She flips a page. “Wait. This is from Daytona Beach.” She reads further. “No. You’re kidding me.”
“Not kidding at all. You know how those spring break parties get out of hand. Everyone gets wasted, folks go for a late-night swim in the ocean, and sometimes, people drown. This girl just happened to be from Vermont and was staying at the same hotel as Mr. Bender, Mr. Johnson, and a few other frat boys from UNC Chapel Hill. Made the papers for a minute at best. Nothing suspicious, just a terrible accident. They took everyone’s prints, just in case, and let them go. The boys headed back to Chapel Hill the next morning.”
She reads it aloud. “‘It was our last night, and we’d been partying pretty hard. We decided to go for a final swim since we were heading out in the morning. We arrived at the beach just as people started to shout for help. I ran back up to the hotel and called 911.’ God, he’s the one who called the authorities?”
“Ironic, isn’t it?”
“Why in the world did he not mention this? Get out ahead of it. He wasn’t a suspect; they just took his statement. And his prints, of course. Good on them for them being cautious.”
“Would you offer that up to us? It’s a prime piece of bloody steak. He’s on scene when a woman drowns, and six months later his girlfriend goes missing, and is found murdered in a lake? Makes him look guilty as shit. Proximity to two women, dead in bodies of water? Now we’re up to three—and this one, we know has connection to him. Yeah. I wouldn’t have offered it up, either.”
Joey closes the file and taps it with her fingernail. “Do you think we’re dealing with some sort of serial, Will? Is Bender a monster, disguised as a suburban wannabe dad?”
Osley shakes his head, as serious as she’s ever seen him. “I honestly don’t know. But it’s time for us to tear Park Bender’s life apart.”
29
THE MOTHER
“Mom!”
Darby is napping in the chair in the living room, where she sat down for just a second, her biorhythms still completely screwed up by switching her days and nights. At her daughter’s call, she leaps to her feet, ready to take on the world, to fight to the death whoever has harmed her baby.
Scarlett skids to a stop in front of her.
“They have a drawing of the suspect.”
“You’re okay?”
“Duh. I’m fine.”
Darby puts a hand to her heart. “You scared me to pieces, screaming like that. I thought you were hurt. What are you yelling about?”
Scarlett speaks lower and slower. “The police have a drawing of the suspect in that woman’s murder. And another woman is missing.”
Now it’s Darby’s turn to get agitated. “They do? How do you know? Who is it?”
“I just know, okay? I don’t know who it is. I don’t think they’ve released her name yet.”
“No. Not okay.” Darby gets up and stretches. “I thought we’d discussed this. No more sneaking around. Who is feeding you this information?”
Scarlett looks entirely incensed at this accusation. “I’m not sneaking around. A friend told me. And it’s going to be on the news. Don’t you want to see? I mean, I’m related to whoever it is, right? It’s one of the Halves. I just wonder if it’s one I’ve already talked to.”
Of course Scarlett wants to see who this mystery sibling might be. Darby wants to know, too. Still.
“What friend? I’m serious, Scarlett. This is a dangerous situation, and I refuse to let you play coy with me.”
“It’s one of the Halves. Her name is Jezebelle. Well, that’s her handle. Remember, we don’t use real names, to protect ourselves. But there’s no way it’s the killer—she’s a girl. I think her mom must work with the police or something. She finds things out.”
“And you believe her?”
“She hasn’t been wrong yet. We’ve been talking for a while.”
“How do you know it’s a girl? Anyone can pose as someone else, Scar. I’ve told you this time and time again. You are being reckless talking to strangers online.”
Scarlett’s eyes fill with tears. “I’m being careful. I’m not an idiot, Mom. It’s not like we’re making plans to meet up for coffee. And I know it’s a woman because of the way she talks about things. Like, personal things. I mean, we talk about all the stuff happening in the world now. People are more open about themselves. She’s cisgendered, pronouns are she/her. Why would she lie?”
Darby relaxes a fraction. She still has a bad feeling about all of this. “My darling, something you need to realize is people can misrepresent themselves, especially if they’re trying to fit in.”
“You don’t understand. Why can’t you trust me, for once?”
Because you’re sixteen and too damn precocious and I want to keep you swaddled next to me forever.
Darby closes her eyes and counts to three. “I do trust you, baby. The news isn’t on for a while. We have plenty of time. Let’s make dinner. What do you want? Anything goes.”
“Anything?”
“Within reason.” Darby smiles. Concessions are rare in their world. She hopes Scarlett recognizes this isn’t the new normal.
Scarlett’s eyes twinkle. “Pizza. That cauliflower crust one from Costco. With mushrooms.”
Pizza is reserved for Friday nights, so this is special. Darby is just glad she didn’t ask for some sort of complicated dish that would take an hour to put together. She is so tired.
“Done. Why don’t you do your homework and I’ll call you when it’s ready. And Scarlett? No Discord. No Halves. Not until we know what’s happening. Got me?”
Her lovely daughter casts her eyes to the floor and nods. She starts toward the stairs, but Darby calls, “Have you checked online to see if the sketch has been released yet?”
Scarlett whips out her phone and her thumbs fly. “No. Nothing yet. Though…they identified the other woman who’s gone missing. Her name is Jillian Kemp. God, this is so scary.”
Oh my God.
Scarlett is looking at her. “Mom? Are you okay?”
“Hold on, Scarlett.” Darby slaps open her laptop and goes to the news website. The headline screams:
Another Nashville Woman Missing
Darby reads the article in disbelief, then opens her private group for the first time in days to see a hundred new entries and multiple private messages. While she wrestled with her conscience, the decisions were being made for her.
Moderator: It has been decided by a nearly unanimous vote to make the police aware of Beverly Cooke’s involvement in the group. We can’t have Jillian end up like Beverly. I have alerted Metro Nashville police to the possible connection. Please cooperate with the investigation if detectives contact you. If you have any information that could lead to finding Jillian Kemp, please get in touch with Metro Nashville detectives immediately. No tip is too small.
A string of phone numbers and emails follows the entry.
Darby shuts the laptop.
Is someone preying on their private Facebook group?
Oh, come on. That’s ridiculous. It has to be a fluke.
“Mom?”