Page 111 of Last Seen

“I have. So has Halley. She was told that her mom and sister died in a car accident, and that’s where her head injury came from. She was there but didn’t remember any of it.”

“The kid took a pretty good bang on the head. And the scene was a bloody mess. Disorganized killer, opportunistic crime. All fit with the girl’s confession.”

Theo senses abutcoming. He stays quiet and is rewarded.

“There was always something that struck me as off about the whole thing.”

“What’s that?”

“There was a huge dent in the wood column holding up the mantel, with blood and hair. Hair matched the kid sister. So that was inconsistent with Handon’s testimony that she hit her in the head when she was on the ground. And the mom was stabbed by someone right handed. No doubt about it. But Catriona Handon is left handed.”

“Opportunistic situation, maybe? She had the knife in her right hand.”

“Sure. That’s what she said when we questioned her about it. Well, not exactly, she said she didn’t remember what hand the knife was in. Hardly enough to make us look twice. She was singing like a songbird. It was open and shut.”

“And if it wasn’t?”

Lemke raises a brow. “What, you think someone else was there?”

“I don’t know, man. This all feels wonky to me. Like you said, it was almost thirty years ago. She did her time, she integrated back into society. Then she disappeared, and according to Baird Early in Marchburg, Virginia, where two of the murders took place, her blood is in CODIS at a bunch of crime scenes. Has she been murdering herway around the country? I don’t know. Maybe she is the one who shot Noah Brockton. Maybe she’s hurt Halley.”

“That’s a big maybe, friend. But I’m listening.”

Theo pulls out his notebook. “Catriona Handon went missing fifteen years ago after going to Brockville. I did some digging about the town. Another woman who was accepted into the famed writers’ retreat went missing, too.”

“That’s interesting.”

“It’s an interesting place. Very insular. Run by Miles Brockton, you ever heard of him?”

“Should I have?”

“They made a movie about him years ago, how he went into the wilderness alone for years and came back out this mindfulness guru. Anyway, we’re getting too far away from why I’m here. I’d appreciate it if you could run the picture through your databases, and if you could show me the cameras of Halley abandoning the Jeep? I want to see her state of mind for myself.”

Lemke frowns. “There were no cameras near where the Jeep was ditched.”

“What about traffic cams coming into town? Do you have any toll roads?”

“No tolls. We did a quick look around the area where we found the Jeep but didn’t see anything.”

“Would you be willing to look again, and expand it? She had to get to the spot—where was the Jeep found?”

“Off of 440, parking lot of Elmington Park. West End. By the school.”

“West End School?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t that where Catriona Handon was going to school at the time of the murder?”

Lemke thumbs open the file. “Damn, you’re right. She did. How the hell did I miss that?”

“I assume you haven’t been poring over this file the way I have.”

“Nice of you to say. Shit. Okay. Let me make a call.”

He whips his cell from his pocket. Hits a number. “Lincoln Ross, please.” To Theo, “Linc’s the best computer guy on the force. Works under a specialized group run by Lieutenant Taylor Jackson, but he’s always happy to do a favor. Let me turn him loose on this. If there’s something to find, he’ll get it.”

An hour later, a well-dressed man with a gap-toothed smile shows up with a laptop in his hand. Theo feels a pang. He looks like Lenny Kravitz. Halley loves Lenny Kravitz.