Catskills, NY Saturday, July 3, 2021
SHE STEERED THE RANGE ROVER THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN ROADS AS her mind replayed the previous night. Her thoughts continued to return to the moment in front of her hotel when she swore Walt Jenkins was on the verge of kissing her. Avery spent much of the night lying in bed, trying to decide if she had wanted him to kiss her. Of course she did. She was, despite her mind’s best attempt to convince herself otherwise, in the midst of a terrible dry spell. Even for her arid standards, eighteen months was something of a record for her. Taking over American Events during the last year had left little time for a love life, and she’d gone so long without intimacy that she wondered if perhaps her impression of Walt’s intentions was nothing more than seeing an oasis where, really, just more desert sand stood. They had shared an intimate conversation earlier in the night, during which Walt revealed that the love of his life had not only broken his heart, but perhaps his spirit too. Perhaps this innocent confession had given Avery the impression that Walt wanted more from their face-to-face moment in front of her hotel room than reality dictated. Perhaps she had misread the situation entirely.
She pushed Walt Jenkins from her mind when she pulled into the driveway and saw Emma Kind waiting on the front porch, just like the first time they’d met.
“Welcome back,” Emma said as Avery climbed from the Rover.
“Good to see you again, Emma.”
“Come on in.”
Avery walked up the steps and through the front door.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“No wine today, that’s for sure,” Avery said.
“Good Lord, no. I’m so embarrassed about that.”
“Don’t be. I drank as much as you did.”
“Still, I’m sorry to have mixed my emotions that day with so much wine. It’s never a good idea. But the news about Victoria’s remains, and your interest in her story, well . . . the memories just overwhelmed me. The idea that after all these years someone is willing to help me in this quest to prove my sister’s innocence, a quest that has felt futile for the last many years, just got to me. And the idea that Avery Mason might help shine light on such an injustice. . .”
“I should be the one apologizing,” Avery said. “I barged into your life and started asking questions about a very delicate subject. Like you said, mixing wine with emotions is never a good idea.”
“Except when it works.”
“Except then, yes,” Avery said with a chuckle.
“Let’s talk out back,” Emma said. “Coffee?”
“Sure, thanks. Two creams, two sugars.”
It was a beautiful, clear morning in the mountains and the birds were in full chorus as Avery and Emma sat on the patio.
“I’m going to do the best I can on this story about Victoria,” Avery said. “If you feel embarrassed about purging your emotions, I feel just as embarrassed about my alcohol-induced confidence that I could prove Victoria’s innocence. Now, reality is sinking in. I spoke with Walt Jenkins, the detective who ran the investigation.”
“Detective Jenkins. I remember him.”
“Yes. He’s moved on from the police force and is no longer a detective, but remembers the case well. He’s agreed to help me, and has worked his contacts at the New York State Police to gather all the information he can about the case. I’m meeting with him later today to go through it all.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It will at least provide unfettered access to the details about the investigation. But . . . Walt Jenkins may no longer be a detective, but he still thinks like one. He was steadfast in his opinion that the case against Victoria was strong. According to Jenkins, the circumstantial evidence was powerful. But the hard evidence was overwhelming.”
“I’m no detective, Avery. I’m a sixty-year-old retired elementary school teacher who’s starting to gray. Many would claim I’m still a grieving sibling whose views are clouded by unconditional love and loyalty. And maybe this many years later I should just move on. But there was something in Victoria’s voice when she left those messages on 9/11. A conviction that I’ll never be able to get past. So I don’t care about the evidence. I don’t care how strong a case Detective Jenkins claims he had. Something about the investigation is wrong, and I know Victoria is innocent. I need you to believe that.”
“I’m not sure what I believe at the moment. And you don’t want me to start a re-investigation of the case believing one thing or another. For me to do my job properly I have to stay neutral and unbiased. I have to collect all the information I can find, analyze it, and then come to my own conclusion. If there is anything that suggests Victoria is innocent, I’ll pursue it. I promise. But what I need to do first is learn all I can about your sister, and I need your help on that. I need to figure out who Victoria was so I can form an impression about her and better describe her to my audience. I’ve already talked with Natalie Ratcliff and she’s working on a chronology of her friendship with Victoria, starting with their college days. Together with your testimony, it will go a long way to showing the audience who Victoria was. But I was hoping to dig deeper, even before Victoria’s college days. I want to get into her childhood, start from the beginning.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know about our childhoods. And I have boxes and boxes of things in the attic that will help. Victoria’s baby albums, school photos, high school yearbooks, her wedding album. Lord, there’s so much up there. I packed it all away after she died and haven’t looked at any of it for years.”
“Would you share those things with me?”
“Of course. It’ll take me a little bit to find those boxes. I haven’t been up in the attic for some time.”
“I’m happy to help.”
An hour later, Avery set three old, dusty plastic bins into the cargo area of the Range Rover.