Page 14 of All the Little Truths

“Was?” Finley asked. “Do you think she’s dead?”

Downey’s expression shifted to surprise as if the thought had not occurred to her. “I hope not. I have no reason to believe she’s dead, but the truth is I have no idea. I prefer to think of her as living somewhere writing her memoirs. I suppose the past tense is subconscious. An admission I don’t want to consciously own.”

Finley believed her. “Do you feel she grew disillusioned with the police when her daughter’s killer couldn’t be found? The loss of her only child and then the death of her husband may have been the last straw.”

“I’m convinced that was the case,” Downey agreed. “The police kept coming up empty handed. Lou even hired a private investigator, and he discovered nothing useful either.”

Finley wasn’t surprised Cagle had sought out private resources. With the kind of assets available to the family, of course they’d hired a PI. “Do you recall the private investigator’s name?”

“Not offhand, but I’m sure I can find the information. If you’ll leave a card, I’ll see that the name is found and passed along.”

Finley removed a card from her bag and placed it on the table between them. “Lucy was headed for medical school, like her father. Was there any talk of perhaps disgruntled family members after the death of a patient? Maybe her murder was related to a patient her father had lost.”

Downey shook her head. “Nothing that I’m aware of. If Lou thought her husband’s work had anything to do with Lucy’s murder, she never mentioned it, and I’m confident she would have. As I say, we were close.”

“What about her work? Was Lou investigating a particular story at the time? Maybe something that put her and her family in the line of fire?”

“Yes, always. Lou was a high-profile personality. Actually, she had just been offered a prime-time slot for her own television show.” Downey smiled. “I remember she was torn about the offer. She insisted on tabling the talks until she finished the story she was developing at the time. Then Lucy was murdered. But, as I said, the police found nothing that connected Lucy’s murder to her mother’s work or anything else.”

“Was her work in progress ever published?” According to what Finley had found online, nothing had been published from Louise Scott after Lucy’s death.

“It was not. She never turned in another project.”

“Do you know what she was investigating?”

“I do. We always discussed her ideas. You may not recall,” Downey ventured, “but there were a number of young women, children really, who were going missing every year. This was not new even then. Tennessee, like all other states, had and still has its share. But Lou hada few leads about a human trafficking ring in the Nashville area. Those leads she didn’t share with me, since they were unconfirmed. She felt strongly about confirming all her leads before putting them on the table, so to speak. I think the concept of the story she was building was very close to her heart, since many of the victims across the nation were our daughters’ ages and younger. She wanted to stamp out anyone involved in that ugly business—particularly in our hometown. She realized she couldn’t stop the problem worldwide, but there was something she could do here, at home. We both expected the story to be a big one.”

“Do you have her notes? Working papers? Anything that might help me see where she was going with the story? Who she had interviewed?”

Downey studied Finley for a long moment. “Isn’t this the kind of question the police will ask?”

“I would hope so,” Finley agreed. She chose not to say more. Less was always best.

“I looked you up,” Downey said, her expression moving toward skepticism. “You work for Jack Finnegan. This makes me believe you have a client who’s already involved somehow in the reopening of this case. Are you trying to find Lucy’s killer, or are you trying to keep Lucy’s potential killer out of trouble?”

Fair question. “I’m trying to find the truth,” Finley said. “Jack’s job is to defend his clients. My job is to find the facts ... either way.”

Downey considered her response for a time. “The answer is no. I do not have Lou’s working notes. Whatever she had, she took with her when she disappeared.”

Downey glanced at her Apple Watch. “Excuse me, I need to respond to this.” After a few taps, she glanced up once more. “Do you have any other questions?”

“Just a couple more,” Finley assured her. “Was Lucy seeing anyone? A boyfriend maybe?”

Downey shook her head. “No one anyone knew about, anyway. Certainly Lou was convinced there was no one, or she would havepushed the investigation in that direction.” Downey glanced at her watch once more.

Finley recognized this was her cue. “I believe that’s all for now. Thank you, Ms.Downey, for seeing me.”

They stood, and Downey followed her to the door. Finley wondered if there was more she had to say but wasn’t sure she could trust Finley with whatever it was.

At the door, Finley hesitated. “Were Lucy and her mother close?”

Downey appeared taken aback by the question. “Yes. Very close.”

Finley had read the articles published about Lucy’s murder. Her body had been found on a deserted side street in a not-so-great part of town at the time. Not exactly the sort of place a young girl from a prestigious family would frequent after dark. “Is it possible Lucy had a friend her mother didn’t know about? Someone who ultimately took her life?”

The Johnson family had a long history of skirting the edges of the law. Ian Johnson had gone missing shortly after her death. It was a lead worth following up on.

“I’m certain the answer is no. Lucy was an excellent student and a bright and kind young woman of means with very high standards. She would not have wanted that sort of friend. The police interviewed her closest friends at school, Gwyneth Larson—now Garrison—and Natalie Williams. If either of them was able to provide a name, I’m not aware of it, and I firmly believe Lou would have told me.”

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