“All right,” he said. “I’d better get going.”
“This will probably help.” Keller gave Matt his wallet and smartphone.
“Thanks.”
“You have no idea what a pain it was. The bouncer has a business on the side selling phones. There’s no money in your wallet.”
There never had been.
Matt looked at the face of the iPhone, cracked from the hundreds of times he’d dropped it. The phone was fully charged—thanks to Keller, no doubt. The device’s wallpaper was a photo of Jane, one she’d uploaded herself. She looked particularly regal in the shot.
“You find anything helpful on it?”
“We haven’t looked. We needed your password. And your permission.” Keller looked at him. “You mind?”
Matt thumbed the sensor, unlocking the device. He took a deep breath before checking his text messages. There were hundreds of them. Many from unfamiliar numbers, but dozens from friends. There were no new messages from his father. One text from his mother, saying they were getting on the plane and that she loved him. Something she did out of habit whenever she flew. The fatalistic precaution in case the plane went down.
But then he saw it. The unread text from Maggie.
Excerpt from
A Violent Nature
Season 1/Episode 4
“Holmes and Watson”
INT. PINE FAMILY HOME – HOME OFFICE
Twelve-year-old MAGGIE PINE sits behind a cluttered desk. File boxes and mountains of papers fill the space. In the background stands a homemade crime wall, complete with red string zigzagging from newspaper clippings to photographs to other clues mounted on the board by pushpins. Maggie wears a T-shirt with the picture of a horse on it, metallic braces on her teeth.
MAGGIE
My brother Matt loves movies and watches, like, a trillion. So one night my best friend was sleeping over and we were spying on him, like we always do, and I saw part of this movie, I don’t remember the name of it, where these lawyers, like, saved the day by digging through boxes at the clerk’s office. So it gave me the idea.
C.U. on Maggie’s hands digging through a box. She retrieves a sheaf of papers. She’s beaming, proud of the find.
MAGGIE
So when we went back to Nebraska to visit my grandpa one time, I went to the county clerk and told her I was doing a school project—it wasn’t a lie; Mrs. Melhoose said I could—and the clerk let me dig through the old case files. And I found this.
INT. STUDIO
EVAN PINE sits on a stool, the background dark.
EVAN
Maggie brings me copies of notes from a couple of police interviews. One about a suspicious man at the house party that night, the last place Charlotte was seen alive. The other, a tip from an anonymous caller who said Charlotte’s murder looked a lot like two others in Kansas. After Danny went to prison, several other girls in Kansas, Nebraska, and Missouri were killed in the same way: their heads smashed in with large rocks.
INSERT – NEWSPAPER HEADLINE
“Break in the Smasher Case: Plainville Man Arrested for String of Grisly Murders.”
EVAN
The prosecution failed to turn over the reports. If we could’ve looked into the Smasher back then, we might not be here right now. The failure to give Danny’s lawyer the reports broke the law; they’re required to turn over exculpatory evidence. And we got our first big break for seeking post-conviction relief.
INT. PINE FAMILY HOME – HOME OFFICE
Evan and Maggie sit at the desk together studying the case file.
EVAN （V.O.）
From then on it’s been Magpie and me. Holmes and Watson, though I’m not sure who’s Holmes and who’s Watson.
CHAPTER 12
MAGGIE PINE
BEFORE
“Your boyfriend’s here.” Harper moved her eyebrows up and down.
Maggie had already seen Eric at the doorway to the high school’s tutoring center. She rolled her eyes. “Cut it out.”
“Seriously, he’s into you. He only comes on the days you’re here. Like, he’s literally, almost, like, stalking you.”
As with most of their generation, Harper overused like and misused literally. Maggie looked across the Center. It was filled with the usual cast: jocks who were trying to pull their grades up to a C so they could take the field, stoners who’d been given the choice between the Center or detention, and the nerds who tutored them. Well, except Harper, who was what some would call a hot nerd. Eric strutted through the room—that was the word, strutted, high-fiving other boys as he made it over to the check-in table.
Standing before them now, he grabbed the pen to sign the log, then offered a rakish smile.