“You mean her fear of the water? Yes…it could be. But we can’t jump to conclusions. There’s a lot more information out there to be found.”
It was a bullshit answer, just something to tell Kellaway that would help her to stay level and grounded. Because as far as Avery was concerned, two back-to-back cases where a victim’s fear was used as the means of death pointed to a pretty clear intent on the killer’s part. But she knew she needed more to go on before she could present her theory to the guys back at the A1.
So that’s what she struck out to find as she pulled the car out into early morning traffic. It wasn’t quite six o’clock yet and she was already on her way to speak to her second grieving individual of the day.
***
Abby Costello’s mother lived in Virginia, ironically in the lakeside town where Abby had nearly drowned as a kid. Her father, however, lived with his second wife in the South End of Boston. By the time Avery and Kellaway arrived, Larry Costello had already been informed of his daughter’s death by the same cops who had initially visited Amy.
Larry Costello stood behind his kitchen bar as Avery and Kellaway did their best to conduct a rational line of questioning. Larry was grieving in his own way: doing the dishes, scrubbing the counters, busying himself with throwing something together for breakfast. He wept the entire time he did these things but managed to give coherent answers to most of the questions.
“I hate to say it,” Larry said, “but Amy is right. Abby was never one to tell me much about the guys she was dating. She did a bit in high school but that was just because of proms and curfews and things like that.”
“Do you think she would have shared any information about this man with her mother?” Avery asked.
“I doubt it. They had a very strained relationship. They spoke on the phone maybe once a month and only saw one another around the holidays. It’s a mutual I-don’t-give-a-damn sort of relationship between both of them. God…someone has to tell her. I have to call her, don’t I?”
“You can have someone on the police force do it if you like,” Avery said.
“No. I’ll do it,” Larry said. “She’ll handle it better coming from me. I…when can I see her? The body, I mean?”
He let out a strangled moan of despair at the mention of the body but it passed quickly and he was right back to cracking a few eggs into a bowl. His wife poked her head out of the bedroom when she heard the sound, saw that things were okay, and then headed back into the room.
“She’s taking it hard,” Larry said. “She and Abby had started to become friends. It took a while for Abby to warm up to her, but it was finally starting to feel natural. Anyway…can I see her?”
“You can,” Avery said. “Of course, there’s the autopsy to be conducted, but after that you can visit. Someone will contact you about it.”
“Is there anything else about your daughter you can tell us that might help with the case?” Kellaway asked.
“No. It might sound like the typical na?ve father, but I don’t know of any problems or bad behavior. I do agree with what Amy told you, though: Abby hated water. Was absolutely terrified of big open bodies of water. I can’t believe she had to endure that. I suppose Amy probably told you about the near-drowning incident?”
“She did,” Avery said.
Her cell phone rang at that moment. She grabbed it right away, hoping it was the coroner. She gave Kellaway a look, trying to indicate that the questioning was on her shoulders now.
“Sorry, I have to take this,” Avery said, excusing herself into the Larry’s living room. She answered the call on the fourth ring, trying to keep her voice down.
“This is Detective Black.”
“Hi, Detective Black, this is Cho Yin from the coroner’s office. I was told to contact you directly with the results on Abby Costello.”
“Yes. What’s the word?”
“She definitely drowned. Preliminary results show no signs of abuse or sexual activity. Of course, we’d rule it as murder, as her hands were bound behind her back.”
“Yes. Definitely not a suicide. The blindfold proves that, I think.”
“There is one more thing I thought you might find interesting,” Yin said. “If you recall, when you and I discussed the Lawnbrook case, I pointed out that there had been extremely high levels of cortisol at the time of death, due to the fear.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“I found similarly high levels in Abby Costello. They weren’t quiet as high as Lawnbrook’s but she was certainly scared.”
“Of course she was,” Avery said. “She was blindfolded and led down a pier to the water.”
Of course, now that she knew Abby had been afraid of water, she was looking for such a link. She was simply arguing the facts with Yin in order to get a second party to verify her gut reaction.
“Yes, but the levels I’m showing are higher than the expected levels we find in people who have been in situations where they were hunted down or pursued. Abby’s fear was something not typical in other murder cases.”
“So you’d say it was safe to say that she was scared of…what, the water?”
“Possibly,” Yin said.
“Thanks for the call,” Avery said. “Please let me know if you find anything else out of the ordinary.”
With that, she pocketed the phone and went back into the kitchen. Kellaway was still talking to Larry, asking him about any college boyfriends Abby might have had. He was telling her that he knew there were a few but nothing serious. He never met them or knew their names.
“Mr. Costello, that was the coroner that just called. I believe they’re done with the preliminary autopsy. You can go see her now if you like.”
Larry nodded, stopping as he added cheese to the eggs that he had dumped into a frying pan on his stove. He then paused, still with shredded cheese in his hand, and lost it. His face crumpled in a way that hurt Avery to witness, and he hit his knees in the kitchen. He let out another wail and this time his wife came running out to his side. She’d kept away while they’d questioned him but this was just too much.
Avery and Kellaway stepped back, slowing them their privacy. She did not want to leave without formally saying goodbye, especially not when he was in the throes of his grief. So they walked into the living room while a grieving father mourned the loss of his daughter.
It then hit Avery like a brick, standing in the living room and listening to Larry Costello’s sorrow.
This is why I do it, she thought. This is why I’ve always done it and this is why I came back. To right the wrongs that cause this kind of pain. To catch the killers that take life away, robbing not just the victims, but the lives of their loved ones as well.
And with that in mind, Avery knew that she would catch this killer. She felt the certainty in her bones, like fire burning her from the inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Never one to wait passively around while waiting for others to come up with answers, Avery headed back to the precinct. She had already formulated a plan of attack in her head, most of it requiring good old nose-to-the-grindstone research and digging. She figured she could do that while she waited for results from forensics and a final report from the coroner.
Without a proper office to call her own, she borrowed a laptop from the PR department and set up shop in one of the smaller conference rooms. Kellaway joined her and together, with coffee and donuts fueling them, they started working together like a well-oiled machine. Avery found that Kellaway took instruction well and never argued. She was legitimately happy to help in any way she could, even when it was to run basic records requests or doing simple Google searches.