Corbet leans forward, arms on the table. Her face is pinched in concern.
“What happened to Jaycee, do you think? Why do you suppose she was killed?”
This question startles me even more than the last one. How does she expect me to have an answer?
“I have no idea. When I was a little older, I heard that the mother and her boyfriend had been suspects at some point.”
“Do you think someone might have simply lost their temper and hurt her without really meaning to?”
My heart’s racing now, like it wants to burst out of my chest. Where is she going with this?
“God, I don’t know—but to me it doesn’t make any difference. It was a horrible, evil thing to do, no matter what.”
Against my will, my eyes well with tears. and I have to brush them away.
“I’m sorry,” Corbet says. “It must be upsetting to relive this. We’re almost done now. I know it was a long time ago,but is there anything else you recall that may be relevant? Did you notice anyone in the woods that day?”
“No one,” I say, trying to regain my composure. “I remember looking behind me. And then I ran. I was scared.”
“What about the spot where the body was? A piece of evidence that could have blown away by the time the crime scene unit arrived two days later?”
“Nothing comes to mind, unfortunately.”Please, I think. I’m dying to be released from this windowless room. “I only remember leaves. And then seeing her. She was so pale. And her leg...”
A memory wiggles through, not visual buttactile: the rigidity of her flesh as my foot made contact. “I’m just remembering this now,” I say. “Her leg. It felt hard when I touched it with my shoe. Stiff.”
And when I leaned down and felt it with the tips of my fingers. But I don’t add that.
I sense Corbet go on high alert, and she and Nowak shoot each other a look. It takes me a second to realize the meaning of what’s spilled from my mouth
The body was hard to the touch. I know next to nothing about forensics, but I’m aware of what rigor mortis is. The stiffening of the muscles that occurs for a short time after death, then dissipates.
All this time I’ve been holding a clue about Jaycee’s murder, maybe a critical one. And I’ve kept it to myself.
19
Is it significant?” I ask, hating how weak my voice sounds. Ofcourseit’s significant. But I need Corbet to tell me how much.
“Hard like what?” she asks, ignoring my question.
“Uh, like something frozen maybe.”
“Are you sure you’re remembering correctly after all this time?”
“Yes, I’m positive.”
“Do you recall if you told the police this years ago?”
“No, not in those words. I’m pretty sure I related the same thing I said to you earlier—that at first I thought I’d come across a doll. But I probably didn’t explain that was partly because her leg was so hard.... Is this something that could really matter?”
“We’ll have to present this to the coroner and factor it in with other details from the case.” Her face is a blank now, giving nothing away. “But I’m glad you shared this with us, Ms. Linden. Was there anything else you recall?”
“No, nothing,” I tell her. I’m so mentally drained right now it’s hard to imagine summoning another thought even if I had one.
She turns to Nowak. “Chief, do you have any additional questions?”
“No, I think we’ve covered everything. I want to thank Ms. Linden for coming in. It’s much appreciated.”
Corbet concurs, capping her pen and wearing her sympathetic face again.
