The Secret Friend

'How does she know that? Did someone tell her?'

'I don't know anything else,' Neil said. 'The woman refuses to talk to anyone but you.'

60

Neil Joseph explained what to do as they walked.

Be patient, he said. If the woman doesn't answer a question right away, hang back for a moment. Silence can be your biggest ally. Most people want to talk, want to get things off their chest. It's important that they be heard. When she does talk, be an empathetic listener. Nod in the appropriate places. You want her to open up and share everything. Don't take any notes, just listen. You want her to trust you.

Tina Sanders sat in the back of a patrol car parked in a dark alley away from the commotion. She wore the same threadbare winter coat Darby had seen that morning at the lab.

Neil knocked on the driver's window. The patrolman left the motor running and walked with Neil into the alley to smoke.

Darby opened the back door. The interior light clicked on. Tina Sanders didn't look over, didn't look up. The woman's face was streaked with mascara, her grey hair dishevelled, as though she had rolled out of bed and into her clothes. The cigarette pack with the crucifix tucked under the cellophane was clutched in her arthritic hands, the gnarled fingers shaped like tree roots.

Darby slid into the seat and shut the door. The interior was uncomfortably warm and smelled of stale beer and cigarettes.

'I understand you wanted to speak to me.'

Tina Sanders didn't answer. In the soft blue glow from the dashboard lights, Darby could see the dark, hollowed pockets underneath the woman's eyes. Her cheeks, etched deep with grooves, were wet and shiny, but her voice was clear when she spoke.

'He said I can trust you,' Tina Sanders said.

'Who said this?'

'Malcolm Fletcher. He said his name was Malcolm Fletcher. He's one of those FBI-type cops. He called me today. Twice.' The woman paused between her words to take short, quick breaths. 'He's the same man who called and told me to go to my mailbox, to go to the crime lab to talk to you about Jenny.'

'You said he called you twice.'

Sanders licked her lips, nodded.

'When was the first time he called?'

'This afternoon,' Sanders said. 'He told me you found Jenny's body.'

Darby shifted in her chair.

'Did you find Jenny?'

'We found a set of remains, but I can't say for certain if it's your daughter,' Darby said. 'We have to do a dental comparison first.'

'How did she die?'

'I don't know.'

Jennifer's mother looked to the crucifix now wrapped around her fingers, tears streaming down her cheeks.

'He said you would tell me. He told me to come down here and find you and you would tell me what happened to my daughter.'

'I don't know anything at the moment,' Darby said. 'I haven't examined the bones.'

'He said you would tell me the truth.'

'I am telling you the truth. If the remains we found belong to your daughter, I'll tell you. I promise I'll tell you everything.'

'Have you found Sam Dingle?'

'Who?'

Tina Sanders turned her head and stared out the window.

'Who's Sam Dingle?' Darby asked.

The woman didn't answer. Her blank expression reminded Darby of her mother – Sheila staring at Big Red's coffin, not believing he was lying in there, dead and waiting to be lowered into the ground as the priest talked about God's divine plan for all of us; Sheila looking inside the closet, afraid to touch Big Red's clothes; Sheila wandering around the house in the months after he was buried, wondering what went wrong, how she got to this place.

'He put Detective Bryson on the phone.'

Surprise bloomed on Darby's face. 'You spoke to Detective Bryson?'

Jennifer's mother nodded.

'When did you speak to him?'

'Tonight,' Sanders said. 'He confessed to everything.'

'How do you know you spoke with Detective Bryson?'

'I recognized his voice.' The woman's voice was eerily calm. She squeezed the crucifix in her hand and closed her eyes. 'I know the truth now. You people can't hide it any more. I won't let you.'

Darby's head was spinning. She wanted roll down the window for air. 'What did Detective Bryson tell you?'

'All these years… all these years I prayed to God to tell me what happened to Jenny. If I knew the truth, then at least I could grieve and move on, maybe get to some place where remembering Jenny wouldn't hurt as much. That need to know the truth – time doesn't take it away. It only sharpens the edges.'

Darby thought back to Fletcher's warning. What had he said? I shouldn't have to warn you, of all people, that the truth is, more often than not, a terrible burden. You may want to give that some thought.

'After I left the police station, I was angry,' Tina Sanders said. 'I didn't want to carry that hope again – that hope of finally coming close to knowing the truth. It's happened too many times over the years. I went to church and prayed to God to take it away. Father Murphy told me to have faith. "God will send his angels, Tina."

'And then this man Malcolm Fletcher called me and he put Detective Bryson on the phone and he told me how Sam Dingle killed these women – Detective Bryson knew it and yet he went to Dingle's father and said he would throw away the evidence because he needed money to pay doctors to treat his daughter. He let Dingle go and then Dingle came back and killed Jenny. The man raped my daughter for days inside that basement and then he strangled her and left my baby to rot.'

'Detective Bryson told you this?'

Tina Sanders looked back to her rosary beads. 'Father Murphy said if I ever met the man who killed Jenny, I had to forgive him. It was the only way to let go of the hate. I had to forgive him.

'Malcolm Fletcher asked me how Detective Bryson should be punished. I said it was for God to decide. That's what I said. Those were my exact words.' She squeezed the rosary beads in her hand and closed her eyes. 'Is he dead?'

'Yes.'

'Did he suffer?'

Darby told the woman the truth. 'Yes,' she said. 'Yes, he did.'

Jennifer's mother took a deep breath. Opening her eyes, she exhaled slowly, choking back tears, and stared back out the window.

She refused to speak again.

61

Darby was placed in charge of the crime scene. The remaining members of the lab were called to the nightclub. It took considerable time to locate additional gas masks.

At 6 a.m., bleary-eyed and weary, she entered the lab and started logging the evidence. Neil Joseph called. He asked her to come to the morgue.

Her office door was open, the light on, spilling into the hallway. Darby heard the voice of a reporter.

'… don't know any details yet. Detective Timothy Bryson was the lead investigator for Boston Police's newly formed Criminal Services Unit, which was working on the murders of Emma Hale and Judith Chen. Both women were abducted and disappeared for several weeks before their bodies were found. Both women were shot execution-style in the back of the head. While the police have been uncharacteristically quiet on the murder of these two college students, Channel Seven has uncovered through a source close to the investigation that Hannah Givens, a sophomore at Northeastern University, is, in fact, missing and may be the next victim of this Boston-based serial killer. Boston Police Commissioner Christina Chadzynski is scheduled to hold a press conference sometime this afternoon. Stay tuned for more details.'

Darby stepped into her office and saw Coop and Woodbury sitting in chairs, watching a live newsfeed on the internet.

'Have they mentioned Malcolm Fletcher?' Darby asked.

Coop answered the question. 'I didn't hear anything, and I haven't had a chance to read the papers. We just got back from Sinclair.'

'Did the news mention anything about the remains?'

Coop shook his head. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

'The remains are at Carter's office,' he said. 'Keith and I are going to get started on the duct tape and clothes.'