Could Rawlings have kil ed Sarah? Could Pierce have known that Rawlings was the murderer, and so kil ed him not to help out his terrified nephew, but for reasons of his own? Derek Rawlings was Jerome Pierce’s brotherin-law, after al , his wife’s brother. If Rawlings was found out, if people knew he was a rapist and a murderer . . .
Hannah paced on. Was this possible? Oh God. Was Dandridge real y innocent? Could she have stumbled across the answer or was she putting two and two together and coming up with twenty? But it had always struck her as unusual that Pierce should go to such lengths to convict Dandridge. Yes, he would have been under pressure to arrest someone, to get a conviction, but he seemed so established a part of the Yorktown community—he had been sheriff for fifteen years by the time of the murder—surely he hadn’t been at any real risk of losing his job. The risks he had taken to put Dandridge away would have to be motivated by something more personal. She’d told herself al along that that was because Pierce knew for sure Dandridge was guilty and his own personal code forced him to take extreme action. One meeting with the man had been enough for her to realize how off base she’d been with that theory. Pierce was not driven by any kind of moral code. He was someone driven by self-interest.
Okay, say she was right. Say Rawlings had delivered pizza to Sarah and Samuel that night. He had seen they were alone and later, much later, he had come back, broken into the house, and raped and murdered her. Say Pierce had somehow figured out that Rawlings was the murderer and had been afraid the truth would get out. That would cause a scandal. Jerome Pierce’s brotherin-law, a rapist and a murderer. What would that scandal do to a family living in a smal community? So what would Pierce do? Wel , what if he decided to cover it up? Rawlings knew that Prosper and Dandridge were home alone that night, doing drugs. Pierce knew that Dandridge had a record. The police said that anonymous cal s had led them to Dandridge. But everyone at the Project had assumed that those cal s were entirely made up. What if they were right about that? Pierce could have chosen Dandridge as a scapegoat because he’d known—through Rawlings—where Dandridge was that night, and he’d known he was a drug user with a record, albeit a minor one.
Hannah’s mind was spinning faster now. Putting everything together. It al made sense, in a crazy kind of way. Maybe. But she had no proof. And even if she had it, she stil had to decide whether or not to use it. Innocent of the Fitzhugh murder did not mean he was innocent of everything.
Hannah
SIXTEEN
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2019
At eight-thirty A.M. Hannah went downstairs and checked out. Angie was at the desk. She took in Hannah’s jacket, the bag over her shoulder.
“No breakfast this morning?” Angie asked.
“No, thank you,” Hannah said.
“I can make an omelet if you like? I have beautiful fresh spinach and some real y special cheese.” She offered a warm hostess smile.
“No. Thank you. I’m sure it would be great.”
“No problem,” Angie said, but she managed to look hurt and Hannah suppressed a flare of sharp irritation. Angie led the way to the smal reception desk, took out a receipt book. “Is your friend checking out too?”
Hannah hesitated. Maybe she should be getting Sean’s things, checking them out and taking them with her. Did she have the right to go into his room, to pack his personal stuff?
“He’l check out later,” she said.
“Oh, okay.” Angie gave her a curious look, but she produced Hannah’s invoice quickly enough. Hannah handed over her credit card, said goodbye, and stepped outside into the chil morning air.
The sun was up now, somewhere behind the clouds, but the mist was stil thick on the ground. It would burn off soon enough. The police station was only five minutes away.
There was a woman waiting on the steps of the station as Hannah approached on the opposite side of the road. She was dressed in a dark gray suit and conservative heels and she was looking at her phone. A car pul ed in in front of the station and parked, and Abigail Warner got out. Hannah froze. Abbie went to greet the woman in the gray suit and exchanged hugs. Gray suit must be Sean’s lawyer. After a minute or two of tense conversation, the lawyer disappeared into the station, leaving Abigail standing alone on the steps, waiting. Hannah told herself she should cross over and speak to Abbie. At the very least she could answer any questions about what exactly had happened the night before. But Hannah couldn’t make her legs move. Instead she retreated. She’d passed an open coffee shop, a couple of doors down. She went in, ordered a coffee and a bagel, sat at the window, and watched.