Her Last Word Page 6

  There were a few who for a long time maintained hope she was alive. Maybe she was being held somewhere. Maybe she had escaped, was suffering from amnesia, and didn’t remember. One reporter wrote an entire article about women who’d survived years of captivity, even suggesting Gina might be her abductor’s sex slave.

  The survival rates for girls like Gina drop substantially after twenty-four hours. And if the victim is a child, the window of rescue narrows to the first three hours.

  As I tape this on March 1, Gina has been missing for 4,946 days. Her critical hours have long passed. And still I hold out hope she is alive.

  “I’d like to see my baby brought home,” Audrey Mason said. “I want her eternal resting place to be beside me and her father. She deserves better than what life gave her.”

  There were a lot of variables coming into play that night. Remove any one, and circumstances might have been different. Gina might still be with us today. But wishful thinking doesn’t do anybody any good.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Friday, March 16, 2018; 9:45 a.m.

  Kaitlin had called Erika Travis Crowley, the fourth girl with Gina the night she vanished, several times for another interview. Erika had not returned any of her calls, so Kaitlin had gotten the hint and left her alone. But now that Jennifer was dead, she felt compelled to see her and tell her what had happened to a woman they both knew. Erika might have blown off Kaitlin, but surely she’d want to know about Jennifer.

  It was raining when she parked in front of the large colonial in the upscale Far West End neighborhood. The yard was neatly manicured and the garden beds freshly mulched. She dashed up the long driveway to the front door, painted a shiny black lacquer, and pressed the bell.

  Seconds passed, but there was no sound or movement in the house. Then she heard footsteps, and the door opened. Erika was dressed in a sleek black yoga outfit. Her hair was pulled back into a smooth ponytail, and her makeup looked immaculate.

  Erika’s brows knotted as she focused her attention on Kaitlin’s face. “I told you I’m not talking to you again.”

  “I’m not even here about that. I came to tell you Jennifer Ralston is dead.”

  Erika nervously twisted the large diamond engagement ring nestled against a wedding band with her thumb. “What are you talking about? She’s fine.”

  Rain dripped on her. “No, she was murdered in her home last night.”

  Erika folded her arms, shaking her head. “Jennifer. Dead. I don’t believe it.”

  “Yes.” Even though she’d been up half the night trying to process the news, she still couldn’t fully accept it. “The cops visited me last night and told me.”

  Erika shook her head, but still didn’t invite her inside. “How did she die?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do they have suspects?”

  “Not that I know of.” Kaitlin stepped forward slightly. She hadn’t intended to use Jennifer’s death to push her own agenda, but like it or not, she and Erika were the remaining survivors from the night Gina was taken. “Erika, we’re the last two girls alive who were with Gina that night. Don’t you think we should sit down and talk more? It can be off the record.”

  “What’s there to talk about? What’s done is done. I can’t save Gina or Jennifer.” She shook her head. “I said too much already.”

  “Don’t you think about that night?”

  “No, I don’t. It was tragic, but there’s nothing I could have done then or now.”

  “Do you ever wonder if we could have helped her that night?”

  “Like I said, I hadn’t thought about it until I made the mistake of talking to you.” She reached for the door handle. “Thank you for the news. Please leave my property.”

  The door closed in Kaitlin’s face, and locks on the other side slid into place. For a moment she simply stood staring. Erika had Kaitlin’s number. When and if Erika was willing to talk, Kaitlin would be there.

  Back in the car, she drove across town to the Richmond City Justice Center. She’d been there three times since Randy Hayward’s recent incarceration, but he’d refused to see her. This morning, however, she’d received a call from the jail.

  “Will you accept a call from Randy Hayward?”

  She shoved her hair out of her eyes and sat up in bed. “Yes.”

  A click and then, “Kaitlin, this is Randy. Come by the jail. I’ve something for you.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I’ll tell you in person.” The line went dead.

  Now, as Kaitlin moved through the front doors of the jail into the modern, clean lobby, she shook off the raindrops. The lights were oddly bright, a nice break from the dreariness outside.

  Her stomach tightened at the thought of seeing Randy. They’d dated when she’d been a know-it-all sixteen-year-old and he’d been a twenty-one-year-old college dropout who lived down the street from Gina. She’d been a lost soul, abandoned by a mother who sent her to an aunt in Virginia to get sober. She’d missed home so much and was still grieving for the brother who’d committed suicide. Despite her tough demeanor, she’d been vulnerable, and Randy had been happy to take advantage. Their relationship had run hot for a couple of months until a Fourth of July party when he’d hit her after she’d refused a beer. She’d known in that moment if she stayed with him, she wouldn’t make it.

  The last time she’d seen Randy in the flesh had been in a police lineup. Once the cops placed Randy in the area the night Gina vanished, they’d quickly determined Kaitlin’s connection to him.

  The day of the lineup her nerves had been scraped raw after weeks of police questioning, media scrutiny, and sleepless nights. She could barely breathe, but she’d stood in the small stifling room with her mother and aunt at her side. Through a two-way mirror, she’d watched the six men file past her. She’d recognized Randy of course, but she couldn’t say with certainty he’d taken Gina. She’d never seen the abductor’s face and only heard his voice. She’d asked the cops to get each man to speak. “Run or I’ll kill her.”

  All the men in the lineup had repeated the phrase, and none of the voices had resonated. The cops had been frustrated, and her aunt had been furious. They’d all pressured her to listen to the voices again. She had. But she couldn’t identify the abductor.

  Now she approached the front guard station and showed her ID, which she was required to leave with the guard. Her purse and phone weren’t permitted in the building and remained locked in her car.

  She’d done her homework on Randy since she’d begun work on this project. He’d had a string of crimes in the interim since Gina died, and his last three-year stint in prison had ended in early January. Less than six weeks later, he’d obtained a knife and went into a convenience store to steal cash to fuel his meth habit. Instead, the female clerk confronted him, screaming for him to leave. Without hesitation, he’d stabbed the blade into her belly twice, severing an artery. The hemorrhaging put the clerk in a coma, and though the ER docs had stabilized her, she died a week later. Randy was facing capital murder charges, and the Commonwealth of Virginia still had the death penalty.

  “Who’re you here to see?” the guard asked.

  “Randy Hayward,” she said.

  “Does he know you’re coming?”

  “Yes. He called me this morning.”

  Dark eyebrows rose. “You his public defender?”

  “No. I’m here to talk to him about an old case.”

  The guard shook his head. “I’ll let ’em know you’re here. Can’t make promises he’ll see you. What’s the name?”

  “Kaitlin Roe.” She wondered what had changed since she’d first started calling him. Had he heard about Jennifer?

  To the left was a room where the families met with the bail bondsman. Three women, one with a baby, waited their turn to post bail.

  “Ms. Roe,” the guard said. “Follow the signs to the visitor’s room.”

  “Thank you.” She crossed the carpeted floor to double do
ors. Following the signs, she made her way to the room.

  The air smelled stale and the walls seemed to close in. The doors on the other side of the thick glass opened. A muscular man was escorted to the seat on the other side, and he made no attempt to hide his curiosity as he sat. Her memories of Randy Hayward were of a wiry younger man of twenty-one. His neck was thick with muscles and his skin covered in tattoos.

  If at twenty-one his eyes projected juvenile insolence, at thirty-five his gaze telegraphed the cold calculation of a man who’d spent much of his adult life in prison.

  She searched his eyes, expecting some flicker of recognition, and when she didn’t see any, she was relieved.

  Then he winked and picked up his phone. She lifted the receiver to her ear.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

  “Randy, it’s been a long time.”

  He leaned back, his gaze drinking her in. “I got to say, girl, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  Girl. His pet name for her. Charming until he confessed he couldn’t remember names too well and called all females girl.

  He lowered his gaze to her breasts. He grunted. “You sure know how to break up the daily routine.”

  Revulsion slithered over her. “I came to talk to you about Gina Mason.”

  “Who?” He held her gaze.

  “Gina Mason. You remember. She vanished fourteen years ago.” And then she caught herself. The con was conning her.

  He ran his tongue over his lips. “Right. Gina. The cops were sure I’d killed her. Boy, did they ever want to find her. They had a posse full of cops on the hunt, but they couldn’t prove anything. You know better than anyone. You had your chance to identify me, and you didn’t.” He made a sucking sound. “What ol’ Randy gave you was pretty special, wasn’t it? Popped your sweet cherry and made you his woman.”

  She separated further from her rage and self-recriminations. Stupid choices could not be taken back. What mattered was now. “I’m making a podcast about her. I’m hoping she can finally be found.”

  He narrowed his eyes, assessing her. “I’d forgotten all about her. I’d have thought they’d have found her by now.”

  “She’s still missing. But you know all this, otherwise why call me?”

  “Why do you want to find her? I always thought you were a little jealous of her. What was it you called her?”

  Goody-Two-Shoes. “I don’t remember.”

  His eyes never left her. “I hear Mrs. Mason died.”

  Kaitlin and her aunt had talked about the podcast in her final days. She’d been worried about her aunt’s reaction and had been pleased when she’d given her approval. “Eight weeks ago.”

  “Mrs. Mason was my mom’s friend. They played tennis together. I truly liked her. She was always nice to me. Maybe I should have met with her before I got locked up again. I could have shared a few secrets.”

  “What kind of secrets?” Kaitlin asked, even knowing he would lie.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. What kind of secrets do you think I have?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I know where she is,” he said, grinning.

  Everyone assumed Gina had died long ago, but no one really knew. However, the surety humming under his statement took her aback. “Randy, no one knows what happened to her. You said so yourself.”

  “That’s right. That’s what I said.”

  “What’re you saying now?”

  He cracked his knuckles, and she noticed the letter tattoos on his fingers. D-E-A-D on the right hand. K-I-L-L on the left.

  He was center stage in her life again, and the glint in his eyes told her he liked it. “It’s important to you that she’s found, isn’t it, girl?”

  “It is, Randy. And maybe it’s important to you, too.”

  “Do the cops still care?”

  “I have no idea. I care, and I know you care. You grew up down the street from Gina. You grew up with her. You told me once about your crush on her. We both still have a connection to her.”

  “So, if I did have information about Gina, what would you do for me?”

  “Randy, what do you want?”

  He slowly ran his tongue over his teeth. “Girl, I’ve missed you. Just seeing you is bringing back some fine memories.”

  “Do you want money?”

  “A few extra dollars in my canteen account would be appreciated for now, but I’m looking for more. I’m facing the death penalty this time.”

  Ah, the real reason he called. He’d received word from the attorney on his case. “You killed a woman in a convenience store.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I jabbed the knife at her thinking I’d scare her. But the dumb bitch moved, and the blade went right into her gut. Severed an artery. Not my fault.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Mom isn’t taking my calls anymore, and that means no more money. I’ve got an attorney, but he keeps telling me to sit tight. I’m tired of waiting and wondering how I’ll get out of this mess.” Anger deepened the lines on his face. “If this situation is getting fixed, I’m going to have to pull a rabbit out of my ass.”

  “What does this have to do with Gina?”

  He pointed both his index fingers at her as if he were a dueling cowboy. “Everything, sugar.”

  “The cops placed you on Riverside Drive the night Gina vanished. Did you see what happened?”

  He leaned forward, his gaze burning into her. “And if I did?”

  “Did you see?”

  “Maybe.”

  He had no soul. His single priority was saving his own ass. And if he could play her in the process, all the better.

  “What do you want?” she asked again.

  He grinned.

  It was a smile that was too familiar. The one he had always produced when they were dating and wanted to string her along.

  This trip had felt necessary an hour ago. And maybe it was. You couldn’t pick and choose the demons you face. “You weren’t around when Gina vanished. My bet is you were in your parents’ garage smoking meth. You talk a big game, but you can’t deliver. Like always.”

  As she moved to rise, he held up a hand. “Hold on there, Kait-lin. Don’t be in such a rush to leave. We were getting reacquainted. And I’ve missed seeing you so much.”

  “Unless you can help me find Gina, you won’t see me again.”

  A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “You’re cute when you talk tough.”

  She gripped the receiver and looked toward the door, anxious to be out of here and free of him.

  “You were there on the road,” he said.

  “Already reported in the media, Randy.”

  “You were so drunk you could barely stand.”

  She slowly looked back at him. “Again, the entire city knew I was a lush before I left town. You’re boring me now.”

  He shrugged, his grin widening. “I know where she is.”

  The hair on the back of her neck rose. She sensed Randy wasn’t playing around anymore. She sat back down and stared at him, waiting for him to show his cards.

  He steepled his index fingers and pointed to her. “Your blond hair threw me off. I like it better dark. Gina had dark hair.”

  She remained silent because she didn’t trust her voice.

  “He told you to run.”

  “I asked you and everyone in the lineup to say run.”

  He tapped a finger against his chin as if trying to remember. “He cut Gina’s ear.” He drew his finger across his right ear. “Sliced it right off. And that ear had an earring in it. I remember because I gave the silver dangles to you. You must have lent them to Gina.”

  The blood drained from her face, leaving her lightheaded. It was a detail the media had never learned. As she sat in her chair, she remembered all the blood that had soaked her T-shirt. Gina’s blood. She’d never been able to explain how her blood came to be on her, but it was there. “Where’s Gina?”

  Randy shook his head
as he winked. “I don’t have many cards left to play, so I gotta be smart with this one. I want a lot more than your baby browns batting at me before I spill what I know.”

  The bait was too tempting not to bite. “I’m listening.”

  “Get me someone who can make me a real good deal. I’m not sure who you need to talk to, but you’ll figure it out. You’re smart. Smarter than Gina.”

  INTERVIEW FILE #6

  MRS. AUDREY MASON

  Monday, January 15, 2018; 4:00 p.m.

  It’s not easy facing Gina’s mother again. She’s in hospice care. It’s cold, almost always a given during January in Virginia, and the hint of snow lingers in the air. The light is dim, but the walls in Aunt Audrey’s room are painted a cheerful blue, and paper snowflakes made by a group of first graders hang from the tiled ceiling. And there is a bright arrangement of white tulips by her bed. It cheers me to know someone else is also thinking about her.

  Despite how it all ended between us fourteen years ago, I had loved her. She’d opened her home to me and loved me like a daughter.

  She’s in what looks like a regular bed hooked up to a morphine drip. A bright-yellow kerchief covers her balding head. She smiles, but is too weak to sit up. We talk about my podcast, and she wants to be on tape. The idea of going to her grave without knowing what happened to her daughter frightens her.

  I kiss her on the cheek, and then we begin.

  Our family was always small. It was Aunt Audrey and my mother. Gina was an only child. As I’ve said, I had a brother who committed suicide when I was fourteen. In the days after Gina vanished, Aunt Audrey and I were united in our terror and grief for Gina. And then as the weeks passed and the cops eventually turned their questions against me, Audrey began to doubt me. Why did I have Gina’s blood on my shirt? My inability to remember frustrated her, but the breaking point came at the police lineup with Randy Hayward. When I couldn’t identify him as the attacker, she’d broken down and asked me to leave her home.