Max waited her out. She’d faced reluctant witnesses many times. Reluctant witnesses, scared witnesses, angry witnesses—people who didn’t do the “right thing” just because it was the right thing to do. People who needed poking and prodding and confrontation before they gave up the truth.
“I—I think you’re mistaken,” Olivia said, her voice barely audible. She looked beyond Max, her cheeks flushed, her right hand turning the narrow platinum and diamond watch on her left wrist around and around until Max wanted to slap her hand to make her stop.
“Kevin told me he was with you at Fake Lake the night Lindy was killed. You could have spared him a trial and the police would have focused on other possible suspects. You alone could have done that. But you remained silent.”
“You need to leave.”
“What secret is so dangerous that you can’t even speak of it thirteen years later?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Max continued to stare at the spineless woman in front of her. “You were Lindy’s friend, I know you cared about her. Your statement would have exonerated Kevin. They might have found her killer. So I will ask one more time: why didn’t you go to the police?”
Olivia shook her head, twirling the watch slowly around her wrist.
“Did Detective Beck ask you, after Kevin’s trial, if you had been with him that night?”
Olivia didn’t need to answer the question, the surprise on her face told Max what she needed to know.
“Did you tell the detective that you hadn’t been with Kevin? That you were home with your family?”
She nodded.
“Was that the truth? Or were you with Kevin at Fake Lake?”
She didn’t make eye contact. “I was going to run away, from home. Kevin talked me out of it, but I didn’t want anyone to know that he was with me.”
“Does Anita still work for your parents?”
Olivia frowned and looked at Max quizzically. “Yes, why?”
“I’ll ask her.”
“No!”
So Olivia did have a voice louder than a whisper.
“It would be easier for you to tell me the truth now, but if you don’t, I will figure it out. It’s what I do, Olivia. And if Anita doesn’t know, I’ll ask your father.”
The fear that crossed Olivia’s face was so tangible that Max almost felt it. Everything Kevin had said was true: Olivia was terrified of her father.
The front door opened and Olivia jumped. Christopher Ward stepped onto the porch. “Olivia, I didn’t know where you’d run off to.”
He assessed Max, quietly curious, but he didn’t know who she was.
Olivia rose, pulling herself together immediately. She was good at it—too good. This woman was a seasoned liar, Max would bet her career on it. “Christopher, this is Maxine Revere, a friend from school.”
“Revere. I don’t know the name.”
“She’s visiting from New York, just stopped by to say hello.”
“It’s not like you to neglect to offer refreshments, Olivia.”
“She can’t stay.”
Very interesting conversation. Max wanted to contradict Olivia to make her squirm, but she didn’t have time for games.
Max stood. “It was nice to meet you, Professor Ward.”
“Will you be in town long?”
“A few days. Maybe a week.” She smiled at Olivia. “Why don’t you walk me to my car? I’ll give you my contact information.”
Olivia wanted to decline, but Christopher nodded and said, “I’ll meet you back inside, dear. I’m ready for afternoon tea.”
Christopher closed the door behind him and Olivia stared at Max. “Please, don’t talk to my father.”
“Walk me to my car,” she repeated. Olivia reluctantly walked down the path with Max. “Ward is a bit old for you.” He was certainly old for Max, and she didn’t mind dating older guys. Just not that much older. “When did you get married?”
“Nine years ago,” Olivia said quietly.
To each his own, Max said, though it wasn’t lost on her that Christopher was very much like Olivia’s father, Bryant Langstrom. Refined, formal, controlling.
Max gave Olivia her card. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Max stared at the woman. Olivia had always been aloof compared to the rest of the group, but she’d been smart, focused, and sweet. Very kind. That she and Lindy were friends had always seemed odd, except that they were both from old money and longtime Atherton families—but Lindy was nicer to Olivia than to anyone else. Maybe she knew about Olivia’s home life. Lindy had her moments, when she wasn’t completely self-absorbed.
“It matters.”
Olivia shook her head. “You know I was with him, why does it matter if anyone else does? If he’d been convicted, I would have come forward.”
“Why did you tell Beck that you weren’t with Kevin?”
“The trial was over. It didn’t matter.”
“It did. If you told the truth, they might have looked at other evidence, other suspects. They might have found the person who really did kill Lindy.”
“My father—he was there.”
“When Beck questioned you?”
She nodded. “I wasn’t eighteen, my father insisted. I had no other choice. You don’t know my father like I do.”
Max didn’t understand her reasoning. “Kevin’s life was ruined. And then you went off to college while Kevin was ostracized and became a drug addict. You didn’t even go to his funeral today.”
Tears moistened the prim woman’s eyes, and Max didn’t know if they were genuine or an act.
“I loved Kevin. But I was more scared of my father.”
“And you still are. Does your husband know?”
Olivia shook her head, her face reddening. “Don’t come here again.”
Max didn’t make her any promises.
*
When Max drove off, she called Gregory Q. Jones’s cell phone number. Normally, she’d be amused and a little curious as to how quickly David procured the information she needed; after her conversation with Olivia, she was agitated and not a little bit angry. A testament to growing up was that she hadn’t lost her temper, much. It happened on occasion, but the passion of anger would have been lost on that woman.
“Jones,” Kevin’s defense lawyer answered on the third ring.