Love Inspired Suspense June 2021--Box Set 1 of 2, page 41
Justine had mastered the art of feigning confidence as a matter of survival when interviewing criminals who lived to manipulate and terrify. The same tactics applied here.
The Nolans clammed up like two oysters being harvested from the ocean when Trey introduced himself.
Ten long, silent minutes had passed since anyone had last spoken.
Justine straightened her shoulders, pinning Mr. Nolan with her question. “Mr. and Mrs. Nolan, I’d like to review the case file information with you. Were you aware Kayla feared a stalker?”
“She mentioned something about it, but Kayla always had an active imagination,” Fredrick Nolan replied in a tone that lingered just a notch above condescending. He sat rigid on the leather chair, in his tailor-fitted black suit and a red power tie. His long legs were set at a perfect ninety-degree angle and both hands rested on the arms, giving him the appearance of Abraham Lincoln’s memorial. His auburn hair was styled neatly, and his wiry frame was similar to Kayla’s.
By comparison, Susan Nolan bore no resemblance to Kayla—not that she would, as her stepmother. Her dark hair pinned into a tight chignon and pinched lips made her narrow face more severe. “Those were silly attempts to get attention. I cannot tell you the number of ridiculous antics she pulled over the years. There was no proof of a stalker, as I’m sure you’ve read in Investigator Drazin’s notes.” She smoothed her pink dress suit and crossed her ankles. “We’re busy, Miss Stark. Surely you came here for more than wasting our time with silly repetitive questions. What do you hope to accomplish by reopening Kayla’s tragic case, other than drawing unwanted scrutiny to our family?”
Justine blinked, taken aback by the strange comment. Kayla’s words traveled from the recesses of her memory, reminding Justine the Nolans’ priorities rested on their upstanding reputation in the community. “I’m sorry for your loss, and I mean no disrespect. I only hope to identify Kayla’s killer.”
Susan swatted the air. “The police classified Kayla’s death as suspicious, most likely a drug deal gone amiss.”
“Were you aware Kayla used drugs?” Trey interjected.
Justine bristled at the accusation.
“Our daughter was an enigma and a grown woman, Trooper Jackson. We didn’t keep tabs on her all the time.” Susan glowered at Trey.
Justine leaned forward. “Finding Kayla’s diary was a gift, and she deserves justice. I’m sure you want that too.”
“You’ve mentioned this diary. Where has it been all these years?” Fredrick inquired.
“I found it among old keepsakes I’d had stored,” Justine explained.
Susan perched on the end of the chair. “Kayla’s personal items are not for public consumption. No stranger should have access to her private thoughts. The diary must be returned to us immediately.”
Justine was hardly a stranger. Rather, she knew more about Kayla than either of the parental figures sitting before her, but arguing with them benefited no one. Regardless, she’d come as a clinician. Though everything within her longed to defend her friend, she must remain objective.
“I assure you, Kayla’s effects will be treated with the utmost respect. However, the diary is now documented evidence,” Trey said.
Justine shot him a grateful nod.
“What makes you think you’ll find anything worth dredging up the pain of the past?” Susan asked.
Fredrick adjusted his tie and placed a hand on his wife’s arm. “I believe what my wife means is, after ten years without answers, we don’t want to get our hopes up.”
Exactly the opening Justine needed. “When I compile a profile, I use all the available evidence. Sometimes even the smallest things provide the most significant details. Anything you share with me about Kayla and those last few months is helpful.”
“Like what?” Susan asked.
“For instance, Kayla’s comments about a stalker and his ways of scaring her appear to reference someone who was familiar with her routines—I believe the stalker and killer are one and the same.”
“You’re certain the killer is a man?” Susan inquired.
“No. At this point, I can’t say that with absolute certainty. However, the person was stronger than Kayla, able to subdue her, which leans toward a male suspect.” Justine withdrew her notepad and pen. “Was there anyone Kayla mentioned? A coworker maybe?”
Susan sighed. “I vaguely recall her ramblings about strange gifts she’d received. In light of the drug paraphernalia discovered in her apartment, those are just drivel from an addict.”
“Kayla wasn’t a drug user.” The words escaped Justine’s lips before she restrained them. She softened her tone. “In my experience, I never witnessed her under the influence.”
“Kayla kept many secrets. We all have secrets, don’t we?” Susan’s glare made Justine’s skin crawl.
“When did you last speak with Kayla?” Trey asked.
“We’ve already told the police all of this.” Susan smoothed her skirt again.
“It would help to get a fresh look at the case,” Trey said.
“My daughter and I didn’t talk on a daily basis.” Fredrick crossed his arms over his chest.
Justine didn’t miss the defensiveness in his tone.
“The only person who had regular interactions with Kayla was her boss and our attorney, Alex Duncan. He graciously tolerated her obnoxious personality.” Susan rolled her eyes.
Justine smiled. “She was a free spirit.”
Susan snorted. “That’s just a polite way of saying she was out of control.”
Fredrick stood. “I don’t see how we can give you anything more. As soon as possible, I’d like Kayla’s diary returned. Our daughter made a poor life choice and died as a result. She gave no consideration to how her actions would reflect upon us. I’m not interested in dredging up dirty laundry. I know you’d like to believe a grave injustice or conspiracy is to blame, but Investigator Drazin agreed the evidence suggested a bad drug confrontation, resulting in an overdose.” A chime interrupted Fredrick, and he withdrew a cell phone from his suit pocket. He studied the screen and walked away, calling over his shoulder, “Susan, please show them out.”
“You’ll have to forgive my husband. Kayla’s death took a toll on both of us.”
“Understandably so. Thank you for your time,” Trey said.
Susan led them through the living area into a long hallway. Her beige heels clicked a solemn cadence on the marble floors.
Nothing about the Nolans’ home reflected Kayla. In fact, she seemed to have done everything possible to disassociate herself from them.
When they reached the entryway, Susan opened the door. Trey exited first.
Justine followed, halted by Susan’s touch on her arm. “May I speak with you? Privately.” She lifted her chin toward Trey.
Would she divulge something personal? “Trey, I’ll be right there,” Justine said.
“No problem. I’ll wait in the truck,” he said.
Susan closed and blocked the door. Her dark eyes narrowed. “Kayla and I were very close.”
She may have viewed the relationship differently, but Kayla had called Susan an overbearing tyrant. Yet she’d striven to be the daughter both parents wanted, always falling short of their demands and expectations.
“No one was more heartbroken than I to have lost Kayla,” Susan continued. “I loved her as my own. I adopted her when she was only three.”
Justine hadn’t known that, though Kayla had never spoken of her birth mother.
“Her death was a tragedy, and I’m sure you understand reopening this case exposes us again to the negative publicity. People can be heartless and cruel. Especially those who would like to use Kayla’s misdeeds as a weapon against us.”
Though Justine didn’t approve of the Nolans’ concern for their reputation over bringing their daughter’s killer to justice, it was clear their social standing was a huge component of their lives. “I understand the media’s ability to negatively affect a family.”
Justine forced her arms still at her sides, though the scars itched with memories of the fire. The media had sensationalized the story of her father Ignaseus Grammert’s despicable and intentional attempt to murder his daughter and wife. After beating Justine and her mother, Ignaseus set the home on fire. Victoria, her mother, played on the sympathy of the public to gain financial support, and when the attention ran dry, she reverted to pleading for her husband’s release from prison, claiming it had all been a horrible accident and misunderstanding. Victoria conveniently forgot about the abuse Ignaseus inflicted on them regularly, as well as his attempt at drowning Justine once before.
Susan continued, yanking Justine to the present, “Kayla’s unconscionable acts devastated our hearts. I appreciate your intentions, but the past must remain buried for everyone involved.” She touched her nose with a handkerchief produced from her sleeve.
Justine chose her words carefully. “I’m sorry for all you’ve endured. And it’s not my intention to hurt you or your husband. But a killer is still out there.”
“I see.” Susan’s disposition changed, and the grieving mother vanished. “Tell me, dear. If it were your past being dredged up for public review, would you be as adamant? Would you willingly unveil your hidden skeletons for the sake of justice?”
Ice crystals skittered up Justine’s back, and her stomach roiled. Had Kayla betrayed her and told Susan about the fire?
Summoning the last of her confidence, Justine replied, “If someone was dedicated to helping and protecting another from the same wretched fate, I would gladly sacrifice my pride to solve the case.” She reached for the door, tugging it open.
Susan squinted. “Suffering is certainly a personal experience. Is vindicating a crime, even while you harm others, worth the glory you attain?”
Justine swallowed and blinked. Words eluded her. Stay strong. Susan used intimidation to control people. Justine had changed her last name and hadn’t spoken to her parents in fifteen years. “Justice is blind for a reason, Mrs. Nolan.”
Susan lifted her chin. “Hmm. Perhaps. The skeletons of our pasts tend to rear their ugly heads to destroy our present or threaten our future. It’s such a shame when others’ choices affect our lives in negative ways. Don’t you think, dear?” Susan touched Justine’s arm, squeezing a little too hard on the burn scars beneath her sheer blouse sleeve.
“How dare you!” Fredrick stormed in, face red.
“Fredrick?” Susan startled.
Justine jerked free of the woman’s hold.
Fredrick lasered Justine with a glare. “You requested to have Kayla’s remains exhumed?”
Word spread fast. Justine straightened to her full five-foot-four height. “The examination is a necessary part of the investigation.”
Movement in her peripheral vision brought relief. Trey’s determined stride said he must’ve overheard Fredrick’s bellowing. She mentally willed him to get there faster.
“Absolutely not!” Fredrick roared.
Trey reached the entryway. “Justine, we’re late for our next appointment.”
Fredrick’s chest heaved. “How dare you disrespect us this way? Get out! Both of you!”
“You won’t get away with this,” Susan injected. “We’ll stop you. Whatever it takes.”
Justine backed into Trey as the door slammed shut.
“What was that all about?” he whispered.
“Guess we won’t be getting their cooperation with the exhumation.”
Justine’s gaze lingered on Susan watching from the window, a murderous expression frozen on her face. The skeletons of our pasts tend to rear their ugly heads to destroy our present or threaten our future. The veiled threat hovered in Justine’s mind, and her arm burned from Susan’s rough grip. We’ll stop you. Whatever it takes.
Would working Kayla’s case expose everything Justine had spent her adult life escaping?
FIVE
Trey’s instincts blared on high alert at the Nolans’ behavior, but his bigger concern was Justine’s reaction and unusual silence. She’d also been rubbing her arm since they left. “Did she hurt you?”
Justine twisted to face him, hands dropping to her lap. “What? No. I’m fine. Thank you for interrupting back there.”
“I’ve been told I have impeccable timing,” Trey teased, waggling his eyebrows.
Magnum poked his head through the separation glass, panting softly.
Justine stroked Magnum’s chest. “He’s smiling.”
Trey marveled at his partner’s ability to calm a person by his furry presence. “I’ve always thought that about him.”
“Great diversion tactic with the second-appointment ruse too.”
“Oh, that was real.”
Justine leaned forward. “It was? Where are we going?”
“To talk with Laslo Drazin. Fair warning—he’s not thrilled about this meeting.”
“Why?”
“I interrupted his travel plans.” He didn’t share Drazin’s skittishness on the phone. One of them had to remain objective in the questioning. He’d fill Justine in on his own suppositions afterward.
Trey exited the highway and pulled into the parking lot of the large two-story truck stop. Signs boasted of showers, a restaurant and overnight accommodations. He circled around to the opposite side of the immense facility and parked in front of a wooden sign featuring a cartoon dog.
Trey lifted his phone. “We’re here.”
“I see you. Five minutes. That’s it.” Drazin disconnected.
“He’s on his way.” Trey opened his door, avoiding Justine’s quizzical glance.
Magnum sat patiently waiting for assistance.
“Don’t get too used to this, buddy. At some point you’re going to have to climb down without my help.”
The dog tilted his head with what could only be described as a duh expression.
They entered the grassy lawn and walked to a picnic bench while Magnum roamed the full thirty-foot span his leash allowed.
A Cadillac SUV pulled in beside his patrol truck, and Drazin exited the vehicle, wearing dark sunglasses. The retired investigator strode toward them. His lively Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts contrasted the scowl on his bearded face.
“He looks cheerful,” Justine whispered.
“That’s his normal expression.” Trey stood to greet Drazin. “Good morning. Thanks for meeting with us.”
“As if I had a choice,” Drazin groused, dropping onto the seat opposite Trey. “You’re the shrink?”
“Forensic psychologist. Justine Stark.” She extended a hand, which Drazin ignored.
Magnum returned and sat, allowing Drazin to pet him. “Handsome guy.”
“This is Magnum,” Trey said.
“Always loved the dogs. Lost my corgi, Chuck, a few months ago. Best friend a guy ever had. Great thing about pups—they aren’t disappointed by who you really are.” Drazin removed his sunglasses and shifted his gaze, surveying the area. “Look, I gotta make this fast. Trey told me you’re working on the Nolan case. So, what do you want to know?”
“I’m developing a profile based on the crime scene and evidence.”
“You can get that from my notes.”
“I’d like your perspective. The file is marked ‘inconclusive suspicious death,’ though the Nolans are adamant it was a drug buy gone bad.”
Drazin’s eyes darkened. “Then you’ve got all you need.”
Justine leaned forward. “Kayla was my best friend. Anything you tell us that might help solve her case is appreciated.”
Drazin rubbed the back of his neck. “The Nolans pushed to close the investigation ASAP, but I believed the scene was staged. It was all a little too clean, if you catch my drift. The drugs on the table and Kayla’s tox screen pointed to an overdose. Nothing contradicted those findings.”
“In my professional opinion, prior behavior speaks volumes, and Kayla wasn’t a user,” Justine said.
“The case went cold right before your retirement?” Trey prodded.
The man shot him a glare. “I worked every clue until there wasn’t anything left. Are you implying I did a shoddy job because I was leaving?”
Defensive. Interesting.
“Actually, considering it was your final investigation, I’d think you’d put all your efforts into solving it,” Justine inserted.
That defused Drazin. “Absolutely. Wasn’t easy either. The Nolans had their fingers in everything. Watched me like a hawk. Even if I’d wanted to do a less-than-stellar job—which I didn’t—they’d never have allowed it.”
“Losing their only daughter must’ve been very hard,” Trey said.
Drazin snorted. “The Nolans aren’t the type of folks who want scuttlebutt about them airing on the six o’clock news. They were more concerned about their reputations than solving their daughter’s case. Talk to Alex Duncan, their attorney. Kayla worked for him, and he spends Saturdays at his office alone.” Drazin stood, eyes focused on the truck stop parking lot, and withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket. He slid it across the table to Trey.
“Trey said you’re leaving for a trip?”
“Yeah. Canada. Got friends up there.”
“My dad always wanted to take my brother and me up to Alaska for a men’s vacation. We still haven’t made that happen.” Trey slipped the note into his shirt pocket.
“Make the time. You never know if you’ll get tomorrow. One more thing.” A look of contemplation passed over Drazin. “The Nolans have a long arm, and you don’t want to be on the wrong side of their favor. Believe me.”
“Are you implying they’re dangerous?” Justine asked.
“I’m not implying anything, because this conversation never happened.” Drazin put on his sunglasses and scurried back to his vehicle.
