Scar Tissue Page 7

  I followed Griff out the gate and we wound our way through the woods.

  “She seemed different today than last time,” he said. “Was she?”

  “Night and day.”

  “How come?”

  I considered telling him about the discolored skin on her back and my suspicions, but it was just a guess at this point, an educated one, but still a guess. Griff hated it when I jumped to conclusions.

  “Amy said it’s hormones. And some women are different when their husbands are around.”

  “Why’s that?”

  I thought of Rhea’s bruises. “Depends on the guy.”

  He turned and looked at me, clearly confused.

  “You have nothing to worry about,” I said and waved him on down the path.

  NINE

  David Hughes of Hughes Home Inspection left us with a handshake and a three-ringed binder that provided a detailed report of our soon to be new home. He’d suggested minor repairs, but nothing that would leave our bank account violated. Now it was wait-it-out time, while the bank did its vetting of us, scrutinizing every last penny we earned and spent and decided if we were a good investment. I wasn’t worried.

  Griff checked his watch. “You up for a trip to Fensworth? Coach Massett should still be on the field.”

  After a pit stop at Panara Bread (there’s nothing better than their iced green tea) we pulled onto the Fensworth College campus. Passing beneath a wrought iron archway we approached Admissions, a Greek revival complete with massive columns lining a wide veranda that stretched end to end across the front of the building. Beyond that, were the classrooms and the quad. A compilation of Federal and Greek style architecture surrounding a garden with picnic benches and lawns sufficient for an afternoon game of Frisbee. The campus was impressive if a bit intimidating. We followed a narrow drive threading through dormitory buildings and followed signs to the athletic complex. Emerging into a parking lot fit for an NFL event, Griff let out a whistle. A playing field surrounded by an eight-lane track lay beyond the chain link fence.

  “I didn’t know Fensworth athletics drew large enough crowds for a complex this size.”

  “They don’t, but they like to think they do,” Griff said.

  “Expensive ego.”

  “That’s one way to put it.”

  “Aren’t they small for Division 1 athletics?”

  “They’re not D1 in everything. Track and Ice Hockey, I think.”

  We parked along the fence and watched three runners make the turn in front of us heading for the hurdles.

  The coach gave us half a glance as we approached. “Help you folks?” he asked keeping one eye on his runners.

  “Coach Massett?” Griff asked.

  “Let me guess. You have a daughter who runs and you’re doing the college search. Well, I’ll tell you, my girls are number one in the state. Tenth in the nation.”

  “Not in the market, yet,” Griff said. “My daughter’s fifteen.”

  “Never too soon,” Massett said. “Getting noticed is a bitch.”

  We offered him our IDs. He glanced at them uninterested.

  “We were hoping to talk with you about Ashley Lambert,” Griff said.

  That got his attention. He shook his head and blew out a quick puff of air. “Now there’s a tragedy. What the hell happened?”

  “That’s what we’ve been hired to find out. In your opinion, was she having any problems academically or…” Griff nodded toward the track, “here?”

  “She was obsessed. Had to be the best and she was. I’ve never had any kid with a work ethic like hers. I almost wanted her to take it down a notch, ya know? Not something you’d hear from a coach very often, but Ashley worried me at times.”

  “Worried you how?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes she seemed a little off balance. Up here.” He tapped his index finger against the side of his head. “Liked to talk, what girl doesn’t? But Jesus, she could ramble on and on about nothing. I learned to tune her out. Can’t really put my finger on it, but she seemed like she was moving too fast. Christ, some days I was scared she’d drop of a heart attack. But she kept going.”

  He stepped a foot or two toward the track. “Again,” he yelled as the three runners passed us. “Step it up.”

  “Was the energy something new?”

  “She’d ended the spring season with the number two runners closing in. Her times weren’t quite what they had been, but they were still good enough to keep her in the number one position. Then at summer training camp she seemed a little edgy. I asked her if she was okay. She chalked it up to too much coffee. But I mentioned it to her father. Not that he gave a shit as long as her finish times were good. And they were.”

  “And it was worse recently?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it was the same when she came back to school in September and practices started up again. There was a nervous energy about her, twitchy, but she was at the top of her game. Best runner I’ve ever had. Same in the classroom. Whatever was going on with her didn’t affect her ability.”

  “Did you ask her about drugs?”

  He looked at me obviously offended. “My girls are in top form because they work hard. We don’t need any boosts on this team.”

  “Do you test before a race?”

  “I don’t, but the NCAA does random testing at tournaments.”

  “Ever get a positive?” I asked.

  “Never, not even one in the eleven years I’ve been here. My girls are solid. What you see is what you get.”

  “She ever tell you anything in confidence?” I asked. “Trouble at home?”

  He shook his head. “I think her father was pretty tough on her, but she never complained. At least not to me.”

  Coach Massett checked the stop-watch in his hand then lifted his gaze to the runners on the far side of the track.

  We waited.

  He took a step to the side, bumped into me and looked up like he was surprised I was still there. He glanced from me to Griff and realized we were waiting for more.

  “Her father hung around behind the bench no matter how many times I’d ask him to stay in the stands with the other parents. Thought his money spoke louder than theirs. He was a pain in my ass, to put it bluntly. Always coaching her, pushing her. That’s what they pay me for. And like she needed anyone to do that, anyway. The kid had the drive of a grizzly in mating season.”

  “What about friends? Was there anyone on the team she was close to?”

  “More the opposite. My girls are competitive, not just with our rival schools but with each other. As much as this is a team it’s a team of individuals. Every one of them wants the top score, but it was Ashley’s every time. I think the others were resentful, sick of her always being the one in the spotlight. Can’t blame ‘em, but it made the rest of them work like hell.”

  The runners flew past us again, legs stretching out in front of them, arms pumping.

  “Last lap,” Coach yelled.

  “That’s her roommate.” He pointed to the woman leading the trio. “Mitzi Gannon. Don’t think there was much love lost when Ashley died. Mitzi’s here on scholarship after being home schooled kindergarten to high school by her Born Again parents. She’s a bit awkward socially and breaking the tape on the heels of a pretty, rich girl really crawled up her ass. The casket had barely been lowered and she was out here on the track with the finish line in sight. She’s finally got the chance to be the first one across and she’s workin’ her butt off to make it happen.”

  “What’re her chances?” Griff asked.

  “Excellent. She’s a hell of a runner.”

  “Mind if we talk to her for a minute when she comes in?”

  “Be my guest.”

  The girls came off the track hands on hips, heads down sucking in air. They each grabbed a water bottle off the bench before walking up and down the sideline to catch their breath.

  Griff and I flanked Mitzi.

  “Nice run
,” I said.

  She nodded and wiped at the sweat dripping off her nose with the back of her hand.

  I tried to remember the last time I’d exercised or run that was not related to chasing down some asshole. I think I was ten. That’s not to say I’m in bad shape. I might be nearing mid-thirties, but at five-eight, one-twenty, I can still turn heads. And Griff’s not complaining. That’s all that matters.

  “We’re investigating the death of Ashley Lambert and understand you were her roommate,” Griff said.

  Mitzi stopped and took a gulp of water. “Not by choice. We weren’t friends. The school stuck us together. I guess they thought since we both ran track we’d be a good match.” She shrugged.

  “But…” I said hoping to lead her on.

  “But nothing. We lived together. We weren’t friends. That’s pretty much it. We didn’t hang out or anything.”

  “Were you surprised by her suicide?”

  “Everybody was.” She picked up a towel and rubbed the back of her neck.

  “Did she seem off in any way in the days before she died?”

  “She was always “off”. She was a weirdo. She was one big stressed-out, control freak. Every day was exactly the same. Up at the same time every morning, ate the same breakfast, went to class, the library, practice, dinner, study, sleep. Well, if you could call it sleep. More like sleepwalking. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and there she’d be, puttering around the room, putting away clothes or organizing her desk. Drove me crazy.”

  “Parties?”

  Mitzi shook her head. “No way. A party or socializing didn’t fit into her schedule.”

  “Did she have any friends?” I asked.

  “None that I ever saw. She was always alone except when her parents were around. They came to everything, even practices. Her father was as crazy as she was.”

  “Like what?”

  “Sometimes I’d hear them talking on the way back to our room after practice or an event. He’d be harping on how important winning was. As soon as one race was over they were already discussing the next one and how imperative it was that she won. Ashley would just keep nodding her head, agreeing. I mean, she’d have just beat the hell out of her opponents and instead of congratulating her, her father would be telling her to gear up for the next one. It’s no wonder Ashley killed herself. I would too with a father like that.”

  “What about her mother?”

  “She was always there too, but she never said much other than to tell Ashley to keep it up. But she was a weirdo too.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “It was just the way she talked to her. Like, she never sounded encouraging, more like her life depended on it.”

  “Did Ashley have any losses or setbacks the week she died?”

  “I wish.”

  I glanced at Griff. Mitzi’s compassion was underwhelming. “Her parents have picked up her belongings from the dorm room, I assume?”

  “Her aunt came and picked up her stuff a couple of weeks ago before the dorms closed for the summer.”

  “Where are you living now?” Griff asked.

  “I’m at my parents’ house in Falmouth. I have a couple of classes to make up in the fall. I’ll graduate in January.”

  “Okay to contact you there if we have more questions?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “One last thing,” Griff said. “Did you ever notice anything odd about Ashley? Physically, I mean, like that she was shaky or jittery?”

  Mitzi looked down as she dug the toe of her Adidas into the painted white line alongside the track. She shook her head and looked up at us, “No.”

  “Never?”

  “She was stressed out all the time, anxious…yeah, but that was her norm.”

  We took Mitzi’s contact information and with a nod to Coach Massett headed back toward the parking lot.

  “What’d you think?” Griff asked.

  “Don’t have much more than we had before we got here. But it was interesting that Mitzi saw Gwen as more demanding than encouraging. It confirms what Dr. Varkin said about her needing Ashley to win in order to keep the family together.”

  “I don’t think Ashley was aware of what was behind her mother’s encouragement. She just saw smiles on her parents’ faces. Greg came alive and Gwen was happy, and Ashley couldn’t let them down. She won at any cost.”

  “Until it killed her.”

  “Yeah, until it killed her.”

  I slid onto the seat, warm from the sun coming through the windshield. Griff got in and closed the door. We sat in the parking lot watching the runners make laps on the track.

  “You thinking she got into drugs to keep herself going?” I asked.

  “I think it’s a definite possibility. Poor kid never stood a chance.”

  “No shit,” I said.

  “You think Gwen was jealous of Ashley?”

  “You mean because of her relationship with her father?”

  “It’s a thought.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think Gwen cares enough about Greg in that way. Like Carole said, she needs him for stability. I don’t think love plays into it. And Greg loved Ashley’s success, not his daughter. If you love your kid, you’re not driving them into the ground to keep up a façade. What did Varkin call them?”

  “A deeply disturbed family.” Griff hit the button on the armrest and his window disappeared into the door. The breeze ruffled his hair and he slid his fingers through it. “People are messed up.”

  “Carole said Gwen was a good mother. I wonder if she felt responsible when Clayton died.”

  “You think she feels responsible for Ashley’s suicide?”

  “She hasn’t said enough for me to know what she feels. But what parent doesn’t question if there were things they could have done differently when they lose a child?”

  “Clayton was sick. His death had nothing to do with her parenting.”

  “Everything about your children has to do with parenting. She probably thought she should have taken him to the doctor sooner or to a better doctor or to a more prestigious hospital. I think most mothers find ways to blame themselves when a catastrophe hits their kid and if they can’t find a reason they create one.”

  Griff pushed the key into the ignition. The engine turned over. “Do you think Gwen places any blame with Greg?”

  “Even if she does, she wouldn’t voice it. It would be too risky. He’s lost Clayton and Ashley, the two things that kept him home. She’s got to come up with a new reason for him to stay. Blaming him would send him packing. If he’s not considering it already.”

  “I think they’re both to blame. I think they’ve been pushing her off that roof for years.”

  “A straight forward suicide?” I slipped a Honey Berry from my bag.

  “Suicide, yes, straight forward, no.” Griff reached over, slid the little cigar out of my fingers and into his coat pocket in one smooth move. “There’s something about Mitzi’s responses that don’t ring true,” he said, without missing a beat. “If Coach Massett noticed that Ashley was off, and he only saw her for a couple of hours a day, how could Mitzi not have noticed? They lived together. She’d have to have picked up on something.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, two girls living together are going to talk to each other, even if they aren’t the best of friends. Even if it’s just to be petty and argumentative, they’ll talk. They can’t not, it’s a girl thing.”

  “See?” Griff said. “I know my feminine side.”

  TEN

  We were scheduled to meet with lawyers at eleven-thirty. Since both parties were in a rush Peggy had worked some magic and slated an early closing on the house.

  I’d come to my office first before heading to the bank and was sitting at my desk with the door shut, mentally prepping. After a second cup of coffee I pushed my mug aside. I was jittery enough. Not about moving in with Griff, we more or less lived together now at his place or mine. It was a sense of surrender that
had my stomach cruising Space Mountain. How could I enjoy a Honey Berry without him giving me shit?

  I took a deep breath and twirled a pen through my fingers. I loved him, no question there, but I was scared as hell to make the leap from self-sufficient to dependent. I know…it doesn’t have to be that way. But isn’t it built into the equation? One person equals dependent on self, two people equals dependent on each other. It took me years to find my own footing. A lot of it came with our last case. That tells you something about how long it’s taken.

  “Hey.” Katie rapped her knuckles against my office door. “Time to get out of here and head to the closing. It’s the big day.”

  Big day, I thought and tossed the pen aside. Huge day…the beginning of the end…or…the beginning of the beginning. It was my choice how to spin it.

  I swung the door wide. “Put champagne on ice. We’ll be back by noon.”

  “Done,” Katie said and gave me a hug. She was privy to a few of my skeletons and left me to my own resolve this morning to work out the kinks. “One celebration coming up.”

  Griff had met with Peggy at the realty office early this morning to make sure everything was in order and insure a smooth closing. I pulled into the bank’s parking lot and took the space beside his car. Hushing my stomach, I pulled the heavy glass door wide and stepped inside the building. The elevator rose to the third floor and when the doors parted I saw Griff looking out a window at the end of the hallway. As I walked toward him my confidence grew and so did my smile. The morning sun spilled over his face betraying a rushed shaving job (a little scruffy, just the way I like it). His hair was done in its usual coif. A quick shake of his head after stepping out of the shower, one swipe with the towel and voila, let it fall where it may. And like everything else about him, it worked. No hours of sweat at the gym and yet his body was as toned and hard as any twenty-something. Eyes that had witnessed hell, but still recognized beauty and a heart that had been broken once but was fearless and willing to try again.

  He turned as I approached and reached a hand out for mine. “Ready?’ he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Nervous?”

  “No,” I said smiling up at him and the funny thing was, I meant it.