The Sleeping Beauty Killer

13

Casey’s mother, Paula, was fidgeting on the sofa again. “I knew this was too much for you to handle so soon after you came home. Maybe we can continue this conversation later, Ms. Moran.”

The flash of irritation in Casey’s previously flat eyes was unmistakable. “Mom, I’ve been waiting nearly half my life to say this. Please stay out of it. After I called 911, I called my cousin Angela. Thank God for her. I’m not sure I would have made it through prison without her.” Casey immediately looked at Paula, then added, “And my mother, of course. The police found me on the bed, clinging to Hunter. My gown was strapless, so my hands, arms, and shoulders were all smeared with blood. Hunter was still in his white shirt and tuxedo pants. His jacket was tossed on the bench at the foot of the bed.”

“How did the police get in?” Laurie asked.

“They said they found the front door slightly ajar, which I didn’t notice when I woke up on the sofa.”

“Isn’t that unusual that the door would be open?”

“Of course, but we often left the door unlocked out there until we went to bed. Hunter had an alarm system, too, but we usually only set it when we left for the city. Hunter would have had his hands full helping me inside and probably didn’t lock the door behind him. My best guess is that whoever killed him slipped through the door before he had a chance to lock it, then left it open.”

In addition to the two bullet wounds that had killed Hunter, police had found two bullet holes in the walls between the living room and the master bedroom. “Then once the police were there,” Laurie said, “they found Hunter’s gun in the living room?”

Casey nodded. “As I said, I was on the bed, holding Hunter, when I heard the police come in. They were yelling at me to get away from the body. It felt as though I was in a dreamlike state again. Whether it was shock or the drugs, I didn’t immediately obey. I was still so groggy. Part of me wonders whether everything would have been different if I had followed their instructions more quickly. They were rushing through the house, checking the bathrooms and closets. They were being very confrontational with me, insisting that I go to the foyer. They had to pull me away from Hunter. Then once I was in the foyer, I heard a female officer yell, ‘GUN!’ I was terrified, thinking they’d discovered an intruder hiding in the house. But then the officer held up a gun she’d found beneath the living room sofa. She asked me if I’d seen it before. It looked like Hunter’s new Walther P99. A nine-millimeter,” she clarified. “It was his most recent purchase.”

“Hunter was an avid sportsman and collector,” Paula explained. “I thought surely Casey would persuade him to change his ways, but instead, the next thing I know, she’s running off to the shooting range with him. Frank and I were appalled.”

Laurie made a mental note that certain political views might run in Casey’s family.

“He enjoyed it as a hobby,” Casey explained, “the way other men play golf.”

“What was your reaction when the police found a handgun under the sofa where you claimed to have been sleeping?” Laurie asked.

“I was surprised. Hunter generally kept all the guns locked in a safe, except for one that he kept in his nightstand. When I told the police it was Hunter’s newest gun, it never dawned on me that they would think I was the one who used it to kill him.”

According to the trial summaries Laurie had reviewed yesterday, Casey told the police she had never had a chance to fire the new weapon. She thought Hunter might have taken it to the range when he first bought it, but she swore that she had “definitely” never touched it herself. But then police found her fingerprints on the gun, and gunshot residue on her hands.

Paula jumped in again. “When the police asked to test for GSR, they told Casey it was to eliminate her as a suspect. You tell me: Is that fair? They led her to believe they were on her side, but they were after her the whole time.”

“Of course I agreed to the test. I was willing to do anything to help. You have no idea how horrifying it is to know that I was there that night. I was right there while someone chased him from the living room to the bedroom, firing shots. I was on the sofa, asleep, while someone murdered the only man I ever loved. I will always wonder whether he yelled to me for help.” Her voice broke again.

Paula let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know why we have to dredge this all up again. We can’t turn back time. If we could, I’d force you to take that plea bargain. Instead, you went with the jury. And then your incompetent lawyer basically locked you up herself by arguing that you were out of your mind that night. If Casey wanted to be convicted of manslaughter, she could have pled guilty in the first place and gotten a better sentence.”

Casey held up a palm. “Mom, of all people, I’m the one who knows what price I paid for going to trial.”

Laurie ran through the five names of alternative suspects Casey had given her: her ex-boyfriend, Jason Gardner; Gabrielle Lawson, the socialite who’d been pursuing Hunter; Andrew Raleigh, who was jealous of his older brother; Mark Templeton, the foundation’s chief financial officer; and Mary Jane Finder, the personal assistant Hunter may have been investigating. “Is there anyone we’re missing?” she asked.

“That’s everyone I could think of,” Casey confirmed. “Any one of them could have slipped a drug into my drink, then left the gala after we did and driven up to Connecticut, confident that I’d be passed out by the time they arrived.”

“But what if you hadn’t been?” Laurie asked. From what she had heard about Rohypnol, its effects varied widely. The killer could not have known with any certainty that Casey would be completely unconscious.

“I’ve thought about that,” Casey said. “On the one hand, I hate the fact that I wasn’t awake to help Hunter. But I have to assume that whoever shot him would have done the same to me if I’d shown any sign of consciousness.”

Paula looked at her daughter imploringly. She begged her. “You’re jumping into this much too fast. Naming names on a television show? Have you thought about how these people will respond? They’ll try to destroy you. Any hope you have of turning over a new leaf will be over.”

“Mom, I’m already destroyed, and I don’t need a new leaf. I don’t want to start over as some other person. I want my life back. I want to walk through a mall without you looking around at every other customer, wondering if they recognize me.”

Without explanation, Casey suddenly rose from the sofa, disappeared momentarily down the hallway, and returned with a photograph. “I’ve spent two days poring over every piece of my file in a new light. I can’t believe I never saw it before, but I think being out of that cell, in a new place, opened my eyes. I’ve had fifteen years to figure out a way to prove someone else came into the house that night, and I think I finally have it.”