Marina Long greeted them at the door. She showed them into the den where Valerie was sitting up on a couch with two pillows behind her back and a blanket over her. “Wayne and I will be in the other room if you need us,” Marina said as she left.
Mike and Angela settled in the two chairs opposite Valerie. Her eyes looked puffy and sad. After briefly making eye contact with him and Angela, she stared straight ahead.
“Valerie,” Mike said, “let me begin by asking, how you are doing?”
“I’m okay,” she said quietly.
“This is Detective Angela Walker. She’s working with me on the Kerry Dowling case.”
Valerie continued to stare straight ahead.
“Valerie,” Mike said, “I know that Kerry Dowling was your friend. I know how terrible it is to lose a friend. I’m sure that you want whoever hurt Kerry to be brought to justice.”
She continued to stare off into the distance, but her face grew harder.
“Valerie, at eleven o’clock in the morning on the day Kerry died, she sent a text to her sister Aline, who was in England at the time. Kerry said she had something very important to talk to her about. She sent that text right after she had breakfast at the Coach House diner in Hackensack. Did you have breakfast with Kerry that morning?”
“No,” Valerie said as she pulled the blanket higher, almost to her neck.
“Valerie, the waitress at the diner was shown pictures of Kerry’s friends. She identified you as the girl who was with Kerry.”
Valerie shook her head back and forth as tears began to form in her eyes. Her breathing became heavier. Her hands were balled into fists.
Mike was about to ask another question when he felt Angela’s hand on his arm. He knew without being told that it was her signal that she wanted to take over.
“Valerie, honey, would you mind if I sit with you on the couch? I like being close to people when I talk to them.”
Without waiting for an answer, Angela moved to the couch. Valerie slid over to make room for her.
“That’s better,” Angela said, facing Valerie from barely two feet away. “How old are you, Valerie?”
“Sixteen.”
“Sixteen,” Angela said. “I have a daughter who’s seventeen. She’s a lot like you. A pretty girl. Really good at sports.”
“What’s her name?” Valerie asked.
“Penelope. She hates that name. Insists everybody call her Penny. She says Penelope is a clown’s name.”
A faint trace of a smile came across Valerie’s face.
“She’s like you in another way too. When she’s got something bothering her, it’s really hard for her to talk about it. She bottles things up inside her.”
Valerie looked away from Angela.
“Valerie, honey,” Angela said. “I want you to look at me. Look right in my eyes.”
Valerie turned her head back.
“And I want to hold your hands. Is that okay?”
Valerie nodded as Angela’s hands enveloped hers.
“Keep looking at me, honey. I know you have something terrible inside you. The only way things are gonna get better is if you let it out.”
Valerie shook her head.
“Valerie, you’re safe now. Whatever’s hurting you or making you afraid, you can make it stop,” Angela said as she brushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen across the girl’s face.
“I can’t,” Valerie whispered in a soft, almost childlike voice.
“Yes, you can, honey. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
Valerie’s breathing became faster as tears filled both eyes.
“It’s okay, honey. You’re safe.”
“He’s raping me!” Valerie screamed, and began to convulse in sobs as she fell into Angela’s embrace.
75
Aline hurried past the patio, through her backyard and around the hedges to Marge’s property. It was an unusually cool, cloudy evening, and the sun was just disappearing below the horizon.
Aline could see the light on in the upstairs room that she knew was Jamie’s. Through an open window she could hear the audio from a program he was watching. She rang the doorbell, waited, but got no response.
Walking back into the yard she shouted up to Jamie’s room. He appeared at the window and said she could come up.
As Aline ascended the stairs, she tried to remember that last time she had babysat her special neighbor. Almost ten years ago, she thought.
The force of Aline’s knocks on Jamie’s door was enough to open it. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The TV was off now. As she looked at Jamie, it was clear that he had been crying.
“My mom’s in the hospital,” he said. “She went in the ambulance. She’s gonna die and go to Heaven with my dad.”
Aline sat on the edge of the bed. “Jamie, a lot of people who go to the hospital get better, and they come home. We have to hope and pray that your mom gets better, and that everything will be okay.”
“Mom is in the hospital because I’m bad. I’m going to jail, because I did a bad thing. I went swimming with Kerry.”
Tears began streaming down Jamie’s face. His body shook as he cried softly.
Oh my God, Aline thought. He doesn’t even understand what they think he did.
Aline ran her hands up and down his arms. Jamie’s long, strong arms reached up and enveloped her in a hug. It was tight, almost painfully so. Despite what he was saying, she could not believe this gentle creature could have hurt Kerry. Was this an opportunity to find out what really happened to her sister?
After giving him a moment or two to calm down, Aline stood up and went over to the window. The lights in her backyard had just come on and illuminated the murky twilight.
Her mind returned to a psychology course she had taken in college. A particularly interesting lecture dealt with the strategy of having child victims reenact the traumas they had undergone as a way to cope with and master them. Was the night of Kerry’s death a traumatic experience for Jamie? Had anyone asked him to relate what happened in a way that would allow him to tell the story?
“Jamie, have you had dinner yet?”
“No.”
“Is Chinese food still your favorite?”
“Sesame chicken, white rice and wonton soup,” Jamie said, a smile returning to his face.
“Okay, I’m going to order Chinese food for you after we play a little game. We’re going to pretend it’s the night of Kerry’s party.”
They began with Jamie looking out the back window. “Kerry had a party,” he said. “Everybody went home and Kerry was by herself.”
“So Kerry was alone. What was she doing?”
“She was cleaning up. Then Alan Crowley came over. He likes Kerry. He kissed her and hugged her.”
Pointing to her backyard, Aline asked, “Where did Alan come from?”
Jamie seemed confused by the questions. Aline took his hand. “Come on. We’re going over to my yard. I want you to show me everything you did that night and everything you saw.”
76
For the full minute that Valerie cried, Angela held on as the girl buried her head in her shoulder.
“Who is it, Valerie?” Angela asked. “Who did this to you?”
“I can’t tell. I told Kerry and she’s dead. It’s my fault.”
Her voice had reached a crescendo of fear and grief. Angela began rocking her. “Valerie, Valerie, you’re safe, honey. You’re safe.”
Marina and Wayne had heard her screaming “He’s raping me!” and rushed into the room. “Valerie, Valerie!” Marina cried.
Mike was staring at Wayne. Aline had told him that Valerie seemed to resent her stepfather. Was he the one doing this to her?
As Wayne rushed to Valerie, Mike sprang up. Wayne dropped to his knees beside the couch. “Valerie, baby, tell us who did this to you. You need to tell us.”
“It’s, it’s, my coach, Scott Kimball. He did it. He won’t stop.”
“The coach,” Marina exclaimed. “My God, we let him come in here this afternoon. He was so concerned about Valerie. We even let him talk to her alone.”
“He warned me not to say anything to anybody. He said, ‘Aline should remember what happened to Kerry,’?” Valerie sobbed.
Wayne stood up. “I’ll kill him,” he said, his voice deadly quiet.