disappeared, he’d been drinking with a couple of guys out at White Marsh Park. He was dropped off at three in the morning and was seen walking up his front steps. No one has reported having seen him since that moment.”
“That doesn’t mean his mother killed him.”
“She admits she got into an argument with him that night after he came home. She admits everything, except the actual murder.” Brad folded his arms over his chest. “It’s good enough for the DA, Lorna. I’d think it would be good enough for you, especially since Melinda was your friend.”
“I don’t know, Brad. I just don’t see it.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
His radio squawked and he responded.
“Accident out there at the intersection.” He started to the door. “It’s gonna cause a major traffic jam. You might want to take one of the back roads home.”
Lorna stood in the lobby for a long minute, then followed him outside. She got into her car and fished around in the bottom of her bag for her keys, then remembered they were in her jeans pocket. When she started the ignition, the radio came on. She snapped it off, wanting silence, and drove home mechanically, without thinking where she was going, and got caught in the traffic jam Brad had warned her about.
Lorna sat behind a dark red pickup while the injured were loaded onto gurneys, her mind still trying to process everything Billie Eagan had told her.
That Billie and her mother had, over the years, become friends.
That Mary Beth had taken Billie in and given her a place to live. That she’d made sure Billie had food to eat and medical care, and the support she’d needed to overcome her addictions.
That Mary Beth had believed in Billie’s innocence.
Had she? Or was Billie just trying to find a sympathetic ear?
She was still debating that point when Brad waved her through the intersection.
F ive
When Lorna was in line to pay for her coffee at the mini-mart the next morning, a hand reached past her from behind and plunked down two quarters.
“County Herald.”
The man attached to the hand held up the newspaper for the clerk to see and turned to go on his way, but not before Lorna caught the headline.
“One large coffee?” the clerk asked.
“And one
Herald,
” Lorna said.
She picked up the paper on the way out of the store and folded it, carrying it under one arm till she reached the car. Once behind the wheel, she opened the paper and scanned the front page.
Callen Cops Catch Killer!
screamed the caption over the picture that sat right on the fold. In it, Billie Eagan was being led from her house in handcuffs, looking confused and tired. The story reiterated the disappearances of both of her children and the “facts” that led to her arrest.
This isn’t right,
Lorna told herself as she pulled out of the parking lot.
It just doesn’t feel right.
She read through the item again when she got home. She’d thought about Billie for much of last night, and had come to the conclusion that if her mother had been convinced of Billie’s innocence, there must be something there. But how to convince Chief Walker of that, without any evidence to the contrary?
And how to begin going about looking for something that could help Billie? Lorna wasn’t a lawyer, as Brad Walker had pointed out, and all she knew about investigating crime she’d learned from watching
CSI
and
Law & Order,
and her newest favorite,
Medium.
There were no psychics in Callen, that she was aware of, and she knew no sleuths to call upon for advice.
Not quite true,
she reminded herself as she sipped her coffee.
There is Regan Landry . . .
Regan, who had shared a flat in London with Lorna and six other girls one summer long ago, and who, following in the footsteps of her famous father, was making a name for herself as a major writer of true crime fiction.
While it had been years since the two women had seen each other, they had stayed in touch. Most recently, Lorna had
“That doesn’t mean his mother killed him.”
“She admits she got into an argument with him that night after he came home. She admits everything, except the actual murder.” Brad folded his arms over his chest. “It’s good enough for the DA, Lorna. I’d think it would be good enough for you, especially since Melinda was your friend.”
“I don’t know, Brad. I just don’t see it.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
His radio squawked and he responded.
“Accident out there at the intersection.” He started to the door. “It’s gonna cause a major traffic jam. You might want to take one of the back roads home.”
Lorna stood in the lobby for a long minute, then followed him outside. She got into her car and fished around in the bottom of her bag for her keys, then remembered they were in her jeans pocket. When she started the ignition, the radio came on. She snapped it off, wanting silence, and drove home mechanically, without thinking where she was going, and got caught in the traffic jam Brad had warned her about.
Lorna sat behind a dark red pickup while the injured were loaded onto gurneys, her mind still trying to process everything Billie Eagan had told her.
That Billie and her mother had, over the years, become friends.
That Mary Beth had taken Billie in and given her a place to live. That she’d made sure Billie had food to eat and medical care, and the support she’d needed to overcome her addictions.
That Mary Beth had believed in Billie’s innocence.
Had she? Or was Billie just trying to find a sympathetic ear?
She was still debating that point when Brad waved her through the intersection.
F ive
When Lorna was in line to pay for her coffee at the mini-mart the next morning, a hand reached past her from behind and plunked down two quarters.
“County Herald.”
The man attached to the hand held up the newspaper for the clerk to see and turned to go on his way, but not before Lorna caught the headline.
“One large coffee?” the clerk asked.
“And one
Herald,
” Lorna said.
She picked up the paper on the way out of the store and folded it, carrying it under one arm till she reached the car. Once behind the wheel, she opened the paper and scanned the front page.
Callen Cops Catch Killer!
screamed the caption over the picture that sat right on the fold. In it, Billie Eagan was being led from her house in handcuffs, looking confused and tired. The story reiterated the disappearances of both of her children and the “facts” that led to her arrest.
This isn’t right,
Lorna told herself as she pulled out of the parking lot.
It just doesn’t feel right.
She read through the item again when she got home. She’d thought about Billie for much of last night, and had come to the conclusion that if her mother had been convinced of Billie’s innocence, there must be something there. But how to convince Chief Walker of that, without any evidence to the contrary?
And how to begin going about looking for something that could help Billie? Lorna wasn’t a lawyer, as Brad Walker had pointed out, and all she knew about investigating crime she’d learned from watching
CSI
and
Law & Order,
and her newest favorite,
Medium.
There were no psychics in Callen, that she was aware of, and she knew no sleuths to call upon for advice.
Not quite true,
she reminded herself as she sipped her coffee.
There is Regan Landry . . .
Regan, who had shared a flat in London with Lorna and six other girls one summer long ago, and who, following in the footsteps of her famous father, was making a name for herself as a major writer of true crime fiction.
While it had been years since the two women had seen each other, they had stayed in touch. Most recently, Lorna had
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