She was supposed to be at the party that night. This guy Aiden had graduated a year earlier, and he was the only one they knew with his own place. A tiny little studio, cramped with video games and a futon, but still. Anyone with their own apartment was impressive. When Joey told her that Aiden was having a party on that Thursday night, she wanted to go, but she would have to be late.
One of her closest friends, Laurel, had organized a party for the same night, only hers was at Six Flags. A retro thing, as Laurel called it, given that they were sixteen and rarely went to amusement parks anymore. It was summer, no school the next day, and since she didn’t have to be home early, Bianca thought she could split the evening. Half at Six Flags, the other half with Joey at Aiden’s party. The perfect middle ground between her friends and her boyfriend.
The Ferris wheel screwed everything up.
Bianca was on the ride with Laurel, and they were near the top. A view of the whole park spread out before them, and they were talking about which ride to go on next. The abrupt halt of the wheel made their passenger car swing more than usual. Both grabbed the safety bar.
“Whoa,” Laurel said. “That was weird.”
Bianca leaned over the side and looked down. “Maybe someone fell.”
“That’s horrifying.”
“Right?”
No one had fallen. The wheel was broken. Bianca and Laurel were stuck near the top for almost three hours. By the time she was finally back on the ground, thanks to the firefighter rescue, she had a good story to tell but was too late for the party. Joey had already texted to say he was leaving.
Going home. C U tomorrow.
The downside of autocorrect was that the text looked normal: no misspellings, no errors. She couldn’t tell how drunk he was and had no idea he passed out in his car instead of driving.
The next day, she found out he was dead.
He wouldn’t have been that drunk if she had made it to the party. First, because he knew she hated it when he drank too much. Second, because he would rather have had sex than pass out.
Logically, she has always understood it wasn’t her fault the Ferris wheel broke down.
The problem was, logic didn’t help when someone was dead. Not then and not seven years later.
* * *
—
Bianca settles down with a cup of coffee and her computer. Her wallpaper is now a picture of Joey. Reminding her why she’s doing this, and reminding her the police had forgotten about him.
Strange that she is working with Karen now. But obviously they need the help. Her help.
Back to the emails.
It’s a time-consuming task to go through seven years of emails. Wes has filed them into a slew of folders, archiving an extraordinary number of messages. But Bianca is thorough. Not everyone is. Years of snooping have taught her how to find things others miss. When people have something to hide, they try to be sneaky. Most suck at it.
Attachments, for example. They aren’t always what they seem. An innocuous spreadsheet might not be a spreadsheet at all. In theory, it’s a great way to hide things. Most people won’t open every attachment to see what’s there. Bianca does.
She started from the beginning, when Wes was first hired, and read through the emails in chronological order. Exactly what she was trying to do in the office when Tanner had interrupted her.
If you want to follow the story line of someone’s career, and life, this is the way to do it. Starting in the middle doesn’t make sense. It’s like walking into a movie fifteen minutes after it starts. You miss the whole setup.
Same with Wes. The setup is in his earliest messages.
Back then, he had given the email address to friends and former coworkers, a number of whom sent their congratulations. Most came from professional email addresses; a few, from personal accounts. A lot of information to sift through.
She makes a list of the email addresses that look personal, noting the ones with actual names, for later research. Most of the messages are invitations to parties or dinners or disc golf games. She spends hours wading through them, finding nothing useful.
Until she finds the picture.
The email had come from Ivy’s Gmail address, and the subject line said Pics? Wes had put it in a folder marked Miscellaneous. The date of the email was two days after Joey was killed.
I sent this to the police. It’s the best picture I could find of the car. Let me know if you have any others.
In the photo, Wes is sitting behind the wheel of a dark blue Toyota 4Runner. The car is parked on the street, and Wes is smiling. No. Laughing. Maybe laughing at Ivy as she takes the picture.
Bianca does a quick search for any other messages from that email address but finds only two. In the first, Ivy congratulates him on his first day at work. The next asks him about plans for that evening. The last one was the picture. Wes answered it with one line.
No, I don’t have any other pics.
Bianca enlarges the photo and examines everything: The houses behind the car, to figure out where it might have been taken. The clothes Wes is wearing, the way his hair is cut, even his fingernails. She zooms in on the inside of the car, the dashboard, the interior, even the steering wheel. But she doesn’t see it until she starts looking at the windshield.
Her first thought is to send the photo to Karen right away.
Her second thought, as always, is to gather more information.
45
Karen bought her new suit because of the color: steel grey. It makes her feel strong, and today she needs that. It isn’t often she meets with her sergeant, lieutenant, and captain all at once. In a cramped conference room at the central police station, all three men sit across from her. Highest-ranking in the center.
The suit doesn’t keep her hands from shaking, though. She keeps them firmly clasped on her lap.
“The files you have include copies of all my reports, along with transcripts of the interviews I’ve conducted,” Karen says. “There’s also a signed, notarized statement from Hugo Garrison, retired crash investigator and consultant.” The wording of it took some negotiation, because Hugo didn’t want to commit to too much information, but it’s a convincing document for anyone who doesn’t fully understand it. “In addition, I’ve included the original photos from the traffic cam.
“As you know, we didn’t have as many cameras seven years ago, which is part of what made the Joey Fisher case so difficult to solve. However, we did keep screen grabs of all the cars that passed by a security camera not far from where the accident occurred.” She lays the photos across the table, setting them down one by one. “Since it was late, there weren’t too many cars. Twelve, to be exact.
“Hugo Garrison examined these pictures and looked into each of the cars. This is the only one that matches the type of damage done to Joey’s car.” She points to the 4Runner. “Because the security camera was positioned in front of a building and not the street, the license plate isn’t visible.”
The driver is, at least from a distance. And it’s a man.
Karen always knew Wes was the problem. She knew from the first moment they met at Siphon, when he smiled at her as she walked into his office. It’s always the goddamn smile.
“The police didn’t track the cars caught on camera?” her captain says. “Or the types of cars, at least?”