Delta county, p.15
Delta County, page 15
“What a wonderful moment. How lucky he was that you were there to capture it!” I smile and excuse myself, blaming my urgent need to use the restroom on all the champagne I’ve consumed.
I make a beeline for Ryan when I get inside. He’s standing in the front room, next to the piano, talking to a lawyer from town. I politely ask to borrow my husband for a moment.
I normally might wait until we get home or at least on the way before confronting him about something like this, but my inhibitions are entirely too depleted for that at the minute.
“Oh, hey babe, just wondering if you wanted to tell me about your conversation with Julie. You know, the one where you both were huddled closely together, whispering in each other’s ears.”
“Heather, I know what you must be thinking, but please believe me when I say I was just being a good friend. She knew Marc was going to propose and she was having second thoughts.”
This somehow increases my level of annoyance.
“So, pouring her heart out to you was the logical choice. Heaven forbid she gets a real friend,” I say, searching the room to make sure nobody is watching us argue. I’d never hear the end of it from Mitzi.
“Heath, I’m sorry. She caught me off guard when she pulled me aside to tell me what was going on. Whether you like her or not, she has done nothing wrong, it’s just a narrative you have created in your mind because she and I went on a few meaningless dates when we were 16 years old.”
Every time he says she has “done nothing wrong” I begin taking mental inventory of all the things she has done to make me despise her. It started with the field trip to Six Flags in Chicago freshman year. I wasn’t in the choir, but Julie the home schooler was somehow allowed to join. I sure got an eyeful when my friends developed their pictures, which included Ryan and Julie sharing a blanket on the bus trip down. “She was cold,” was his only defense. What about the time their families vacationed together, and he reluctantly admitted to me years later that they kissed “on a dare”? I could go on for hours. I’m not crazy; I have very legitimate reasons to not want this woman around my husband.
“I am your wife. I really don’t feel like I ask for much. She is the one woman I don’t want you spending time with, and you continue to do so. She must be pretty important to you to be worth all the arguments she has caused.”
He begins to speak, and I hold my hand up to stop him.
“There’s nothing you can say, Ryan. I’ve told you how I feel, so many times. It breaks my heart a little each time I see you interact with her.”
He shrugs his shoulders in a what do you want me to do motion and it saddens me so much that he doesn’t understand. Every single day, I do things to make Ryan happy. I go out of my way to avoid things that would upset him. In my mind, that’s how marriage works. I love him, he’s my best friend and I cannot imagine doing something to cause him hurt or stress. I can’t help but feel like our marriage is 99% bliss and each time that 1% exception occurs, Julie is involved.
“I fully understand how this suggestion will most likely be received, but may I ask that you make just one attempt at getting to know her? You’ve never had a real conversation. You may be surprised to find you have a lot in common.”
On a normal day, this may be a valid argument. Today, the day I’ve had my second miscarriage, been treated like a housekeeper by my mother-in-law and have polished off at least five glasses of champagne: it’s not the day to suggest maybe I “get to know Julie Prescott”.
I look him in his deep, brown, beautiful eyes and just stare for a moment. I think of all the things I love about him and all the fantastic qualities he has. I search those eyes, willing him to understand where I’m coming from. He simply looks lost.
“I’m not mad, I’m not going to hold this against you later, I’m just tired. I’m going to walk home and ask that you give me some space,” I say, my hand raising to graze his cheek. He looks devastated.
“You don’t want to watch the ball drop with me?”
“Seeing as how we’ve fallen asleep before midnight the last two years in a row, I think we’ll be okay. I wouldn’t consider it a tradition.”
I smile, knowing there’s a sadness behind it that he could read from a mile away. I’m just so disappointed. So tired. So over this whole situation.
THE ENTIRE WALK HOME, I shiver in my peacoat, curse myself for wearing these shoes and dream of the warm pajamas I’m going to slip on the minute I get in the door. Maybe I’ll take a nice, hot bath first. I think I have a few packets of Swiss Miss in the pantry and more than enough wood to make a small fire in the sitting room. This night may be salvageable after all.
I let myself in the front door, throw my spare key in the dish and hang my coat in the hall closet. I quickly realize I have zero ambition to even make it up the stairs, let alone draw myself a bath so I just wrap the cozy throw from the couch around my shoulders, toss a few logs in the fireplace and kick my feet up. I reach down in the cushions to retrieve the remote when I hear a faint tapping sound. I stop my movements to listen more closely. It sounds like it is coming from the large picture window to my left.
I stand and reach to switch the lamp off next to the couch so I can get a better look at the front yard, illuminated by a fresh blanket of white snow.
Click.
Darkness.
There’s a face in the window.
Chapter 32
I
gasp and stumble backwards, falling on my back over the ledge of the couch. I search frantically for my phone. Where did I leave it? Is it still in my coat pocket?
“Heath, it’s me! It’s okay!”
The voice is familiar, yet I can’t place it in my state of panic.
The front door slowly opens. I didn’t lock it.
I can make out a hand reaching around, feeling for the light switch.
Click.
The room is illuminated.
It’s Mitch Miller.
“I’ll call the police,” I say, my voice so unsure, even I don’t believe it.
“Heath, come on. This has been going on long enough. I’ve given you your space. I think I deserve five minutes to explain myself.”
“Ryan is upstairs.”
“Great, I’d love for him to join the conversation, too.”
“Okay, he’s not upstairs, but he’ll be home any minute. I have a panic button. We have cameras everywhere.”
“Heath, what is it going to take to show you that I wouldn’t hurt anyone? We’ve known each other our entire lives. Have you ever seen me hurt anyone?”
I consider the question. I suppose I haven’t.
“Stay here,” I tell him as I cautiously make my way to the kitchen, walking backwards so I’m facing him the entire trip. With shaking hands, I grab two steak knives out of the butcher block on the counter. I’m not quite sure I’d have the nerve to actually stab someone, but having them in my hands makes me feel just a little better.
I sit on the chair furthest from him and motion for him to sit on the couch. My blanket is still on the floor in front of where I was sitting, dropped in response to being scared half to death just moments ago.
“You’ve got five minutes. Talk.”
“I’ve told you every single thing that happened that night. My story hasn’t changed. Why would I want to hurt Kelly?”
“Because she rejected you.”
He laughs. It’s not a smug laugh. More of disbelief.
“Rejected me? She didn’t want me to leave!”
I consider this for a moment.
“So, why did you?”
“My mom’s college roommate was in town from Door County. I promised her I would take them both to the 8 a.m. service on Sunday. She’s always in a strange competition with this woman over whose son is more successful and if I showed up late or hungover, I would have never heard the end of it. I knew if I didn’t stop kissing Kelly at the party, I would have never left. The entire service, all I could think about was dropping them off and picking Kelly up for breakfast. I was heartbroken when she didn’t answer her door at the hotel.” He pauses and I can see the beginning of a tear glistening in his eye. “I thought she changed her mind.”
We sit in silence for a moment. It’s been years and he’s still torn up about it. I can’t decide if I should let my guard down and continue to hear him out. I’ve been so convinced of his guilt for so long. It’s hard to imagine a scenario where he is completely innocent.
“Heath, I laid in bed all night, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. I was so excited to see her again. The chubby nerd from high school got to make out with Kelly Young. It was too good to be true. I’d had a crush on her since the 6th grade.”
“I miss her so much,” I blurt out, feeling strangely safe with Mitch again for reasons I can’t explain. Both knives drop to my sides, and I stand up to hug him. He meets me halfway and begins sobbing. “I miss her, too. Every day, Heath. Every single day.”
“I just don’t think it was an accident, Mitch,” I say, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.
“I don’t either. You haven’t been speaking to me and I’ve had nobody to really discuss it with. Nobody that knew her like you did.”
“I’m so sorry for icing you out. I think I was just grieving, angry and chose the easiest route; blaming it on the last person to see her alive.”
He hugs me again and whispers “No apology necessary,” in my ear.
He sits back down on the couch, and I sit on the opposite end. Under the light of the lamp, which is turned back on, Mitch looks a little rough. He’s still trim but his skin is pale, and he carries bluish bags underneath his eyes.
“What made you come here tonight?” I ask.
“I was leaving a party and saw you walking alone. I sat in my car for a minute, contemplating whether I should bother you. I peeked through the window to see if you were downstairs, I didn’t want to ring the doorbell and risk waking someone up in the house. I tapped to get your attention, not considering how it would startle you. I’m sorry.”
I reach forward to squeeze his hand. “I’m glad you came.”
“How about we meet for coffee when we are both rested and ready talk about the details of that night? There has to be something we’re missing.”
I smile. “I think that’s a great idea.”
Chapter 33
I
t’s mid-March by the time that coffee date finally comes. Mitch and I have talked on the phone plenty of times and exchanged emails, but this is the first time we’ve both been available for an entire morning to discuss our theories. I’ve invited Aunt Meryl to join us, and she’s overjoyed that I’m moving on from my reservations over Mitch’s innocence. “I’ve been hoping you’d come to your senses. His office has the best rates for home and auto bundles, so I’ve been between a real rock and a hard place, Heath.” Oh, Meryl.
We’re meeting at The Delona, a rustic-themed restaurant out on the highway that’s been known for their deliciously greasy breakfasts since I was a kid. There’s something about the cozy, log cabin-style interior and large windows that face the woods behind the restaurant that make you feel as if you’re just sitting in someone’s living room. Places like this make me so thankful I don’t live in the city anymore. The Delona just feels like home.
Meryl and I pull in at the same time as Mitch, in his brand-new Ford Pickup truck. “Ah, I see the insurance business has been good to ya,” Meryl quips as he exits the truck.
“Oh, yeah, I just keep raising your rates so I can buy a newer truck each year. You’re on to me, Mer!” he laughs and gives her a casual hug. The hug he gives me is a little longer and a little tighter. We’re both relieved to be reunited.
We take a table in a quiet corner in a side room of the restaurant. It’s a little late for breakfast and a little early for lunch so we’ve picked the perfect time for some privacy. I smile when I see that Mitch has brought a notebook and pen, similar to the ones I’m carrying.
We exchange pleasantries over our coffee and omelets, the subject of Kelly waiting until the server clears our plates. Mitch and I both open our notebooks, revealing bullet point lists of our theories and questions. Meryl chuckles. “You two are a regular old Cagney and Lacey, hot on the case!”
“Weren’t they both women?” Mitch asks.
“Yeah...well, you get the point,” Meryl responds, pouring herself a refill from the coffee carafe on the table.
Throughout the next hour, Mitch and I go back and forth with our thoughts, questions, and suggestions about what may have happened to Kelly. Meryl stays quiet for the most part, drinking in everything we are saying with the occasional nod and finger point when one of us brings up a valid theory.
Reluctantly, I tell them both about what Frank said to me on New Year’s Eve about Tom Strenksi feeling “forced” to rule her death accidental. I know Frank wouldn’t be very happy to hear that I’m betraying his confidence, but these two need to know everything I do if we are going to be on the same page and figure out what happened to our friend.
“Can we ask for a second opinion on the autopsy?” Mitch asks.
“Her parents would have to approve an exhumation of the body and I doubt they would,” I answer.
“Parent, not parents. Her father died last year,” Mitch adds.
I cannot believe nobody told me. Then again, maybe it’s not common knowledge around here. They haven’t lived in the area in years and I’m not sure who they kept in contact with. Although I assumed Mitzi and Frank still spoke with them, maybe I was wrong. Lisa Young has now lost her husband and her only child. I can’t believe I’m feeling sympathy for the person convicted of killing my parents, but stranger things have happened.
“Lisa emailed me,” I say, knowing Meryl will chastise me for not telling her.
“What? When?” she asks with wide eyes.
“Late last year, months after I sent her the letter. She just told me she’d let me know when she was ready to talk.”
“Well, that’s huge, Heath. That means she has something to say.”
Mitch wasn’t aware I had even sent Lisa Young a letter, so we quickly fill him in on the details.
“So, you’re telling me that it’s possible both your parents and Kelly may have unsolved deaths? Escanaba hasn’t seen a situation like this in years and now we may have two separate cases at the same time. This is insane,” Mitch replies and sets his pen down next to the notebook. “I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this, Heath.”
Once again, I say it’s fine. I’m fine. I’m getting so good at that default response.
“Okay, back to Kelly. We have the possibility that she actually fell, which we doubt. We have Julie, the last person she argued with before her death, who was noticeably absent at the bonfire after beer pong. We have Buckland, who had a crush on her in high school and got a full view of your make out session,” I say, pointing to each item on the list in front of me.
“What about the party bus driver?” Meryl asks.
“Although I fell asleep at the fire, I think he pulled in and immediately came to get us in the back yard. Why would he have even been down by the river?” I point out.
“Would Julie have the strength to push Kelly down that hard?” Mitch asks.
“If she came at her from behind, I have no doubt. I’m just not sure she would have had the guts to do it. Let’s keep her on the suspect list, just in case,” I say.
“Someone had to have a legitimate reason to want her dead,” Meryl adds.
“I agree,” I say. “Figuring out who and why is going to be the problem.”
Chapter 34
Fall 2021
T
his must have been a strange time for you, joining forces to solve the possible murders of your loved ones. A bit surreal, right?”
Vickie smiles. It makes me wonder how much she has read about the cases and if she thinks it’s “cute” that I was having to prove the deaths of my loved ones were all, in fact, intentional. This wasn’t a game to me.
“Surreal is an understatement. I had the most normal childhood imaginable in small town, America. The only funerals I had attended were my grandparents, who died of natural causes. Homicides happened to strangers on the news, not people I knew in real life. Investigating murder wasn’t exactly on the list of my life’s expectations,” I respond. She shakes her head, as if saying “I bet it wasn’t,” and once again, takes her glasses off to wipe them with her shirt. I wonder if it’s a compulsive tick of hers because I can’t imagine what could have gotten them dirty or smudged during our conversation.
“After that meeting with Meryl and Mitch, where did you go from there?”
“After the meeting, I finally felt I wasn’t crazy. I had two people who looked at the evidence and agreed with me that things weren’t as they seemed. I was both optimistic about finding answers and also a little scared.”
“Scared?” Vickie asks.
“Yes, Escanaba is a small town. No matter the outcome, the guilty party was going to be someone I knew. That’s a hard pill to swallow.”
She momentarily hangs her head. This might be the first time she’s realizing the gravity of everything that has happened to me. I’m a firm believer that a normal person’s life is 85% a representation of the decisions they make and 15% random occurrences that they have no control over. Unfortunately, my life’s hardships all tend to fall in that 15%.
“So, we’re now talking about spring of 2019. Marc and Julie are engaged, your house renovations are complete, Ryan is settled in at the clinic; what else was happening? Was your time filled with investigating your suspicions? Were you still trying to have a baby?” She asks, pen ready to record her thoughts on my responses.
“I actually emailed Lisa to ask about exhuming Kelly’s body. I didn’t get a response. Meryl, Mitch, and I met at The Delona every few months to discuss our latest findings, but it slowly evolved into three people eating pancakes and rehashing the same old information. Nobody had any news and Frank’s leads dried up, as well. Tom Strenski wasn’t talking.”
I make a beeline for Ryan when I get inside. He’s standing in the front room, next to the piano, talking to a lawyer from town. I politely ask to borrow my husband for a moment.
I normally might wait until we get home or at least on the way before confronting him about something like this, but my inhibitions are entirely too depleted for that at the minute.
“Oh, hey babe, just wondering if you wanted to tell me about your conversation with Julie. You know, the one where you both were huddled closely together, whispering in each other’s ears.”
“Heather, I know what you must be thinking, but please believe me when I say I was just being a good friend. She knew Marc was going to propose and she was having second thoughts.”
This somehow increases my level of annoyance.
“So, pouring her heart out to you was the logical choice. Heaven forbid she gets a real friend,” I say, searching the room to make sure nobody is watching us argue. I’d never hear the end of it from Mitzi.
“Heath, I’m sorry. She caught me off guard when she pulled me aside to tell me what was going on. Whether you like her or not, she has done nothing wrong, it’s just a narrative you have created in your mind because she and I went on a few meaningless dates when we were 16 years old.”
Every time he says she has “done nothing wrong” I begin taking mental inventory of all the things she has done to make me despise her. It started with the field trip to Six Flags in Chicago freshman year. I wasn’t in the choir, but Julie the home schooler was somehow allowed to join. I sure got an eyeful when my friends developed their pictures, which included Ryan and Julie sharing a blanket on the bus trip down. “She was cold,” was his only defense. What about the time their families vacationed together, and he reluctantly admitted to me years later that they kissed “on a dare”? I could go on for hours. I’m not crazy; I have very legitimate reasons to not want this woman around my husband.
“I am your wife. I really don’t feel like I ask for much. She is the one woman I don’t want you spending time with, and you continue to do so. She must be pretty important to you to be worth all the arguments she has caused.”
He begins to speak, and I hold my hand up to stop him.
“There’s nothing you can say, Ryan. I’ve told you how I feel, so many times. It breaks my heart a little each time I see you interact with her.”
He shrugs his shoulders in a what do you want me to do motion and it saddens me so much that he doesn’t understand. Every single day, I do things to make Ryan happy. I go out of my way to avoid things that would upset him. In my mind, that’s how marriage works. I love him, he’s my best friend and I cannot imagine doing something to cause him hurt or stress. I can’t help but feel like our marriage is 99% bliss and each time that 1% exception occurs, Julie is involved.
“I fully understand how this suggestion will most likely be received, but may I ask that you make just one attempt at getting to know her? You’ve never had a real conversation. You may be surprised to find you have a lot in common.”
On a normal day, this may be a valid argument. Today, the day I’ve had my second miscarriage, been treated like a housekeeper by my mother-in-law and have polished off at least five glasses of champagne: it’s not the day to suggest maybe I “get to know Julie Prescott”.
I look him in his deep, brown, beautiful eyes and just stare for a moment. I think of all the things I love about him and all the fantastic qualities he has. I search those eyes, willing him to understand where I’m coming from. He simply looks lost.
“I’m not mad, I’m not going to hold this against you later, I’m just tired. I’m going to walk home and ask that you give me some space,” I say, my hand raising to graze his cheek. He looks devastated.
“You don’t want to watch the ball drop with me?”
“Seeing as how we’ve fallen asleep before midnight the last two years in a row, I think we’ll be okay. I wouldn’t consider it a tradition.”
I smile, knowing there’s a sadness behind it that he could read from a mile away. I’m just so disappointed. So tired. So over this whole situation.
THE ENTIRE WALK HOME, I shiver in my peacoat, curse myself for wearing these shoes and dream of the warm pajamas I’m going to slip on the minute I get in the door. Maybe I’ll take a nice, hot bath first. I think I have a few packets of Swiss Miss in the pantry and more than enough wood to make a small fire in the sitting room. This night may be salvageable after all.
I let myself in the front door, throw my spare key in the dish and hang my coat in the hall closet. I quickly realize I have zero ambition to even make it up the stairs, let alone draw myself a bath so I just wrap the cozy throw from the couch around my shoulders, toss a few logs in the fireplace and kick my feet up. I reach down in the cushions to retrieve the remote when I hear a faint tapping sound. I stop my movements to listen more closely. It sounds like it is coming from the large picture window to my left.
I stand and reach to switch the lamp off next to the couch so I can get a better look at the front yard, illuminated by a fresh blanket of white snow.
Click.
Darkness.
There’s a face in the window.
Chapter 32
I
gasp and stumble backwards, falling on my back over the ledge of the couch. I search frantically for my phone. Where did I leave it? Is it still in my coat pocket?
“Heath, it’s me! It’s okay!”
The voice is familiar, yet I can’t place it in my state of panic.
The front door slowly opens. I didn’t lock it.
I can make out a hand reaching around, feeling for the light switch.
Click.
The room is illuminated.
It’s Mitch Miller.
“I’ll call the police,” I say, my voice so unsure, even I don’t believe it.
“Heath, come on. This has been going on long enough. I’ve given you your space. I think I deserve five minutes to explain myself.”
“Ryan is upstairs.”
“Great, I’d love for him to join the conversation, too.”
“Okay, he’s not upstairs, but he’ll be home any minute. I have a panic button. We have cameras everywhere.”
“Heath, what is it going to take to show you that I wouldn’t hurt anyone? We’ve known each other our entire lives. Have you ever seen me hurt anyone?”
I consider the question. I suppose I haven’t.
“Stay here,” I tell him as I cautiously make my way to the kitchen, walking backwards so I’m facing him the entire trip. With shaking hands, I grab two steak knives out of the butcher block on the counter. I’m not quite sure I’d have the nerve to actually stab someone, but having them in my hands makes me feel just a little better.
I sit on the chair furthest from him and motion for him to sit on the couch. My blanket is still on the floor in front of where I was sitting, dropped in response to being scared half to death just moments ago.
“You’ve got five minutes. Talk.”
“I’ve told you every single thing that happened that night. My story hasn’t changed. Why would I want to hurt Kelly?”
“Because she rejected you.”
He laughs. It’s not a smug laugh. More of disbelief.
“Rejected me? She didn’t want me to leave!”
I consider this for a moment.
“So, why did you?”
“My mom’s college roommate was in town from Door County. I promised her I would take them both to the 8 a.m. service on Sunday. She’s always in a strange competition with this woman over whose son is more successful and if I showed up late or hungover, I would have never heard the end of it. I knew if I didn’t stop kissing Kelly at the party, I would have never left. The entire service, all I could think about was dropping them off and picking Kelly up for breakfast. I was heartbroken when she didn’t answer her door at the hotel.” He pauses and I can see the beginning of a tear glistening in his eye. “I thought she changed her mind.”
We sit in silence for a moment. It’s been years and he’s still torn up about it. I can’t decide if I should let my guard down and continue to hear him out. I’ve been so convinced of his guilt for so long. It’s hard to imagine a scenario where he is completely innocent.
“Heath, I laid in bed all night, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. I was so excited to see her again. The chubby nerd from high school got to make out with Kelly Young. It was too good to be true. I’d had a crush on her since the 6th grade.”
“I miss her so much,” I blurt out, feeling strangely safe with Mitch again for reasons I can’t explain. Both knives drop to my sides, and I stand up to hug him. He meets me halfway and begins sobbing. “I miss her, too. Every day, Heath. Every single day.”
“I just don’t think it was an accident, Mitch,” I say, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.
“I don’t either. You haven’t been speaking to me and I’ve had nobody to really discuss it with. Nobody that knew her like you did.”
“I’m so sorry for icing you out. I think I was just grieving, angry and chose the easiest route; blaming it on the last person to see her alive.”
He hugs me again and whispers “No apology necessary,” in my ear.
He sits back down on the couch, and I sit on the opposite end. Under the light of the lamp, which is turned back on, Mitch looks a little rough. He’s still trim but his skin is pale, and he carries bluish bags underneath his eyes.
“What made you come here tonight?” I ask.
“I was leaving a party and saw you walking alone. I sat in my car for a minute, contemplating whether I should bother you. I peeked through the window to see if you were downstairs, I didn’t want to ring the doorbell and risk waking someone up in the house. I tapped to get your attention, not considering how it would startle you. I’m sorry.”
I reach forward to squeeze his hand. “I’m glad you came.”
“How about we meet for coffee when we are both rested and ready talk about the details of that night? There has to be something we’re missing.”
I smile. “I think that’s a great idea.”
Chapter 33
I
t’s mid-March by the time that coffee date finally comes. Mitch and I have talked on the phone plenty of times and exchanged emails, but this is the first time we’ve both been available for an entire morning to discuss our theories. I’ve invited Aunt Meryl to join us, and she’s overjoyed that I’m moving on from my reservations over Mitch’s innocence. “I’ve been hoping you’d come to your senses. His office has the best rates for home and auto bundles, so I’ve been between a real rock and a hard place, Heath.” Oh, Meryl.
We’re meeting at The Delona, a rustic-themed restaurant out on the highway that’s been known for their deliciously greasy breakfasts since I was a kid. There’s something about the cozy, log cabin-style interior and large windows that face the woods behind the restaurant that make you feel as if you’re just sitting in someone’s living room. Places like this make me so thankful I don’t live in the city anymore. The Delona just feels like home.
Meryl and I pull in at the same time as Mitch, in his brand-new Ford Pickup truck. “Ah, I see the insurance business has been good to ya,” Meryl quips as he exits the truck.
“Oh, yeah, I just keep raising your rates so I can buy a newer truck each year. You’re on to me, Mer!” he laughs and gives her a casual hug. The hug he gives me is a little longer and a little tighter. We’re both relieved to be reunited.
We take a table in a quiet corner in a side room of the restaurant. It’s a little late for breakfast and a little early for lunch so we’ve picked the perfect time for some privacy. I smile when I see that Mitch has brought a notebook and pen, similar to the ones I’m carrying.
We exchange pleasantries over our coffee and omelets, the subject of Kelly waiting until the server clears our plates. Mitch and I both open our notebooks, revealing bullet point lists of our theories and questions. Meryl chuckles. “You two are a regular old Cagney and Lacey, hot on the case!”
“Weren’t they both women?” Mitch asks.
“Yeah...well, you get the point,” Meryl responds, pouring herself a refill from the coffee carafe on the table.
Throughout the next hour, Mitch and I go back and forth with our thoughts, questions, and suggestions about what may have happened to Kelly. Meryl stays quiet for the most part, drinking in everything we are saying with the occasional nod and finger point when one of us brings up a valid theory.
Reluctantly, I tell them both about what Frank said to me on New Year’s Eve about Tom Strenksi feeling “forced” to rule her death accidental. I know Frank wouldn’t be very happy to hear that I’m betraying his confidence, but these two need to know everything I do if we are going to be on the same page and figure out what happened to our friend.
“Can we ask for a second opinion on the autopsy?” Mitch asks.
“Her parents would have to approve an exhumation of the body and I doubt they would,” I answer.
“Parent, not parents. Her father died last year,” Mitch adds.
I cannot believe nobody told me. Then again, maybe it’s not common knowledge around here. They haven’t lived in the area in years and I’m not sure who they kept in contact with. Although I assumed Mitzi and Frank still spoke with them, maybe I was wrong. Lisa Young has now lost her husband and her only child. I can’t believe I’m feeling sympathy for the person convicted of killing my parents, but stranger things have happened.
“Lisa emailed me,” I say, knowing Meryl will chastise me for not telling her.
“What? When?” she asks with wide eyes.
“Late last year, months after I sent her the letter. She just told me she’d let me know when she was ready to talk.”
“Well, that’s huge, Heath. That means she has something to say.”
Mitch wasn’t aware I had even sent Lisa Young a letter, so we quickly fill him in on the details.
“So, you’re telling me that it’s possible both your parents and Kelly may have unsolved deaths? Escanaba hasn’t seen a situation like this in years and now we may have two separate cases at the same time. This is insane,” Mitch replies and sets his pen down next to the notebook. “I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this, Heath.”
Once again, I say it’s fine. I’m fine. I’m getting so good at that default response.
“Okay, back to Kelly. We have the possibility that she actually fell, which we doubt. We have Julie, the last person she argued with before her death, who was noticeably absent at the bonfire after beer pong. We have Buckland, who had a crush on her in high school and got a full view of your make out session,” I say, pointing to each item on the list in front of me.
“What about the party bus driver?” Meryl asks.
“Although I fell asleep at the fire, I think he pulled in and immediately came to get us in the back yard. Why would he have even been down by the river?” I point out.
“Would Julie have the strength to push Kelly down that hard?” Mitch asks.
“If she came at her from behind, I have no doubt. I’m just not sure she would have had the guts to do it. Let’s keep her on the suspect list, just in case,” I say.
“Someone had to have a legitimate reason to want her dead,” Meryl adds.
“I agree,” I say. “Figuring out who and why is going to be the problem.”
Chapter 34
Fall 2021
T
his must have been a strange time for you, joining forces to solve the possible murders of your loved ones. A bit surreal, right?”
Vickie smiles. It makes me wonder how much she has read about the cases and if she thinks it’s “cute” that I was having to prove the deaths of my loved ones were all, in fact, intentional. This wasn’t a game to me.
“Surreal is an understatement. I had the most normal childhood imaginable in small town, America. The only funerals I had attended were my grandparents, who died of natural causes. Homicides happened to strangers on the news, not people I knew in real life. Investigating murder wasn’t exactly on the list of my life’s expectations,” I respond. She shakes her head, as if saying “I bet it wasn’t,” and once again, takes her glasses off to wipe them with her shirt. I wonder if it’s a compulsive tick of hers because I can’t imagine what could have gotten them dirty or smudged during our conversation.
“After that meeting with Meryl and Mitch, where did you go from there?”
“After the meeting, I finally felt I wasn’t crazy. I had two people who looked at the evidence and agreed with me that things weren’t as they seemed. I was both optimistic about finding answers and also a little scared.”
“Scared?” Vickie asks.
“Yes, Escanaba is a small town. No matter the outcome, the guilty party was going to be someone I knew. That’s a hard pill to swallow.”
She momentarily hangs her head. This might be the first time she’s realizing the gravity of everything that has happened to me. I’m a firm believer that a normal person’s life is 85% a representation of the decisions they make and 15% random occurrences that they have no control over. Unfortunately, my life’s hardships all tend to fall in that 15%.
“So, we’re now talking about spring of 2019. Marc and Julie are engaged, your house renovations are complete, Ryan is settled in at the clinic; what else was happening? Was your time filled with investigating your suspicions? Were you still trying to have a baby?” She asks, pen ready to record her thoughts on my responses.
“I actually emailed Lisa to ask about exhuming Kelly’s body. I didn’t get a response. Meryl, Mitch, and I met at The Delona every few months to discuss our latest findings, but it slowly evolved into three people eating pancakes and rehashing the same old information. Nobody had any news and Frank’s leads dried up, as well. Tom Strenski wasn’t talking.”
