“Are you going to tell me why it would be so damaging if it were sent to the authorities?”
“Essentially, what was recorded was a sexual assault on a minor. This was a case of aggravated rape and it’s possible the participants would be held accountable even at this late date. I was told it was meant to be a joke, a pornographic spoof, but the scenes that would support that claim have been excised.”
“I take it Fritz McCabe is one of the accomplices.”
“That’s correct,” I said. “I know Poppy helped clear Sloan’s room. I’m wondering if anyone else was involved?”
“Sloan’s two stepbrothers, Justin—and Joey, whom you just met. Joey was the one who talked me into it. He’s Paul’s older boy. He said keeping her room intact would never bring her back. Others have told me the same thing, but the finality of it didn’t sink in until I heard it from him. He adored her and if he was letting go, I knew I should do the same. I couldn’t handle the job myself, so I asked some of her friends to pitch in. Four of them agreed.”
“What did you do with her belongings?”
“I asked those same friends if they’d like to choose something of hers as a keepsake. Three chose an item. After that, Joey and his fiancée had a yard sale that netted them a couple of hundred dollars. Anything that didn’t sell, we donated to the Goodwill.”
“Do you remember who took you up on your offer of a keepsake?”
“Poppy Earl was one.”
“Really. She didn’t mention it.”
“She and Sloan were very close for years. She was upset when she saw the room again. I’m sure it brought back memories.”
“May I ask about the other three?”
“Of course. Patti Gibson, Steve Ringer, and Roland Berg. It was a very emotional experience for them.”
“What about you? How have you fared over the years? I don’t have children, so I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through.”
“It’s kind of you to say so. Paul and I divorced a year after my daughter died. He said he couldn’t go on living with me. Some thought he was callous, but I couldn’t fault him. I was impossible in those days. I drank heavily throughout Sloan’s adolescence. Once she was gone, I realized what that must have cost her, but I had no way to atone. I couldn’t even ask her to forgive me. I stopped drinking the day of the funeral, which took every ounce of strength I possessed. Beyond that, I had nothing left to give. My two stepsons moved in with us that first year, and when Paul left, they elected to go with him, of course. When Sloan died, they were thirteen and fifteen and their presence only caused me pain.”
“Grief’s a tricky proposition,” I said. “When my Aunt Gin died of cancer, I was relieved. She was a difficult woman and raised me according to her own strange views of femininity. The relief didn’t last long and what arrived in its place was pain, but at least I knew her death was coming. Violent death is something else altogether. I don’t know how you make your peace with it.”
“I will never make my peace with it. Sloan was my only child and she’s dead. I say that because it’s the central fact of my life. She’s been dead for ten years and she’ll be dead for the rest of time. She died when she was seventeen and that’s all the life she gets. In the paper, Fritz claims he’s paid his debt to society, but he hasn’t paid his debt to me. He calls what he did a ‘mistake’ that he’s now putting behind him so he can move on with his life. A neat dodge on his part, but he’s not off the hook. Why should he enjoy happiness when mine was taken away?”
I knew she didn’t expect a response, but I was chilled nonetheless.
She continued in a tone of voice that was deceptively mild given the content. “I’ve given this a great deal of thought and what I’ve realized is that revenge doesn’t have to be an eye for an eye. Retaliation can take any number of forms. It doesn’t need to be crude or obvious. The point is, the pain should be equivalent; not tit for tat but something comparable.”
“I’m not quite following.”
“It’s simple. When Fritz killed Sloan, he robbed me of what I loved most in the world. You’d think in order to even the score, I’d have to kill the person he loves most, but there are other ways to ruin someone’s life. I think about what I’d do to him if I could. I want my pound of flesh.”
“Even after ten years?”
“The passage of time isn’t relevant. What I care about is right now, finding a way to make him suffer as I do. Not the same loss, but one that would carry an equal weight. I plan how I’d cover my tracks, what I’d say if the police showed up at my door.”
I said, “You’d find that tougher than you think. Guilt makes your hands shake. It makes the blood drain out of your head. Suddenly, you’re not as cool and composed as you thought you’d be. I’ve been on both sides of the law and you don’t want to go down that road.”
“So I’ve been told. My friends keep urging me to forgive, but that’s ridiculous. Sloan’s gone and she’s never coming back, so if I weave my bloody little fantasies, what difference does it make?”
“None, as long as you don’t act them out,” I said.
Even as the words came out of my mouth, I could see the application here. She was not an entirely unlikely candidate for devising an extortion scheme. Not an eye for an eye, but misery for misery.
“My dear, acting out is not the point because then the game would end. If I gave up the hope of reprisal, I’d forfeit the anger, which is better than pain.”
“Let me ask you this. If you’d found the tape, what would you have done?”
“I’d have walked it straight to the district attorney’s office.”
“You wouldn’t have considered trading your silence for twenty-five thousand dollars?”
“I already have all the money I need. What I don’t have is satisfaction. That, apparently, will have to wait.”
“Until what?”
“Until the final piece falls into place, whatever that may be. In the meantime, I find ways to keep busy. I call newspaper editors. I talk to journalists. I send out copies of the articles about the crime.”
“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but why would you do that? There’s no mystery about ‘whodunit.’”
“I’ll admit, as time passes it’s becoming harder to generate interest in the story. Sometimes I go back and read the transcript of the trial, just to remind myself what went on. It’s old news, but what other choice do I have? I’ll keep pushing as long as Austin Brown’s still out there. If I can keep the story alive, there’s a chance someone will spot him and turn him in. At any rate, you didn’t come here to listen to my sad song. Is there anything else I can help you with? I’m afraid I have nothing to say about where the tape has been.”
I could feel myself shaking my head. “I think the point is that whoever had the tape saw Fritz’s release from prison as a way of making him sweat,” I said. “I would like to have Joey and Justin’s contact information.”