She downs another mini bottle, then scuttles over to the fridge and pulls out the last two. Street noise filters in from the open window.
She turns on the TV and channel-surfs. She catches the end of Before Sunrise, a movie she’s always loved; a story about a young couple meeting on a train and spending a magical night together in Vienna. It reminds her of a special day she’d had with a boy at Coney Island before her life turned upside down.
She flips to Bravo and watches a reality show for a couple of minutes, two grown women are arguing, acting like teenagers. She flips to the next channel, and it’s the local news.
There’s a clinching in her chest at the Breaking News alert. The man she remembers from the hospital, the guy with the mustache and polo shirt and jeans, stands at a podium, a throng of microphones in front of him.
A banner at the bottom of the screen scrolls on a loop: SUSPECT IN LINDEN ICE CREAM STORE MURDERS ARRESTED. POLICE WITHHOLDING IDENTITY OF JUVENILE ACCUSED.
Ella turns up the volume and moves closer to the set. The detective at the podium answers a question from a reporter:
“The suspect was arraigned today and bail was denied. We don’t have a clear motive right now.”
Ella’s heart hits the floor.
The detective answers another question. “We’re not releasing the suspect’s name right now. We can confirm the suspect was a classmate of the victims and is a seventeen-year-old female. If the court permits her to be charged as an adult, we’ll release her name at that time.”
A reporter says, “My sources say you identified the suspect through a tip.”
“I don’t want to get into any specifics. But, yes, a classmate bravely came forward with information that allowed us to obtain a warrant. We’ve also uncovered evidence connecting the suspect to the crime.”
Ella watches in a haze, her thoughts muddled. It can’t be her. No.
Back on the screen, the reporter presses: “Physical evidence? You mean the knife, the murder weapon?”
The detective shakes his head. “I’m not going to get into specifics at this time. We will keep you updated as the case progresses.”
Ella races outside to her car. She needs to know if it’s Jesse. But how? She could go to the foster home. But she remembers the police cars there. Not a good idea. She could call Mr. Steadman. The police probably told him. But if so, why hasn’t he called her?
She’s startled by the chime of her phone. She reaches for her handbag on the passenger seat, but in her haste, knocks it over, the contents spilling onto the floor. She misses the call.
She reaches over and scoops up her belongings—the pill bottle, lipstick, hand sanitizer, tissues, her wallet—and shoves them back in the bag. She snakes her hand under the edge of the seat to feel for anything else. She feels something and pulls it out.
It’s an iPhone. It was deep beneath the seat, so it didn’t simply fall under there by accident. It was hidden.
Ella clasps the phone. It has a Hello Kitty case.
Jesse’s phone.
CHAPTER 42
CHRIS
They slip out of the Union County Courthouse the way they came in. Only a few reporters manage to get a shot as they race from the parking garage. Chris thinks he evaded the photos by crouching low in the backseat of Henry’s car. For his part, Henry is silent on the drive back to the office, working the case in his head.
Julia has already tracked down information on Ella Monroe. “She’s the survivor from the Blockbuster case, all right. And get this, when Jesse was nonresponsive at the hospital, they called Ella Monroe in. She’s the only one Jesse would speak to.”
“How’d you find that out?” Henry asks.
“I have my sources,” Julia says coyly.
Chris knows what that means. Every young prosecutor in Union County has a thing for Julia.
Henry gives an admiring nod, clearly impressed not only that she has a contact, but that she didn’t disclose the source’s name, even to her boss.
“I’ve got Ella’s number,” Julia says.
“Give her a call,” Henry says. “See if she’ll come to the office.”
“Already done. It went to voice mail. I left a message.”
Chris half listens as Julia makes another call. Henry’s on his phone now too, barking something about getting the file from the prosecution.
All the while, Chris’s mind remains fastened on what Jesse told him. How in the hell did she know his real name? And why didn’t she tell Henry or Julia when they wrapped up the meeting? Chris knows that he needs to tell them. But he wants to think about it first. Maybe he doesn’t need to tell them, not yet anyway.