still rattled by the accusations made against her but oblivious to the fact her life was in danger.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A FEW DAYS AFTER THE SHOOTING, Shanna told Cherokee that police suspected she had not been shot by Amy. “They think I was behind it,” said Shanna. Cherokee stared at her quizzically. Shanna was the victim. How could she be behind the shooting when she was the victim? “They think you shot yourself?”
“They think you did it—that you were my accomplice!”
The idea was so nutty that Cherokee laughed. It didn’t occur to her to worry she’d be arrested for shooting her friend. She was confident she wouldn’t get in trouble for something she didn’t do. She was right about that. No detectives contacted her.
Though most of the cops suspected Liz had shot herself, none of them had accused her. Pott County Sheriff investigators were keeping their suspicions close to the vest. They were excited when Deputy Kava found proof that Liz had been impersonating Cari Farver, but their work was far from done. It was compelling evidence but not enough for a murder charge. They needed more. Much more. Ideally, a suspect will confess, but they doubted Liz would do that, not unless they tricked her into it. “In this case, we had to understand that what was driving Liz was her obsession with Dave, so once we knew that, we could flip that on her,” Detective Doty explains.
The investigators had a huge advantage. They’d studied her for months and knew what made her tick. But Liz had no idea who she was dealing with and believed she could outsmart the detectives. “We knew she’d think that because she’d tricked a few cops in the past,” Detective Avis confides. “Luckily, she ran into someone smarter than she is.”
On December 14, 2015, Liz was invited to Doty’s office. Recently hired by an Omaha pet food company, she stopped by on her way to work and wore gray scrubs with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. It was Doty’s first meeting with her, so he introduced himself and explained he was working on a missing person case and that they’d found some remains. “We’re waiting on the lab results to make a positive I.D., but the initial indication is these remains are Cari.”
Liz appeared cooperative but gave the impression she knew little about the situation. Doty gave no indication that he saw Liz as anything other than a potential witness as he said, “I’m going to tell you some stuff that I would hope would stay in this room, okay?” In reality, nothing had been found. The detective was putting on a performance. He had literally set the stage by adding a prop—an x-ray that now sat atop a stack of papers on his desk. It wasn’t connected to the case, but he knew it would trigger her interest. Asked if she’d met Cari, Liz described the encounter at Dave’s place. “I didn’t know he was dating anyone else at the time. So, she came out, and I was going in. And she made a smart comment to me.”
“What did she say to you?”
“Called me a bitch. And it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t really care at the time, I just wanted to get my stuff, and then I left and went home.” Liz insisted it was the only time she’d seen Cari and suggested that Amy was the real stalker. “She was with him for twelve years. And she still goes in and out of his life all of the time.”
“So, you think she could have been the person who did some of that stuff ?”
“I’m just saying as another person who would be possessive of Dave, it would be her,” said Liz. “So, I mean, I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“I’m thinking if she was bold enough to go and shoot you, okay, she could have easily been bold enough to have done something to Cari.”
While Liz was probably jumping for joy inside her head, she appeared calm as Doty said he hoped to build a case against Amy but didn’t have enough evidence. If he had evidence that Amy had made threatening statements or inferred she’d done something to Cari, that would be “like gold to me.”
Four days later, Liz forwarded an email to Doty, claiming Amy had sent it to her. The subject line was: “I shot you.”
I shot you, Liz, to make sure Dave stayed away from you . . . I got rid of the gun.