Page 16

Across town from the party, at Carrie and Luke’s home in Cedar Breeze, Vern sat in the rocking chair feeding his granddaughter a bottle of milk.

Emily gazed up at him while sucking away, her eyes bright as stars. He loved her sweet smell, her perfect tiny features. Holding her was the best medicine. When she was done eating, he placed her tenderly on his shoulder, like he had many years ago with Carrie, patting her back softly until she burped.

Then he walked with her in his arms for a time before carefully putting her down in her crib. He stood over her for a moment, smiling, watching her fall asleep.

Moving through the house, he looked approvingly at the control panel of the new home security system, with its exterior cameras and alarms. He was pleased he’d helped them get the premium package installed.

Satisfied, Vern wanted to assess the things weighing on him, things he had to take care of.

But first, he wanted a Diet Coke, so he went to the fridge. Next to it, pinned to the wall, was a large calendar with a picture of a forest. Some dates bore handwritten appointment times, including one for Carrie’s upcoming video session with Dr. Bernay in Los Angeles.

That notation went to the heart of issues on Vern’s mind.

Can Carrie still not remember anything?

Surely, she must’ve told her psychologist something about the case, he thought. During her sessions, she must’ve remembered a detail, something that could be helpful. He went to Carrie’s home office area, scanning her bookshelves. Maybe she kept a journal during her counseling and wrote things down. He slid out a few notebooks and flipped through them. Nothing there but notes about various projects for her job.

Besides, he thought, replacing the notebooks and glancing at her laptop, if Carrie kept a journal, she’d likely have it on her computer. And he wasn’t going to attempt to snoop there. He already felt like he was invading her privacy.

He returned to the living room, took out his phone, scrolled to a specific thirteen-year-old video recording and tapped Play.

He lowered the volume.

It was his copy of the first interview with Carrie after she was released from the hospital. It was done in the small, stark interview room at the sheriff’s office. Detectives Eve Trainor and Ben McGraw were the leads then, but they had since moved out of state; Trainor went to Cleveland, and McGraw moved to New Zealand.

Thirteen years ago , Vern thought again.

At that time, Carrie, just a high school junior, looked so small, so fragile. Her face and arms were spotted with scrapes, her head still bandaged. Even though she was not considered a suspect, the DA had said, These things can always take a turn , and insisted Carrie be Mirandized. Vern got her an attorney, Susan Guinn, who came up from Houston. She was expensive. But Vern wanted her sitting next to Carrie during the process because he agreed with the DA.

Things can always take a turn.

Watching the old interview still tore Vern up; he’d never get over seeing his little girl sitting at that plain table in a hard-backed chair, in that room with white cinder blocks. The same room where they questioned killers, rapists, drug dealers and other criminals.

The video played, with Eve Trainor taking the lead.

“Carrie, why did you go into the woods with Abby and Erin?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Do you have any recollection of seeing someone else in the woods, someone other than Abby and Erin?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it possible another person was with you or was waiting there?”

“I don’t know.”

“In the time leading up to that day in the woods, do you recall any conversations, any dealings with Abby and/or Erin? Anything at school, at the mall, an event, anything?”

“I know they were seniors, and popular. I didn’t hang out with them.”

“Can you think of a reason why you three might go into the woods together?”

“No.”

“Was it to do drugs, or deal drugs?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Was it to get drunk?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Was it a sex thing?”

“No, that couldn’t be it.”

“Was it about other kids at school?”

“I don’t know.”

“Boyfriend stuff?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did anyone accuse anyone of something?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Did it have anything to do with anything satanic, witchcraft, or any fads, experiments, anything like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you remember anything that was said?”

“No.”

“Did any of you have a weapon at the time?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Do you recall seeing a weapon?”

“I don’t know.”

Ben McGraw, who’s been reclining in his chair with his arms folded, leans forward.

“Okay, Carrie, then tell us what you do remember.”

Her hands, webbed with red scratches, fly to her face.

“I remember running through the forest, that I’d never been so scared in my life. Running so fast, branches whipping me, just running and running until the ground was gone and I was flying, falling into the river, gasping, swallowing water, thrashing in the current smashing against the rocks, like something hammered my head, then I woke up in the hospital…and I can’t remember.” Carrie’s voice breaks to a squeaky whisper. “Then people were telling me that Abby and Erin are dead, that they were murdered.”

“Why were you scared?” McGraw asks.

“I don’t remember.”

“Was someone chasing you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Carrie.” McGraw looks at her. “Look at me.”

Slowly she lifts her eyes to his.

“Carrie, were you scared because of something you did?”

“I don’t know.”

Carrie drops her face into her arms on the table and sobs, with Guinn rubbing her back.

The detectives exchange glances.

At that moment, Vern’s phone flickered and vibrated with an incoming call, pulling him from the video. “Hello?” he answered.

“Vernon Hamilton?”

“Yes.”

“Vince Azure, Donnie Ray Hyde’s spiritual advisor, following up on your request.”

“Yes, Pastor.”

“Your request came right after the board’s recent decision. His appeal has been rejected. I relayed your request to him. You can appreciate that he’s not in the best frame of mind.”

“I understand.”

“However, with that said, Donnie Ray’s agreed to see you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll hear back from me, or more likely someone from TDCJ, with the date and time of your visit.”

Vern allowed himself a moment to respond.

“I’ll stand by. Thank you.”