OCTOBER PUSHES INTO NOVEMBER AND the dining hall is already getting ready for Thanksgiving break, giving up and serving corn four different ways.
Fulkerson isn’t able to shake anything out from his friends in the DA’s office, and after so many months suspended in this limbo, I almost get used to the idea that the answer will forever be an unknown known. Besides, with a dead suspect, having an answer sometimes felt arbitrary—it doesn’t make Jane any less of an enigma for me, and other than knowing that the person who killed Jane could no longer hurt anyone else, it doesn’t give me any greater sense of peace.
I head home to New York the week before Thanksgiving. And, just as it’s always been with this story, the second I step away, everything shifts.
I get an email from the DA’s communications director, Meghan Kelly, asking if I’d be around the next day for a phone call.
I don’t even bother feigning surprise when we speak. She says there will be a press conference about the case on Tuesday afternoon. A press advisory will go out on Monday to invite everyone.
“I’ll be there,” I say.