What had happened to Katie Converse—and why? The why was the most important thing. Her navy blue parka seemed to be zipped all the way. Her coat covered her butt, but her pants looked like they were in their proper place. But just because her pants weren’t down around her ankles didn’t mean she hadn’t been raped up here. Throw her down on a bed of leaves and there would be no one around to hear. But Leif saw no signs of a fight—no defensive injuries, no broken branches or scuffed earth. Could she have been killed someplace else and then dumped here? But this area would only be accessible by ATV, and he hadn’t seen any tracks. And it was hard to picture someone carrying her all the way up here. So whatever had happened had probably taken place here.
Had the girl fled here from one of the popular trails, chased down by a killer? Or had someone stuck a gun in her back and forced her up here?
Or had Katie come up here to solve her problems in her own sad way?
MYSPACE.COM/THEDCPAGE
Coffee Buzz
November 19
I know I haven’t written much lately. A lot has been going on, but I can’t say most of it.
The Senate worked until 2:00 a.m. last night. Senator X had a whole bunch of pizzas delivered, just for us. Everybody likes him. And there I am thinking that I know him on a whole different level.
We got excused from school today, but not from work. I feel terrible. I’m so exhausted. I keep drinking coffee, but all it does is make me feel like I want to throw up.
FOREST PARK
January 4
Channel Four had gotten a tip from a woman who lived near a parking lot for Forest Park. She reported a lot of police activity, including some kind of search dog.
Cassidy and Andy had had to park their car three blocks away. Once they made it to the parking lot, the policewoman stationed at the entrance would let them come no farther. And, she said, no one was available to speak on camera about what was going on.
They began to set up for a live shot in the yard of the woman who had tipped them, with Andy’s camera pointed in the direction of the parking lot full of marked and unmarked cars, as well as a mobile command post.
In her head, Cassidy was putting together the story—as sketchy as it was—when she spotted Nicole walking to her car. She hurried across the street.
The policewoman sighed when she saw Cassidy tick-tocking toward her again in her high heels and short skirt. “I already told you, you’re not allowed in the lot.”
“But I know her,” Cassidy said, and called and waved. “Nic! Nic! Can I talk to you for a second?”
Nicole stopped, turned, and finally—reluctantly, Cassidy was sure—nodded assent. With a huffy grunt, the policewoman let Cassidy past.
“So have they found Katie?” she begged. “Is that what happened?”
“Come on, you know I can’t say,” Nicole said, her expression unreadable. “Notifications have to be made.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” she guessed, remembering that Nicole was the liaison to the Converse family. “Come on, Nicole,” Cassidy begged. “You’ve got to give me something here. I’m the one who told you guys about the rumors about Fairview. And I’m the one who turned up Luisa.”
Nicole stared at her without answering, without twitching a muscle, without any kind of expression on her face. Typical Nicole, with her typical poker face.
When it was the three of them—Nicole, Allison, and Cassidy—the relationship worked. They laughed, they shared tips, they shared gossip, they shared desserts. They were the real Triple Threat Club. But when Allison wasn’t around, it was out of balance. Cassidy was painfully aware that, compared to Nicole, she talked too fast, shared too much, laughed too loud.
“Please?” Cassidy begged. “They’re threatening to let Madeline McCormick take over the story if I don’t keep on bringing it home. The only reason I haven’t been bigfooted yet is that they know I have sources nobody else does. But I’ve got to give them a reason for keeping me on!”
Finally, Nicole sighed, and Cassidy knew she had won.
“That’s the guy who found the hand,” she said, pointing to a man in his twenties with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, standing at the far end of the lot. He stared down at the paper coffee cup in his hand, but it was clear he didn’t really see it. “His name’s Jeff. He might be willing to be interviewed.”
“Thanks! Thanks a lot!”
Nicole gave Cassidy one of her thousand-yard stares. “Don’t thank me. We never even had this conversation.” She opened her car door.
Cassidy scurried over to the guy, glad that Andy was still down on the street, out of sight. Stick a camera in a guy’s face first thing and you could lose the whole interview. Cameras made most people leery. So she often did a bit of a bait and switch. By the time she talked this guy into the interview and he figured out it was on camera, not for the newspaper, it would be too late.
“Hey, Jeff, I’m Cassidy Shaw. I’m a reporter. One of the FBI agents suggested I talk to you.”