James Grippando - Last to die

The image was the most unflattering Jack had ever seen of Sally. Her eyelids looked heavy, and her skin was pale. A punishing light shining in her face didn’t help. Sally wasn’t the kind of woman who needed makeup to be beautiful, but even a natural beauty had her limits, especially in a head-and-shoulders closeup like this.

“She looks so tired,” said Kelsey.

“Something tells me they didn’t start taping at the beginning of the interview. Looks like we’re several hours into the interrogation.”

“How soon was this after the murder of her daughter?”

Jack checked the date on the videocassette sleeve. “Couple of months, I think.”

On screen, Sally continued to stare into the camera, waiting. Finally, the voice emerged. “Are you ready to continue, Ms. Fenning?”

The focus remained on Sally’s face, and the man’s voice had come from somewhere off-screen. “That’s Rudsky,” said Jack.

“Ready,” said Sally.

“I want to ask a few more questions about this stalker you said was pursuing you. First, can you tell me what he looks like?”

“Not really. I only saw him once, from behind. One night I looked out the window and saw someone running away. I’m afraid I didn’t get a very good look at him.”

“What does he sound like?”

“I’m not sure. Whenever he called, his voice was distorted by some kind of mechanical contraption.”

“Is there anyone you suspect? Any customers at the bar who’ve been bothering you, hitting on you?”

“A bar waitress gets hit on by creeps all the time. Kind of an occupational hazard. Could be anyone, really.”

The camera kept rolling, but there was silence. Sally took a sip of water.

“Ms. Fenning,” said Rudsky, “I have here a report on the results of your polygraph examination.”

Kelsey looked away from the screen and asked Jack, “She took a polygraph?”

“Evidently,” said Jack.

On tape, Rudsky’s voice continued, “The results are interesting, to say the least. Your response to one question, in particular, showed obvious signs of deception.”

“I don’t understand how that could be.”

“Let’s explore that, shall we? The question was this: Have you ever cheated on your husband? Your answer was no.”

“That’s right.”

“You were lying, weren’t you?”

Jack watched the tape carefully. Sally seemed to be struggling as she blinked twice and said, “I can explain.”

“Please do,” said Rudsky.

“It happened before we were married.”

Rudsky’s sarcastic chuckle caused a crackle in the speakers. “How do you cheat on your husband before you’re even married?”

“Mike and I dated exclusively for two years. A few months before our wedding, we had an argument and broke up. I was devastated. I leaned on someone who I thought was a friend, and he…I made a mistake. It wasn’t technically cheating, because Mike and I weren’t married. We weren’t even dating at that particular moment. But in my heart, I felt like a cheater. So I wasn’t lying when I answered ‘No’ to the lie detector question. But I felt like I was lying, so I’m sure that’s what the machine picked up.”

There was silence again, as if Rudsky were trying to make her squirm. Finally, the follow-up question came, “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if anything you’ve said so far is the truth.”

She tightened her mouth, seemingly defensive. “What do you mean?”

“You claim there was a stalker.”

“There was.”

“But you can’t tell us what he looks like.”

“No.”

“You can’t tell us what he sounds like.”

“No.”

“You can’t tell us anything about him, except that he ‘could be anybody.’”

“I wish I could tell you more.”

“And this started how long before your daughter was murdered?”

“Several months.”

“But you never told the police anything about a stalker until after your daughter was murdered.”

“Calling the police would only have infuriated him.”

“You didn’t even tell your husband.”

“I thought he would make me quit my job, which we couldn’t afford. And I didn’t want him to haul off and do something stupid, like buy a gun. I didn’t want a gun in the house with a four-year-old child.”

“Let’s stop the lies, all right, Ms. Fenning?”

Jack moved closer to the screen, sensing that the prosecutor was moving in for the kill. Sally was getting emotional, the strain of Rudsky’s accusatory tone having taken an obvious toll.

“I’m not lying,” she said, her voice quaking.

“The real reason you didn’t tell your husband about the stalker is that you were afraid he’d think you were cheating on him again.”

“That’s crazy.”

“You were cheating on him again, weren’t you? That’s why you didn’t tell the police you were being stalked.”

“You’re so wrong.”

“That’s why you didn’t tell your husband you were being stalked.”

“Not true.”

“What happened, Sally? You wouldn’t leave your husband, and your boyfriend got mad?”

“No.”

“So mad that he started stalking you?”

“No.”

“So mad that he killed your daughter?”

“No, no!”

Sally was practically in tears. No one offered her a tissue. She dabbed her eye with her sleeve.

“Come clean, Sally. The truth has already come out in your polygraph. There were signs of deception on one other answer you gave.”

“Which one?”

“You answered no to the following question: Do you know who killed your daughter?”

Her mouth fell open. “You think I was lying about that?”

“It’s right here in the examiner’s report. Your response shows signs of deception.”

“Then the machine is wrong,” she said.

“Or you’re lying,” said Rudsky.

Sally looked stunned, as if she could barely speak: “Are you suggesting that I’m covering for the man who killed my own daughter?”

“Let me tell you exactly what I’m saying.”

Jack watched as Rudsky’s hand suddenly reached for the video camera. With the push of a button, the screen went black.

“There’s no more?” said Kelsey.

“Try fast forwarding a few frames.”

She hit the button on the machine, but the tape was blank.

“Looks like that’s the end of it,” said Kelsey. “Though figuratively speaking, I’m definitely starting to get the picture.”

“Me, too,” said Jack in a hollow voice. “And it isn’t very pretty.”

Kelsey had an afternoon class, so Jack drove her to the University of Miami law school. They rode in silence most of the way, listening to the radio. According to “News at the Top of the Hour,” a suspected terrorist was detained at the Port of Miami and would face deportation.

“Ooooh,” said Kelsey, a tinge of sarcasm in her voice. “Deportation. Now they’re really getting tough.”

“Yeah,” said Jack, scoffing. “You’d think they’d caught a puppy peeing on the rug. ‘Bad terrorist. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. Now go back to your training camp and don’t come out until you’ve learned how to sneak into this country properly.’”

She offered a little nervous laughter that was symptomatic of the times, and then they continued in silence down fraternity row, past the fields of suntanned and shirtless college boys playing flag football. It was as if they both needed a little time to absorb the videotape. Not until Jack pulled into the drop-off circle in front of the law library and shifted into Park did they seem ready to talk about what was really on their minds.