Page 93 of Good Girls Lie
“Or she did and when she found out the pills didn’t work, she changed her mind. Or didn’t take the pills in the first place. Unless we find some more data, it will be hard to tell.”
“Which is why paternity will help. Find the baby daddy, find out more of the story.”
“I can’t imagine they’re going to say no. I’m hearing the mother is trying to make a case against the school already. If it’s someone with ties to the school, that will help her lawsuit. Nothing else remarkable?”
“I’m afraid not. The trauma from the fall is pretty typical, she had a skull fracture, subarachnoid hemorrhage, cervical fractures, spine compression, and deep lacerations to the back of her head, all consistent with a fall from a height. The fall caused her death, for sure. We’re running a standard toxicology. BAL was elevated, she’d had a couple of drinks. Can’t say she was drunk, but there was alcohol on board. Without any other data, I’m going to withhold the ruling on suicide or homicide until we get the toxicology back.”
“What’s your gut?”
“Mmm. Not enough data to determine. I’ll have the report typed up from dictation and sent to your uncle.”
Cagey lady. Kate doesn’t blame her, she wouldn’t want to be the one making this determination. “I appreciate it.” They shake, and Kate heads out the back again, trying to avoid the family. She doesn’t want to face them, to see the emptiness, the grief she knows she will find.
She calls Tony from the car, fills him in. Debates whether to head straight home or drive another hour into town. She hasn’t been to DC in a while. She could grab a hotel and a show. Chances are there’s a band she’ll like at one of the venues. Maybe a cute guy.
In the end, though, she heads back to Marchburg. She’s curious enough about whatever Oliver has sent her that she wants a glass of wine and her laptop. See if there’s anything else to be gleaned from this case, see if she can answer her instincts, explain to them that they aren’t getting the whole picture.
* * *
It is late when she gets back. Tony is gone, off handling a car accident down the mountain. She finds an anemic red wine in the back of his pantry, puts it back, and pours herself three thick fingers from his bottle of Lagavulin.
Tony’s place is comfortable, simple. A bachelor pad. He needs a girlfriend, the woman’s touch to make it a bit homier.
She curls up on the sofa with her laptop and the scotch, opens the email from Oliver, laughs at the dirty limerick he’s written—so sly, Oliver is—then clicks open the file.
It is on the third page that she finds the photo. It’s part of the crime scene shots from the day of Damien Carr’s death. It is a reproduction of a painting, a classic family portrait. The label saysSylvia and Damien Carr with their daughter, Ashlyn.
Goose bumps parade down her arm.
She looks closer.
Sits back and lets her mental imagery go to work, decides she’s going mad. Looks again. No, it’s there. The shoulders aren’t as wide. The nose is a little longer. The chin is a different shape.
The Ash Carlisle she met could be this girl’s sister. Her cousin.
But she’ll bet good money that it’s not the same girl.
56
THE EMAIL
Ford’s morning is a blur of meetings, phone calls, consultations, advice, all of which have gone surprisingly well, considering.
The board assures her they will stand behind her and the school should a wrongful death lawsuit appear, and help fight against any moves by the alumni association to accept the endowment gift and force the school to go coed. She fields plenty of phone calls from concerned parents, but none of them seem to blame her.
A fresh press release is drafted by the lawyers, the school’s wrongful death policy revisited.
The students see the counselors, and Ford walks among them, visiting the dormitories and chatting with anyone who wishes to talk.
Ford has to wait until after lunch to speak with Vanessa and Piper. She decides to go to them. It might make them more comfortable to have this interview in their rooms.
Standing at the entrance to their suite, Ford has to admit the renovation, while lovely, has taken a good deal of the character away from the dorms. She liked the dingy rooms she’d lived in, the dark wood walls and multipaned windows. As bright and airy as things are now, she can’t help but wonder if the girls feel the improvements have ruined the school’s personality.
Vanessa and Piper are on their couch, conversing in low tones. They jump to their feet when they see Ford in the door.
“Sit, sit. I only came to check on you.”
“We’re okay, Dean,” Vanessa says, though the swollen eyes belie her statement.
