Perhaps a better lawyer than the court-appointed one Frank received would have fought harder on those two facts. As a married couple, it was natural that Frank’s DNA would have been found on Annie’s body, and the skin under her nails could have occurred during sex.
Why are you trying to defend him?
Laurie closed the file. Her job right now wasn’t to reinvestigate Annie’s death. She was reading the case to uncover direct links between the two murders, and so far the only link was Frank Randall. She understood that some distant part of her wanted Frank to be innocent. The thought that Milly’s grandfather was a murderer was hard for her to accept. It was futile thinking along those lines, but she’d long ago acknowledged that it was impossible to think rationally about her daughter’s death.
“Boss, call just came out I thought you’d want to know about.”
Laurie looked up to see one of the uniformed officers standing by her desk. “Tell me.”
“It’s nothing really, some sort of domestic dispute. A fight between two teenagers that got out of hand. Only, when I read the names, I thought you’d want to know.”
“Get to the point.”
“It was Grace Harrington’s . . . girlfriend?”
Laurie gave the officer a hard stare, wondering why it was so hard for the man to speak the words. “Tilly Moorfield?”
“Yes.”
“And who was she fighting?”
“I believe it was Grace’s ex, Mia Washington.”
Laurie took a deep breath and released it. “Right. I’ll get right on it.”
Outside, Laurie felt like she was walking in molasses as she made her way to the car. She’d all but ignored the weather report this morning. Among the problems presenting themselves, it had been easy to shove aside. But as she hauled the car door shut after her, she began to realize how important it could become. No one wanted to take chances in the city, and there had been more noise about a possible evacuation. The fact that David had been sent home early was a worrying sign, and as she drove along the seawall, her mind started overthinking the situation. It felt as if the gulf was lying in wait for the town. The waves were up, the tide creeping toward the shore. The sight of the seawalls being breached, cars having to crawl through seawater, was too recent a memory for her, and the threat of another tragedy all too vivid.
Driving the route she’d run yesterday evening, Laurie parked next to the two patrol cars already stationed outside Mia Washington’s apartment building. She instructed the officers to switch the flashing lights off as she glanced into the back of one of the cars, where a disgruntled-looking Tilly was sitting.
Ignoring her, Laurie walked over to the front of the building, where Mia Washington’s mother pulled out of a full-blown argument with two of the uniformed team to glare at her. “About time you got here,” she said, the calming personality Laurie had encountered the other day nowhere to be seen. Now, the woman’s face was contorted into uncontrollable anger.
“Shall we go inside and you can tell me what happened?” said Laurie.
“What happened is that little . . . lady over there”—she jabbed a finger toward Tilly—“assaulted my daughter, and I want her prosecuted.”
“Where is Mia? Can I see her?”
Mrs. Washington fell still in the doorway for a long, furious moment, clearly internally debating the situation, before turning and calling over her shoulder for her daughter. Mia appeared moments later, an ice pack held to her forehead.
“How are you doing, Mia?” said Laurie.
“Look at her,” said Mrs. Washington.
Laurie couldn’t see anything with the ice pack to the girl’s face. “Could you take Mrs. Washington inside so I can talk to Mia?” she said to her colleague.
“No way,” said Mrs. Washington.
“Mom, please,” said Mia, raising her voice.
“I want that girl arrested,” said Mrs. Washington, as she was reluctantly led inside.
“Well,” said Laurie, “let’s see it.”
Mia pulled the ice pack away to reveal a small lump on the side of her forehead. “Sucker punch,” she said, replacing the ice pack.
Laurie couldn’t quite imagine diminutive Tilly striking out at someone, though grief could change a person as quick as liquor or drugs. “What exactly happened?”
“That was it. She rang the doorbell, I opened the door and she just punched me.”
“Did she say anything?”
“No.”
“And did you hit her back?”
“No. I wish I had. Mom was standing behind me and she grabbed Tilly before she could get away. Then she told me to go and put some ice on it before calling you guys.” She turned and glared Tilly’s way through reddened eyes. “She thinks she’s the only one grieving.”
The wind thrashed their hair as Laurie gave Mia a few seconds to compose herself. It whistled down the street, seeking out pockets to rush through. “Why would she do this?” Laurie asked at last, brushing her hair from her forehead.
Mia shrugged. “I guess she’s still jealous of the other day. What can I say?”
“You know I’m conducting a homicide investigation, Mia?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then I need you to tell me the truth. Is there anything else I should know? About you and Grace? Or you and Tilly?”
Mia’s shoulders rose up to her head, as if she was trying to hide herself. “What else can I tell you?”
“It will all come out, Mia. Tell me now and it will make it so much easier for you.”
“Honestly, I’ve told you everything.”
Honestly. Laurie had heard that so many times before that to her it was almost a liar’s creed. She told Mia to go back inside, and went over to the patrol car, where she climbed in next to Tilly.
It was a relief to be out of the wind. Laurie hadn’t realized how intrusive the sound outside had been. “Tough day?” she said.
Tilly stared ahead, not meeting her gaze. “You could say that.”
“Mia’s got quite a knot on the side of her head.”
Tilly bit her lower lip. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on her.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. But you’re still in shock.”
Tilly turned toward her. “You don’t understand,” she said, eyes downcast.
“Don’t understand what, Tilly?”
“I’ve really messed up.”
Laurie could tell she meant something beyond hitting Grace’s ex-girlfriend. “You can tell me. You’re not going to get into trouble, at least not much more than a slap on the wrist for your little punching fit. I want to find Grace’s killer. That’s all.”
“I should have told you, but I hid it,” said Tilly, all the pent-up frustration of the last couple of days coming out in a wave of emotion as she started to cry.
Laurie wanted the girl to tell her what she meant, but there was no point in rushing her. When she appeared to have cried herself out, Laurie asked, “Hid what, Tilly?”
“Grace’s diary. I should have told you about it, but I wanted to keep it safe. I read it when I got back today. It was for the first time, I swear. I confronted him about it and he told me to leave the house.”