“Leaned on each other … but none of you said a word about Jamie Simmons, did you?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Nobody said … huh … we should talk to the police about Jamie Simmons, did you?”
“No.”
“You weren’t suspicious of him.”
“For having something to do with what happened to Ellie? At that time, no. It was more that I thought it was weird he was so involved with her family after the fact.”
“You don’t know anyone from Ellie’s family, do you?”
“Socially? No. I saw them at her funeral later. I knew who her parents were, but no, I didn’t know them.”
“So you’re up there spewing theories about Jamie’s involvement with them that have no basis in fact, isn’t that right?”
“Objection to the characterization,” I said.
“Sustained. Let’s be civil, Mr. Cutler.”
“Civil,” he said. “Certainly. I just want to make sure I have this right, Ms. Wharton-Brent. You, in fact, hadn’t spoken to Ellie Luke in over two weeks before she disappeared, isn’t that right?”
“I don’t remember.”
“But that’s what you told Detective Ritter in your interview twenty-two years ago. Do you remember that? Would it help if you reread your statement?”
He handed it to her. Bree looked it over. “It says I said I hadn’t talked to Ellie on the phone in over two weeks. That we hadn’t talked during spring break. Ellie went missing right after spring break. So yes. It makes sense that I would have said we hadn’t talked much in those two weeks prior to her going missing.”
“Right. So you really don’t know what was going on in Ellie’s life in those two weeks.”
“That’s not true. I knew where she was working. She was my friend. We may not have talked every single day when school was on break.”
“Ms. Wharton-Brent, you were subjected to a background check when you got your nursing license and your job at U of M Hospital, weren’t you?”
I looked up. Bree’s eyes went wide.
“What? Yes.”
“You had to fill out extensive forms detailing your work, education, and personal history. Isn’t that right?”
“I’m sure I did,” she said.
“Do you recognize this document?” Cutler handed a copy to me, then one to Bree. It was a standard form from the Ohio Board of Nursing. It was dated twenty years ago.
“Sort of,” Bree said. “I filled it out when I applied for my nursing license.”
“I’d like to draw your attention to item seven. It asks whether you’ve ever been convicted of a crime. What did you write?”
“I said no,” she said.
“You said no,” Cutler repeated. “But you weren’t being truthful, were you?”
“Objection,” I said. “May we approach?”
Saul waved us forward.
“This is ridiculous,” I said. “How far do you want me to go down the list? There’s absolutely nothing relevant about this witness’s twenty-year-old nursing license application.”
