Page 20 of Three Girls Gone (Detective Amanda Steele #14)

SIXTEEN

Katherine found it strange to be back inside the walls of Central. She was no longer a sergeant. No longer a cop. She wasn’t even an employee of the PWCPD. No, a darker purpose had brought her back.

When she left to grab her research, she’d stopped by her aunt May’s house.

The intention was to tell her about Julie Gilbert, but May was getting ready to host her book club.

Though more a social event for spreading gossip and consuming wine, cheese, and crackers than discussing literary takeaways, it made her aunt happy.

And Katherine didn’t want to bring down her mood, so she’d continue to sit with her secret.

Katherine popped another antacid, her fifth since Amanda and Trent showed up at the diner.

She doubted it would matter if she swallowed all the chewable tablets in the bottle.

The knot in the pit of her stomach was bound to stay there until they caught this guy.

But it only added to the ache that had been in her chest from the moment she was called to the Gilbert home eleven-and-a-half years ago.

She tried not to think that if Julie were alive today, she’d be thinking about what college to attend and what field to study.

For a reason that she couldn’t explain at the onset, this case differed from any previous investigations involving children.

She was thrust back to when she gave up her baby for adoption, thinking that was the best thing for them both.

After the child had been born, she feared looking at her, afraid that she’d see her rapist’s face staring back at her.

For six years, she’d pushed the situation and the child out of her mind.

Until Julie. Then the trauma resurged with such vengeance, it consumed her.

If only she had made a different decision, would that young child still be alive?

Katherine had tried talking to a therapist about her daughter, leaving Julie unnamed.

But she resisted their advice on the premise they couldn’t relate.

From there, her regrets fueled her to find justice for Julie.

Even to get revenge, truth be told. But now to think another child had been punished because of her…

She popped the top on the antacids again, but snapped it back down. As she thought before, no point. Same as the killer’s request for her to stop.

How could she ever do that? She chastised herself that she’d slipped in the last few months because she’d been busy at the diner.

If only she had forged ahead, stayed up later at night, and dedicated every spare minute to finding Julie’s killer.

Would her efforts have netted their identity and saved the life of another young girl?

There was no way to answer that question. Trying would only drive her mad. No, she had to live with the fact her actions incited this monster to claim another child.

She’d love to write it off as “bad things happen,” but it was far more complex than that. God, the universe, the divine, so often got things wrong. No fairness came with the death of a kid. That was why she had to step up, set things right.

Julie was given a different life from what Katherine would have given her.

She wouldn’t have paraded her around like a circus act, face painted up, and on display for everyone to see, for perverts to gawk at.

She only wished she could transfer some guilt onto them.

But the Gilberts weren’t bad people. In fact, they were quite nice and down to earth. Probably much like the Tanners.

Hailey Tanner was also a little star from what Katherine had gleaned from Amanda and Trent. A tiny ballerina…

It angered her that the killer had taken out his issues against her on an innocent little girl. She might have spooked him, but only heaven could help him when she caught up with him.

Katherine set up her laptop on Amanda’s desk. Malone said IT would assign her a login and password in the morning. But, in the meantime, she had things to do.

She signed on to her laptop and brought up the file listing the costume designers connected to the pageant circuit that Julie Gilbert had been a part of.

She filtered out the ones that were male.

As she told Malone, she was going to approach the designers’ employers.

Most of these were mothers of pageant contestants, and those in that circle were gossips and catty.

An unfavorable term, but fitting. They all thought their daughter was special and better than the rest, and all of them would take whatever measures necessary to ensure they won.

Whether it took knocking down the competition or sleeping with the judges.

It made discerning fact from fiction a challenge.

But for the times she’d spoken with the mothers over the years, the conversations were never focused on the costume designers.

It would be interesting what they’d say about them.

She sorted her list of male names, each of whom had a column with their employer’s name next to it. One was hired by the pageant itself and traveled from show to show, but the remaining seven were employed by the girls’ mothers.

Katherine remembered how to use the station’s phone system and used the one on Amanda’s desk. Her first call rang to voicemail, and she left a vague message. She had better luck in reaching mothers as she moved on, but none had anything to offer the investigation.

She soon found herself down to one. Christi Rowland. As Katherine remembered her, Christi was a trophy wife who played out her own insecurities on her daughter, Kayla.

“Hello,” a woman answered on the third ring, just when Katherine thought she was bound for another voicemail box.

“This is Katherine Graves. Is this Christi Rowland?”

“I’m going to need a little more than that.”

“I was the lead detective investigating the Julie Gilbert case.” The introduction was somewhat deceiving, but Katherine had put it in the past tense. Even before now, Katherine never disclosed she’d advanced rank or even left the NYPD. Any assumptions Christi made were on her.

“Oh? Is there a break in the case? Do you know who killed Julie?”

Besides some creep who’s struck again… That thought fired through and had Katherine pinching her eyes shut and taking a few deep breaths.

“Detective?” Christi prompted.

“I’m here. And, no, the case hasn’t been solved, but there has been a development.” She’d hold back disclosing that development was the murder of another child. “I have a question about the man you employed to design and sew Kayla’s costumes. Dustin Hawley.”

“We parted ways a long time ago. Kayla’s not in pageants anymore.

She rebelled against it when she hit thirteen despite my argument that she was only hurting herself.

I tried to help her see the competitions bring a lot of benefits.

Besides confidence in herself, she can make some money, connect with people who can give her life-changing opportunities.

But kids blank over when you talk about their futures. ”

Katherine would take her word on that. Her statement reminded her that Christi’s priority had always been to get her daughter admitted to an Ivy League college. She saw the pageants as the path there. “Can you tell me more about Dustin? What was he like?”

“Why? Are you considering he killed that poor girl?”

Julie, just say her name! Katherine screamed in her head, but she composed herself before she spoke. “I’m just dotting more I’s and crossing more T’s.”

“I don’t know what else to say that I didn’t years ago. The guy was the nicest one I ever met. He’d go above and beyond, even hand stitching sequins until the last hour. He gave up sleep for Kayla, more than once.”

“And how was he with her?” Katherine inched forward, disgusted by the need to ask.

“If you’re asking if he ever gave me the creeps, the answer is never.

He and his boyfriend ended up getting married last fall.

He sent me an invitation, but there was no way I was going to drag myself to Florida.

Too many old, wrinkled retirees down there.

Though, now that Bert and I have separated, maybe it’s not a bad idea.

I could marry myself a feeble, wealthy widower and be set for life. ”

From that summation, Dustin Hawley was pushed off the suspect list. “Just one more question. Do you remember seeing anyone backstage at the NYC pageant that stood out to you?”

“The one from just before…?”

“Yes. Julie’s last. Anything or anyone at that pageant stand out?” The murder of a young child should be enough to earmark that time in the woman’s memory.

“Huh. Now you ask. There was one woman. The rumor was she was sleeping with Mr.Gilbert.”

Katherine was scrambling for a notepad and pen. Nothing supported Dawn Gilbert or her husband, Evan, having an affair. Assuming he’d hidden it well, what would have his mistress lurking around backstage at his daughter’s pageant? “What was her name? ”

“Anne… Let me think. Oh, Harrington.”

“Anne Harrington?”

“That’s right.”

Katherine found paper and a pen and wrote the name down. “Why never mention her before now?”

“Why would I have? You were interested in any creepy men hanging around. The national news said that Julie was… Uh. Assaulted.”

“That’s true.”

“And that’s why. But Anne was a real psycho.”

“How do you mean?”

“Oh, she went right up to Dawn and played nice, even brought her a coffee. Me and the other moms half expected it to be poisoned. That’s why Laura knocked it out of her hand.”

The mess Dickson was called to clean up.

“Do you know if Dawn’s husband ended the affair?”

“I couldn’t say.”

Katherine drew a circle around Anne’s name and stabbed the tip of her pen to the page a few times for emphasis. “Okay, thank you, Christi.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m happy to hear the NYPD is still on this case. Julie deserves justice.”

Katherine tensed at the assumption but didn’t bother correcting her. The woman’s wording had also struck close to the name of her website. “Yes, she does.”

She ended the call and stared at the name. Anne Harrington.

After all these years, this was the first time she’d come up.

But Christi made a good point. Julie had been sexually assaulted.

However… Katherine trembled. No DNA had been recovered from Julie’s body.

Had she made a fatal mistake by dismissing that lack of forensic evidence?

If so, the FBI had too when they created their profile of the killer.

All she knew was a burning in her gut told her Anne Harrington warranted further investigation. She looked around the cubicle warren assigned to Homicide. The seats were all empty except for one.

Katherine walked over. “Excuse me.”

Natalie Ryan turned to face her. “Sergeant Graves? What are you doing here?”

“Well, not sergeant anymore.” Katherine smiled.

“That’s right. You retired your badge. I heard you’re working with your aunt at her coffee shop.”

“I am, but I’ve been brought in as a consultant for an open investigation.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting.”

“It’s something anyhow.” She had no intention of divulging any details to Natalie. “I was hoping you could help me with something.”

“Sure, you name it.”

Katherine walked into Natalie’s office space. “I’m supposed to get my computer credentials in the morning, but I’d like to have a look at a background now. Do you think if I gave you the name, you could look it up and print it out for me?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Wonderful, and I’ll let Sergeant Malone know you pulled it for me. The name’s Anne Harrington. She’d have had an address in New York City.”

Natalie pecked on her keyboard and had the result rather fast. “Forty-eight, still lives in NYC by the look of it. But it looks like she has a few restraining orders to her name.”

“I’ll need all that information. Please.”

“Sure.” Natalie gave her a pressed smile. She hit some keys, and the printer in the corner whirred to life. “That will be the background, including the list of restraining orders against her.”

“Thank you.” Katherine rushed to scoop the paper from the tray and noted all the ROs were filed by men.

She was psycho according to Christi, and the restraining orders suggested she had a hard time letting go of the men in her life.

Could Anne have taken things further with Evan Gilbert?

Had she targeted Julie to get his attention, to manipulate his affection?

But if a relationship ever existed between her and Evan Gilbert, why wasn’t it uncovered?

And what could have led Harrington to assault and kill Hailey Tanner?

How would she have been threatened by Katherine’s sleuthing in the fall? But one step at a time.