breathing’s become shallow, and I force myself to inhale deeply. “And that means she’d probably been dead for a day when I came across her. Maybe longer. What I told the police today could help them pinpoint the time of death.”
“But don’t you think they were able to do that years ago? I mean, they rely on other data, too, right?”
“They must, but I’m sure they consider all the factors together—and I deprived them of a key piece of evidence. You said the other day that the mother didn’t report the girl missing right away. Do you know anything more specific about her and the boyfriend’s alibis?”
“I probably did at the time, but not any longer.”
“God, by lying about when I found her, I may have totally fucked up the case. It could have prevented someone from being prosecuted.”
“Ally, first of all, you have to stop saying it was a lie. You were simply too frightened to recall and reveal every detail. And don’t get ahead of yourself. There’s more than a good chance your revelation doesn’t alter an iota of what was determined years ago. Why don’t I try to talk to the chief again tomorrow? Maybe I can get him to clue me in on the original investigation.”
“Okay, but I’m not sure if the other detective will let him breathe a word. She’s pretty tough—and very much in charge.”
“She wasn’t hard on you, was she?”
“I don’t know exactly what you’d call it.” Summoning the encounter in my mind makes my stomach twist. “She seemed sympathetic at first—she even said it was really normal for kids to withhold information—but things started to shift.”
“What do you mean?”
“She asked me a few questions more than once, like she hadn’t been paying enough attention when she first asked them. But I think she wanted to see if my answers matched. And then she wondered if I thought Jaycee had been killed by someone who hadn’t really meant to hurt her. How could my opinion on that possibly matter?”
A car horn blares, and Roger jerks the steering wheel to the right. I’m making it hard for him to concentrate.
“I wouldn’t put much stock in that,” he says. “As far as we know, she probably did some kind of detective training program where they teach you a certain style.”
“I guess. . . . I’m going to have to tell Dad about this sooner or later, aren’t I? Because if my statement makes a difference, it’s all going to come out.”
The idea only adds to my discomfort. This is the last thing my dad needs right now.
“Why don’t you hold off thinking about that for now? I hate the idea of telling him over the phone. I may end up flying out there in a few weeks and I could bring him up to speed in person.”
“Okay. Maybe I could even go with you.”
“I’d love that, Button. . . . What time did you schedule your Uber for?”
I glance at my watch. “Fifteen minutes from now.” I knew I’d been cutting it a little close, but I figured I could change it if the police kept us waiting.
Roger reaches out with his free hand and gives my fingers a squeeze. “Why don’t you push it back? We could have a glass of wine at the house or I could make you a cappuccino. You know what a good barista I am.”
I express my thanks but tell him no. Part of me is sorely tempted to stay, but I need to get home and finally fill Hugh in. Plus, hanging at Roger’s will increase my chance of running into Marion, who’s bound to be back from Princeton by now.
And sure enough, she strides from the kitchen as we enter the house, dressed smartly in beige slacks and a matching V-neck cashmere sweater. Even from across the room I can smell her fragrance, that cloying mix of roses and jasmine.
“So how did it go today?” she asks, advancing. Her eyes flick back and forth between Roger and me as if she’s watching a tennis match.
“Very perfunctory,” Roger says, covering. “Ally talked to them, they asked her a few questions, and that was it.”
She allows her gaze to light on me. “Oh, but it must have been hard for you, dear.”
“Thanks, but it wasn’t so bad.”
“Well, hopefully this is one of those cold cases they’ll be able to finally close.”
“Would you mind if I poured myself a glass of water?” I ask her. “I have to take off