Sara+Diskant

**SEPTEMBER 18, 11:00am** **Jim Bradley, Detective**

//72 Auburn Street. 6:07am. Michael Foley. 52. Cause of death appears to be two gunshot wounds to the head, three to the chest. Extensive blood-loss. He lies face-up on the floor of his daughter’s bedroom. Olivia Foley. 7. Cause of death appears to be asphyxiation. A pillow rests on the edge of her bed. The girl face-up lies on her bed, arms crossed, eyes shut. Gun residue on her eyelids. A blood smear goes across her face and shoulders. Blood splatter on her body, as well as the wall behind her bed. //

I shut my notebook and sigh. Someone else can finish up my notes. I’ve never had a case like this and it’s hard. Looking at that little girl reminds me of my own daughter, Ava. I can’t imagine what it be like if she was my daughter. Of course in this situation the father is dead too. I shudder.

“Jim!” I turn around and find myself face to face with the much-too-happy-for-a-crime-scene rookie cop Frankie Sanders. “Jim!” he repeats.

“Detective Bradley, rookie, you call me Detective Bradley.” He nods.

“Right, Detective Bradley. Anyway Saman—I mean Detective Lake is outside with the family. She wants you out there.” I shake my head. I’ve always hated talking to the Victim’s family.

“I want photos, blood, the girl’s sheets, take it all.” I bark and head for the door.

“The wife’s name is Claire and their other daughter is Allison. She’s seventeen.” Frankie calls after me. I let out a grunt, and watch as he disappeared into the sea of cops that have swarmed the bedroom.

**SEPTEMBER 18, 11:30am** **Samantha Lake, Detective**

“My partner will be here in just a minute ma’am. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some water?” She shakes her head. “Allison? Water?” She doesn’t answer. “Jim!” I call over my partner. “This is Claire, Mr. Foley’s wife and Olivia’s mother. And this is Allison, Mr. Foley’s daughter from his first marriage."

“Mrs. Foley, Allison, I’m so sorry for you loss.” Jim pulls out his keys. “Why don’t we go down to the station and we can talk?” He leads Claire and Allison to the car and helps them into the backseat. He walks back over to me “Can you finish up here? I’ll get their statements.”

“Yeah, don’t worry.” I look at him and force a smile. You’re sure you’re okay with the family?”

“C’mon Sam I’m fine. Wrap this up.” He gives me half wave as he gets in the car. I watch them drive away, Jim trying to soothe the women as they hold each other in the backseat.

Jim Bradley and I have been partners for five years now. When we were first paired up, I hated him. He has this tough exterior that can really run you the wrong way. It took me months to get past it but once I did, I saw him in a new light. He's really a nice guy, cares about what he does. He wants to fix all the evil in the world and being a detective is the best he thinks he can do. He cares about the people too. Tries to connect to each one. I think his passion comes from a dark place in his past, though I can't be sure; he never talks about it. He told me once, about a year ago. I guess I finally gained his trust.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 18, 12:45pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Samantha Lake, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My least favorite part of an investigation is going through the evidence but just as Jim got stuck with his least favorite, interviews; I get stuck with sorting the evidence. In a case like this, there’s a lot of possible evidence to go through. Even with Frankie Sanders and two other cops helping me, it will take a few hours.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I start with the crime scene photographs. Each photo has a different view of the room, a different detail that may be crucial in solving this case. As I arrange the photos, the crime scene starts to come together. Olivia Foley lies in her bed, tucked neatly under her princess sheets. Her bed is pushed up against a wall, tucked in the far corner of her room. Above her, blood splatter covers the pale pink walls. On the floor, her father lies face-up on the blood-soaked carpet. A trail of blood footprints leads out the door into the hallway where they abruptly end. The rest of the room seems untouched; clothes hung neatly in the closet, toys scattered on the floor, a row of stuffed animals sitting on a ledge, looking out on the grim scene before them.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 18, 1:00pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Jim Bradley, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Okay, what do we have on the Foley case?” Sam pulls out the photos from the crime scene and the page she copied from my notebook.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“From what I can tell, Olivia Foley died first. She was in her bed when she was smothered, probably with one of the pillows or stuffed animals on her bed. Mr. Foley was killed after Olivia. The blood splatter on her body suggests she was motionless during the shooting.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“So who was the target?” I interrupt. “Are we supposed to believe Mike Foley just stood there and watched his daughter die in front of him?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Alright, maybe Foley walks in and sees his daughter being smothered and tries to fight of the perpetrator. The perp freaks and shoots him.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No Foley’s death was driven by rage. Three shots to the chest and two to the head? The shooter definitely wanted him dead. Olivia’s death seems careful, full of emotion; guilt, sorrow and remorse.” Sam sighs.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well maybe the crime lab will come back with something useful.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Until then, talk Allison Foley. I’ll speak with Mrs. Foley. We need to know more about their family.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well I guess that’s the best thing to do know. Where’s Allison?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“With her mother. Let’s go”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 18, 1:20pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Jim Bradley, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Juice? A muffin maybe?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No, thanks.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Alright, well let me know.” I sat down. Across the table Claire Foley sat on the edge of her chair, holding her head in her hands. “Mrs. Foley” I began. She shook her head and looked up.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Claire. Call me Claire.” I forced a smile.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Sure. So Claire, I’d just like to ask you a few questions about this morning.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Okay” she said softly.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Good. Now before we start, I’m going to read you your rights. You’re not under arrest, this is just procedure. Just in case.” She gives me a worried look. I ignore it and push the clipboard in front of her. I read her rights, stopping after each one, asking whether she understands it and having her sign that she does. Okay good. She looks relieved but I’m not done. “Finally, this conversation is going to be recorded. Okay?” She gives me a small nod. Okay then we can begin. How about you start with what happened when you woke up, and we’ll go from there.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I listen as she tells me everything that happened. How she woke up at 5:15 like she did every morning. Only this time was different, her husband wasn’t by her side. “Mike?” She had called out. She shrugged it off at first, showering and brushing her teeth before going downstairs where she presumed she would find her husband, asleep on the couch. But then, when she got downstairs she got worried. She checked the garage, his office, and the kitchen. She looked in Allison’s room, and then Olivia’s room. Just then, she stops. She lets out a shaky breath.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Can I, um, can I have a glass of water?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Of course. Give me just a minute.” I opened the door of the conference room and got some water from the fountain. I took my time, to give her some time to compose herself. “Can we continue?” I hand her the water and sit down again.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“When I got to Olivia’s room, I noticed a blood smear on the side of the doorknob. Shaking, I pushed the door open and then I saw him.” She stopped to wipe her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she continued to tell me about her discovery. How she screamed Mr. Foley’s name as she ran to him and held his head in her hands. Then, in a moment of panic, raced to her daughter’s side. Stroked her cheek and thinking she was still asleep, tried to wake her up. With that, Mrs. Foley dissolved into a fit of hysterics. I pushed the glass of water closer to her.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Okay Claire, that was great. Let’s take a break and then we’ll talk about your family.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 18, 1:45am** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Samantha Lake, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Hey Allison, how are you doing?” I ask even though it’s pretty obvious she’s far from okay. She sniffles. “I know you want to get back home soon but I’d really like to talk first. We need to know as much as we can if we’re going to find who did this.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yeah, I know how this works. I watch enough television.” I laugh.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well this isn’t quite as easy as it is on TV. There are a lot of differences.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I know. I wanted to be a cop when I was little. I thought maybe I could get rid of all the evil in this world if I was a cop.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“It’s not to late you know.” I smile at her. “Okay I’m going to read you your rights now. You aren’t under arrest. This is just in case. Procedure.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’m a suspect?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No, not at the moment. This is just in case.” I read her rights to her and watch as she signs each one. “And this conversation s going to be recorded. Okay?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yeah that’s fine.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Excellent. Let’s get started.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Can I ask you a question first?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Sure but I have to warn you I might not answer it.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why did you become a cop?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“That’s a tough question, they’re a lot of reasons.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I mean did something happen to you that made you want to fix things in the world?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Is that why you wanted to be a cop when you were little? Did something happen to you?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Never mind.” She sits back in her chair. That’s a sore spot. I’ll have to get back to that.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Never mind. Okay. Let’s talk about your family. I understand you live at home with your dad, stepmother and little sister. How’s that?” She shrugs. “Well Claire told us that you and your dad didn’t get along. Why did you stay at home? You could have moved out two years ago if you wanted.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No I couldn’t. I had to stay.” Allison responds sharply.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Uh, money.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“That sounded a little unsure. Why did you really stay at home?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Olivia. She needed me.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why? She had your dad and Claire.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Claire’s okay I guess.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“And not your dad?” She shrugs again. What happened with her dad? I wonder to myself.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why do you think your relationship with your dad was so bad?” She shifts in her seat.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’d rather not talk about it.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“We’re going to have to talk about it eventually.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No, we aren’t. It’s not relevant.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“How do you know that?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I-I just do okay?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well, it is relevant. This is an investigation of his murder. But fine. We’ll talk about Olivia for now.” I don’t want to pressure her; she doesn’t have to talk to me at all.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Olivia was the sweetest little girl in the world.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“So you were close with her.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I tried to protect her from the bad of the world. And I failed. Maybe she’s better off dead.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“That’s a bold statement. Why would you say that?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“There’s a lot of evil in this world. Too much for a little girl to handle on her own. Especially one as kind as she was. I tried to protect hr from it and I failed.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Olivia’s death isn’t your fault.” Allison looks at me with cold eyes.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’m not saying it was. But failed her while she lived.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You keep mentioning evil, the bad of this world. What are you talking about? What did you have to protect her from?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I can’t say.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You don’t know or you can’t tell me?” She gives me a blank look. “You’re safe here Allison. If someone was hurting you or your sister you can tell me. Nothing will happen to you if you do.” Another empty stare.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Can I go now?” I sigh.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes, you can go. But if you need anything, or decide you have something to tell me, call. Okay?” She gets up from the table. I hand her my card. “Will you call me?” She looks at me, right in the eyes like she’s trying to read me.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Whatever.” She takes the card and walks out.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 18, 2:35pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Jim Bradley, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“How’d it go with Allison?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well she’s hiding something. There’s something that happened with her dad that she won’t talk about. And whatever it is has got her upset. Upset mostly at her dad.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I got the same thing from Claire. When she calmed down that is. She knows something’s wrong, she’s known it since she met Mike and Allison. I asked her to talk about her family and she started right away with Allison. Here. Read it.” Sam takes the transcript from my hands.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">//“Well, when Mike and I married, a little over eight years ago, Allison was almost 9. She was a very, well, confusing girl. She still is. She was always very quiet. Never spoke to Mike unless she had to. She stayed to herself. I thought that was just her personality. But when Mike wasn't around she was a completely different person. She was friendly to me, always wanted to talk. She'd talk about wanting to run away and never come back again. Once I thought she was going to tell me why she was so upset. She asked me if I could keep a secret, even a really big one. Just as she began, she looked at me like she was reconsidering. Then she told me I wouldn't believe her and went back to her room. I told Mike about it and he told me not to worry about it, that it was just a phase and she'd grow out of it eventually. I believed him and I thought she was okay. She never ran away and she stopped telling me she wanted to. Then after Olivia was born, she got really upset again. When we told her, she freaked out. Started crying and yelling. She pleaded with me not to have the baby. Every day she'd say, "Please don't do this. Please." I think she was jealous. She'd been an only child her whole life. And once Olivia was born, she became very protective. She always wanted to play with Olivia and baby-sit her. She even asked us if she could move Olivia's crib into her room. One night I heard her tell a friend that she wanted to move out as soon as she turned eighteen but now she couldn't because she had to stay and keep Olivia safe. It got a little ridiculous sometimes but it was very sweet. I wanted to get her into therapy. I mentioned it once and Mike was furious. He yelled at me for bringing it up. Insisted Allison had nothing to say and stormed out of the room. I dropped it, she seemed less upset for a while and Mike was clearly opposed to the idea. Secretly though, I think she could really use someone to talk to. Especially now.”//

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Wow." Sam closes the door behind her. I nod

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Yeah. So you're definitely right, there's something that's got Allison upset. Really upset."

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Something big, and it sounds like something she's held on to it for awhile. Even before Claire Foley came into the picture. What we need to do is find out what she's hiding. Maybe it'll tell us something about Mike's life Claire can't tell us.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Let’s hope so. Do you want to try to talk to her again?

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’ll try again tomorrow. I doubt she’d come back to the station to talk to me again. When she left she was pretty upset.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well you can try. I’m headed back to their house. I’m going to see if I can get anything from their neighbors. Come with me and see if Allison will talk to you.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 18, 3:05pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Samantha Lake, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“She’s not there.” I head back to Jim in the car.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Claire’s not there either?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Nope. No one home.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Oh well. We can come back. But at least one of their neighbors has to be home.” I take Jim’s cue to head to the home of their next-door neighbor. Jim rings the bell. Almost instantly a woman in a pale yellow blouse comes to the door.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“May I help you?” Jim and I hold up our badges “Police”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Is this about Mike and Olivia?” She shakes her head “Tragic. It really is. She was such a sweet little girl.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“And Mike? Did you know him well?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No not really. I didn’t like him very much. He was a charming guy but I didn’t like his relationship with his daughters.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why is that?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well Allison seemed to really resent him. And there was something off about his relationship with Olivia. They were really close, too close if you ask me. She’d stay home from school sometimes. And she never seemed sick; Mike would just keep her home. One time I saw her run out the door completely naked. I know kids do that but there was something weird about how he just looked around and dragged her inside after that.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You think Mike was sexually abusing Olivia?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Oh I don’t know. But it’s possible I guess.” She paused. “Oh I am so sorry was there something you wanted from me?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No that’s all right. I think we’ve got what we need.” Jim and I turn to leave.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Oh actually, Ms, I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Cynthia Reyes”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Ms. Reyes, do you know the name of Olivia’s school?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Midland Elementary”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Thank you. Have a nice day ma’am.” Jim looks at me.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Her school?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“If Mike was abusing Olivia maybe her teacher knows something.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Smart. Want to drive?” He throws me the keys and we drive off.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 18, 3:30pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Jim Bradley, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We pull up at Midland Elementary School just as the bell’s ringing. A mess of children run to the door, scrambling to get in line before their teacher comes over. “Can someone point us in the direction of the principal?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“The school doesn’t allow parent visits during school hours unless they’re prescheduled.” A tall woman walks over.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“We don’t need one. We’re with the police department.” I pull out my badge, and Sam does the same.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Down the hall, second left. The door’s marked.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Thank you.” I knock on the door marked ‘principal’. “Police”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Come on in. I assume this is concerning the tragic events that occurred this morning with Olivia Foley. Her mother called this morning. What can I do for you?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“We’d like to speak with Olivia’s classroom teacher if that’s possible.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“She’s in a class, can it wait?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“We’d like to get this done as soon as possible. We //are// investigating a double homicide. So maybe you could pull her out of her class for a few minutes.” Sam tells the principal. She’s pretty good at getting things she wants.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Of course, I’ll call him down.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No need, we’ll go to him.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“As you’d like, Mr. Strickland, room 127. At the end of this hallway on the right. I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Excellent.” When we arrive, Mr. Strickland is already waiting outside.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’m Detective Bradley, this is Detective Lake.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Good morning Detectives. What can I do to help?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Have you met Olivia’s father?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Mike? Yes multiple times. He was very involved in he daughter’s life. Came to all the parent teacher conferences. Always asked questions about her progress. Wanted to read all her stories, looked at all her pictures. I wish all the parents were that excited about their kid’s education.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Were they close?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Extremely. It appeared that way at least.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Did Olivia ever say anything to you about her relationship with her father?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Um no not to me. You may want to talk to her guidance counselor, Ms. Walsh. She saw Olivia a few times.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“We will do just that. Where’s her office?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Back out near the door you came in.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Thank you for your time Mr. Strickland. I let you get back to your class”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No problem. Make sure you find whoever did this. Olivia was one of the sweetest girls I’ve ever had in my class.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Sam you want to take this one?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Sure.” Sam knocks on the door frame.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Take a seat,” says the dark woman hunched over a desk in the back corner of the room. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“This will just take a minute Ms. Walsh” She looks up startled by the deep voice coming out of who she thought was a second grade student.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’m sorry, I though- never mind. Are you a parent? How can I help you?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No I’m a detective and this is my partner. Can we ask you a few questions about Olivia Foley?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Oh yes of course. I expected a visit. I thought it’d be tomorrow. I just heard this morning. What a terrible occurrence. She was such a great girl.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes well we are looking into possible abuse by her father? Did she ever say anything to you?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No not directly. I don’t think. Hold on just a minute would you?” Se turns her back to us and opens a file cabinet. “Fernandez, Fletcher, Flores, Ah here it is. Foley.” She turns around. “I’m sorry, I have a lot of students.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Let’s see, no visible signs of abuse. She seemed very close to her father. Says they had special days when she didn’t go to school and they played games.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You didn’t look into that? She said she stayed home sometimes to play game? You weren’t worried she should be in school.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I assumed she was sick. The number of absences she has is fairly normal. It didn’t seem like an issue.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Did she say anything else?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No, just that she played special games with her dad when she didn’t go to school.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Special games? What does that mean?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I don’t know, probably something she only does with her dad. I only met with her a few times a year. I have a lot of students. If a kid doesn’t show outward signs of distress, I don’t look into their home life. I’m sorry.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Hm.” I let out a disapproving grunt.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Thanks anyway.” Sam shakes her hand and we head back out to the parking lot.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 18, 4:55pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Samantha Lake, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well that was helpful” Jim says sarcastically. I ignore it.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“It was wasn’t it? I’m convinced Olivia was being abused.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why because a gossiping neighbor and a second grade teacher thinks so?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Not just that. Think about it. Every person we’ve talked to has said Olivia and Mike were oddly close. And then Allison kept talking about protecting her from evil. I bet Allison knew and that’s why she got so protective and why she thought she failed Olivia.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Okay but how do we prove it? Allison won’t talk to us.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Maybe she will?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No, she was probably abused too. That’s why she had so many issues with her dad. That’s why she freaked out when Olivia was born and why she wanted to keep Olivia in her room. She knew what happened to her would happen to Olivia. What are the chances her dad would just abuse one of them? He was probably abusing Allison before he married Claire. And then started abusing Olivia after Allison got old enough to know it was wrong.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yeah I guess you’re right. We’ll just have to wait for the autopsy to confirm whether Olivia was sexually abused. If we can confirm that, Allison will probably talk to us.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You know if Mike was abusing Olivia, we’ve got motive. And a start on the suspect list too. Anyone who found out and was enraged by the awful things Mike was doing to his daughter.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“We’d have to look at Claire and Allison too.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“But do you really either of them could have killed Olivia too? They both adored her. Whoever killed Mike also killed Olivia.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I guess it’s possible. Who else is there? Never mind. We should stop guessing. Let’s head back to the station. We’ve still got a bunch of evidence to go through. I left Sanders in charge with all of it. We can help him until the autopsy results come back.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“We can do all that tomorrow. We’ve made a lot of progress. But for now, let’s stop on the way back. I’ve been working this since seven. I need coffee now. And you could probably use some too.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 18, 5:20pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Jim Bradley, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Once or twice a week, Sam and I will stop for a meal together. We always go to Joe’s Diner, which is three blocks from the station. I absolutely hate the restaurant. Thee food isn’t great, the coffee is always cold and the service is terrible. Still, I enjoy these meals a lot, even if I don’t always show it. She is able to look past all my issues and get to know me. She’s a good friend and a great partner. That’s why I’ve never argued with her about where to eat. She loves this restaurant and has since she was little. Her dad used to take her here every Sunday for brunch. She still comes on Sunday, by herself and someday I’m sure she’ll bring her own kids.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We pull up to the old diner just at eleven. The new neon sign shines over the red and white striped awning, even in the sunlight.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“New sign” I comment.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Wait until you see the inside. They cleaned the floor and table tops.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“It’s about time. You could barely tell the difference between the white tiles and the black tiles on the floor,” I joke. Sam lets out a muffled laugh.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Oh it wasn’t //that// bad!” she protests.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Of course not.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yeah, I know. Two please.” The hostess, who looks barely old enough to drive, gives us a fake smile.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Right this way. Your waitress, Danielle, will be over in a minute.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Thanks.” I settle myself in the worn seat. “I guess they haven’t gotten to the seats yet.” I look up at Sam, but she doesn’t acknowledge my stupid joke. She sinks into her seat across from me. She has a distant look in her eyes.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Sam? You okay?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Huh? Oh, yeah I’m fine.” She sits up straight and leans her arm on the newly cleaned table. “What are you getting?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Sam. You know I get the same thing every time we come here. What’s wrong with you? You seem upset.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Nothing” she snaps. “I’m fine okay?” I shrug and sit silently. I know if I give her enough time, she’ll tell me. She always acts like she really doesn’t want to talk about something if she really does want to talk about it. “This case,” she starts. “It’s hard for me to watch Allison Foley so unaffected by her father’s death. Even if they didn’t get along, you’d think she’d care, at least a little. Right? She had a dad who loved her and she’s happy he’s dead? That’s wrong and so sad.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The distant look returns to her eyes. I can tell she’s thinking about her own dad. He was killed when she was twelve. Sam and her mom came home from an all-day shopping trip and found him lying in the kitchen. The cops in charge of his case gave up eight and a half months later. It was a cold case. No evidence, no motive, no suspects, nothing. I think that’s when Sam decided to become a cop. She always says the hardest part about her dad’s death was not knowing what happened to him. She had so many questions and not one answer.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Jim!”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“What?” I look up and see our waitress looking at me. She looks like the hostess’ younger sister. She looks fourteen at the most. “Sorry. I’ll have a number three and a hot coffee.” Sam looks at her menu. She’s relaxed again but she’s still upset.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’ll have a blueberry pancake and some orange juice.” Sam hands her menu to the waitress who takes it and motions towards my menu. “I’ll have a coffee too,” Sam adds.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Look Sam, we don’t know what happened with Allison and her father. But we’ll find out and then we’ll understand it. Okay? Let’s talk about something else.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">‘Yeah” She nods and takes a deep breath. “How’s Ava?” I give her a huge smile. I love talking about my daughter. She’s the joy of my life.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“She’s great. She was just in a play at her school. She had a leading role,” I say proudly.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As we discuss my daughter, I see the usual shine return to Sam’s eyes. By the time we leave the diner to head home, she is smiling and laughing along with me.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 19, 9:00am** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Samantha Lake, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">One of the best things about being on this case is I can use it as an excuse to not do any of the paperwork I have. I show up late to work every day, because nobody checks to see if I’ve arrived. Jim’s always here at seven filling out paperwork and keeping an eye on Frankie, who’s in charge of evidence on this case. I’ve been coming in at eight or nine everyday though, and it’s so nice. The only problem is as son as I arrive at the station, both jim and Frankie are waiting for me.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“How’d it go?” shouts Frankie from across thee station. I motion him over.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Frankie. Shh. Other people have work to do here too.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Okay, okay sorry. How’d it go?” he whispers. I roll my eyes.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You don’t need to whisper. Just speak normally ok?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Indoor voice” Jim offers as he joins us. “We’ve got a possible lead.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“What is it?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Relax Frankie. Let us take our coats off okay?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Frankie nods and heads back to the conference room I left him in at eight. I’m impressed he’s still there. Jim heads to the bathroom and I go to my desk. It looks like something you’d see in a school. A metal desk with four drawers that don’t quite fit. I sit in the matching chair and arrange my papers. My job isn’t normally this exciting. It’s mostly paperwork, which I have plenty of stacked on my desk. Jim’s desk looks the same, except all of his drawers work nicely and a photo collection starring his daughter sits where my photo of my dad is.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I look at the picture of my dad and smile. Then, I think of Allison again. I don’t understand how someone who has a loving father could push him away that much. And then, when he dies she’s not upset at all, in fact she’s happy? I lean back in my chair and look at the station in front of me.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Detective Lake?” I turn around and find Frankie a few feet away. “You said you had a possible lead?” He’s very quiet and worried. That worries me because it’s so unlike him.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes, we do. Are you okay Frankie?” He ignores the question.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Can I ask what your lead is?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Possible sexual abuse. Why? What did you find?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well this should be just what you need to make that ‘possible sexual abuse’ to ‘sexual abuse’.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Frankie what are you talking about?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You should probably just take a look at this.” I get up and follow him immediately. I know anything that takes the happy energy out of Frankie Sanders is something very serious.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 19, 9:30am** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Jim Bradley, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I guess that gossiping neighbor was right.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Let’s hope not.” Sam replies even though neither of us believes there’s any other explanation.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We swing into the driveway in front of the large Foley residence. Sam goes up and rings the doorbell. I follow closely behind her, hoping Allison’s home.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Oh, detectives. I thought you’d call. Never mind. Did you find who did this to my family?” She looks better than yesterday but the pain is sill clearly there.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Not yet Mrs. Foley. We’re actually here to talk to Allison. Is she home?” She nods.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes she’s in the guest house. Neither of us can stand to stay in here. I jut came to get some breakfast. She holds open the door for us. “You can go through the house. The door is in the kitchen.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We walk slowly through the house, which looks exactly the same as when we left it, minus the cops. Through the kitchen door you can see the large backyard. Stepping off the porch, we cross over the lawn. A white fence surrounds the guest house and its brick patio. Sam pushes open the fence and lets it swing behind her.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison?” She knocks softly. “It’s Detectives Lake and Bradley. A lock clicks behind the door before it swings open.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I already talked to you. Twice.” Despite her tone, she looks somewhat happy to see us.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Can we talk again? It’s about Olivia? It’s important.” She gives us a serious look.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Fine but only for a minute. Claire’s already very upset. I don’t want to make it worse. She opens the door and lets us in. “Sit.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The house has a very warm, cozy feel. I sit next to Sam on a velvety brown couch. Allison falls into a matching brown armchair. She looks at us.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“So? What do you want to talk about?” She’s acting very closed off but in her eyes I see a hurt seventeen year old girl.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“We wanted to talk to you about the relation ship your dad had with both you and Olivia.” She cringes a little. I look over at Sam. She saw it too.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why is this necessary?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well,” I start slowly. “We know your dad was close to Olivia. We need to know how close.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“They were close. I don’t see why you need me for this.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison,” Sam jumps in. “Earlier when we talked you kept saying that you had to protect Olivia from evil. Did you mean your father?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No”. She sits up very straight and gives us both a cold look.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“We need the truth Allison. It could be very important to our investigation.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’m telling you the truth.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Are you sure? Because the evidence suggests your father was abusing your little sister. And presumably, he abused you too.” She looks shocked.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well the evidence is wrong.” Sam gets up.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well I guess we’re done here. Come on Jim.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I get up and follow Sam to the door. I know what Sam is doing. Its obvious Allison wants to talk, but she’s scared. She’s been hiding this for years and now it’s out.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“She looks up. “You’re right. You guys are right okay?” She leans back in her chair and covers her face. Sam and I exchange glances. A tear rolls down Allison’s cheek. “He started when I was six.” She says between sobs. “I thought he’d stop when he married Claire but he didn’t. And I couldn’t tell her. When he finally stopped, I was fifteen.” She curls up in the corner of her chair. “Olivia was just a baby but I knew she wasn’t safe. I tried to protect her but I couldn’t.” Sam goes over to Allison, who now, although silent, has now has a steady stream of tears rolling down her face. She puts her arm around Allison, who turns into her and cries on Sam’s shirt.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“It’s not your fault Allison. And we’re going to help you now. Okay?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No!” Allison sits up and pulls away from Sam. “I’m done talking about this. Claire can’t know.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison, Claire has to know. Olivia was her daughter.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No. Her husband and her daughter are dead. She doesn’t need more pain.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“We can talk this through later. How about you come to the station with us and we can talk about this.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No, I think you should go now.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I brought some muff--Allison? What’s going on here?” Claire has appeared in the doorway, carrying a wooden tray arranges with muffins, fruit and juice. “Why are you crying?” Allison rushes to Claire’s side.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Don’t worry about it, everything is fine.” She takes the tray of food from Claire outside. “Let’s eat on the patio.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No. What is going on here? Detective Bradley?” She looks at me, her eyes full concern, pain, and sorrow. I look at Sam but she doesn’t know what to do either.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why don’t we all go down to the station and we’ll fill you in and get everything sorted out.” Sam gets up and leans over to me.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Should we keep them together?” she whispers to me. I nod.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Our car is out front, come on.” I say as I guide Claire and Allison out the door.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 19, 11:20am** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Samantha Lake, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I stand outside the conference room with Claire Foley, watching as Jim talks to Allison. She’s sitting across the table from her, her chair balanced delicately on only the two back legs. She’s staring straight ahead, completely silent. I guess I feel bad for getting so upset with her when she didn’t react to her dad’s death. But still, there’s something off, even now. Her stepmother is falling apart in front of her and all she’s doing is tipping her chair back.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I assume that her reaction, or lack of reaction for that matter, stems from her father abusing her although I don’t know. I haven’t dealt with to many rape victims. They happen here of course, there are cases, they are just rarely given to Jim or me. I do know that she needs help. //Foley case: psychiatric evaluation// I scribble in my notebook. Hopefully I can get her what she needs. I look up just in time to see Jim motioning for me to come into the room. I sigh. I was hoping that I could sit this one out.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Okay, we’re coming” I say and follow Claire into the room.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Our interview room is small. There is barely enough room for the table, desk and 5 chairs that occupy it. The windows are glass, all the way around. Unlike what you see on television, there are no one-way mirrors or padded walls. I sit Claire next to Allison. Claire looks worried.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison, sweetie, what’s going on?” Jim puts his hand up, motioning to Claire to stop speaking.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison and I had a good talk and we’ve agreed that it is important you get caught up. She thinks it would be easier if you just read what she told Detective Lake and me earlier so she wrote this out for you.” He pushes one of our standard notepads with writing scrawled over the first 2 pages across the table to her. “We’ll give you a minute to read it and then we’ll come back okay?” Jim starts to get up but Allison interrupts him.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No I want to stay.” She tips her chair down so all four legs are back on the ground. “It’s okay actually. I’ll stay.” Jim nods and sits back down. Meanwhile, Claire has begun reading her stepdaughter’s story.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">//It started before I met you. After my dad told me that you were getting married, I thought he’d stop. I thought maybe he was just lonely after my mom died. But he never stopped. Not until a few years after Olivia was born. I was going to tell you once but I got scared you wouldn’t believe me.//

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She clasps her hand over her mouth as she reads on.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">//I was going to run away but then I realized that he was probably going to hurt Olivia too. So I stayed to protect her. I couldn’t let her end up like me. You can see why I’m like this now. I know I have problems and I know it’s his fault. I didn’t want that happening to anyone else, especially my baby sister so I stayed. Because I had to. I thought I could protect her but I couldn’t and I’m really sorry.//

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Claire pushes the notepad away only halfway through her stepdaughter’s words. She pulls Allison in for a hug. The two of them sit there, Clair holding Allison, who seems unmoved, for a good five minutes. Claire is crying, her chin resting on the top of Allison’s head. Allison is completely calm. No emotion.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have done something. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you.” Allison gives her a blank stare.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“This isn’t just about me,” She says softly. “This is also about Olivia.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I sit back in my chair and watch the scene play out in front of me. I’ve realized something about Allison. She isn’t cold; in fact, she really does care a lot. She seems that way though because when she’s in a hard situation, or a position she doesn’t want to be in, she detaches. It’s probably how she reacted to her father’s abuse and now is how she responds in any bad situation. She removes herself emotionally. So as Claire cries over her head, Allison is gone.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Claire is the opposite. She lets out whatever emotions she’s feeling as soon as she feels them. And now, as she processes the additional pain she feels from the news of who her husband really was and what he did to her daughters, she’s a mess. She has completely fallen apart. She is just sitting and crying. Crying for herself, crying for Allison and crying for Olivia.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I myself have an urge to cry. For Claire who just find out she didn’t really know her husband at all. That he was a monster who abused the girl she’d come to seen as her own child and the girl who was actually her child. That it all happened right under her nose, in her house, sometimes while she was home. And for Allison, who lost her mother as a baby and grew up with father who abused her and then her little sister. The man who messed her up so bad she can’t even cry when something bothers her. She has to disappear emotionally and bottle up her sadness.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I don’t know what Jim is thinking but from the way he’s sitting in his chair, running his hands through his hair, I can tell he too is upset. We all just sit there, each one of us feeling the pain this family has suffered, taking it all in.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 19, 11:45am** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Samantha Lake, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“The lab results are back. The autopsy confirms Olivia was sexually abused, more than once. She died due to asphyxiation, most likely a pillow was held over her face. We can assume she died first from the blood splatter. Then Mike Foley, five shots, the fatal one went through his heart, fired at close range.” I sit on the edge of my desk and hand one copy to Jim and another to Frankie.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No unexplained prints? So it was an inside job?” Frankie asks excitedly.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Or they wore gloves.” Jim pulls a chair up to my desk. He doesn’t like Frankie. It’s understandable, Frankie’s constant excitement and energy can get very annoying but he’s a nice guy. <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Jim studies the results. He says the answers always there, right in front of you, you just have to find it. It works for him, I guess but I’d much rather talk to a victim.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“So our perp holds a pillow over Olivia’s face first, and then pulls a gun out on Mike? Who’s the target? Mike’s death was driven by anger and aggression but Olivia’s death, while peaceful, came first.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Whoever the target was, they knew they’d find Mike in Olivia’s room. So whoever it was probably knew about the abuse. That also explains the rage behind Mike’s death.” I look up at Frankie. “Frankie, have any thoughts?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Oh okay. Um, I think we should look at Claire Foley. Maybe she found out what Mike was doing and confronts him about it. But then he denies it and so she gets a gun and waits for him in Olivia’s room.” This is when Frankie becomes a cop. The excitement is gone. Know his mind is working and it’s working well.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Okay good. But why does she kill Olivia?” He looks at me, stumped.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Claire isn’t planning on killing Olivia but while she’s in her room, she’s overcome with jealousy because her husband prefers Olivia over her. But Olivia is her daughter so she holds the pillow over face and saves the gun for Mike.” Jim stands up, satisfied, like he’s just solved the case. But Frankie’s mind is still working hard.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Or while she’s waiting she realizes Olivia will hear the gunshots and wake up. She kills Olivia so there are no witnesses. Or she knows Olivia will wake up and see her killing Mike and be extremely shaken by it. She doesn’t want Olivia ending up like Allison so she kills Olivia.” Mike glares at Frankie.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why not just carry Olivia out of the room? And why not kill Allison too, so she doesn’t hear the gunshots?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“She’s in a state of emotional instability. She’s not thinking straight. In the moment, it makes more sense to kill her. Or she’s using a silencer. The gun wasn’t recovered. That would explain why no one else in the neighborhood heard them.” Jim sits down, frustrated. It’s clear to him Frankie’s on fire and won’t be stopped.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“See kid. This is why I don’t like you. Go find something else to do.” I think Jim’s hoping this will annoy Frankie but he’s too focused to be insulted. Instead he walks of, scribbling theories on his notepad. I laugh and Jim gives me an annoyed look.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Just forget it. You don’t have to like it but we need to take his suggestions seriously. We should look into Claire Foley as a suspect. Allison too.” He rolls his eyes but I can tell he’s not really that upset. Breakfast?” I nod and we both get up and to walk out the door.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“If Claire did this, she’s been really good at covering it up. I really believed she had no clue what Mike was doing to Olivia and Allison. And she certainly did not respond with jealousy when she read Allison’s letter.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes I suppose or she’s a good liar. We can’t rule her out just yet.” I grab my coat and pull it on. Jim does the same.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Okay and Allison?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Anger. Her dad abused her and her sister for years. She got mad and shot him.” Jim stops thinks it over.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“She’s certainly detached enough to pull the trigger without feeling anything while she did it.” He picks up his pace to catch up with me. “But what about her sister? From what I can tell, Olivia’s the only thing Allison truly cared about. I can’t see her killing Olivia too. And we can’t rule out someone on the outside. A neighbor or a friend of Allison’s maybe.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I don’t know but there’s only one way to get an answer. We’re just going to have to get it out of one of them.” Jim unlocks the car and opens my door.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“And maybe Allison’s the key.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison? No, she hasn’t been very cooperative.” I point down the street where Allison is walking towards the station, arms wrapped tight around her body. Jim raises his eyebrows.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well I guess breakfast is going to have to wait,” he says, shutting the car door.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Guess so,” I shout behind me as I approach Allison outside the station doors.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 19, 12:15pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Jim Bradley, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison what can we do for you?” I ask her, taking her jacket and hanging it outside the door. She shrugs.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I just thought maybe you’d want to know that Claire was lying to you earlier. She gives me a slightly unsettling smile.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well yes, that would be important information. Why don’t you have a seat and explain what exactly you mean.” I give Sam look of concern as I sit. She remains standing, right by the door, which she has pulled shut.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Claire was lying the whole time she read my letter.” Allison volunteers. I’m surprised by her sudden cooperation. It’s very unexpected, a little strange actually.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“What do you mean?” I ask again, hoping for a more specific response.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“All that gasping and ‘oh no, I had no idea. I’m so sorry Allison’. It was all an act.” I look at Sam again, hoping she understands what I want her to do. She nods and leaves the room, most hopefully to locate Claire.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’m not exactly sure what you mean by that. Are you saying Claire knew what your father was doing to you?" Allison is leaning back in her chair. She's giving me an all too familiar blank stare. I think back to Sam's theory that Allison emotionally removes herself when she's upset. I reposition my chair and lean back, mimicking Allison's posture. "Okay so you’re Claire did know what your father was doing to you,” I say, no longer phrasing it as a question. “Why did she act like she was surprised then?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Because she really doesn’t care. She just wants it to appear she does. She’s known since she and my father bought the house. But I’m not really her daughter so who really cares right?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You know that’s not true Allison. She cares. And what about Olivia. She knew about Olivia’s abuse too right?” I ask, hoping Allison will jump in. Without missing a beat, Allison responds, exactly as I hoped she would.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No,” she says shaking her head. “She only found out recently. A couple of days ago actually. She never cared when she thought it was me nut when she realized my father was, uh, with Olivia...” Allison shakes her head again, this time out of sadness. “When she found out it was Olivia not me, she wasmad. I’d never seen her that mad. I’d hoped she’d kick him out but she didn’t. In fact she was really nice to him. Smiling at him, having polite conversations, still sleeping next to him every night. She’s just that kind of person. The kind that acts as if everything is perfect even when it’s really not even close to perfect. I don’t get it.” I smile at her gratefully.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison you’ve been very, very helpful today. Is there anything I can do for you?” She looks shocked.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Me?” I feel for Allison right now. She shouldn’t be surprised that someone wants to help her, and yet, she is.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes, you. Is there anything I, or Detective Lake for that matter, can do for you?” And right then, for the first time, a smile creeps across her face and she almost looks happy.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 19, 12:40pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Samantha Lake, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Over breakfast, Jim and I discuss everything but the case. His daughter, the weather, last nights basketball game, everything. We blow through every little conversation Jim can think of. I’m trying to contribute but my mind is still focused on our case. I can’t get Allison Foley out of my head. She’s gone through so much and she’s only seventeen. Her mother, the only person who could protect her, died when she was still young. Her dad abused her for years while her stepmother looked the other way. She lived to protect her little sister, the only person she really cared about, and she failed.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Sam what’s up? You seem a bit distracted.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Oh it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” I don’t want to tell Jim, he hates talking about cases during meals. It’s an unspoken agreement we have, not work talk during meals.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Sam you always do this. Just tell me.” He’s right. I never act like I want to tell him anything but I do. It’s like he knows that too because he just sits and waits for me to talk and when I do, a satisfied smirk spreads across his face.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’ll tell you later. After we eat. I promise.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Oh it’s about the case. I get it.” I laugh. It’s like him to know exactly what I’m thinking without me saying anything.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yeah but I promise it can wait.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“What? No! Now I’m interested. You have to tell me.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“No I know you don’t like mixing work in with these meals.” I do this all the time; bring up a case he doesn’t really want to talk about. I just get really invested in each case. He likes to set boundaries.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“It’s happened before. It doesn’t bother me. Come on, Share with me.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Alright fine.” I give in. “I was just thinking about Allison. I feel bad for her and I want to help her. Get her out of Claire’s house for one. She needs to be with someone who will actually care about her.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Sam I know that you want to help her but she’s seventeen. In four months she will be an adult and she’ll have to do things on her own.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes but she has a lot of issues that she needs to work out. She can’t do that by herself, no one can. And you know she’s not going to get that help by herself.” Jim sighs.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well I agree she has some issues so we can point her I the direction of a psychiatrist. Other than, there’s nothing we can do except offer some friendly advice.” I know Jim’s right but I really feel for this girl.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“But we can’t leave her with Claire.” I protest.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why not?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Jim! She let Allison get sexually abused everyday for years. She knew what was happening and did nothing.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I know and it’s terrible but Mike Foley is dead, he’s not going to hurt Allison anymore.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“What? Jim! Come on!” I’m shocked by Jim’s arguments. “So what if Mike’s dead? Claire obviously doesn’t care about Allison. Otherwise she would have done something.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Or she was scared. We won’t know what she was thinking until we talk to her. Then we can discuss Allison okay?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Whatever.” I reply dismissively. I know that was probably a bad response but I’m upset Jim doesn’t want to help Allison as much as I do. He usually tries to help anyone he can. Jim tries to pick up the conversation again but I don’t feel like talking anymore.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 19, 1:50pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Jim Bradley, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’m looking for Detective Jim Bradley” Claire says to a uniformed cop who points her in the direction of my desk.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Claire,” I call out, walking across the station to greet her.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Hello Detective. I got a message from an Officer Franklin Sanders saying to come meet you immediately. What happened?” She says, shaking my hand. I try not to smile at her use of Frankie’s full name.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I was hoping I could talk to you again.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes of course. What is this about?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison.” Claire let out a slight sigh.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Of course.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Good let’s sit.” I lead her back into the same interview room she’s been in so many times in the last few days. <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Now, like before, I’m going to have to read you your rights. Again you are not under arrest.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“By now, I know.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’m sure,” I laugh. Both she and Allison have memorized their rights by now probably. Either Sam or I have read them their rights before every in station interview, just in case. Still, I read her them once again, and, like every other time, have her sign them too. When she finishes, I explain the situation.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“When we spoke with you and Allison earlier, you were shocked by her revelation that your husband had been sexually abusing her.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes.” She says, lowering her head. “So sad, so terrible.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“It is quite terrible. I was actually surprised by how you reacted. You kept apologizing to Allison for not helping her.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Oh?” She seems to know where this is heading, though she refuses to say anything more.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes and my partner and I spoke with Allison again after that and she told us that you had known about Mike’s abuse.” I look directly into her eyes and she quickly turn’s her head.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“That is absolutely ridiculous.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Is it?” I try to make direct eye contact with her again. “Then why would Allison say that?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Oh I don’t know, she’s not well Detective, you know that.” Claire is looking very uneasy, shifting in her seat, averting her eyes from mine.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“That maybe true but I believe her and I believe you are lying. What I want to know is why. Why would you let your husband sexually abuse your daughter?” All of a sudden, Claire tears up.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Step-daughter.” She corrects me.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Regardless. You’re husband is sexually abusing someone you care about and you just sit back and let it happen?” Now I’m raising my voice, partly out of anger, partly because I hope it will get Claire upset.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Detective this wasn’t just hard for Allison. Even after we got married Mike still preferred her to me. How do you think that was for me?” I slam my hands down on the table.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You let that girl get abused by her own father everyday because you were //jealous//?” I shout.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Do you think he would have stopped because I asked him to? If I said ‘Oh Mike I know you love Allison so much but would you please stop’ he would laugh in my face. All I wanted was my husband to love me. It’s Allison who was always stopping that. She could have stopped him, not me.” I stand up and lean over the table.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Allison was abused for years. You think she wanted it? No she was scared and no one helped her. And you’re going to sit here and tell me it was her fault?” I’m staring her down, breathing heavily.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I couldn’t stop him. He was bigger and stronger than me. When I suggested we bring Allison into a therapist, I was hoping she’d tell her therapist what Mike did to her. Mike got so angry because he knew what I was doing. He didn’t just yell at me. He hit me. He threw me against a wall. I was scared of him too.” I sit down again. She’s obviously shaken.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why didn’t you call the police?” I ask, calmer now.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I did once. They let him off with a warning and twenty hours of community service. As soon as the police left, he hit me. After that I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.” A small tear is rolling down her cheek. I shake my head. Our criminal justice system needs some major changes when it comes to domestic violence.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Here.” I slid a floral tissue box over to her.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Thank you” she said quietly. “I’m sorry I lied to you, I just couldn’t get it out. I was worried you wouldn’t believe me. Allison couldn’t back my story. He never hit me in front of Allison or Olivia. I guess I’m just used to being afraid.” She sniffles, completely ignoring the tissues.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well it’s good you told the truth now. I’m going to give you a moment okay? I’ll be out by my desk.” I get up from the table. “Use the tissues.” I say motioning to the box on my way out. She nods and pulls a tissue from the box.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“May I leave?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Just drop by my desk on your way out okay? I’m going to need evidence of you’re allegations against your husband. When you’ve lied once we have to be sure you’re not lying again”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“How about hospital records? Will that work? I went once for a broken arm, and again for stitches above my eye. Or a copy of my police report?”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I can look up your complaint. The hospital records would be perfect. Drop them off as soon as you can. And stay close okay? Don’t leave town. Allison either.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Right, sure. Thank you Detective.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You are very welcome” I say, anxious to share this new information with Sam. Claire must have picked up on my eagerness to leave because with that, he stood up, gathered her jacket and walked out of the room.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**SEPTEMBER 19, 2:45pm** <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">**Jim Bradley, Detective**

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“How did it go with Claire?” Sam is sitting in front of her desk.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Get anything good?” Frankie adds, sitting on the edge of Sam’s desk, his legs swinging of the edge.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well apparently, Mike wasn’t just sexually abusing his daughters, he was hitting Claire. And Allison is definitely not the only one in that family with problems, Claire’s pretty messed up too.” I reply, pulling a chair up to the edge of Sam’s desk. I turn it around and sit in so I’m facing the back of my chair. I rest my feet on the metal slats that keep my chair upright. “She admitted to knowing about Allison’s abuse. First she tried to tell me it was Allison’s responsibility to stop Mike. Then she said she couldn’t stop him and if she tried, he’d beat her again.” I continue.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“So how do we know she’s telling the truth about Mike assaulting her?” Frankie questions.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“She said she filed a report once and he got off with twenty hours of community service. And she’s bringing in hospital records.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“How do we know that her hospital records are from an assault?” Frankie’s killing me with all these questions.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well her injuries should be consistent with assault as opposed to, say, falling down the stairs. Right?” Frankie nods.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Did the police report come up when you looked up Mike’s record?” Sam asks Frankie. Frankie gives her a sheepish look.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I may or may not have forgotten to do that.” Sam smiles and shakes her head.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You should start writing things down.” She turns to her computer and types in Michael Foley. “Well there are plenty of Michael Foley’s in the system.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“There, the one with the receding hairline in the checkered shirt.” Sam clicks on his photo.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Well she wasn’t lying about the police report. It’s in here.” Sam says, scanning the computer screen with her eyes. “So we know he was assaulting Claire. I would say that puts her at the top of our suspect list.”

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Why? I understand her killing Mike to stop the abuse he inflicted on both her and her daughters. But why kill Olivia. Let’s not forget about her. Why would she kill her own daughter? We need motive for both murders.” I ask her. Frankie jumps at his chance to get his ideas in.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Claire’s fed up with Mike’s abuse. She gets a gun and goes looking for Mike. He’s in Olivia’s room, presumably, you know, uh, abusing Olivia.” Despite his uncertainty I can tell Frankie’s got something good.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt; size: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Anyway Claire’s not planning on killing Olivia but he sees her so scared and she knows how Allison ended up so she kills her to protect her from that, all the while pointing the gun at Mike, telling him not to move. Then, as Olivia lies there motionless, they fight and Claire shoots Mike.” Frankie leans back, pleased with his suggestion.

“I don’t know, that seems like a stretch.” I say.

“Jim! What if we’ve been wrong this whole time? Mike and Olivia weren’t killed by the same person.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam’s eyes light up as the idea forms in her head.

“Maybe Mike killed Olivia. That would explain the different killing styles right? So while Mike has the pillow over Olivia’s face, Claire walks in and sees what is going on. She freaks out, runs to her room, grabs a gun and comes back. By then, Olivia is already dead. Claire’s anger for Mike is out of control now. She’s furious with him. After all the abuse she and her daughter suffered and now he’s killing her little girl. She shoots him, and then keeps shooting. When she realizes what she has done, she stashes the gun, cleans her hands and goes back to her room. Wait until the morning to ‘discover’ the two of them dead in Olivia’s house.”

“It does make sense.” Frankie says, processing the idea. “They were killed in very different styles. And it’s much more likely than Claire or Allison killing Olivia.” I nod, thinking it over.

“But why kill Olivia but not Allison? It’s a new angle but we can’t rule out the possibility that Mike and Olivia were killed by the same person.”

“Oh come one Jim. It makes much more sense.” I glare at Frankie.

“Detective Bradley, I’m not telling you again.”

“Yes sir.” He says, sounding serious despite the grin on his face. Sam’s smiling too, which annoys me. She really like Frankie, she thinks his energy is fun, even if it’s also annoying. I get up.

“Well I’m going to go get lunch. I need a break from all this. We’ve done three or four interviews today. That’s got to be our record.” I push the chair I was sitting in back to the desk it was originally at and turn towards Sam.

“You coming?” I say to her. She nods.

“I’m always up for a meal at Joe’s. You know that.” She smiles, this time not at Frankie but at the thought of her favorite diner. “Frankie?” she whispers to me.

“Absolutely not.” I whisper back as she looks over at him.

“Come one, he’s not that bad.”

“Please no.” I protest but I know it’s too late.

“Frankie! Come on! Lunchtime.” I throw my hands up in the air.

“Thanks Sam. That’s great.” I say to her sarcastically. She gives me a pleading look.

“Oh it won’t be that bad. He’s a nice guy. We’ll have fun.” With that, she turns and waits ad Frankie practically runs over to us.

“Thanks you guys.” He looks right at me. “I know you find me annoying but I promise I’ll control myself today.” He gives me a happy grin. “I am an adult, I can handle it.” I roll my eyes and throw Sam the keys.

** SEPTEMBER 19, **** 4:00pm ** ** Samantha **** Lake ****, Detective **

“Finally, silence.” Jim grumbles as we pull away from the station. Frankie waves from the door.

“Thanks for lunch! And thanks for the ride back!” He yells, standing still.

“No problem! Now get back to work!” I yell back, only half joking. He nods.

“Bye!” he shouts as he turns his back to us and enters the station.

Jim shakes his head out of frustration. “Finally.” He mutters to himself.

“Oh come on Jim. It wasn’t that bad.” I say, as I pull the car back on to the main road, scanning for a legal parking spot. Our station lacks a parking lot and despite the fact that I am a detective, my car will still get towed if park out front.

“Yes, it really was.” He shakes his head. “He’s just so,” he tries to find the appropriate word. “Never mind. Spot up ahead on your left.” I nod and flick my left turn signal on.

“So where do we go from here?” I ask. Jim looks confused.

“Um right there just past that driveway, in front of the red car.” I laugh.

“No not the spot, our case. What’s our next move?” I back into the parking spot, narrowly missing the curb. Jim leans his head out the window.

“I’d say we search the Foley residence. You’ve got plenty of space behind you, you know.”

“ Didn't we already do that when the bodies were found?” I ask, ignoring the unwanted advice Jim gave me.

“Not the whole house, just the little girl’s bedroom and the backyard. There was no indication the murder weapon might be hidden in the house. I just assumed whoever killed them ditched the gun in a dumpster of sewer somewhere after they left.”

“We should probably get a warrant.” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.

“That’s probably not necessary. It would seem very suspicious to say no. My guess is if she had the gun, it’s long gone by now. Jim points out as he gets out of the car. I stay in my seat.

“But we can’t be sure. Claire and Allison still think we don’t have any leads. If Claire has ever seen an episode of //Law & Order// she’ll know to dispose of the gun as soon as we suspect her.” I argue. Jim leans in through the open door.

“Fine. I will get a warrant. I’ll fill out the affidavit as soon as we get inside. That, however, requires you get out of the car.”

“Good” I say, getting out of the car. “I’ll even call the judge for you when you’re done.”

“Oh how kind of you.” Jim responds, smiling. “Don’t forget to lock the car.” I roll my eyes at his comment and press the lock button on my keys twice, just in case.

** SEPTEMBER 19, **** 4:20pm ** **Jim Bradley, Detective** As I wait for my computer to turn on, I review the conclusions we have come to about Claire Foley and this case. Part of me wishes we didn’t need one. The process of getting a warrant is tedious. It’s not like on television when the district attorney, who is always hanging around the station, is close personal friends with the judge and can get us a warrant in a matter of minutes. In the real world, I have to sit at my very old, slow computer and type up an affidavit with the details of the case, then bring the official warrant to the courthouse and find a judge to sign it. Once I have the warrant, I can’t just go break down some doors and take whatever I find. I have to say what exactly I’m looking for and name all the places I’m looking for it. So I have to sit around and think of anything I may find and where I may find it and outline it in the warrant.

“How’s it going with the warrant?” Sam asks, sitting down at her desk, across from mine.

“Fine. I’ve included the guest house and garage, just to be safe. The only thing I’ve listed expected to find is the gun used to kill Mike. We already have all of Olivia’s stuffed animals and pillows so figured if we are going to find anything on them, we already have it.”

“You may add it just in case.” Sam suggest, turning her chair towards me. “It’s possible Claire took it with her when she left.” I sigh.

“What’s one more thing right?” I ask, moving my cursor back to the middle of the document. “So how is it going with the evidence from Olivia’s room? Is there anything there at all?” Sam slides her chair over to mine.

“Nothing new. Some more evidence suggesting Olivia was being abused and the blood from Mike’s shooting on the blankets and pillows. Other than that, nothing. I don’t think we are going to get anything else until we search their house. So get the affidavit and warrant printed.” I turn towards her and give her a warm smile.

“Well you can take over at any point if you think you could do this better.” I say sweetly.

“I could but I have help Frankie stay focused as we go through the rest of the evidence from the crime scene? Unless you think you could do that any better.” Sam replies, raising her eyebrows at me.

“Nice one. I’ll be done in fifteen minutes.” I tell her with an amused smile.

“Then I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” With that, Sam stands up, turns, and returns to Frankie and the box of evidence.

** SEPTEMBER 19, **** 5:00pm ** **Jim Bradley, Detective**

Through the window I can see Claire Foley standing in the kitchen.

“Seems like they’ve moved out of the guest house.” I say to myself. Sam, who’s knocking on the door nods.

“That was awfully quick. One day isn’t very long at all.” Claire turns around when she hears the knock and walks towards the front door. I quickly stand up straight, hoping she didn’t see me looking through the window.

“Detectives. Have you found who did this?” She looks behind her into the house, steps out onto the porch and starts to close the door.

“Actually,” begins Sam, placing her foot between the door and its frame, “We have a suspect.” Claire crosses her arms. “Who?” She asks, looking down at Sam’s foot as it props the door open. “And why are you here?”

“We have search warrant for your home, the guest house and the garage.” May we come in? Claire looks very worried.

“Why is this necessary? Go catch whoever killed my little girl and stay out of my home.” Claire’s concern has turned very quickly into anger. It’s a common reaction when you accuse the victim’s family of being involved in any way.

I hand Claire the warrant, Sam holds open the door and I enter into the hallway. Behind us, five uniformed officers follow.

“This is ridiculous! I want you to leave! Now!” Claire protests. One of the uniformed officers, Wilson, tries to explain to her how a search warrant works but she’s not having it. “I’m not stupid, I understand what’s happening and I want it to stop.” She yells at us.

“If you have a problem with this we can take you down to the station and explain everything there.” I offer asWilsonescorts her out of the room. I turn to the four other officers and bark orders. “Winters search the garage. Lopes get the guest house. DeLeon andColtonyou’ve got the first floor.” I turn to Sam but she doesn’t need any direction. She’s already headed up the stairs to Claire and Michael Foley’s bedroom. I race up the ten steps and catch her just as she reaches the top.

“She’s sure acting guilty.” Sam comments. “Still, you should check Allison’s room. We haven’t ruled her out. I nod and take a left into Allison’s room. I’m expecting to fin Allison sitting in the middle of her bed, clothes and magazines strewn about the floor. Instead, I find her room practically empty. Even Allison isn’t there. Her room is simple and white and very clean for something belonging to a teenager. Still, it must be hiding something. I pull on a pair of latex rubber gloves, letting the ends snap onto my wrist. I love that noise.

I start with her desk. It’s just as clean as the rest of her room; the surface looks freshly polished and drawers are practically empty. Her dresser drawers are equally clean. All of the clothes are neatly folded and organized by color. The bed, with the exception of a few pillows and teddy bear, is bare. Wood shelves line the walls. I check each of the books for hidden notes, money and even hollowed out pages, which I’ve never actually seen before. Nobody is this neat and organized. Frustrated, I yank open the closet door. Jackpot.

** SEPTEMBER 19, **** 5:35pm ** ** Samantha **** Lake ****, Detective **

Entering the Foley’s room is like entering a new room in a five star hotel. The blankets are perfectly folded and the bed is adorned with a large collection of pillows. The bedside tables, one on each side of the bed, have a lamp, a clock and a book. A set of four photos hang above the bed, creating a sense of family that isn’t very real. The closet is huge, almost the size of my bedroom. About a dozen dress shirts hand on the left side, followed by ten or twelve jackets and a tie rack. The other half has a large collection of various dresses, tops and sweaters, and skirts, all sorted by color. The bottom of the closet is lined with shoes, both men’s and women’s. I open every drawer with no luck. The only place left is the dresser. I start at the top drawer and move my way down. First, socks and underwear, then tee shirts and long sleeves shirts, all neatly folded. The bottom drawer is a mess. The right side has three or four jeans tangled up in each other and the bottom right has a jumble of shirts. Just as with the other drawers, I take the items out of the drawers one by one. Still nothing. I get down on the floor and lie on my stomach. I pull out my flashlight and peer under the dresser. There isn’t even dust. I turn my head to the other side and start to pull my set up when I see something under the bed. I flick my light on and under the bed is a shoe box. All of a sudden, my heart is racing. I reach under and grab the box. I dust off my stomach, even though the carpet was impossibly clean and open the box. I reach inside and almost instantly my hand hits a plastic bag. I untie it and find two things inside. First something cold then something stiff. I pull it out in disbelief. I look down at the drawer and stare at everything I have just discovered.

“Jim! I think you better come in here and see this.” I shout.

** SEPTEMBER 19, **** 6:15pm ** **Jim Bradley, Detective**

“Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?”

“Yes.”

“Initial here, sign here.”

“I didn’t kill my husband and I certainly did not kill my daughter.

“Really? Then how did a gun and a blood soaked towel end up in the bottom drawer of your room?”

Claire is holding herself, rocking back and forth as she cries. Between her and I, in a plastic bag labeled evidence lies a silver .22 caliber pistol. She refuses to look at it. Instead, she stares straight ahead at the wall.

“I don’t know. I swear I don’t know anything about it. You should talk to Allison. She hated him. And you know there are some crazy things going o in her head.”

“Forget Allison. I thik it was you. I think you’re lying to me. And I don’t like it. Why don’t you tell me what happened? I can’t help you unless you tell me the truth.”

“Why would I kill them? Why would I kill my family? My husband and my little girl? Why, Detective? Why?

“I don’t know Claire, why don’t you tell me?”

“How can you think I’d do this?”

“We found a gun that’s guaranteed to match the bullet found in your husband and blood soaked towel in your drawer. And the rest of your house looked like it had just been cleaned. It’s looking pretty bad for you.” Claire stops protesting and thinks about what I said.

“I didn’t do this. But I want a lawyer.”

** SEPTEMBER 19, **** 6:25pm ** ** Samantha **** Lake ****, Detective **

Frankie and I stand on the other side of the window, watching as Jim lets Claire call her lawyer.

“Why is she making this so difficult? We’ve basically got her. Why fight now?” I ask Frankie.

“Guilt?” He guesses. “She acted out of anger and frustration. She’s not a cold blooded killer. She knows what she did was wrong and she wants the punishment.”

“I just don’t get why she wouldn't just turn herself in then. She saw the gun and she offered prints. We’ve got her for this.” Inside the room, Jim gets up from the table.

“My cue to leave.” Frankie says, quickly turning to leave. “I’ll go check on the lab.”

“Did you run the prints on the gun?” Jim says joining me in front of the window.

“Yeah. I put a rush on it but it’ll still be an hour. Well actually by now it should be,” I look down at my watch. “Half an hour by now.” Jim sighs.

“Did you contact Allison?”

“She’s coming down in the next few minutes. I didn’t tell her what’s going on, just that we are close to making an arrest and she should come down immediately.”

“Good. Let’s leave it that way until the prints come back. So what’s your read on Claire?”

“She’s definitely involved. You saw how eager she was to give up her own daughter. And then asking for a lawyer as soon as you mention the prints?”

“Well f the prints match we can arrest her.”

Oh I don’t care if the prints match or not. She’s involved.”

“I think I can help you with that.” Jim and I turn and see Frankie approaching. “Lab results came in early.”

“And?” Jim asks impatiently.

“The blood definitely belongs to Mike Foley.”

“Frankie! We know that! Are there prints on the gun?”

“Yes, there are prints.” Jim looks relieved.

“I’ll get Claire to booking.” Jim says eagerly, turning to leave.

“Wait!” Jim turns to Frankie and gives him a very annoyed look.

“What Frankie?”

“There are definitely prints but they don’t all belong to Claire.” Frankie announces, avoiding eye contact with Jim.

“What do you mean all? There is more than one set of prints?” Jim shouts.

“Well the prints inside the gun definitely belong to Claire Foley.”

“What’s the problem then?” Jim asks, eager to make an arrest.

“The prints on the trigger, they aren’t Claire’s.”

“Well who do they belong to then?”

“Allison Foley.” Jim shakes his head.

“So Allison’s prints were on the trigger?” Frankie nods. “Alright then I’m arresting her and letting Claire go.”

“Wait Jim. This means Claire was involved.”

“No, we don’t know that. Maybe Claire stole the Allison had to protect herself. It doesn’t matter what happened. Claire pulled the trigger, she’s responsible.” He starts to walk back to Claire.

“Jim!” I say, pulling his arm. “Why don’t we at least wait for Allison to get down here and lean on both of them a little? My guess is Claire has more to do with this than you think.”

“Fine. You can wait for Allison and lean on her as long is takes. But unless I get a confession from Claire, I’m letting Claire go and arresting Allison for Mike’s murder.” He gives me a firm look. “Okay?”

“Alright. Talk about Olivia. If she watched Mike kill Olivia that will be a weak spot for her. And we still need confirmation as to how she died.”

** SEPTEMBER 19, **** 6:40pm ** **Jim Bradley, Detective**

When I enter the room again, Claire has completely transformed. She is no longer rocking in her chair crying. Now she is sitting straight up, completely calm. As I sit, she makes immediate eye contact with me. Her eyes are cold and empty. At this point she looks more like a sociopathic killer then a grieving wife and mother.

“Well you know we found the murder weapon.” A shadow flickers across her eyes and her face tightens. “And it had prints too. Your step-daughter’s.” Claire relaxes a little.

“I told you I had nothing to do with this.” She smiles a little. “It’s terrible what Allison did but she’s a messed up kid. Hopefully we can get her some help.”

“Oh you’re not of the hook yet Ms. Foley. We found your prints on it too.”

“Impossible. I didn’t shoot anybody.” Behind her cold stares I can see fear creeping in.

“Well your prints were inside the gun so you must have loaded it.”

“That proves nothing.”

“Well it proves that you loaded the gun and Allison pulled the trigger. So what happened? You finally snapped? Loaded the gun, put it Allison’s hand and forced her to squeeze the trigger? Or did you two work together. Plan it. You got the gun, loaded it and gave it to her? How did you do it? Claire gives me a smile.

“Here’s the thing Detective, it doesn’t matter what happened. You said it yourself. Allison pulled the trigger. Not me.” She leans over the table and stares me straight in the eyes. “So I loaded the gun. It’s not a crime to load a gun is it?”

“It might be. And with that little confession, I can get you as an accessory to murder. So why don’t you tell me what happened and I’ll see what I can do for you.” Claire laughs.

“I’m not stupid, detective. If you had anything you would have arrested me already. I assume I’m free to go?” She challenges as she gets up from the table, still laughing. I walk around to her side of the table and lean over her shoulder.

“In that case,” I say, getting up from the table, “We’ll just have to see what Allison says. Maybe I can up that charge to aiding and abetting or criminal facilitation of murder.” As I open the door I turn and add “Oh, I can keep you here another twenty-three hours and I intend to so sit down.” I let the door slam shut behind me.

** SEPTEMBER 19, **** 7:10pm ** ** Samantha **** Lake ****, Detective **

When Allison arrives I bring her directly to an interview room.

“So you have made an arrest?” Allison asks, sitting calmly across from me.

“We’re just about to. But first I need to ask a few questions.” She nods so I explain to her that I’m going to read her rights again. This time she’s a lot more hesitant.

“What is this about Detective Lake?” Allison asks, looking nervous.

“Earlier today we searched your house and during that search, we found the murder weapon, the gun that was fired at your father.” Allison looks terrified. “We found your prints on the gun Allison. And your step-mother’s prints were on the bullets. We know she loaded the gun and we know you shot it at your father. What we need to know is why.” Allison shakes her head.

“I didn’t shoot anybody.”

“Allison we have your prints on e trigger. You’re facing a first degree murder charge. Two if you can’t tell us what happened with Olivia.”

“No!” She stops me. “I did not kill my sister. I protected Olivia, I never hurt her.”

“I want to believe that Allison but I can’t until you tell me what happed. Tell me so I can help you.” I plead with her. I really don’t think she’s a cold killer but until she can prove otherwise, I have no choice but to charge her with Mike and Olivia’s murders. “Allison, look.” I push the files from the lab in front of her. “You know how this works. This is hard evidence that you pulled the trigger. If you don’t tell me how that happened, you’re going to spend the rest of your life in prison. Do you understand that?” I’m trying to scare her and I think its working.

“Okay, but I want a deal.”

“A deal? Allison I can’t just give you a deal because you’re finally going to tell the truth.”

“I’ll tell you everything. Claire planned all of this.”

“If this works out and you tell me the truth, I’ll consider it. Now, tell me how and why you killed your father

** SEPTEMBER 19, **** 9:50pm ** **Jim Bradley, Detective** “So? Who was it?” Frankie asks, rushing over to my desk.

“It was the whole family.” I respond, picking up my pen and twirling it between my fingertips. “Except Olivia.”

“How was it all of them? That makes no sense Jim.” I sigh but don’t correct him; it has been a very long day and I don’t have the energy.

“They were each responsible. You were right about Olivia. Mike smothered her. By accident apparently. He was trying to keep her from crying or screaming. That’s when Allison walked in to check on her little sister. I guess Mike didn’t see her because he stayed in the room. Allison says that’s when she went to Claire. It gets unclear there. Allison says Claire got her really upset, manipulated her emotions, loaded the gun and convinced Allison to take it and confront him When Mike admitted to everything, she snapped and shot him. Allison says Claire knew it would happen and set her up. Claire even helped her hide the gun afterwards and then told her to go back to seep. Just like that.”

“Whoa. That’s intense. Why did Claire have the gun?” Oh she planned it didn’t she? She knew she was going to kill Mike she was just waiting for an opportunity.”

“That’s what she told Allison afterwards. To protect her family was the reason she gave.”

“She thinks setting up her step-daughter for murder is protecting her family? Wow. I hope you send her away for a really long time.”

“She manipulated a mentally sick girl to get her furious and planned on her shooting Mike. She seems just as responsible as Allison. We’re trying for aiding and abetting and criminal facilitation plus criminal possession of a firearm. Aiding and abetting is a stretch but we’ll see.”

“That’s good I guess. What about Allison?”

“Sam’s working on that now. She’s talking to the district attorney to get her in a psychiatric hospital instead of prison. Otherwise she’s facing life in prison.”

“It’s not fair is it? Claire sets her up for this and will likely go free before she has gray hairs and Allison will be stuck in a psych hospital for the rest of her life?”

“I guess not. But that’s the law.”