Trying to keep her focused, Josie said, “You said you went through the files. You found something unusual?”
“This.” She handed Josie the folder. Josie opened it but there was nothing inside. The tab had a name on it in someone’s handwriting: Ella Purdue. “That was on his desk, next to the computer which had the note.” She said the word “note” with part disgust and part incredulity. “As you can see, it’s empty.”
Josie felt a small jolt at the sight of the name. Her exhausted mind worked backward through the case. Where had she just heard the last name Purdue?
“Are you sure it wasn’t just a new patient who never showed?” Josie asked.
“I thought of that but if that were the case, wouldn’t there be some message or note from her somewhere in his office? Anywhere? He used to take down phone messages in a specific notebook he kept on his desk. There was nothing in that. Also I tried to find an Ella Purdue anywhere in the state and couldn’t. Did you know there are eighty-seven people with the surname Purdue in the entire state of Pennsylvania? It took me three years, but I got in touch with every single one of them. Not one knew of a woman named Ella or had a relative named Ella.”
Josie didn’t know whether to admire her tenacity or be saddened by it, but now she understood what Devon’s husband had meant by saying she would be happy to see Josie. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that maybe someone pretending to be named Ella Purdue swindled $50,000 from him and drove him to kill himself.”
Purdue. The name echoed around the chamber of her mind. She thought back to all the interviews they’d done in the last few days. “Swindled him how?” Josie asked.
Devon gave a heavy sigh and took the folder back, tucking it back into the plastic sleeve. “I wish I knew. I really do. I can’t think of a way someone could have done that. My father was extremely intelligent. People loved him. He helped a lot of people. He didn’t have secrets. That was the next thing I thought—what if someone was blackmailing him? But for what? I can’t think of a damn thing. I even had this year of doubt. That’s what I call it. My ‘Year of Doubt’, when I wondered if my own father was really the great man I always believed he was or if he had been harboring some horrible secret that someone used to blackmail him! Can you imagine?”
She stared at Josie earnestly, and Josie felt a surge of sympathy for the woman. She knew what it was to have loss shatter your life completely. She knew what it was to live with a grief so powerful that some days could only be lived on a minute-to-minute basis. She knew what it was like to be consumed by thoughts of your lost loved one and to become obsessed with everything that came before their death, as if an in-depth analysis of those last minutes, last hours, or in some cases, last weeks and months, could somehow help you make sense of the fact that they were dead. When really, no matter how much searching, deconstructing, and analyzing you did, you could never change the outcome. That hurt most of all. Knowing that didn’t stop you from doing it. People, Josie included, would do anything to ease the pain of ruptures in their souls that could not be fixed.
“Devon,” Josie said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I will talk to my sister about featuring your dad’s case on her show. Right now, can you tell me if Russell Haven had any significance to your father?”
“Oh, thank you! Um, no. It didn’t. Denton did, because that’s where he was born. To be honest, that’s why I moved here. If this was the place he came when he felt so low, at the end of his life, this is where I wanted to be.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Josie said. “I don’t know if I said that, but I am.”
“Thank you,” said Devon solemnly. “I appreciate that. Thank you for listening to me. Wait, that is why you came, right? Because your sister talked to you about the case?”
“I wish that was the reason, but the truth is that we’ve recovered two bodies this week from the Russell Haven Dam.”
“Oh my God,” gasped Devon. She lowered her voice, as if she was afraid someone would overhear. Josie glanced at the doorway, but there was no sign of Lilly. “I heard about one of them on the news, but they just said foul play was suspected. Were they suicides?”
“No,” said Josie. “Murders.”
Devon’s face paled. “Oh my God.”
Josie was about to ask Devon about her father’s other patient files, when it came to her. Hugo Watts had mentioned the name Purdue when he was listing the names of Lydia Norris’s ex-husbands.
“Did her other marriages end in divorce?” Josie asked.
Hugo nodded. “The last one died, I believe. Mr. Norris. I don’t know if they’re all still alive. It’s been years. You could look them up, although I don’t see how that is helpful in this situation.”
Noah said, “Do you remember any of their names?”
“Last names, yeah. Let’s see. There was Kleymann, Vawser, Purdue, and… let me think… Chasko, I believe.”
“Detective Quinn? Are you okay?” said Devon.
Josie blinked and smiled at Devon. “Yes. Sorry. I just have a few more questions. In your father’s patient files was there any mention of the last name Watts? Patients, family members or friends of patients?”
Devon stood up and went over to her laptop. “I can check. I’ve got all my father’s patient names and addresses in an Excel spreadsheet—except Ella Purdue, since she doesn’t seem to actually exist. The list really helped when I had to archive his records and mail copies to patients.” She returned to the coffee table, settling back onto the floor. She opened the laptop and clicked away. Finally, she turned the screen toward Josie. “No one by the name of Watts.”
Josie leaned forward and studied the names in the spreadsheet. They were organized by last name. She scanned all the last names beginning with W. “Do you mind if I search for a couple of other names? Fiore? Norris?”
“Of course,” said Devon. “I can email you a copy of that if you’d like.”
“That would be great,” Josie replied.
Neither name was in the database. Sighing, Josie turned the computer back in Devon’s direction. “Devon, do you know anyone with those last names?”
Devon slowly shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. I mean, the last name Watts sounds familiar, but I don’t know anyone personally. Don’t you have someone in the police department with that last name? She’s on TV all the time?”
“Our press liaison,” Josie said.
“Yes,” said Devon. She touched her ponytail. “Auburn hair, right?”