“But how are you supposed to find out if it was?” he asked.
“I have no idea. She returned it to whoever lent it to her. And Lynn has no idea who that is. This was during one of those so-called visits,” I say.
“And you still haven’t been able to find anybody who knows what those were?” he asks.
“No,” I say, raking my fingers back through my hair and letting out a breath as I cross my legs under me on the couch. “I froze myself, walking around that campus for hours, talking to everybody I could think of. And then I went to every house and apartment and office and store where I might find anyone from thirteen years ago who might have known her. No new information.”
“Did you find out anything at all? Anything that might be helpful?”
“There are so many conflicting stories about her. There are some people who are not fully convinced she was in a relationship. Lynn is convinced that she was. Which makes sense, considering what she’s written in her book. But nobody knows who this man was. And then there are other people who really think that she made it up. Which doesn’t make sense, because why would she make something up but then not tell anybody the details about it? I also asked around about Jeremy and Corey, and so far, haven’t been able to find out anything about either one of them. Apparently, I really didn’t know her nearly as well as I thought I did,” I sigh.
“What are you going to do next?” Sam asks.
“I’m going to reach out to her high school and get any information I might be able to gather. Maybe I’ll be able to dig up one of those names. I’m trying to find out anything I can about the college she went to before this one. I want to know what she was doing there and why she left it.”
“What about the calendar door?” he asks. “You were supposed to open it this morning. Did you forget?”
“Damn it. I can’t believe I forgot that was today. Now I’ve already lost a day. That leaves only two to figure this one out.”
“Remember, you already know the date. You know when the crime occurred. That should help to at least narrow down what happened,” he reminds me.
“I’m going to get it now.” I go to the table where I left the wooden calendar and bring it back over to the sofa.
Sitting down, I open the door and take out the slip of paper. Scanning the code, I wait for the letter to appear so I can read it to Sam.
Dear Santa,
How do you do it every year? It’s so crowded and the people never seem to have any holiday spirit. I know someone who definitely didn’t. Now I’m gone, but so is the gift I chose. Maybe you can find it for me. I already checked the trunk, so that should save you some time.
“It sounds like Christmas shopping,” Sam says.
“I know this case,” I say.
“What? That fast?” Sam asks.
I nod. “Yes. I know this case. I remember when it happened. Carla Viceroy. I want to say she was in her early thirties.” I minimize the video call window so I can pull up a search engine. Typing in Carla’s name, I find news articles about her murder. “Thirty-three. She was shopping at Towne Crossing Mall. It was new then. Do you remember? I guess you wouldn’t. News about openings of malls probably doesn’t travel all the way to Sherwood. But it was a big deal when it happened. It’s this huge combination open-area traditional mall, with some really high-end stores and some just normal ones, too. Tons of restaurants, a couple of playgrounds. It’s an entire experience. That Christmas, everybody wanted to go Christmas shopping there.”
“Including Carla Viceroy,” Sam says.
“Yes,” I say. “Her sister reported her missing after she didn’t come home from a planned shopping trip there. Really early the next morning, they found her car still in the parking lot. And she was in the trunk. She’d been stabbed.”
“What about what she bought?” Sam asks. “The letter says the gifts she chose are gone now, too.”
“Yeah. She had already gone shopping when she was killed. There was surveillance video of her going into various stores, and then they found a receipt with her in the trunk. But they were never able to recover the gifts.”
“Receipt? Like the one they found where Angeline went missing,” Sam notes.
“You’re right. There’s a link between those two cases,” I nod, writing it down in my notebook.
“How did you already know what case I was talking about?” Sam asks. “You didn’t even have to look it up.”
“As I said, I remember it. It was horrific. Then because Julia disappeared less than two weeks after Carla was murdered, I went to the police about it. I thought they needed to look into the possibility that Carla’s murder and Julia’s disappearance were connected.”
“What did they say?”
I press my lips together in a tight, bitter smile as I remember going into that police station, scared, anxious, and angry that so far no one had listened to me. I went to the police with all the belief in the world that they would be the ones to step up. They hadn’t gotten involved in Julia’s disappearance yet but I thought that was because they didn’t know about it. Her parents hadn’t reported her missing. The University hadn’t reported her missing.
But surely if I explained what was going on, they would understand. If I pointed out how close the mall was to campus and that the incidents had happened within two weeks of each other, they would make the connection. That had to be enough to make them at least look into it.
“They said that there
