Everything She Feared, page 29
And he had Sara Harmon’s address from his investigative work. In fact, he’d driven to it since his arrival in Seattle.
Ryan got into his SUV.
He didn’t know what to expect, or if driving by made sense, now that it was a day after the story had broken. He made good time getting to North Seattle. He turned onto Sara Harmon’s quiet street. As he neared her house, he slowed down.
A news van was out front.
Something’s up.
After parking a few doors away and across the street, Ryan got out and approached the SUV. Its station and logo on the doors in red, white and blue said KT96-TV NEWS “WE’VE GOT SEATTLE’S STORY.”
A man in a ball cap, jeans and a flannel shirt was loading a tripod into the back. A woman wearing a jacket with the station crest stood on the sidewalk, ending a phone call.
“Hi,” Ryan said. “Are you guys here for Sara Harmon?”
The TV people eyed him and nodded.
“Who are you?” the woman asked.
“Ryan Gardner. I’m a freelancer.”
“For who?”
“Mostly magazines.” He reached into his wallet for his old press ID. “Before that, I worked for the Chicago Tribune.”
The woman studied Ryan’s ID.
“Got a second?” he said. “I’m just trying to catch up on this story. Can you bring me up to speed?”
The man slammed the tailgate shut, then said: “We got about two minutes, Ash. Then we gotta get to Ballard.”
“So, you know,” the woman said, “that KIRO reported that the case of the girl who fell taking a selfie in Sparrow Song is now a suspicious death?”
“Right.” That was about the extent of what Ryan knew. “And Sara Harmon’s connected?”
“Kids were in the park on an outing organized by the Sunny Days community group. Anna Shaw, the teen who died, was there with Sara Harmon’s nine-year-old daughter, Katie. Anna was Katie’s babysitter.”
Ryan nodded.
“Rumors and speculation are flying,” the woman said, “that Katie pushed her babysitter to get her necklace, and police have questioned Katie.”
“Really?”
“Those are the rumors that most of the Sunny Days parents are floating. They’re the ones who put us on to her home here.”
“Ashley.” The man was now behind the wheel and started the engine.
“Look, our organization’s being careful. There’s no evidence, no proof, no charges,” the woman said. “And with our policy, we won’t name or show the faces of Sara or Katie, because she’s a minor. We’d blur them.”
“Right, that’s standard practice,” Ryan said. “Did you get an interview?”
“Nope. She didn’t talk to anyone yesterday and she’s not talking to anyone today. Everyone’s struck out and moving on to other stories.” The woman got into the passenger seat, buckled up and lowered her window.
“Wait,” Ryan said. “One last thing. What can you tell me about Sara Harmon’s background?”
“Not much. We heard she’s a single mom, works at a diner.”
“What do you know about her family history?”
The woman shook her head.
“I think her mom is in a seniors’ home.”
“Which seniors’ home?”
“Pal—” the man leaned toward Ryan “—she’s told you enough. We gotta go.”
“I don’t know which home,” the woman said, reaching into her pocket and giving Ryan her card before they drove off.
He turned to the house.
He stood there, rooted staring at the door, struggling to grasp that he was on the cusp of an entirely new dimension.
All these years he’d searched.
Are Magda’s daughter and granddaughter on the other side of that door? Sara’s mother is in a seniors’ home—is it Magda? Is Katie a killer like her grandmother?
Ryan’s breathing quickened as he struggled to decide on what he was going to do.
He had no proof of anything. He couldn’t just ring the doorbell and ask Sara Harmon about her family and plead for her help, especially with all that was happening.
She would shut him down.
No, now was not the time.
His stomach tensed as he walked back to his SUV.
70
Seattle, Washington
Peering at the street through the crack in the curtains, Sara watched the KT96 news crew and a second reporter leave.
Grateful fewer media people had come to her door today than yesterday, Sara continued her call with Mel at the diner. He’d allowed her to take another day off.
“I get it,” Mel said. “A couple reporters were poking around here looking for you.”
“I’m so sorry about this, Mel.”
“Well, we’ll just have to figure it out. I’ll juggle things with Polly and Beth and the others, see if we can keep covering for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Do what you need to do, Sara, for you and Katie.” Mel softened his voice, grappling with his unease over the situation. “But if this gets to be too much, we’ll have to talk.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll have to see how this plays out, look at the impact on the diner.”
“What?”
“Just do what you need to do.”
After all these years? I started there when I was a teen. I thought Mel considered us family. I guess that all goes out the window now.
Sara’s stomach churned.
She couldn’t lose her job.
Feeling as if the walls were closing in on her, Sara clenched her eyes shut for a moment, then shifted her concern back to Katie. She’d kept her home from school today. Val had offered to come over if Sara needed to go out. Katie was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a favorite book, The Lorax by Dr. Seuss.
Sara’s thoughts went to the attic and the horrible truth about Magda. Her stomach roiled as she watched Katie gently turning the pages.
“At school Dylan Frick and his friends said I pushed Anna. They called me a murderer.” Katie’s tears fell on the pages as she stared blankly at them. “Why did he say that?”
“Sweetheart,” Sara said.
“I told you what happened on the cliff. I told the police and I told Dr. Sally, too.”
“I know, I know, but—”
“When will I see Dr. Sally again?”
“We’re going to take a little break from Dr. Sally.”
“But I like going to her office, to see the fish and the giraffe from Africa.”
“Katie, listen, this is important.” Sara struggled to keep from coming apart. “What happened, what really happened on the cliff?”
Katie took the heart of the necklace into her fingers and stroked it.
“Pullleeesee, Mom! I told you a million times!”
“Honey, you said you had bad thoughts, scary thoughts. You have to tell me what they are so I can help you, and so I—” Sara’s voice grew tender. “So I can protect you.”
“I didn’t push Anna. She fell.”
Katie sobbed, shaking her head, gasping.
“I’m not bad, Mom! I’m not bad!”
71
Seattle, Washington
“We got this from her psychologist, who was concerned enough to come forward,” Pierce said.
Sitting at his desk, staring at his monitor, Art Acker glanced at Pierce.
“One little girl and two deaths, Art,” Benton said.
“So she was present at another death.” Acker scraped his hand over his face. “How did we miss this?” He glanced at Benton, then resumed studying his monitor. “How?”
The sketch was titled The Park.
“Art.” Benton leaned forward as they all took in the two stick figures and the dialogue. “This is a damning admission or confession of a disturbed young mind.”
“That’s your read?” Acker said.
“Think about it. Anna goes over the cliff, and guess what? Katie’s got her necklace. No witnesses. Perfect crime.”
Acker continued studying Katie’s drawing.
“Maybe not so smooth, though,” Benton said. “Katie either hit her with the rock first, or Anna did fall to the branch and Katie used the rock to finish her off. Whichever, I think Katie’s artwork here is damning.”
“Could be she’s trying to help her,” Pierce said.
“Come on, Kim. She may have been involved in a previous death.”
“Just keeping an open mind, looking at all possibilities,” Pierce said. “What do you think, Art?”
Acker shook his head. “How the hell did we miss this?”
A soft knock on the doorframe and Grotowski stood there, holding his notebook.
“Come in, Larry,” Acker said. “What is it?”
“This is big.” Grotowski consulted his notebook. “So, from the get-go, I’ve been running background on Sara and Katie Harmon—our local and state databases, NCIC, the usual. We got nothing but the traffic violation, a speeding ticket years ago for Nathaniel Harmon, Sara’s deceased husband, Katie’s dad.”
“Right. We know that,” Pierce said.
“And I checked with the Canadians, got the RCMP to check on their national databases. And they got nothing.”
“So?” Benton said.
“So, I just got off the phone with my contact at the RCMP in Ottawa. Corporal Taylor. Apparently, she went further. She checked with the territorial, provincial and larger municipal databases. She also put out a request for smaller ones to run a check for absolutely anything that came up. Didn’t have to result in charges, could be a complaint, anything. The request took time.”
“And?” Acker said.
“We got a hit with Sara and Katie.”
“A beef in Canada?” Benton’s eyes widened. “Maybe that’s how we missed it, Art. Maybe this is the previous death?”
Grotowski nodded while consulting his notes.
“I just have a summary, no specifics. This is out of Delta, British Columbia, a suburb in Metro Vancouver. About two years back, Katie Harmon, who was seven at the time, was at a community swimming pool. She got into some kind of verbal exchange with a boy, who I think was eight. He bullied her and she may have threatened him.”
“That’s it?” Benton said.
“Not long after that, the boy was dead—he’d drowned at the bottom of the pool.”
The detectives glanced at each other.
“Man, oh, man,” Benton said.
“She was seven at the time?” Pierce said. “What were the circumstances, the result of the investigation? Were there even charges?”
“We don’t know any more,” Grotowski said. “I got a request in with Delta PD and they’re going to hook me up with the lead investigator.”
Benton whistled through his teeth. “This thing’s breaking wide open,” he said. “We gotta take all this to Heidi, Art, and move on Katie.”
Digesting the revelation out of Canada, Acker studied the sketch and nodded slowly.
“Alright, let’s go.”
72
Seattle, Washington
Ryan’s heart was still beating fast.
In the corner of his mind, his journalist’s voice warned him to be cautious, to get the facts on Sara Harmon. Just because Sara and her daughter were caught up in the tragic death of Anna Shaw, it didn’t make them descendants of Magda.
I have no concrete evidence.
Yet every instinct told him he was closer than ever to Magda. He needed to process it all. He needed to be 100 percent sure about Sara Harmon.
Then he needed a plan, he thought as he rolled his SUV into the car loading lot for the Bainbridge ferry. The trip across Puget Sound to Bainbridge Island and back would be calming and help him decide on what steps to take.
He boarded, secured his car, and got out and took in Seattle’s skyline as the boat set sail.
They hadn’t gone far when his phone vibrated with a message.
Hi Ryan: I’m Owen Sikes with Tell-Tale Hearts. Sonya Rule told me to get back to you re: your request concerning your episode and the woman who identified herself as Lynn calling from Chicago. Unfortunately, we don’t have the ability to obtain detailed information on people who contact the show. However, I can confirm that her call did not come from Chicago. It came from Seattle. Wish I could be more helpful. Owen.
“Seattle?” Ryan said out loud to his phone.
That’s strange. This “Lynn” gives me bogus information and she’s calling from Seattle? Of all places. What’s up with that? Could it mean I’m on the right track here in Seattle and this was an attempt to steer me away by getting me to believe that Magda’s dead?
He sent Owen a thank-you message.
For the next several minutes he assessed the new information further.
Then he received a call.
“Hi, Ryan, it’s Sonya Rule. Is this a good time to talk?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Did you get Owen’s message?”
“I did. Thank you.”
“I have another update. The woman who said she has documents just got back to us and wants to talk to you. Do you want to talk to her?”
“Yes, give her my email.”
A few seconds passed.
“Done,” Sonya said. “I’ll keep you posted in case I hear back. Good luck, Ryan.”
“Thank you, Sonya.”
As the ferry cut farther across the water, Ryan felt a renewed energy, that things seemed to be going in the right direction. He was reinforcing the need to take careful steps when his phone vibrated. A new email had arrived.
Hi Ryan: Your appearance on Tell-Tale Hearts broke my heart and I’m hoping I can help. My aunt passed away several years ago and I was going through her belongings with my sisters when we found some interesting things she’d kept. She’d had a troubled life, which led to her spending several years at Montana Women’s Prison in Billings. As an inmate there, she got to know Magda and kept a journal. After discussing it with my sisters, we’ve decided that we’d like to give you a copy of her journal by courier. If you give me your address, we could get it to you as quickly as possible.
Michelle
Queens, NY
He stared at the message.
A journal about Magda?
This could be something. He’d never had access to records of this sort. A prison friend who kept a journal. Yes, he needed to see it. As soon as possible.
But he didn’t want to reveal his Seattle address.
Just in case this is some sort of ploy or stunt. You never know.
Michelle had left her phone number with a 917 area code at the bottom of her message. He called. It rang four times before she answered.
“Hi, this is Ryan, is this Michelle?”
“Oh, yes, hi, Ryan.”
“Thank you for your message about your aunt’s journal.”
“Do you think it might help you?”
“It might. I’d like to see it, but I was wondering. If the journal’s not too long, could you scan the pages about Magda and send them to my email in a compressed file? I think that might be the best way.”
Michelle took a few seconds to answer.
“I’m not very good at stuff like that, technology. I’ll get my nephew to help me with those pages, if that’s okay?”
“Absolutely.”
“It might take us a little while.”
“I’ll stand by. And, Michelle, thank you for this. Thank you.”
After the call, he listened to the ferry chugging as it slowed for its arrival at the terminal. He got back to his SUV, intent on returning to Seattle.
73
Seattle, Washington
That evening Sara listened to the low rumble of running water as Katie prepared to take a bath.
While Katie was in the bathroom, Sara waited in Katie’s room. Sitting on the bed, Sara touched her trembling hand to her temple, her mind swirling in the wake of the news media, the police investigation, her lawyer.
Just spoke with police and the prosecutor, Rose Aranda had texted her moments ago. No movement to take action. Stay strong.
Sara looked down at Katie’s sketchbook.
It was on her lap, open to the drawing of Anna and Katie. Sara’s heart broke again. She could not deny the truth about her biological mother and father: Magda and Herman. And the mystery of Magda’s prison letter to her mom and dad continued to anguish her.
Why did Magda write to them? Why did Mom keep it secret? I have to know the truth.
Sara’s world was spinning, spiraling with dread that something was coming.
“Done, Mom.”
Sara looked up to Katie, freshly scrubbed, her teeth brushed, hair combed, fragrant with soap, shampoo—and innocence.
We’re not like them. We can’t be like them. She’s just a child.
Sara’s fingers shook ever so slightly as she caressed Katie’s cheek, then moved so Katie could get into her bed.
“I think you should stay home from school tomorrow.”
Hesitating at the tremor in Sara’s voice, Katie nodded.
“I might go to work. Val will come over, or you can stay with her. I have to see Grandma later.”
“Can I see Grandma, too?”
“I need to go by myself, to talk to her about important stuff.”
Sara followed Katie’s gaze to the sketchbook she held in her hand.
“Honey, I need to know what happened with Anna. It’s more important than ever.”
Katie stared at Sara.
“And—” Sara’s voice cracked. “I love you and no matter what you tell me, I will protect you and never let anything happen to you. But I need to know what really happened, while we still have time.”
