Everything She Feared, page 4
“I had a sleepover at Anna’s last night.”
“You woke up at Anna’s house?”
“Anna’s my babysitter.”
“How long has she babysat you?”
“A long time, I guess.”
“A couple months, a year, longer?”
“A year, I guess. She wanted to help today and we got up early.”
Pierce nodded, encouraging her to keep talking.
“We got a ride to Sunny Days and got on the bus with everybody.”
“Where did you sit?”
“In the back.”
“Did you and Anna talk?”
“Yes, about music and stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“She just broke up with Tanner, her boyfriend.”
“Tanner? What’s Tanner’s last name?”
“Bishop, I think.”
“Was she sad about that?”
“Yes, I guess, but she was happy to be on the trip.”
“Okay, were there any incidents, anything that happened on the bus?”
Thinking about the question, Katie stared down at the ground and shook her head.
“Are you sure?” Pierce asked.
“Nothing happened.”
“Okay, okay, you’re doing good, Katie. What happened when the bus got here?”
Katie gave a little shrug. “We were the last to get our backpacks and get off and follow everybody down the trail. The others were pretty far ahead.”
“Was anyone else walking with you?”
Katie shook her head. “They were far ahead.”
“It was just you and Anna alone?”
“Yes, well, there were butterflies, birds, and we saw a rabbit.”
“What did you talk about?”
“How pretty it was. Anna was taking pictures.”
“So you’re walking from the bus. Do you meet or see anyone else?”
“No.”
“So, it’s just you and Anna. Then what?”
Blinking, Katie said, “We came to the cliff part.”
“Then what?”
Katie looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers.
“Anna says, oh, it’s so beautiful here, Katie, I want to take a selfie.”
“A selfie? That’s what she said?”
“Yes.”
“Alright.”
“We took off our backpacks to stay there for a bit. She got her phone.” Katie nodded at no one. “And I said—” her voice softened to a whisper “—I said, okay, be careful, Anna.”
“You said that?”
“Yes, because of the cliff.”
“Those were your exact words?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
“She turned around and started walking backward to get a better picture from the cliff.” Katie wrung her hands and licked her lips. “I said be careful but she kept saying it was so beautiful and stepped back and then—”
Catching her breath, Katie forced the words out.
“She just fell, she screamed, she wasn’t there anymore!”
Katie stared straight ahead, focusing on nothing. “But I heard her voice. I looked over the cliff and she was hanging on to this tree that was sticking out. She was begging me to get help! I was so scared I didn’t know what to do! So I ran!”
Katie sobbed, her voice weakening to a whisper.
“I got here and I screamed for help. Jackson, Adam and Connie came, but when we got to the cliff—” Katie’s face creased in anguish. She clenched her eyes shut. “I saw Anna at the bottom on the rocks. It was awful!”
A long moment passed before Katie resumed speaking.
“I want my mom! I want my mom to take me home now!”
“We’re almost done,” Pierce said.
“Please!”
“Only a few more things to help us, sweetie,” Pierce said. “Now, when you ran for help, was Anna still holding on to the branch?”
“Yes.”
“Was Anna holding her phone at the time she fell?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did you see where it went?”
Katie shook her head.
“Did you take any pictures with your phone?”
“No, mine was in my backpack. Anna took better pictures.”
“Did you see or hear anyone else near you when Anna fell, or at any point after you got help?”
“No.”
“Did you see if she slipped on anything?”
“No.”
“Was it windy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you have any arguments or disagreements with Anna before this happened?”
“No.”
“Not even a little one?”
“No, she’s my friend.”
“Did Anna say anything before she fell?”
“Just that she wanted a picture—” Katie struggled with her words “—and, and, and I kept telling her—” Katie’s voice broke. “I kept telling her to be careful.”
Pierce let a long moment pass, then patted Katie’s arm.
“Katie, you did good helping us. We’re done for now. We’ll let the paramedics take a look at you, and then we’ll get you home.”
Pierce left Katie with the paramedic and the deputy, stepping away to review her notes, taking a deep breath and surveying the other kids.
They were huddled in groups, some talking with deputies and troopers. Some consoled each other in a portrait of despair.
An innocent outing ended in tragedy. At least, that’s what it looks like, Pierce thought as her phone rang.
It was Benton. She answered.
“Pierce.”
“Anna Shaw’s parents have arrived in the parking lot,” he said. “Word’s getting out. They need to know.”
“Did you tell them anything, Carl?”
“No, you’re the lead.”
She pressed the phone harder to her ear and steeled herself for what she had to do next.
“I’m on my way.”
8
Near North Bend, Washington
Worry was etched in Lynora Shaw’s face.
She clutched her phone over her heart; her other hand dug into her husband’s arm.
The backs of Chuck Shaw’s tanned hands were scarred, splotched with dried concrete after rushing from a jobsite. His eyes like bullet tips drilling into Pierce.
Whenever she faced the families of victims in the moment their lives would be changed forever, details would burn into her memory—like a nick on someone’s chin from shaving that morning, or the way fists banged down on kitchen tables, or how people recoiled, staggering from her with aching groans, refusing to let the horror in.
These moments would haunt Pierce on sleepless nights, in quiet pauses of her day.
For her, this was the hardest part of her job, but one of the most important, and today she was determined to do the best she could under the circumstances. Rumors were flying among parents in the parking lot who were reading texts from their kids still in the day camp. Speculation was swirling in news and social media posts.
Pierce had requested Anna Shaw’s parents be taken to a far corner of the lot between emergency trucks and an ambulance, and that the section be cordoned off with tape, shielding them from media and others. She wanted to afford them some privacy.
Benton and Tilden had escorted the Shaws and their in-laws to the area. The two paramedics with the ambulance had been alerted and stood ready nearby. Minutes later Pierce arrived with Grotowski and Hirano, and as she neared Anna Shaw’s mother and father, she began absorbing their demeanor, locking in details and readying herself.
“I’m Anna Shaw’s mother,” Lynora said to Pierce. “Where is she?”
“Are you in charge?” Chuck said. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Is Anna hurt? People here are saying things!” Lynora’s eyes searched Pierce’s. “Tell us what’s happened!”
Reading their faces, Pierce knew that they knew.
The families always knew just before they were told. They knew from the police activity, the scope, its intensity, the overpowering alarm in the air. They knew. But they didn’t want to know. They begged to Heaven that they were wrong, because like every parent, deep in their hearts, they prayed that it couldn’t be true—that the worst thing in the world wasn’t happening.
But they knew it was.
And it was Pierce’s job to tell them.
“I’m Detective Kim Pierce—” she started.
But Chuck Shaw pressed on. “Listen,” he said, fear and anger carved deep into his face. “Lynora gets a call from a parent that something’s happened to Anna. I leave my work site, get her at the bank—the whole time we’re driving here no one’s telling us a damn thing!” Shaw cast around at the distant helicopter. “Are you going to tell us?”
Pierce blinked several times, her eyes softening as she reached into her pocket and showed them Anna’s driver’s license.
Lynora’s hands flew to her mouth.
“Mr. and Mrs. Shaw, is this your daughter, Anna Catherine Shaw?”
Lynora clamped her eyes shut, squeezing out thick streams of tears.
“Yes,” Chuck said, his voice shattering.
“I’m so sorry, but I have bad news.”
“Oh, God, no!” The words scraped up Lynora’s throat.
The man and woman behind the Shaws, Lynora’s sister and her husband, stepped closer, putting their hands on their shoulders.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you,” Pierce said calmly, her voice firm but warm. “Anna was on a cliff when she fell a great distance. She was so badly hurt she didn’t survive. I’m so sorry.”
Lynora crumpled. Chuck, his brother-in-law and Lynora’s sister caught her. Then a soft moaning escaped from Lynora’s very marrow, growing into a banshee wail that exploded from the enclave, blowing out over the parking lot, knifing through the trees and shooting into the sky. Chuck held her, a deep low groan quaking through him.
Paramedics had already opened the rear doors of their ambulance and, with the help of Lynora’s sister and her husband, they got the Shaws seated on the rear entrance.
Pierce and the others stood with them, helpless. Paramedics shrouded the couple with a blanket. Lynora’s sister lowered herself, rubbing Lynora’s and Chuck’s legs, minutes passing, their grief consuming them.
Lynora’s face was buried in Chuck’s chest. He held her head, his eyes blank, until his jaw began working, trying to push out words.
“How—how—Why did she fall?”
Pierce looked into his anguished face.
“A witness told us she was taking a selfie.”
“A selfie?” he repeated in a weakened voice. “A selfie? Our daughter died because of a freaking selfie?” He shook his head. “Who was the witness who saw her?”
Pierce hesitated, but decided to tell them. They’d find out soon enough.
“Katie Harmon.”
Chuck shut his eyes, nodding. “Anna babysits Katie. She slept at our house last night for this trip. They were up early with me. I drove them to the Sunny Days bus.” He dragged a hand over his face. “The last thing Anna said to me was ‘love you, Dad.’”
He began sobbing.
Lynora lifted her head, speaking as if her words were too heavy.
“I have to see Anna. Where is she—take me to her.”
“I’m so sorry,” Pierce said. “But it’s not possible at this time.”
“Why not?” Chuck asked. “She’s our daughter. We want to see her.”
“The medical examiner’s team is with her. And at this time, with these cases, it’s procedure for the medical examiner’s team to transport her to their office at Harborview. Their staff will talk to you there, at their office on Jefferson, about next steps and arrangements.”
Pierce allowed a few seconds, then made eye contact with the Shaws’ brother-in-law.
“Would you be able to take them to Harborview?”
“Yes, we can take them,” he said.
“Mr. and Mrs. Shaw,” Pierce said, “we’ll investigate further to answer all the questions about what’s happened to Anna. We’re sorry for your loss. Our condolences.”
The Shaws may have nodded in thanks, or not.
It didn’t matter.
They held each other tighter under the blanket, pulling even closer, fused in their pain.
Pierce touched each of them on the shoulder before stepping away.
She found a private space where she took a deep breath and kept herself together before resuming her work.
This was the part of the job she hated the most, because each time she told a mother, father, husband, wife, sister, brother or friend that a loved one was dead, a piece of her died, too.
9
Near North Bend, Washington
Sara Harmon slowed her Trailblazer at the entrance booth for Sparrow Song Park.
No one was inside.
She accelerated past it down the paved ribbon of road, her pulse racing, glancing at her phone for updates, finding none. A helicopter thudded by low to the treetops, hammering her with dread.
I’ve got to find Katie and bring her home.
Earlier, that was all Sara could think about while she drove along the interstate, weaving her SUV around cars and trucks. Using the hands-free option and voice commands on her phone, she’d sent a barrage of messages to learn more about what had happened.
Back at the diner, in that first text, Connie Atkinson, one of the supervisors, had said there’d been a terrible incident at the camp and that Sara should come right away. After that, Connie’s messages were sporadic. The next said: There’s been a tragedy. Katie’s shaken but okay.
Tragedy? Katie’s shaken? What kind of tragedy?
Sara’s request to speak with Katie went unanswered.
Sara’s calls to Katie’s phone went unanswered.
Sara’s calls to Connie’s phone went unanswered.
Sara’s calls to Anna’s phone went unanswered.
Tragedy? What tragedy?
Then, in Connie’s most recent message, she’d instructed Sara to wait for Katie at the police line in the parking lot at the trailhead.
Police line? Dear God!
Now Sara was losing her mind as she came to the lot. The havoc of emergency vehicles, their lights flashing, with news trucks, cameras and people gathered at one end.
No spots were available. She parked on the shoulder, grabbed her keys, her phone, her bag and, still in her dark shirt and dark jeans for work, she ran.
Sara rushed to the end of the parking lot and the trailhead, where she’d glimpsed yellow police tape. Distraught parents were leaving with their kids, comforting them while walking to their cars. She pinballed from group to group, searching for Katie and for Anna, asking about them. No one knew anything.
Why hasn’t Anna contacted me? She’s so responsible.
Seeing TV reporters interviewing people, urgency mounting, Sara went to the nearest camera. Its lens and bright light were aimed at a woman holding a boy close to her. She was among a small group, talking to a woman who had coiffed hair, lots of makeup, and was gripping a microphone.
“From what we’re hearing,” the woman was telling the reporter, “a girl fell from a cliff and died...”
“Who fell?” Sara asked others nearby. “Does anyone know who fell?” Most shrugged. Sara said a bit louder, “Please, I need to know!”
The reporter, watching from the corner of her eye, stepped toward her, thrusting the microphone toward her face. The camera and light were now on Sara.
“Excuse me,” the reporter said. “Would you talk to us?”
Anger and fear rising in her throat, Sara shook her head and moved off, bumping and shouldering her way toward the police line and the deputies there.
“Can you please help me?” Sara said to a deputy with a clipboard. “I was told to come here to get my daughter.”
“Yes, ma’am. Her name?”
“Katie Harmon. Kaitlyn Jean Harmon, she’s nine, with the Sunny Days group.”
He focused on the name sheet, then said, “Your name, ma’am?”
“Sara Harmon. I’m her mother.”
“Could you show me some identification?”
Sara withdrew her driver’s license from her wallet. The deputy then flipped to a page and turned the clipboard and his pen to her.
“Sign here.” He tapped a spot.
After she signed, he stepped away, turning, reaching for his shoulder microphone and saying something into it. Then to Sara, “Please stand aside, ma’am. They’ll bring her out shortly.”
“Can you tell me what’s happened?”
“I’m not authorized, ma’am.”
Sara nearly choked on her words.
“My daughter’s in there! Tell me! Is she alright? Tell me!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have any information. Please stand to one side.”
Stunned, Sara moved trance-like, watching other parents getting their kids. Some parents she knew, like Daria Ahmadi, who’d worked at the diner years ago.
Daria was helping her daughter, Leila, who was about eleven, pass under the tape.
“Daria.” Sara touched her arm. “What’s happened?”
“Oh, Sara. It’s awful, just awful. It’s going around that one of the children was killed.”
“Oh, my God, no! Who? Do you know who?”
“No, Mom,” Leila said through tears. “It was a supervisor.”
“A supervisor? Who?” Sara asked.
The deputy stepped closer, saying, “Ladies, I’m sorry, but you need to keep moving. Please.”
“We have to go, Sara,” Daria said.
Her mind racing, Sara stepped back, clasping her hands together, entwining her fingers and touching her knuckles to her lips as if in prayer. Then a man and woman wearing jackets with SHERIFF on the back arrived. They spoke quietly with the deputy at the tape, then followed his gaze to Sara before approaching her.
