Page 4 of 4th Silence (Schock Sisters Mystery #4)

Meg

W e follow Alex to his office, filing in while Matt takes up the rear.

The space is a shoebox—barely wide enough to hold all of us—and exactly what I expected: bland gray walls, a metal-framed desk, and a crowded bookshelf in the corner. Most likely law books, given the setting.

Charlie takes one of the guest chairs, also metal, in front of the desk. I take the other, while Matt leans against the wall to my right.

After we’re seated, Alex waves a hand at the door. “Would you mind closing that?”

“Sure,” Matt says, stepping sideways to do as asked.

Alex, tall and lean, sits back in his chair. “I appreciate you coming by, and your apology. Obviously, this case creates stress for my family. My mother, particularly.”

His mother? Tiffany’s aunt? What about her parents?

Typical . The Hartmans are masters of self-promotion. So self-consumed.

I’m not denying their pain, but how about even an ounce of sympathy for Tiffany’s immediate family?

Suddenly, all eyes are on me, and my sister gives me a WTF glare. I must have made a noise or some other signal of my irritation.

Charlie, being Charlie, swings back to Alex. “I can imagine the attention is unnerving. Believe me, I know how persistent our mother can be. This is why we’ve agreed to help her in her pursuits.”

Alex’s eyebrows hitch a tad higher. “Help her? As in investigate?”

“Yes,” I say. “As you know, we specialize in this sort of thing, and the sooner we can get into it, maybe we can help find your cousin’s killer.”

“That,” Alex says, “would be amazing. We’ve hired investigators over the years, but unfortunately, nothing has panned out.”

“Perhaps now, with all the advancements in DNA testing and getting the word out via social media, something will pop.”

“The online sleuths. Sometimes they make me insane.”

“Half of them are quacks,” Charlie says. “But some? Damned good. You never know.”

He lifts a hand. “How can I help?”

Excellent. I lean forward. “Could you take us through what you remember from that night?”

“Of course. But, unfortunately, I don’t know that it’ll help. There were over two hundred people there. I was only nine and just wanted to get to the presents. I didn’t like all the people in the house. It wasn’t, still isn’t, my thing.”

“Do you remember where you were when Tiffany was found?”

He glances in Matt’s direction. “You don’t forget something like that. I was upstairs in the study with two of my friends. Playing video games. I’d just gotten a new PlayStation.” He smiles wistfully. “Life was simple then. After that night, everything changed.”

“I’m sure,” I say. “Tragedy blows up your world.”

He meets my gaze. “You sound like you understand.”

“Not in the intimate way you’ve experienced, but I’ve been through traumatic events. Plus, when I was in sixth grade, nine kids from our area went missing. They’ve never been found. Fear and paranoia gripped me. I still have nightmares.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice soft and kind.

Feeling the punch of the memories, I shake my head. “Like you, it was a long time ago.”

“What about,” Charlie begins, “the investigation? From what we know, there were a lot of people involved.”

“I’ve gone over the files and reports a dozen times,” he says. “Frankly, it’s a mess. Procedures back then weren’t as rigid as they are now, and, let’s face it, the local PD wasn’t exactly experienced in homicides.”

I know this, just from my surface knowledge of the case, is true. First responders, in an effort to offer aid to Tiffany, trampled through the crime scene, leaving mud, finger and footprints, and DNA all over the place.

I’d heard about this from Mom just this morning. Her outrage over the contamination. “Given your familiarity, what are your thoughts about the possibility of reopening the case?”

“It’s still an open cold case. We simply haven’t had any new evidence that would warrant putting an investigator on it full-time. All the evidence collected so far has been reviewed, including by me. If I thought something was missed, I’d be all over it. I can promise you that.”

Beside me, Matt shifts, angling his body and propping a shoulder against the wall. “You mentioned the DNA. It’s been thirty years. There’s a genetic genealogy research lab we use. They have cutting-edge technology. Why not bring them in? See what they can and can’t do with what you have.”

“We’ve discussed it,” he says.

“And?”

He swings his gaze to me. “It’s expensive.” His hand immediately goes up. “From a government funding perspective. We can’t ask taxpayers to take that on. And, yes, my family has money. We’ve discussed it, though my mother has concerns about giving my aunt and uncle false hope.”

Oh. Puh-lease . False hope, my butt. Mary Hartman, matriarch of the famed Hartman clan, wants to avoid the very thing my mother has just done.

Media frenzy.

Reporters hanging out at the Hartman gate and annoying the snooty neighbors who want to keep the riffraff out.

“You have to agree,” I say, “the lack of closure on this case is a stain on not only the police department but the DA’s office as well. Not to mention getting justice for your cousin.”

My sister reaches for me, giving my arm a gentle squeeze. She wants me to back off. To tone it down.

Catch more flies with honey .

I’ve always hated that saying.

Still, she might be right here. Alienating a Deputy DA, not to mention a family member of the victim, might not be my best approach.

I shake off my thoughts. “Sorry,” I blurt. “I’m tired, and these unsolved cases, particularly ones involving children, get me riled.”

Alex’s dark eyes meet my gaze. “No apology necessary. I completely understand. Doing what I do, it’s hard to stomach.”

“What about the panic room?” Matt asks. “What was the deal with that?”

Alex shifts to Matt. “It was a safety measure. My mother’s idea, in case we had an emergency. There’s an underground tunnel that connects to a cottage on the property. Say, in case of a fire or an intruder, we had an escape.”

How very Clue-like.

Charlie makes a slow circle with her hand. “So, it could be used as a safe room or an escape route?”

“Right. Though we’ve never had to use it.”

An underground tunnel? Was that really necessary? I mean, these people were rich, but it wasn’t as if the president was in residence.

“Forgive me,” I say, “but it seems kind of …”

“Extreme?” Alex adds helpfully with a faint chuckle.

“It is. It was. At the time, my family was receiving threats due to Hartman Enterprises’ financial issues and necessary layoffs.

As Charlie knows, there are many unstable individuals out there.

Our security team proposed the safe room idea, and my mother implemented it. ”

“But the project was still under construction then?”

“It was. After the murder, my mother was more determined than ever. At the time of Tiff’s death, it had been dug out but not finished.”

“So,” Charlie says, “someone could have walked through it and reached the house?”

“As I recall, the actual opening connecting the tunnel to the panic room hadn’t been completed. They wouldn’t have been able to access the house that way.”

Alex pauses, clears his throat, and for just a second, he presses his lips together. It’s barely visible, but his prosecutorial mask, that refined demeanor, finally slips. The conversation, all this talk about his dead cousin, is catching up with him. Crumbling his emotional walls.

Like me, he was a child forced to deal with tragedy, and that never leaves you.

Charlie sits forward, resting her hand on the edge of the desk. “I’m sorry to have to ask you these questions.”

“It’s fine. A new set of eyes might do us some good. Even the smallest details sometimes make a difference.”

A buzzing sound interrupts us. Charlie reaches into her coat pocket, sliding her phone free. She holds it up so I can view the screen, and I once again see JJ’s handsome face.

I jerk my head to the door, and she rises from her seat. “Excuse me. It’s JJ.”

She hustles out.

“So,” Matt says. “Tiffany. What can you tell us about her?”

Alex smiles. “She was just a normal kid. She had these crazy blonde curls we used to tease her about. She wanted to be a hairstylist when she grew up.” He lets out a soft chuckle.

“When she’d sleep over, my mother would let her brush her hair at night.

I can still picture her standing behind the sofa with that boar bristle brush in her hand. ”

“My apologies for having to ask this, but…could the attack have been sexual in nature? Was that ever looked into?”

Alex nods. “Every man at that party was investigated. Unfortunately, security cameras hadn’t been installed inside yet. Only the exterior. It was on the list of things to do while the panic room was under construction.”

“So, there’s no footage of her going into the basement?”

He shakes his head. “No. And why would she? The party and presents were upstairs. There’s nothing of her leaving the house, either. There are hours of tape, but they can’t find anything on her.”

“That’s odd,” I say.

“As I said, there were two hundred there, and she was a child. She could have gotten lost in the crowd.”

“Maybe,” Matt muses. “Could we get copies of the footage? I’d like to take a look. With the advancements in facial recognition, I have a friend who might be able to help us.”

His friend, I’m sure, would be Teeg from the Justice Team. We often joke that computers are no match for Teeg.

“I’ll talk to JJ. If he signs off on it, I’ll get it to you. Any assistance you could provide would be greatly appreciated. From a business and personal standpoint. Obviously, I’d like to get this case solved. I don’t know if you’ll find anything. We’ve been over the files hundreds of times.”

I push to my feet. “Well, like you said. A fresh set of eyes never hurt.”