Betrayal (4 page)

“What's in her mouth?” a husky voice asked.

Birdy looked up to see the concerned face of Port Gamble's police chief.

“Hi, Annie. I didn't hear you come in. Did you know the victim?” Birdy asked, now looking more closely at the dead girl's mouth. “Anything about her?”

Annie kept her cap on but loosened the collar of her heavy winter coat. Perspiration had beaded along her brow. She hated being over-heated, as it caused her hastily applied makeup to run. She'd always applied it with a heavy hand; she simply didn't have a lot to work with and needed whatever help Maybelline could provide.

“Olivia's from London. She's here with See America Studies. Staying with Kim and Beth Lee,” Annie said. “We never really talked, but I heard she was a nice girl.”

“They always are,” Birdy said.

She reached for a small flashlight and pointed the beam of light directly at Olivia's bloodied lips. There was definitely a foreign object protruding. It looked like fabric.

“It appears she was gagged,” Birdy said.

Annie inched closer. “Do we have a BTK type out here?” she asked, thinking back on the file of a serial killer from Kansas known for his tactics: Bind, Torture, Kill.

“Too soon to say,” Birdy answered, though she highly doubted it. There had not been any obvious indicators that Olivia's arms or legs had been tied. There were no ligature marks on her wrists and ankles that she could see with the naked eye. UV light would be used back at the morgue when she did her exam.

The police chief bent down to get a better view of Olivia's mouth just as the bag was zipped closed. “Looks like the tail end of a man's necktie.” Annie looked up at Birdy, then the cadre of investigators. “No one says a word about this. Understood?”

Her heart raced. In her years as the police chief, she had yet to handle a murder. Tragedy, yes. Deadly accidents, of course. But this was the first time in a long while that deliberate, violent evil had come knocking on a door in Port Gamble. As she pondered the reality of Olivia's homicide, she could only vaguely recall one other murder in the town's recent history. Fifteen years prior, a twelve-year-old newspaper boy named Joshua Archer had been abducted and murdered by a TV repairman. His mutilated body was found in an abandoned freezer in the earthen basement of the dreary, slate-gray house number 27.

ANNIE RETURNED DOWNSTAIRS to find Brianna and Drew on a bench in the foyer. The young couple had found refuge there from the chilly night air and the horde of investigators crawling around the house and yard. The two had expressions that were a mix of worry and fear colored by the greenish cast of a seedling hangover. Drew stood as the police chief came into view. Brianna kept her chin cradled in the palm of her hand.

“We found a shattered vase over in the den. Looks expensive. Do you know what happened to it?” Annie asked.

Brianna lifted her head and looked at Annie, tracking her with bleary eyes. “Yeah, one of those bonehead kids crashed into it at the party. It was my stepmom's fave too,” she said.

“All right, an accident, then . . .” Annie said. “Were there any other accidents or fights I should know about?”

“Don't think so,” Brianna replied.

No drama at a teen kegger? Not likely
, Annie thought but said, “Well, we're just about done up there. Now I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Tell me how you found Olivia. Be as descriptive as possible. If you're up to it, it would be even better if you showed me.”

“Showed you?” Brianna asked.

Annie nodded. “It would be extremely helpful in our investigation.”

“Like . . . acting out what happened?”

“Not really acting it out, but pointing out where you were standing, how you found her, what you did.”

The three of them headed to the staircase just as Birdy's team made its way down. As the teens hung back, Olivia's shrouded body was rolled onto a folding gurney at the top of the stairs. Bonner and another deputy carried her down the steps.

“Bye, Olivia,” Brianna said and then skipped up the stairs, two at a time.

Moonlight poured all over the floor and onto Brianna Connors's bed. The bare branches of the maple outside the window made a spiderweb pattern on the mattress. Her Felix the Cat wall clock indicated it was after four in the morning.

The police chief studied the teenager. Like many girls with divorced parents, Brianna had learned how to command attention in any circumstance. With Drew hanging in the background, Brianna put her hand on her hip and surveyed her bedroom from the doorway. Her eyes landed on the bloody spot on the floor where Olivia had bled out.

“You guys are going to clean up this mess, aren't you?” she asked.

Annie shook her head. “Sorry. We don't offer that service.”

“Don't you have a housekeeper?” Drew asked Brianna.

“Yeah, but she only comes three times a week. And she won't be here tomorrow. She said her mom or someone in her family is sick. I doubt it, though. She's a little liar.”

“Brianna,” Annie started to explain, “this is a crime scene. You won't be able to have your room back until we've done all of our work here.”

Brianna made a face. “Oh, crap,” she said, pulling the robe tighter around her thin frame. “That's just perfect. What am I supposed to do? This isn't fair. This is
my
room. Can I at least get some jeans and a new top?”

Annie nodded at the deputy.

“These okay?” he asked, grabbing a white sweater and a pair of brown-dyed Mek jeans from underneath a white ghost costume strewn over a chair on the other side of the room.

“Not those! I wore those yesterday.”

“It will have to do for now,” he said. “We can't compromise the scene.”

“Can't I just get something from over there?” Brianna said, pointing to the dresser across the room.

“I'm afraid not. Maybe a little later. Let's zero in on what's important. Tell me what happened,” Annie said, this time with an edge to her voice. “When did you come upstairs?”

Brianna thought for a second. “I came up to my room three times. The first time was early in the party—to ditch my mail-order bride costume and put on regular clothes. The bride dress was totally itchy—covered in all these scratchy little sequins, plus all the guys kept trying to put postage stamps all over me. The second time I came up to find Olivia. She was in my bed, and I thought I could hear her snoring. I called her name, but she didn't answer. Anyway, she looked okay to me, so I put on a different costume and went back downstairs. When everyone had left, I came up to make sure Olivia was okay, and that's when I found her on the floor.”

“Do you know if anyone else came up here?” Annie asked.

“How would I know? I was the hostess. I barely had time to pee,” she said. “Let me think a sec. No, I don't know if anyone else came up. Maybe Beth Lee. She and Olivia had a fight earlier in the night.”

“Do you know what it was about?” Annie asked.

Brianna handed the jeans and sweater to Drew. “About my friendship with Olivia. About Drew picking up Olivia for the party. About whatever. Beth was jealous of us. It doesn't faze me. I'm used to it.”

Annie nodded.
I'm sure you are.

“Everyone's jealous of Bree,” Drew said, tucking the clothes under his arm, and looking like he'd rather be just about anywhere else right then. A safe bet for sure.

“You said you kicked Olivia to see if she was asleep,” Annie said to Brianna.”Was that the first or second time you came up?”

“The second time,” Brianna said.

Annie positioned her body between the bed and Brianna. “Did you kick her hard?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Why did you kick her? Why not just tap her on the shoulder?”

Brianna held up her left hand. Her glossy nails gleamed with an icy-blue hue. “Because I'd just done these, that's why.”

Annie looked at Brianna's hand and nodded.
Who does their nails at two in the morning?

“What about you, Drew?”

“Like I said before,” Drew answered, “I wasn't here. I went home with everyone else. I didn't find anybody dead. That's all on Bree.”

Chapter 4

THE PORT GAMBLE S'KLALLAM TRIBAL Police Department had been housed in the same building for more than forty years. It was in the basement of what the locals called “the old post office,” a large wood-framed structure that at one time or another accommodated not only the post office but also the morgue, the town's first hospital, and even the community theater. Annie Garnett's office was one of three dedicated to law and order in the historic town. The other two belonged to her deputy, a part-timer named Stephen Shields, and an office administrator and records clerk named Tatiana Jones.

Chief Garnett had driven Brianna and Drew to the police department so they could provide full statements while the events were fresh—and hopefully before anyone had a chance to change a story or make up a new one. Neither teen had liked being in the back of her police car, and their separate interrogation rooms weren't giving them the warm fuzzies either.

Annie started with Brianna and offered her a soda, but she declined.

“I'm tired, and this whole thing has been a total nightmare,” Brianna said. “Like, I just want to get this over with. This wasn't how I wanted my party to end, you know?”

Annie ignored the comment. No one wants a party to end in a bloody stabbing. She placed a yellow legal pad on the table at the exact moment Brianna's phone buzzed.

“Is it your mother?” she asked.

Brianna scrolled through her text messages. She made a face. “No surprise. She missed the boat. She'll have to take the next ferry.”

“Do you want to wait for her?” Annie asked.

“No,” she said. “I want to go to bed. But not my bed. My entire room needs to be taken to a landfill.” She put down her phone. “I was ready for a change anyway.”

“Is there anyone else I can call for you, Brianna?” the police chief asked. Her concern for the girl was genuine. Besides her work in law enforcement, Annie had given her time to coaching, mentoring, and speaking at conferences on behalf of young people whenever she could.

Brianna shook her head. “No. Dad's off with dumb-dumb and my mom will get here as soon as she can. I just want this night to end.”

“I know this has been a terrible ordeal for you.”

“It has been the worst. The worst
ever
. The party was so fun and then this happens. It just isn't fair.”

“Murder is never fair, Brianna.”

“I don't need a lecture. Don't misconstrue what I'm saying here, officer.”

“Chief, please,” Annie said, gently.

“People are so hung up on their titles,” Brianna said, her tone a little smug, living up to her stereotype of an entitled rich kid with as much warmth as a vodka luge.

“About Olivia,” Annie said, getting the interview back on track.

“She was cool. I liked her accent. She came to my party, and someone killed her. That's all I know.”

“Fine,” Annie said. “Let's dig a little deeper. You said Drew and Olivia came to the party together?”

Brianna fiddled with her phone. “Drew picked her up,” she said. “I was busy getting things ready. She didn't want to wait for Beth and the other Port Gamble losers.”

Annie kept her expression flat. “Which Port Gamble ‘losers' are you referring to?”

“Colton James, Beth Lee, and those genetic copies, Hayley and Taylor Ryan.”

“Was she not getting along with them?”

“She told me Beth was miffed that she wouldn't wait for her little clique. They had a big fight.”

“All right. Do you know if Olivia had any enemies?”

“She wasn't here long enough. Look, she was pretty. She was smart.

All the boys thought she was a supermodel in the making, and the girls wanted to talk fashion with her. She actually had an Alexander McQueen purse. That's the Holy Grail. Harder to get than a Birkin, you know.”

Annie nodded, though she really didn't know. Her idea of designer goods was what she could find on the clearance table at Shelly's Tall Girl shop at the mall. “She sounds like a nice girl,” she said.

“She was nice. I liked her. We were best friends. Well, I was her best friend anyway. She was so new, you know?”

“Kids at the party were using drugs and drinking, right?” Annie asked in her calmest, most nonjudgmental voice.

Brianna flinched. “You can do whatever you want in your own home. I didn't provide any booze or drugs. If kids were drinking and getting baked, that's not my fault. I provided snacks and stuff. That's not against the law.”

“This isn't about your party and what snacks you served, Brianna. It is about the death of your friend, Olivia.”

Brianna looked at her phone again, fingers almost twitching to touch the screen. It was clear right then to Annie that Brianna's phone was an extension of herself. It reminded her of her last visit to the Olive Garden in Silverdale. Two girls sat across from each other, but barely spoke. Instead, between all the breadsticks they could eat, they texted and Facebooked.

“Yeah, I get that,” Brianna said. “I just don't like the way you're treating me. You're being inappropriate and making me uncomfortable. I know when I'm being bullied. Bullying, in case you haven't heard, is a serious problem. I've watched some videos on YouTube.”

Annie tried to ignore the remark.
This girl is a self-centered, condescending brat.

“At some point in the evening,” Annie said, “Olivia went upstairs to your room? Tell me about that once more.”

“She said she was feeling sick. I don't know why. She wasn't
that
drunk. My dad's wife, Shelley, is a total boozer. I know what wasted looks like. Are we done now?”