Her Mother’s Grave

Chapter Twenty-Five

It took nearly four hours to get their hands on the Belinda Rose file. Josie considered it a miracle that the tiny Bellewood Police Department still had it. Their chief was gracious enough to let Josie, Noah, and Gretchen search their dusty back room filled with old, closed files. It didn’t appear that they had ever thrown anything away.

“Gotta love small-town departments,” Noah remarked as he pulled box after box off the storage shelves for Josie and Gretchen to look through.

Josie was just beginning to lose hope of ever finding it when she finally put her fingers on it. The ink on the yellowed file tab was so faded that Josie could barely make it out, but there it was: Belinda Rose.

After signing the requisite forms, the three of them left with the file in hand and headed back to their own station house, Gretchen sneezing the entire time from the hours spent kicking up dust. Josie’s eyes burned like hell. They rode most of the way back to Denton with the windows of Josie’s Escape all the way down, letting the cool March air blow away the past for a little while.

Once in Josie’s office, they spread the contents of the file across her desk. It was thin, and the reports were faded and typewritten with an old-fashioned typewriter. There wasn’t much more than what Maggie Lane had told them. Josie noted the names of the officers who had taken the two missing persons reports. A quick call to Bellewood PD revealed that both had retired long ago.

“Here,” Noah said, plucking an old color photograph from the pile of pages. It was slightly bigger than an index card and showed a heavyset teenage girl standing in the small garden outside the care home. Sunlight streamed down on her, the light bouncing off her tight blond curls, and she squinted against it, smiling. A shapeless floral-print dress draped over her large middle, stopping midway down two pale, thick thighs. Josie saw the strap of a backpack on one shoulder, and in one of her hands she held a brown paper bag.

“First day of school,” Gretchen said.

Josie took the photo from Noah’s hand and turned it over. Someone had written September 1982.

“She was pregnant in this photo,” Josie said. “If we’ve got our timeline correct.”

“Is there another photo?” Gretchen asked, her fingers shuffling the contents of the file once more. “From before the second time she ran away?”

Josie found it paper-clipped to a second set of reports that had been prepared over a year after the first set. In the photo, Belinda was descending a flight of stairs in what Josie guessed was the foster home—the background was all dark wood paneling and ratty gray carpet. The photo didn’t look posed for as the last one had—more like someone had caught her coming down the steps and snapped the photo. Belinda was considerably smaller and thinner than in the first photo they had found—she looked half the size she had been in September of 1982. Her hair hadn’t changed; tight blond ringlets hung to her shoulders, offering a splash of life to the otherwise drab background. Without the sunlight in her face, her blue eyes shone wide and clear over a thin smile. This time she wore a tight pair of jeans and the same nylon windbreaker that Dr. Feist had unearthed along with her body. Peeking out from the collar of the jacket was a small gold locket in the shape of a heart.

“Look at that,” Josie said, pointing to it. “That wasn’t found in the grave.”

“Maybe she wasn’t wearing it when she died,” Gretchen offered.

“She was a foster kid. It’s quite a nice locket,” Josie pointed out.

“Could be costume jewelry, Boss,” Noah pointed out.

“It could also be important,” Josie insisted.

She herself hadn’t grown up in foster care, but her situation hadn’t been much better; not until after her mother left. Josie hadn’t owned jewelry even remotely as nice as that locket until she’d turned eighteen, when Ray had given her a diamond pendant he’d saved up for months to buy. She’d worn it nonstop through most of college. She still had it.

“Gretchen,” Josie said, “when we’re done here, take a picture of this photo with your phone and go back to Rockview and talk to Maggie Lane. She said that Belinda left her things the second time she disappeared. Ask her if this locket was among them, would you?”

“Sure thing, Boss,” Gretchen said, snapping a picture of the photo with her cell phone.

“When was that picture taken?” Noah asked.

Josie took the photo back from Gretchen, turned it over, and read off the month and year. “March 1984.”

“Maggie said she went missing around Easter in 1984,” Gretchen said, bringing up the internet browser on her phone. Josie watched over her shoulder as she punched in her query. “Easter was April 22nd of that year,” Gretchen added.

Josie picked up the report that Maggie had made. “This is dated the 26th,”she said.

“So we can estimate the date of the murder then,” Noah said. “Sometime on or after April 26, 1984.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t tell us anything about who did it,” Josie answered. “But there are names here of people who were interviewed back then. Here—” she snatched up another piece of paper. “They interviewed Lloyd Todd and his brother, Damon.” She skimmed the faded typewritten words. “Lloyd said they’d been dating on and off since early 1983, broke things off around Christmas of 1983. He saw her at school that day and she seemed fine. He was at track and field practice that evening. His brother and father confirmed this as they were both at the athletic field that night too.”

“It’s going to be impossible to talk to Lloyd Todd,” Gretchen noted. “I mean, he’s in county jail right now awaiting trial. No way is he going to talk to any cops about anything without his lawyer.”

Josie nodded. “He might not even agree to speak with us. Track down the brother then. If the Bellewood PD thought he was worth interviewing back then, maybe he can help us now.”

Gretchen marked down the brother’s name on her notepad. Then she said, “There are some names of people she worked with at the courthouse here too.”

“Track them down as well,” Josie said. “Someone might know who she used to hang around with. Also, see if the DHS has a list of all the girls under Maggie Lane’s care for the time period that Belinda was there. I want names and photos if you can get them. Track as many of them down as you can. I want the most complete picture we can get of this girl’s life in the months before she was killed.”

Noah searched through the rest of the file as Josie spoke. Finally, he came up with a postcard. The Liberty Bell took up one side, the words Greetings from Philadelphia in red letters above it. He handed it to Josie, and she turned it over, staring at the writing on the back of it while her blood turned to ice in her veins.

Maggie: I’m sorry I left without telling you. I met the most wonderful man. We’re in love! He’s whisked me away to Philadelphia and we’re getting married! Please don’t worry about me. Thank you for everything! Belinda

It was dated the day after Belinda Rose’s eighteenth birthday, postmarked out of Philadelphia, and written in Josie’s mother’s handwriting.