No way out

Chapter Twenty-six

Four paramedics carried a gurney out of the woods, a black body bag strapped to it, the bag flat, holding individually wrapped remains too sparse to give it shape or dimension. They stopped, released a wheeled frame tucked beneath the gurney, rolling it across the uneven terrain, a lone woman trailing them.

I recognized Detective Adrienne Nardelli’s stout frame and deliberate walk. She was solid and calm, naturally deadpan, saving any hidden sense of humor for off-duty hours. When Lucy and I met with her about the Martin case, she laid down two simple, non-negotiable terms: be straight with her and she’d tell us what she could; fuck with her and she’d fuck us up. She was Quincy Carter without the charm.

Both waiting groups lurched into motion, blending into a single human wave rising and cresting, rolling toward the gurney, Peggy Martin and Jeannie Montgomery squeezed together in the center of the swell. The gurney’s wheels bogged down in a soft spot, the paramedics hoisting it to their waists, setting it down when they met the crowd on the open plain. The lake was a glistening mirrored backdrop, the rumble, whine, and whir of passing traffic an everyday overture. The crowd spread out and parted, paying silent homage as the paramedics passed among them, some gasping, others crossing themselves, still others silent and weeping. The two mothers, side-by-side, hands clasped, faced Detective Nardelli.

“We found a body,” she said. “It’s definitely an adult, probably female. I’m sorry.”

Peggy let out a low moan that exploded into a guttural wail, collapsing to her knees. Jeannie hung her head, turned, and walked away, no one touching her, no one coming close. Peggy was dying. She was a ghost.

I knew from hard experience that grief born of a lost child begins as a bottomless well; that those black waters eventually dry into a thick wall separating the before and after. Then one day, if we’re lucky, we wake up and find that the wall has eroded and all that’s left is a harsh filter through which the rest of our life passes, every moment measured against what might have been and what should have been.

But when there is no end to the beginning, when we cannot clutch our child to our breast a final time, we suffocate in uncertainty, beyond rescue or comfort, and those who try trip over clumsy words and gestures before retreating to a safe distance. So it was, as Jeannie made her way alone and Peggy’s friends fell away, all except for Ellen Koch, who helped Peggy to her feet, cupping her elbow as if she were a wayward drunk, guiding her toward a pickup truck parked on Cliff Drive where her son Adam waited behind the wheel, engine running.

“Lousy deal for them,” Detective Nardelli said to us. “Stand out here half the day, get all worked up for nothing.”

“There’s nothing else they can do,” I said.

“Doesn’t make it any less lousy. You have any good news for me?”

“We took another run at Jimmy Martin this morning, but he’s sitting on whatever he knows.”

“If he knows anything,” Nardelli said.

“Oh, he knows something. That’s for certain,” Kate said.

Nardelli turned to her with a narrowed gaze. “Do I know you?”

Kate offered her hand. “I’m Kate Scranton.”

Nardelli shook her hand, studying her face. “I’ve heard of you. Jury consultant, right?”

“Among other things.”

“So why do you think Jimmy Martin isn’t telling us what he knows? Except for the fact that if he killed his kids, he’ll get the death penalty and that’s not the kind of thing he’s likely to confess until he’s more afraid of his nightmares than the needle.”

Kate summarized her interview and impressions. It was easy to read Nardelli’s reaction. She did everything but smirk and spit, turning to me.

“That’s how you’ve been spending your time?”

“I’d listen to her, if I were you. The science is solid, and she’s usually right.”

“That so?”

“Yeah,” Kate said, her eyes firing up. “It is so. And if you’d consider the possibility that I know what I’m talking about, you’d spend some time with Adam Koch, the boy who found the body. He’s not telling us everything he knows either.”

“And which secret expressions of his told you that?” Nardelli asked.

“They aren’t secret. They just happen so quickly you’ll miss them unless you’re trained to see them. Adam had a gestural slip when I asked him to tell me what happened. He raised his left shoulder for a fraction of a second.”

“His left shoulder? For a fraction of a second? My, that does sound incriminating.”

Kate smiled, her expression cool and patient. “It’s a half shrug. In a full shrug, both shoulders rise, stay up and then drop. Tough questions can make a person feel helpless, especially when they’re lying, and people who do a half shrug feel helpless. He did it a couple of times. The last time was when I asked him if he’d been up in those woods before. He said no, but I’m pretty sure he was lying.”

“All because of the shrug?”

“Partly. His lips also stretched horizontally. That’s a micro-expression of fear, and it’s involuntary, just like the half-shrug. These gestures and micro-expressions are universal. They show up in every culture, and they mean the same thing. By themselves they might not mean that much, but when they happen together when he’s talking about finding a dead body, it’s very likely that he’s not telling us everything he knows.”

“So you’re like a human lie detector, is that it?”

“More like a lie catcher, and I’ve got a better track record than any lie detector.”

“Any judge ever let you testify in court that someone’s a liar?”

Kate took a deep breath. “That’s not how I work.”

Nardelli shook her head. “Course not. Why would you when you can catch people lying by watching how they shrug their shoulders?” She turned to Lucy and me. “I should have listened to Quincy Carter. I’m going back to the woods. You find something a judge will let into evidence, give me a call.”

“Hang on a second,” I said. “Any chance there’s a connection between the Montgomery and Martin cases?”

Nardelli hesitated, staring at me. “Ask your lie catcher. She’s the one with all the answers.”

Kate waited until Nardelli was out of earshot. “I’m right about Jimmy Martin and Adam Koch.”

“That’s good enough for me. We’ll talk to Adam again,” Lucy said.

“Talk to his mother too,” Kate said.

“Why?”

“I watched her when she was helping Peggy to the pickup truck. She was flashing unilateral contempt the whole way. The right corner of her lip was tight and raised. That indicates arrogance or a feeling of moral superiority. Maybe she does that all the time, but I’d bet against it. She’s helping Peggy even though she doesn’t like her.”

“Then why bother?” I asked.

“And,” Lucy added, “why doesn’t she like her?”

“All good questions,” Kate said, turning to Lucy. “What about Peggy Martin? Did she agree to let me interview her?”

Lucy nodded. “She didn’t like the idea at first since you started out working for her husband, but I convinced her.”

“How?”

“I told her that you didn’t care who hired you, you’d do the same job, and that if we were going to find her kids, we needed your help.”

“That’s all it took?” Kate asked.

“That’s all.”

“Did you tell her that I’d know if she was lying to me?”

Lucy shook her head. “No. I didn’t want to put any more pressure on her. Besides, nobody tells the truth, or all of it, all the time or all at once.”

“Then we’re all on the same page here.”

“Chapter and verse,” Lucy said.

“So let’s go talk to her,” Kate said.

I looked at my watch. “Can’t. Not till later. I’m supposed to meet Roni Chase at her house pretty soon. Quincy Carter is going to interview her again. I don’t want him to have another shot at her alone, and I need some time to prep her. She doesn’t live far from here. It won’t take long.”

“Kate and I can talk to Peggy while you go see Roni.”

“I don’t have a car.”

“Take mine. I’ll ride with Kate. You up to driving?”

The day was wearing on me, twitches and shakes coming and going like wind changing directions, but Roni’s house was close enough that I could make the drive.

“That’s not the point. I need to be there when Kate talks to Peggy.”

Lucy raised one eyebrow. “Needing and wanting isn’t the same thing, Jack,” she lectured. “Roni Chase may be your latest reclamation project, but she isn’t mine. Finding those kids is the only thing I care about. And you’re the one who told me I had to sit out the Jimmy Martin interview because three people were one too many.”

“Don’t you hate that?” Kate said, grinning. “You raise them, and then they turn on you.”

I stuck my hand out. “Keys.”