through everything again. How Rooney called me last night. How he seemed different—scared, like he’d lost his bluster. How I’d gone out to meet him this morning and found him like that. Garcia nods along, occasionally taking notes.

“That mark on his neck,” I say. “Was that how he was killed?”

She looks up. I brace myself for her to be annoyed, but she looks thoughtful.

“His body is with the coroner, waiting final determination on the cause of death.”

I think she’s going to leave it at that, but she sighs and tucks a few loose hairs behind her ears. “But it’s looking that way,” she says.

Her eyes wander to the window like there might be some critical piece of information she missed out there, trapped beneath the ice. Then, as if making a decision, she slides the folder across the table.

“Alex, the truth is, I was going to ask you to come in today, even before all this.” Her finger rests lightly on the folder, holding it in front of me, but closed. “I’d like to discuss the allegations you made against Bill Campbell.”

My throat feels dry. “Allegations?”

“That he bribed certain participants in a trial that was settled out of court in 1993.”

“Look, I didn’t make any allegations,” I say. “I reported information that I uncovered during an interview. For my book. Because I thought it might be relevant.”

Garcia takes her finger off the folder and waits. I want to leave it there, refuse to play this game. But I can’t. And she knows it. I open the folder. Inside are pages of bank statements with a few rows highlighted.

“When we arrested Mr. Rooney, we pulled his financials,” Garcia says. “He has a series of unexplained deposits going back over the last decade—around ten thousand dollars a year. Together they add up to over a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Over the last decade,” I say. “But the case was settled over twenty years ago.”

She nods. “We’ve requested the documentation going further back but don’t have it yet. Most of it’s not electronic, so it may take a few days.”

I think of what Karen said about the bribe money. “It’s a lot more money than I would have expected,” I say, carefully, “based on what my interview subject said about Bill Campbell. And the timing doesn’t fit.”

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