Everything She Feared, page 3
Her heritage?
The words stuck.
Pierce didn’t know what, or who, they were talking about, or the context. Acting like she hadn’t heard, she sat down and resumed working, deciding to let it go.
Days passed, but the incident and those two words gnawed at her.
There’d been a short bio of her in the newsletter when she made detective. Were Benton and the others talking about the fact her mother was Native American and her father had been born in Guatemala?
Do they have an issue with my heritage? Maybe I’m wrong about that. I hope I’m wrong.
No one had said anything about that moment to Pierce. And, on the first day she’d arrived, the team was all smiles and handshakes. Maybe the feeling she’d sensed was in her head. Or maybe it was related to some testosterone-fueled initiation ritual, a way to test her?
If so, then bring it on.
Now, with the Explorer rushing east on the interstate, taking them closer to the death of a teenage girl, Benton whistled through his teeth.
“So Art made you the lead. Do you really think you’re ready for this?”
Am I ready for this?
Pierce looked down at her work. Then, for a moment, she turned to the window, the trees blurring by like her life. Her family was always moving, she was always the new kid, and she was often insulted, ostracized. The stench of racism was always near. Her mom and dad telling her: “Push through it, Kim. Use it to make you stronger.”
Pierce did.
Her mother and father owned a two-person office cleaning company. Pierce worked with them when she was a teen. When her parents got a contract to clean a police station, a couple officers got her thinking about becoming a cop.
Like her parents, Pierce worked hard, scraped to save, went to college, got a degree in criminal justice, and along the way became a wife, mother and deputy.
She excelled at basic academy training, and while a deputy, she’d completed as many advanced courses as she could, including homicide investigation and questioning witnesses, victims and suspects. And she worked with detectives—learning, always learning.
In her five years as a patrol deputy, Pierce had seen it all: bloated bodies of drowning victims, pugilistic positioning of fire victims, bodies entwined with crushed metal at accidents; beatings, stabbings, shootings, suicides and homicides. So did she think she was ready for this? After several seconds, she turned to answer Benton.
“No, Carl.”
“What?” He stared at her, intense, no-nonsense. “You don’t think you’re ready?”
Her eyes betrayed nothing as she stared back.
“I don’t think I’m ready. I am ready.”
He nodded, a smile dawning. “Good,” he said. “You should start a running case log, with times.”
“Already done.”
“Well, look at you, Kim. Good.” Eyes on the road ahead, Benton stuck out his bottom lip. “Besides, this is a slam dunk. Sad, but an accidental death, a teen taking a selfie.”
Now it was Pierce’s turn to raise her eyebrows—she found it interesting that Benton could draw a conclusion without setting foot at the scene, or talking to a witness. She got back to work on her notes, remembering key points concerning a wilderness death.
Always assume criminal intent until proven otherwise.
A wilderness death can be a perfect murder.
6
Near North Bend, Washington
Benton wheeled their Ford into the parking lot at Sparrow Song Park.
News vans, sheriff’s units and private vehicles were there. Pierce counted them and made notes along with the time. The medical examiner was there, too.
About two dozen people, including media, were clustered at the yellow tape cordoning off the entrance to the trail where a deputy was posted.
Pierce and Benton were in plain clothes; both wore jeans. They put on jackets with SHERIFF on the back and displayed their badges in the front. Gathering what they needed, they left their SUV.
Benton pointed his chin toward an unmarked SUV as it arrived and parked nearby. Detectives Grotowski and Tilden got out and joined them.
“The gang’s all here. It’s all yours, Kim,” Benton said as a news helicopter thudded overhead.
Pierce took a moment to observe the vehicles, the lot, the dome security camera fixed to a light post; she took in the people at the tape, the news cameras, the sense of urgency.
She cautioned herself not to get caught up in the excitement and confusion, to remain calm. Focus on the work, because paramount to everything going on was the fact the investigation into a young person’s death was in her hands. Taking a deep breath of forest air, Pierce led the other detectives through the group toward the tape.
“Excuse me,” a woman, face taut with worry, said to Pierce. “Excuse me, who are you?”
Before she could answer, a man stepped closer to Pierce, saying loudly: “Are you in charge? Why’s the medical examiner here? What the hell happened?”
More people collected around them and another woman, her voice cracking with fear and anger said: “Our children are in there and they won’t let us see them!”
Pierce noticed that two TV cameras on the shoulders of newspeople were aimed at her. Other reporters were holding out phones, recording.
“Our son texted me.” A woman held up her phone, then pointed to the trail. “He said he thinks someone got killed and police are questioning our kids in there!”
“We demand to know what’s happening!” the loud-voiced man said. “It’s illegal for you to talk to our kids without us! You can’t detain them! We’ll get lawyers, we’ll sue!”
“Who are you?” a woman asked.
In a moment of silence Pierce jumped in, responding politely.
“I’m Detective Kim Pierce. I understand that you have questions and this is a troubling time. We’re investigating a report of an incident. I assure you, we have the authority to talk to your children, to gather information.”
“We demand to see our kids,” a woman said.
“I know,” Pierce said. “We’ll reunite you with them right here as soon as we’re done. I’m sorry, unfortunately that’s all we can say at this time.”
Pierce turned to the tape, which the deputy had lifted for her and the other detectives. Passing under it, another question followed her, one from a woman identifying herself as a reporter with a Seattle TV news channel.
“Detective Pierce,” she called, “can you confirm the age and sex of the victim?”
The air stilled as Pierce stopped, turned and sought the reporter. Mindful of the parents, the cameras and phones, she said: “I’m sorry but we can’t confirm anything at this time.”
Pierce and the detectives continued down the trail, tugging on gloves. Deputy Rob Hirano was waiting for them, ensuring they were out of hearing distance from the parking lot. A quick round of introductions, then for several minutes Hirano flipped through his notes, updating them on steps taken so far. He concluded by saying that the Sunny Days group was waiting at the day camp.
“They’re upset and want to leave. We’ve got paramedics and the medical examiner people here, and there are deputies and troopers to help with additional work.”
Then Hirano, his hands still gloved, passed a clear evidence bag holding a Washington State driver’s license to Pierce. Anna Catherine Shaw, aged seventeen, stared at Pierce from the photo.
“The ME got this,” he said.
Pierce signed an evidence tag, studied the license, then tucked it in her pocket and made notes.
“I read your summary on the drive out,” Pierce said. “The only person with her when she fell was Kaitlyn Jean Harmon, and she’s nine?”
“Yes. She goes by Katie.”
“What made you suspicious that this might not be an accident? You noted possibly deceptive responses, concerning Katie Harmon.”
“Yeah, she seemed a little evasive,” he said. “I could’ve been misreading her but I thought we should be thorough, bring you guys in.”
Pierce nodded and, while she made notes, Benton jumped in.
“Anna Shaw was taking a selfie when she fell, right?” he asked.
“That’s our understanding,” Hirano said.
“Look,” Benton said, “people are dying all over the world taking dangerous selfies. This is a tragic fall.”
Pierce shot Benton a look. “How about we let the investigation determine what this is, Carl?”
He held up his hands in surrender.
“Where is Katie Harmon now, Rob?” Pierce asked.
“At the camp, isolated. I’ve got a deputy with her.”
“And she’s not hurt?”
“Not physically. Paramedics assessed her. She’s pretty shaken up, though.”
“Alright, before we get going,” Pierce said. “Carl, Lyle—” she nodded to Tilden “—we need to contact the park owner. Arrange to collect any footage from the security camera in the lot. You guys go back, record all vehicle plates, and canvass for dash cams and phone photos in the lot. Then join us at the camp.”
“I thought I was partnered with you?” Benton said.
“Just go with Lyle,” she said.
“If it’s because I said I think this is an accident—”
“Carl—” Pierce stared at him, she didn’t have time for this, she had enough to deal with “—just go with Lyle.”
“You’re the lead.” Benton gave her a half-hearted salute.
“Rob,” Pierce said. “Walk us through Shaw’s steps to the point where she fell.”
Pierce used her phone to record a video as the small team moved along the trail. They reached the area, which was cordoned off with yellow tape. The deputy posted there acknowledged them. A few yards beyond the tape were two lone backpacks on the ground.
Beyond them, the cliff.
“Only me and one other deputy have gone in there since the supervisors were here. No one’s touched them,” Hirano said, pointing to the path they’d taken to the backpacks, lifting the tape for Pierce.
Continuing to record, she went to the backpacks, opening them, conducting a preliminary inventory and finding things like a hoodie, socks, jacket, a phone, earphones and a charger cord in the pocket of one. She also found granola bars, oranges, carrot sticks, apple slices, a water bottle, a small cosmetic pouch, tampons, mints, gum, hand sanitizer, lotion, bug spray, lip balm, a brush and a hair tie.
Pierce noted the contents, then surveyed the area. The section had patches of grass leading to a scattering of stones in the underbrush, then the forest. Near the backpacks she noticed a series of faint partial foot impressions in the soil, took photos and made notes, thinking they’d need casts made as soon as possible.
Then she went to the cliff.
Standing on the edge, Pierce looked out at the view that had cost Anna Shaw her life.
She looked down at the tree branch, some twenty feet below. The remainder of it extended like the twisted, gnarled fingers of a claw. She looked down farther to the riverbank, saw remnants of the branch. Near it on the ground, she saw the sheet over the body and investigators at the death scene.
“Can you get us down there, Rob?”
Hirano led them along the route the Sunny Days supervisors had used.
Several minutes later, Pierce and her group joined Cindy Lehman and Hilary Fung, with the ME’s Office. The investigators were suited and gloved, interrupting their work to bring Pierce up to date.
Fung said that they’d checked the body’s position, took its temperature and made note of the surroundings, the weather and initial witness statements relayed to them. They’d proceed to photograph the area and take measurements, then they’d take a look at the clifftop as well.
“The most obvious cause appears to be a fall,” Fung said. “But we’re not making any conclusions until after an autopsy. When we’re ready, we’ll get Search and Rescue to airlift her out to a secure area where we can transport her.”
Fung added: “We’ll make a positive ID through dental records, or fingerprints.”
“Thank you,” Pierce said. “I need to look at her.”
They moved closer and crouched down. Fung lifted the sheet and Pierce tensed at Anna Shaw’s arms and legs, which were horribly contorted. Blood was puddled at the back of her neck. Then Pierce met her eyes: frozen open, empty of life. It was clear from her driver’s license that this was Anna Catherine Shaw.
Pierce took photos of her face, her tattoos, the T-shirt with the embroidered motto, her torn jeans, her feet missing one shoe.
You only lived seventeen years on this earth. Was the picture worth your life, Anna? Is that what happened here?
Pierce wished for Anna’s soul to be at peace. Then she nodded to Fung, who lowered the sheet.
Pierce went to the edge of the scene where the two supervisors, Jackson Jones and Adam Patel, were sitting on the riverbank, waiting with Hirano. Interviewing them separately, Pierce obtained their accounts, noting the actions they took and the approximate time they took them.
“Did Anna Shaw say anything to you?” Pierce had asked each of them and in each case the answer was no.
Pierce returned to the death scene where the medical examiner investigators were working. She surveyed it all while taking a video. She saw the broken branch and, yards away, Anna’s other sneaker.
But something was missing.
She asked the investigators, then Hirano, then Jones and Patel if anyone had found Anna Shaw’s phone.
No one had.
Pierce walked along the riverbank, searching in vain. Then she looked at the rushing water before turning to Detective Larry Grotowski, who’d joined her.
“What do you think, Kim?”
“We need this scene and the cliff where she fell processed—and we need to grid the area, including the water, to find her phone.”
“I’ll make some calls,” Grotowski said.
“Good.”
Pierce took a breath. It was time to talk to Katie Harmon.
7
Near North Bend, Washington
Katie Harmon shivered in the breeze tumbling up from the river.
Someone had given her a University of Washington hoodie that was too big; she was swallowed by it.
With the hood up, Katie had leaned her head on a female deputy’s shoulder. They were sitting on the ground under a tree. Katie was watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs on the tablet the deputy was holding, the faint strains of a song sounding, “Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho...”
Pierce went to the paramedic who was nearby and took her aside.
“How’s Katie doing?” Pierce asked.
“Her numbers are still a bit elevated,” the paramedic said. “She’s cold, pale and anxious. We’re keeping her still and hydrated. She’s doing okay under the circumstances.”
“But she’s cognizant, right? I need to talk to her.”
“Yeah, it should be okay. I’ll stay close.”
“Did she say anything about the incident to you?”
“No. She asked me if Anna was dead. I said I didn’t know. She’s scared, she wants to go home.”
“Alright, thanks.”
Pierce’s mind raced on how best to interview Katie.
She’s the last person to see Anna Shaw alive.
Hirano had flagged her as possibly deceptive. Pierce needed detailed answers but knew that children who’d been traumatized by sudden tragic events could have distorted or impaired memories. Weighing it all, she went to Katie and sat on the grass with her as Grotowski joined them.
“Hi, Katie, I’m Detective Kim Pierce.”
Katie drew her knees to her chest, with Pierce making a mental note of how she’d started swaying slightly.
“This is Detective Larry Grotowski,” Pierce said as he sat with them. “He’s just recording a video of us. It’s part of our job,” Pierce said. Grotowski gave her a small friendly wave. “You can call him Larry. He’s got two daughters who are pretty much the same age as you. I have a son about your age, too. You can call me Kim. Okay?”
Brushing at tears, Katie said nothing.
Pierce reached into her pocket and passed Katie fresh tissues, which she accepted. As Katie wiped her face under the hood, Pierce saw Katie’s ice-blue eyes, the pretty side braids of her blond hair.
“I want my mom to take me home now.”
“She’s on her way.”
“Everyone says Anna’s dead—When I saw her at the bottom of the cliff—I thought—” She took shaky breaths. “Is she really dead?”
“Anna’s hurt bad, very bad, and there are a lot of things people have to do to take care of her. And we need you to help us. Do you think you can help us?”
Katie gave a weak shrug, tightened her arms around her knees, and this time she began rocking gently.
“I need you to be brave and strong so you can tell me everything that happened, okay?”
“But I told the other policeman everything.”
“I know, honey, but I need you to help me understand exactly what happened so we can take care of everything and get you home with your mom.”
Katie sobbed a little.
“I know, I know, Katie, this is so hard, but it’s important because nobody else was there but you.”
Katie continued rocking.
“Let’s start like this,” Pierce said. “What did you do when you got up at home this morning?”
