Page 129 of Don't Say a Word
“You’ve had me looking for a lot of people—like, dozens and dozens—so I started all the searches, ran backgrounds, everything we can get with our databases, thankGodLu helped streamline the system, otherwise it would have taken medays.”
We subscribed to a bunch of databases that gave us public information about people. People had no idea how much data someone could legally find on them.
“So this morning I downloaded all the reports and was reading them after Gabriel left for the hospital. I should have done it yesterday, sorry, but I was so worried about Mom’s party, and making sure everything was okay, and then—”
“No apologies. I get it. You have a life.” Did I sound jealous? I wasn’t, mostly, and fortunately Tess didn’t take it that way.
“But thisisimportant. I know that. Anyway, when you told me Bradford’s daughter played softball and that she might have been the one who called in the tip about her father, I looked at the softball team thinking one of them might have been hospitalized with a drug overdose or died or something. Nope. But then I did abroadernews search. I found a girl on acompetitivesoftball team who died.”
“Drugs,” I muttered.
“No. Well, yes, but not what you think. Ginny Nichols played with Kayla Bradford. They were best friends and played on the same team foryears. Lots of social media pics of the two of them, went to the same middle school but different high schools. The summer before their sophomore year, Ginny’s older brother was driving her home after a tournament in Chino Valley. It was at night, just south of Black Canyon City on Highway 17. The brother had gotten gas—and got on the freeway going the wrong way.”
“Oh, shit.” There were some dangerous on and off ramps where you really had to pay attention to the directional signs, especially at night. Wrong-way drivers were unfortunately too common.
“They were both killed when they collided with a semitruck. The brother was high on oxy. So was Ginny. She had a serious injury the summer before, but her prescription for hydrocodone was for one week. The autopsy found she had been using oxycodone for a year. She didn’t get it from a doctor.”
“Still doesn’t prove why Kayla thought her dad was dealing.”
“I also read the Bradford files. The kids who worked for him were almost all teenage boys from broken homes, usually without a dad in the picture. The Nicholses’ dad left when the kids were young, and as I dug into social media, it’s clear that Ginny’s brother was very close to Bradford. He could have been one of his dealers outside of Sun Valley.”
I didn’t see it. Circumstantially, I could draw lines, but there was nothing solid.
“You wanted me to find someone in Kayla’s life who was impacted by drugs,” Tess said. “Ginny and Kayla were close. What if Kayla saw something? Maybe she didn’t make the connection until the truth came out about the crash. Or she heard her parents talking. I’m speculating, but Ginny was killed only weeks before Kayla made that call. At a minimum, it gives us motive for Kayla calling the police. Maybe she didn’t know her mother was involved and thought only her dad would go to prison.”
I nodded. Definitely something to mull over. “Did the police investigate the origin of the drugs in the crash?”
“I asked Jack to find out.”
“Thanks, Tess, this is all good info.” I didn’t know quite how I could use it, but every piece helped. “By the way,” I said as I stood, “the party was great last night.”
“Yeah, it was.” Tess beamed.
“You’re a natural event planner.”
She laughed. “No. I stress too much. But I’m glad everyone had fun.”
I went to my office and finished my burrito while going through Megan Osterman’s phone.
What I saw was a tragedy.
The texts revealed drug deals and “dates” where she exchanged sex for drugs or money. The photos told a story too—older ones showed family and friends, many with Scott. As I watched theslideshow, I saw her fade over time, the light leaving her eyes. After high school, when her drug use peaked, there were fewer photos or videos. None in the month before her death.
But she and Elijah had texted often, starting a few weeks after he started working at the Cactus Stop. Early messages had Elijah offering help and counseling, but she either ignored them or said she’d think about it. It was clear they’d also met outside the Stop. I didn’t sense romance, though it was possible. One message Megan apologized for propositioning Elijah. He told her she was too valuable to sell her body. What I saw was a young man repeatedly trying to help a young woman make better choices.
I nearly jumped out of my chair when I read an exchange the week before Megan died.
Megan:Desi cut me off. I don’t know how I’m going to make it.
Elijah:Go to Hope Center. They’ll help.
Megan:Please. She won’t let me sell for her anymore, she said I took too much. I need it.
Elijah:I’ll stay with you. Visit every day. I know it’s hard, but you can make it. You’re stronger than you think.
Megan:Screw you.
Silence for a day, then:
