“What is it, Aline?” Mike asked quickly.
“Kerry sent that text at 11:02 A.M. I saw on her credit card bill that she went to a diner that morning and met someone for breakfast. The waitress remembered Kerry clearly and said the girl she was with had been crying. I brought pictures of Kerry’s friends. She immediately identified who was at the breakfast with Kerry.”
“Who is it?”
“The name won’t mean anything to you. It’s Valerie Long. She’s the one I told you about. She played on the lacrosse team with Kerry. From what I understand Kerry had taken her under her wing, and she’s heartbroken about Kerry’s death. Judging from the time element, Kerry sent me that text very shortly after the breakfast ended.”
“Do you have any idea what they spoke about?”
“No, but I’m going to find a reason to get Valerie into my office on Monday and see if she’ll talk about it.”
“Aline, if that girl said anything to Kerry that might have revealed something tied into her death, it could be very dangerous for you. My suggestion is that you call the girl into your office, tell her that you know that she had breakfast that morning with Kerry and try to make her understand that Kerry was going to tell you whatever it was that she and Valerie discussed. Tell her that Kerry intended to tell you about the conversation and that Kerry would want her to share it with you at your meeting. We can talk about whether it makes sense for me to interview this girl.”
“That’s what I want to do,” Aline said. “Thank you, Mike.”
“Aline, I’ve enjoyed the times we’ve had dinner together. When this case is over—”
“Yes,” Aline interrupted, “I want you to ask me out.”
72
On Sunday morning, after the ten o’clock Mass, Aline had made breakfast and was enjoying the peace and quiet as she read the papers. She found herself putting off the work she had brought home from school. One more cup of coffee, she thought, and then an hour at the gym, and then I’ll plow through it.
As she was getting up from the table, the home phone rang. The caller ID showed “Private.” She picked it up.
“Aline Dowling, is that you?”
“Yes, it is. Who’s calling?”
“Aline, this is Marina Long. I’m so sorry to call you at home, and I don’t have your cell number.”
“Absolutely no problem, Marina. I was thinking about you and Valerie the other day. She wasn’t in school on Friday. Is everything okay?”
There was a pause before Marina answered. “No, well yes, things are better now.”
“Marina, I can tell you’re upset. What happened?”
“Valerie tried to take her life on Friday—”
“Oh, my God, is she all right?”
“Yes, I was in the hospital with her all day Friday. They kept her overnight. A hospital psychiatrist came and spoke to her the next morning. He said it was okay for us to bring her home. She slept most of yesterday and seems to be doing better today. I’m so worried about her. I think she might need to stay home and rest a few more days.”
“Marina, don’t worry about that. I’ll work things out with her teachers. Do you mind if I come to visit her? I can do it right now. I promise I’ll only stay a few minutes.”
“I know how concerned you are. Of course, stop over.”
• • •
A ghostly pale Valerie was propped up on the couch in the den with pillows behind her, a blanket covering her. Aline went over, hugged her and pulled up a chair.
“Valerie, we’re all so worried about you. If anything had happened to you, our hearts would have been broken. I just want you to know that we love you dearly and want to help you in any way we can. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”
Valerie looked at her. “Don’t you understand? I can’t talk to you,” she cried fiercely as she looked away.
Aline went back home. As soon as she was in the door, she called Mike. Unable to reach him, she left a message about visiting Valerie after her suicide attempt.
After returning from a jog around Schlegel Lake, Mike listened to his messages. He immediately tried to call Aline, who didn’t pick up. He wasn’t sure why, but every instinct told him that Kerry’s breakfast meeting with Valerie was somehow linked to what would happen to Kerry that night.
Time is of the essence, he thought. Two suspects are twisting in the wind waiting for this case to be resolved. He searched online and found a listing, including the street address, for a Long in Saddle River. There was only one.
He called the colleague he wanted to come with him. Yes, she could meet him there later if he was able to set it up.
Twenty minutes later Mike’s cell phone rang. It was Aline. “Sorry I missed your call. I left my phone at home when I went to the gym.”
“Aline, I’m getting very worried that Kerry’s death may have had something to do with that breakfast meeting with Valerie at the diner. Especially since this kid has now tried to kill herself. I don’t want to wait another minute. A female detective can meet me there. She is very sensitive and experienced. I’m asking you to call Valerie’s parents and see if I can go to their home later today. They trust you. I think it would be better if you make the phone call.”
“I’ll call right now and get right back to you.”
Ten minutes later Aline called back. “Mike, it took a little persuading because they feel Valerie is so fragile. They agreed that you could come at six tonight as long as you stop right away if she gets too upset.”
“Aline, thanks so much. I owe you a dinner. How about tonight, seven-thirty, eight o’clock? I’ll come straight from Valerie’s.”
“We’re on.”
73
Looking forward to seeing Mike, Aline showered and went to her closet. She chose a navy-blue silk blouse over fitted jeans. She had just finished her makeup when her phone rang. The name on the screen surprised her. “Hello, Mrs. Chapman.”
“Is this Aline Dowling?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Aline, my name is Brenda Niemeier. I’m a close friend of Marge’s. This is her phone. She asked me to call you.”
“Is Mrs. Chapman okay?”
Aline heard the woman fighting off tears as she spoke. “I’m over at Pascack Valley Hospital. It looks like Marge had a heart attack. She had instructions in her pocketbook that I should be called in an emergency and help make decisions if she can’t.”
“Oh my God,” Aline said. Part of her was not surprised. She could only imagine the strain Marge must have been under these past weeks. “Brenda, what can I do to help?”
“When I saw Marge before they took her in for surgery, she was so worried about Jamie. She asked if you could go over and be with him for a little while. Tell him everything will be all right. Maybe help him fix something for dinner. Marge is so worried that if anything happens to her now, who will be there for Jamie?”
“Tell Marge of course I will. Please call me as soon as you get any updates on her condition.”
“I will, honey. Marge always told me how nice your family is, and how lucky she is to have you as neighbors.”
Aline said goodbye, disconnected and immediately called Mike. She told him about Marge being in the hospital. “I’m going over to spend some time with Jamie. Meet me later at the Chapman house.”
“Okay, but meet me outside. Remember, I’m not allowed to talk to Jamie anymore.”
74
While driving to Valerie’s home, Mike called Detective Angela Walker, who was also en route. He explained the sequence of events that began with finding Kerry in her family pool. Mike told her that he strongly believed something had happened at the breakfast the morning of Kerry’s death that resulted in her sending Aline the very important text immediately afterward.
There was a specific reason Mike had reached out to Angela. An African American woman who had just turned forty, she had an extraordinary ability to push the right buttons to get young people to talk. He had personal
ly observed her toughness in staring down an eighteen-year-old drug dealer during an interrogation and her incredible compassion when talking to a ten-year-old boy who had witnessed his parents’ murder. If there was a way to get Valerie to open up, she would find it.
Marina Long greeted them at the door. She showed them into the den where Valerie was sitting up on a couch with two pillows behind her back and a blanket over her. “Wayne and I will be in the other room if you need us,” Marina said as she left.
Mike and Angela settled in the two chairs opposite Valerie. Her eyes looked puffy and sad. After briefly making eye contact with him and Angela, she stared straight ahead.
“Valerie,” Mike said, “let me begin by asking, how you are doing?”
“I’m okay,” she said quietly.
“This is Detective Angela Walker. She’s working with me on the Kerry Dowling case.”
Valerie continued to stare straight ahead.
“Valerie,” Mike said, “I know that Kerry Dowling was your friend. I know how terrible it is to lose a friend. I’m sure that you want whoever hurt Kerry to be brought to justice.”
She continued to stare off into the distance, but her face grew harder.
“Valerie, at eleven o’clock in the morning on the day Kerry died, she sent a text to her sister Aline, who was in England at the time. Kerry said she had something very important to talk to her about. She sent that text right after she had breakfast at the Coach House diner in Hackensack. Did you have breakfast with Kerry that morning?”
“No,” Valerie said as she pulled the blanket higher, almost to her neck.
“Valerie, the waitress at the diner was shown pictures of Kerry’s friends. She identified you as the girl who was with Kerry.”
Valerie shook her head back and forth as tears began to form in her eyes. Her breathing became heavier. Her hands were balled into fists.
Mike was about to ask another question when he felt Angela’s hand on his arm. He knew without being told that it was her signal that she wanted to take over.
“Valerie, honey, would you mind if I sit with you on the couch? I like being close to people when I talk to them.”
Without waiting for an answer, Angela moved to the couch. Valerie slid over to make room for her.
“That’s better,” Angela said, facing Valerie from barely two feet away. “How old are you, Valerie?”
“Sixteen.”
“Sixteen,” Angela said. “I have a daughter who’s seventeen. She’s a lot like you. A pretty girl. Really good at sports.”
“What’s her name?” Valerie asked.
“Penelope. She hates that name. Insists everybody call her Penny. She says Penelope is a clown’s name.”
A faint trace of a smile came across Valerie’s face.
“She’s like you in another way too. When she’s got something bothering her, it’s really hard for her to talk about it. She bottles things up inside her.”
Valerie looked away from Angela.
“Valerie, honey,” Angela said. “I want you to look at me. Look right in my eyes.”
Valerie turned her head back.
“And I want to hold your hands. Is that okay?”
Valerie nodded as Angela’s hands enveloped hers.
“Keep looking at me, honey. I know you have something terrible inside you. The only way things are gonna get better is if you let it out.”
Valerie shook her head.
“Valerie, you’re safe now. Whatever’s hurting you or making you afraid, you can make it stop,” Angela said as she brushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen across the girl’s face.
“I can’t,” Valerie whispered in a soft, almost childlike voice.
“Yes, you can, honey. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
Valerie’s breathing became faster as tears filled both eyes.
“It’s okay, honey. You’re safe.”
“He’s raping me!” Valerie screamed, and began to convulse in sobs as she fell into Angela’s embrace.
75
Aline hurried past the patio, through her backyard and around the hedges to Marge’s property. It was an unusually cool, cloudy evening, and the sun was just disappearing below the horizon.
Aline could see the light on in the upstairs room that she knew was Jamie’s. Through an open window she could hear the audio from a program he was watching. She rang the doorbell, waited, but got no response.
Walking back into the yard she shouted up to Jamie’s room. He appeared at the window and said she could come up.
As Aline ascended the stairs, she tried to remember that last time she had babysat her special neighbor. Almost ten years ago, she thought.
The force of Aline’s knocks on Jamie’s door was enough to open it. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The TV was off now. As she looked at Jamie, it was clear that he had been crying.
“My mom’s in the hospital,” he said. “She went in the ambulance. She’s gonna die and go to Heaven with my dad.”
Aline sat on the edge of the bed. “Jamie, a lot of people who go to the hospital get better, and they come home. We have to hope and pray that your mom gets better, and that everything will be okay.”
“Mom is in the hospital because I’m bad. I’m going to jail, because I did a bad thing. I went swimming with Kerry.”
Tears began streaming down Jamie’s face. His body shook as he cried softly.
Oh my God, Aline thought. He doesn’t even understand what they think he did.
Aline ran her hands up and down his arms. Jamie’s long, strong arms reached up and enveloped her in a hug. It was tight, almost painfully so. Despite what he was saying, she could not believe this gentle creature could have hurt Kerry. Was this an opportunity to find out what really happened to her sister?
After giving him a moment or two to calm down, Aline stood up and went over to the window. The lights in her backyard had just come on and illuminated the murky twilight.
Her mind returned to a psychology course she had taken in college. A particularly interesting lecture dealt with the strategy of having child victims reenact the traumas they had undergone as a way to cope with and master them. Was the night of Kerry’s death a traumatic experience for Jamie? Had anyone asked him to relate what happened in a way that would allow him to tell the story?
“Jamie, have you had dinner yet?”
“No.”
“Is Chinese food still your favorite?”
“Sesame chicken, white rice and wonton soup,” Jamie said, a smile returning to his face.
“Okay, I’m going to order Chinese food for you after we play a little game. We’re going to pretend it’s the night of Kerry’s party.”
They began with Jamie looking out the back window. “Kerry had a party,” he said. “Everybody went home and Kerry was by herself.”
“So Kerry was alone. What was she doing?”
“She was cleaning up. Then Alan Crowley came over. He likes Kerry. He kissed her and hugged her.”
Pointing to her backyard, Aline asked, “Where did Alan come from?”
Jamie seemed confused by the questions. Aline took his hand. “Come on. We’re going over to my yard. I want you to show me everything you did that night and everything you saw.”
76
For the full minute that Valerie cried, Angela held on as the girl buried her head in her shoulder.
“Who is it, Valerie?” Angela asked. “Who did this to you?”
“I can’t tell. I told Kerry and she’s dead. It’s my fault.”
Her voice had reached a crescendo of fear and grief. Angela began rocking her. “Valerie, Valerie, you’re safe, honey. You’re safe.”
Marina and Wayne had heard her screaming “He’s raping me!” and rushed into the room. “Valerie, Valerie!” Marina cried.
Mike was staring at Wayne. Aline had told him that Valerie seemed to resent her stepfather. Was he the one doing this to her?
/> As Wayne rushed to Valerie, Mike sprang up. Wayne dropped to his knees beside the couch. “Valerie, baby, tell us who did this to you. You need to tell us.”
“It’s, it’s, my coach, Scott Kimball. He did it. He won’t stop.”
“The coach,” Marina exclaimed. “My God, we let him come in here this afternoon. He was so concerned about Valerie. We even let him talk to her alone.”
“He warned me not to say anything to anybody. He said, ‘Aline should remember what happened to Kerry,’ ” Valerie sobbed.
Wayne stood up. “I’ll kill him,” he said, his voice deadly quiet.
Mike was as dumbfounded as the others. Scott Kimball must have somehow found out that Valerie had confided in Kerry. He took out his cell phone, went to Contacts and tapped Aline’s cell number. She didn’t pick up. Is she in trouble? “I have to check on Aline,” he said abruptly.
“Go,” Angela said. “I’ve got things covered here.”
He rushed out of the room, ran out the door and to his car. As he was driving he called the Saddle River Police. “Send units immediately to the Chapman house, 15 Waverly Road. Scott Kimball, white male, early thirties, a rapist, and probably a murderer, might be there.”
77
They walked downstairs, out the back door and across the lawn. As they entered the Dowling property, Jamie stopped. He bent his head down and started walking around, looking at the grass.
“Jamie, what are you doing?”
“It’s not here,” he said.
“What’s not here?” Aline asked.
“The golf club. It was on the grass.”
“Wait here, Jamie.”
Aline sprinted around to the garage, grabbed a club, brought it back to where Jamie was standing and handed it to him.
“It was here,” he said, putting the club in the grass, and then picking it back up. “I wanted to help Kerry clean up.”