Page 88 of The Tomorrows After You
Asphyxiation
I spun to Emery and held up the paper. “This says Grace Asher died from asphyxiation.” My tone was more accusing than I meant for it to be.
He nodded grimly. “Why do you think that boy only got voluntary manslaughter instead of murder one?”
“Itwasa crime of passion, murder requires premeditated intent.”
“Sweetheart, he drove three hours home in the middle of the night. The prosecutors would havepaintedhim with intent.” I frowned, knowing he was right. “If the smoke inhalation hadn’t killed her, the stab wounds probably would have.”
“Probably?”
He shrugged. “Hard to tell with belly wounds. With immediate medical attention, it’s not a death sentence but she was already gone before the responders got there and Riot was already claiming responsibility.”
Ifrowneddeeper. Did Riot know the official cause of death? A fresh wave of dreadwashedover me. Ihadto tell him about the assignment and Ihadto do it soon. The truth would be the only explanation for why Ihadspentso much timelookingat the police reports. Itwasthe right thing to do. And now Ihadinformation that might helpputhis mind at ease.
Idugthrough the box a little longer. A chillrandown my back when Ispottedthe knife, stillwrappedin an evidence bag. Deep rust-coloredsplotches still speckledthe instrument.
Something about it pulled at my heart. The last person to touch this was Riot, a terrified eighteen-year-old boy who just lost his mother and was facing the likelihood of losing his brother too.
Underneath it, I spotted another evidence bag containing an older model cell phone, cracked on all sides.
“Did they find anything on her phone?”
“Itwasbusted, we couldn’t even power it on and didn’thavethe resources or even see the need to send it to the state’s tech department.”
“You didn’t see a need?”Iasked, incredulous.
“Sweetheart, the casewasopen andshut.”Hewatchedme with a flat, albeit sad, frown.“Believe me, Iwasheartbroken like the rest of them. IwatchedRiot Asher grow up.Coachedhimmyselfin football during elementary school.” Emerysmiledfondly likehe’dbeen some kind of mentor. “Hewasgoingtoputthis town on the map with those athletic talents of his. I didn’t want it to be true. That hehadit in him to kill his own mama. But hehadthe weapon. Headmittedto it freely on every occasion. The boywasgiventhe opportunity to plead not guilty. Heck, part of mewashopinghe would so that he could stand trial. I don’t thinkyou’dfind twelve people in this whole state who wouldhavesentthe pride of West Virginia football to prison. But herefused.Saidhe did it and that the remorsewascrippling. Hewantedto startpayingfor his crime. He didn’t want to drag his family through any more of a media circus with some big investigation and court trial.”
‘Cause he didn’t want to risk them finding out itwasBrennan.Then Brennan wouldhavestoodtrial, which most certainly would not go the same way EmerypredictedRiot’s would.
“Can I borrow this?” I held up the bagged cell phone.
“Oh, no, I’m not even supposed to be letting you go through this stuff.”
“Please? I just want to find some old pictures of the family, share them with the boys, you know.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, Miss Parker, I may be retired but chain of custody is still important.”
Ismiled and nodded. “Which of these other cases were memorable to you?” I asked, batting my eyes, feigning curiosity.
“Oh, let’s see. There was one back in ninety-five, missing twin…”
When hespunaround, Isnappeda few pictures of the autopsy report, the fire report. Ipausedat the crime scene photos. I didn’t get a good look at them but I could tell itwasgruesome. Isnappedpictures of them plus the autopsy photos while Emerydugthrough a box.
“Poor thing was lost in the woods for three days…” he went on.
“Wow,” I said admirably, keeping my eyes on the back of his head. “The family must have been so relieved.”
As Emery went on about how he brought the little girl home, I started to pack all the files back in the Grace Asher box, picking up the top and blocking any possible view of my hand swiping the bagged cell phone. I pulled the phone out of the bag and secured it in the back of my waistband. Closing the box, I stepped beside Emery and pushed the evidence box back into place.
“Well thank you, Mr. Plainbottom. This was a big help.” I smiled sincerely.
34
Riot
Iwas brimming with excitement at the prospect of making some real money with the wind chimes and whirligigs. Reassurance and inspiration wove in my gut when Avery approached me, recognizing me not for the violent crime I’d been convicted of, but for the artwork I’d spent so many hours on.
