Sunday, December 27: five days after the murder
Morning
Craig texted me first thing next morning. I was still in bed snuggled up with JJ, trying to do the new meditation Cass had given me yesterday for when I was feeling anxious. It was going okay but my mind, never a thing to be still, kept wandering. And of course when my phone buzzed I pounced on it, abandoning all hope of stillness and peace.
I frowned when I saw Craig’s message.
I need to talk to you. Can I come by before work?
Sounds serious, I texted back. What’s up?
Just need to talk to you. Is Leo home?
I sighed. JJ watched me with his big green eyes. “So much drama,” I told him. “Craig is being very secretive. Maybe he’s got some news about the real killer.” That would be nice.
JJ squeaked.
I nodded. “I think we should hear him out too.” I texted back.
Sure, I’m here. Grandpa is too.
Half an hour.
The eagle flies at midnight, I replied.
Apparently he didn’t find that funny because he didn’t reply.
I got up and JJ and I went downstairs. After I fed him breakfast I checked in on Grandpa, who was doing cat café cleaning duty that morning. I had told him a million times he didn’t need to, but he insisted. Said he liked it. He sang to the cats and everything while he was cleaning. It was kind of adorable.
“Craig’s apparently got some breaking news,” I said. “Do you know what he’s up to?”
He turned to me, adjusting his police-cat sweatshirt, a Christmas gift from Val. That was another one of his things—he wore silly cat clothes to the café whenever he was working in any capacity. “Not a clue. What’d he say?”
“He asked if he could come by. Said he needed to talk to me and asked if you were here.” I shrugged. “He was being awfully cryptic. I guess that means he needs to talk to you too.” I tried to make light of it but his text had sent my stomach churning again. I wasn’t usually an expect-the-worst person, but this week had really thrown me off.
“Hmm.” Grandpa frowned, but didn’t comment. “Okay. Let me know when he’s here.”
“Okay. Did you find out anything interesting about Virgil yet?”
“Well, let’s see. He was born in Boston and met June in college. He taught a justice course at Harvard for years. Really popular class. Popular teacher, in fact. Everyone loved him. Then he retired. About as far as I got.”
It didn’t seem that interesting to me. I went back upstairs to get dressed, squinting at myself in the mirror. This not-sleeping thing had been taking its toll. My eyes were puffy and I looked exhausted. I grabbed some under-eye cream, moisturizer, and concealer and attempted to repair the damage before Craig showed up.
That and some coffee made me feel more prepared to answer the door when he knocked half an hour later. I pulled it open.
He stood on the porch in his uniform, shading his eyes from the sun. No snow today, and not-so-cold temps. Almost like spring. “Morning,” he said.
“Hey. You didn’t like my code line?”
He rolled his eyes and stepped inside. “Clever. I have to get to work so…” He motioned me inside.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Go sit. I’ll grab it.”
I poured coffee for him and topped off my own, then carried them back out to the living room. Grandpa had emerged from the café and he and Craig were talking quietly.
I handed the mug to Craig with a questioning look and sat across from him. “So did you find out something about who really killed Virgil?”
Craig blinked. “What? No.”
“No? Seriously? Then what’s so super-secret urgent?”
He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes on the cup as he returned it to the table. When he answered, it was with a question to Grandpa. “Have you spoken to Katrina? Did she tell you or the lawyer anything else?”
Grandpa shook his head. “I haven’t spoken to her. I don’t believe Jack has either, but the arraignment is tomorrow.”
“Come on, Craig. What’s going on? Did you find out something that will help her?” I asked impatiently.
“If you mean have I been investigating with the Turtle Point cops, no. You know I can’t do anything relating to official police work, right?” he said. “My chief wouldn’t appreciate that. Especially if we’re not asked to help.”
“I know, but unofficially, you’re helping, right? Can’t you help Grandpa? I mean, she’s your colleague. She does incredible things for the animals on this island. She works probably double the time she gets paid for. She’s like a big sister to me. If there’s anything you can do…”
“What do you mean, help Grandpa?” Craig asked, eyes narrowing as he glanced at Grandpa.
“She means help me eat what’s left of this apple cake,” Grandpa said, sliding a piece across the table while raising his bushy eyebrows at me over Craig’s head.
Craig didn’t look like he believed that. He glanced at the cake, then sighed. “Listen. I want her to be innocent like everyone else does.”
His words chilled me. “What’s up, Craig? What aren’t you telling us?” I looked at Grandpa, who was silent, eyes on Craig.
Craig looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than here, but he took a deep breath and spoke. “There are some things you don’t know about Katrina,” he began.
I didn’t like the sound of that. I leaned forward in my chair, my stomach a knot of anticipation. “Like what? I’m pretty sure I know most things about Katrina.” I shoved my hands under my thighs to keep from playing with my nails. Did I, though? She was a few years older than me. She’d had a life while I was still a kid. She’d gone away to college for a while. I’d been off the island for a decade. Just because I liked to think of her as my old friend who rescued animals didn’t mean there weren’t other dimensions to her life.
“Like, when she went away to college, she was … involved in some things.”
“Things,” I repeated. “What kind of things?”
“Things,” he said, but now there was a hard edge to his words, “like being in a radical animal activism group at her school.”
“So she’s always been an activist,” I said, shrugging. “Most of us have, to some extent.”
“Exactly. To some extent.” He leveled me with his gaze. “I’m sure most of you weren’t involved in an incident that left someone permanently injured.”
I stared at him. What was he talking about? It certainly couldn’t be my sweet friend, who cried over injured birds and once spent a night sleeping in the woods during the winter because she was worried about one of her ferals. I’d even seen her shed tears over a tree that someone wanted to cut down in her neighborhood.
What did he mean, “left someone permanently injured”?
I could feel my heart picking up speed. “Craig. I’m sure whatever you heard, it has to be a mistake. Katrina’s hardly the type to be an extremist. She hates PETA, so that should tell you something about what she believes. She wouldn’t have been involved in something like that.”
Eyes still on me, Craig reached into his jacket, pulled out a medium-sized manila envelope and handed it to Grandpa, who hadn’t said a word yet.
I resisted the urge to snatch it away. “What is that?”
“Reports from what happened.”
Every fiber in my being screamed at me that I shouldn’t take that folder. Whatever it was couldn’t be good, if the look on Craig’s face was any indication. I didn’t doubt my friend, but at the same time …
“Can you be any more cryptic? Can’t you just tell me whatever it is? I don’t want to sit and read some old report from a hundred years ago.” I waved the envelope away.
Grandpa, who hadn’t said a word to this point, reached over and took the envelope. Leaving us to our debate, he opened it and began to flip through the pages.
“I’m still waiting,” I said.
“Fine. Katrina went to college in Boston.”
“Boston University. Yeah, I know.”
“She hooked up with a group of animal people—who ended up being pretty serious about their cause. Extremists.”
Oh, boy. This didn’t sound good. And as much as I tried to brush it off, I couldn’t tear myself away from whatever Craig was about to tell me.
“They did a lot of protests, a lot of sit-ins, they even released some animals from a lab at the school.”
“Okay,” I said. None of this sounded terrible to me. “So?”
“So then when that didn’t get them the results they wanted, they apparently started to take it further. Threatening the researchers and the professors. Vandalism and damage to the labs. And ultimately, arson.”
“Arson?” I stared at him. “What do you mean, arson?”
“I mean, they set someone’s house on fire.”
I could feel the blood drain from my face. “No. She would never—”
“They never found who actually set the fire. There was a whole group of them, and they all alibied each other.”
“Was…” I swallowed. “Was anyone hurt?”
Craig nodded. “The house was supposed to be empty. It was the home of a prominent researcher, and he and his family were supposed to be away. But his teenaged daughter got sick and stayed behind at the last minute.”
“Oh, Craig. No.”
“I’m afraid so,” he said.
“What happened to her?”
“She smelled the smoke but couldn’t get out of her bedroom. She had to jump from a third-floor window. Broke her back and was paralyzed.”
“Oh my God.” I couldn’t breathe. “This can’t be true. Or it wasn’t her, Craig. It couldn’t have been her. Maybe she did get herself mixed up with a bad group of people, but she would’ve pulled out of some harebrained scheme like that. She would’ve known it couldn’t turn out well. And Katrina isn’t heartless.” I got up from my chair and stalked around the room. “She’s not one of those people who would sacrifice one life for another. She wants to save everything—that’s her problem.”
“I know you want to believe that, Maddie,” he said. “But one of the eyewitnesses claimed they saw her at the house, a while before the fire broke out. They couldn’t make any charges stick, but it didn’t look good. She ended up leaving school not long after.”
“Are these reports credible? Or was it just someone who wanted to point the finger at them? At her? Did they see others from this group, or was it just her?”
“There were a few of them. Allegedly.”
“Okay. So maybe she was there, and maybe it was like, false pretenses or something. Maybe she thought they were going there to do something else, and they did this … awful thing instead.” I paced the room again. “She didn’t know, Craig. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Maybe,” Craig said, noncommittally. “I’m only telling you what the reports said.”
Just the facts, ma’am. “Yeah, I know. The reports. So what does this mean, exactly?”
“It means that the prosecutor is most likely going to dig this up. And it’s not going to look good for her.”
“It doesn’t mean she did anything wrong, Craig.” I looked at Grandpa, who had set the papers down and was now watching us.
He sat back against the couch and rubbed his eyes. “It’s not a positive thing, that’s for sure.”
I sank back down.
“It might mean something to the people on the jury, if it gets that far,” Craig said. He looked to Grandpa for confirmation.
Grandpa gave a small nod.
“I don’t want it to be true either. But if nothing else, it sets the stage for this crime. A woman who feels so strongly about animals that people who don’t feel the same way are disposable. Sure, they can’t prove it the first time. But if she saw something unjust happening again and couldn’t make the person see reason, who’s to say she didn’t take matters into her own hands again?”
“You sound like you believe this,” I said, incredulous.
“Just playing devil’s advocate.”
“You said she wasn’t actually arrested for this.”
“That’s right. Not enough evidence.”
“Then why are we prosecuting her? She’s our friend!”
“I’m not prosecuting anyone. You can bet the actual prosecutor will have this information, though. And he won’t hesitate to use it. Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, Maddie. It’s enough to plant reasonable doubt about what kind of a person she is when it comes to human versus animal.”
We all let that sink in.
“Did you talk to her about this? Did you tell her you were digging up her past and ask her what she had to say?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I didn’t. But Leo and I wanted to be prepared.”
I looked at Grandpa. “You knew?”
He nodded. “I suggested it.”
I didn’t know what to think about that. “Do you suspect she did something, Grandpa?”
“No, honey. But I told Jack I’d help him. And Craig offered to help me.”
I didn’t have an answer for that. I looked at Craig.
“I was always curious,” he admitted.
“Curious about what?”
“About why she came back early. She’d been so determined that she was going to leave the island, that she was going to go to veterinary school—I don’t know. She had all these dreams and then all of a sudden she was back and there was nothing else.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “And I just wondered why.”
This curiosity about everything around him was why Craig had become a cop. We’re the same age, and Katrina was older—just enough that she could babysit me at my in-between ages, and just enough that it wasn’t cool to hang out with me. But Craig was always so tuned in to what was going on around him, and if there was something that felt off, he wouldn’t let it go. He’d clearly seen that Katrina had been struggling. I remembered her coming back. I remembered asking her about it a couple of times, because by then we were old enough—well, I was old enough—to be her friend. She said she’d just come back, that was all, and I’d let it go.
But Craig hadn’t, and all these years later he’d still suspected something was off. Despite the fact that I hated his message right now, I felt respect and admiration bubbling up as well. It almost sent me off track.
Almost.
“So why didn’t you ask her?”
“What?”
“Instead of sneaking around behind her back and gathering evidence—alleged evidence—against her. Why didn’t you just ask her in the first place?”
I could tell he was startled by my question, but he recovered quickly. The only sign of a crack in his cop armor was the defensive crossing of his arms. “I doubt she would’ve told me this objectively.”
“Of course it’s not going to be objective. What happened to that girl was tragic—but if they never proved who did it, they shouldn’t be assuming that it was Katrina or anyone else. You know I’m right. And I’m going to just ask her myself. Like you should have done in the first place.”