Page 82 of The Girl from Devil's Lake
“So what was missing?”
“A class ring—not hers, her boyfriend’s. Janice and Kenneth Norris were high school sweethearts and had been going steady for years. They wore each other’s rings on chains around their necks sort of as promise rings. Kenny was questioned at the time, but he was going to summer school in Vegas, so he had an airtight alibi and was immediately ruled out. No other suspects were ever identified. We have three other unsolved homicides on the books, but, because of her daddy, Janice’s is the one that hurts the most.”
Joanna thought about the collection of class rings she’d seen earlier in the banker’s box, but she didn’t want to say anything out of line that might raise unwarranted hopes.
“Excuse me, Sheriff Moody,” Joanna said. “Something’s just come up. Can I call you back?”
“Sure.”
Joanna made tracks back to the evidence room and rifled through the banker’s box until she located the rings. Three of them were small and most likely belonged to girls, but one was much larger. Joanna tried peering at it through the intervening plastic. She could make out that there were letters engraved in gold mounted in the middle of a square-shaped blue stone. More letters were engraved on either side of the stone but it was impossible to decipher any of them. Finally, Joanna resorted to using the flashlight on her iPhone to make them more readable. The letters EHS were the ones in the center of the stone. As for the others? The one on the left was a K, and the one on the right was an N.
Joanna was still in the evidence room holding the bag when she called Sheriff Moody back.
“Hello again,” he said.
“I’m standing in our evidence room here in Bisbee, Arizona, and I’m holding what I believe to be Kenneth Norris’s class ring in my hand. The letters EHS are on the middle of the stone, and the initials K and N are on either side of the stone.”
“You’re frigging kidding me!” Moody exclaimed.
“I’m not,” Joanna told him. “We’ve arrested a man named Stephen Roper, someone we believe to be a prolific serial killer. Yesterday, when we took him into custody, we found what’s apparently his trophy case. The ring I’m holding in my hand is one of four class rings found in his collection.”
“Who is this guy?” Moody asked.
“Someone who’s lived here in town for decades. He taught during the school year while spending the summers prowling the country for potential victims. What time of year did Janice Jensen die?”
“June 16, 1981.”
“So that would fit our guy’s time frame.”
“And he was a schoolteacher?” Moody confirmed.
“Believe it or not, I was in his English class my senior year in high school.”
“Ouch,” Moody said, “but you’re sure it’s him?”
“Early this morning he gave me a full confession to six different homicides in five different locations. He’s being held in my jail, but he won’t be officially charged until Monday. I can promise you this, though, with that many cases pending, he’s not going to be released on bond any time soon.”
“So I can go tell Ida?”
“Who’s Ida?”
“Janice’s mother. Her father passed away ten years ago. Ida lives in an assisted living facility right here in town, but she calls our department every year on June sixteenth to ask if we have any leads. She’s going to be overjoyed, and so will Kenny, Janice’s boyfriend. Once he graduated from school, he came back home and established a law practice here. He’s married and has a couple of kids, but I know from talking to Ida that he still stays in touch with her. Can I give them your number?”
“Of course,” Joanna said. “They’re welcome to call me, but I probably won’t have anything more to add to what you already know until sometime next week.”
“Sheriff Brady?” Joanna heard her name being broadcast over the intercom. “Please report to the front lobby.”
“Sorry, I have to go now,” Joanna told Moody.
“I’m sure you do,” he replied, “but believe me, Sheriff Brady, you have our community’s heartfelt gratitude.”
Being able to finally supply answers to a mother who had been grieving the loss of her child for more than forty years put a bit of a spring back in Joanna’s step as she left the evidence room and headed for the lobby. Since it wasn’t open to the public on weekends, Joanna was surprised to be summoned there. As soon as shestepped through the door, she saw a guy wearing a suit that had probably set him back several thousand dollars. He was staring at the photo of the little girl with her wagonload of Girl Scout cookies. She knew immediately he had to be Stephen Roper’s once-and-now-most-likely-former attorney, Ralph Whitmer.
“Good morning,” she said. “I’m Sheriff Brady. May I help you?”
“Is that you?” he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the photograph.
“A long time ago,” she answered.
