Page 29 of Fatal Fame
"Can I help you?" Liam asked, his tone polite but guarded.
"Liam? I'm Pierce Landry. We're working on a documentary and podcast about your mother and brother's murders."
The change in Liam's expression was immediate and dramatic. His face closed off, and his posture shifted into a defensive stance. "I have nothing to say. Please leave."
"I understand your reluctance," Pierce said quickly, recognizing that he had only seconds to make his case before Liam disappeared into the back of the store. "But we've helped solve two other cold cases. We're not here to exploit your family's tragedy, we're here to find answers."
Liam paused, his hand resting on a stack of books as he considered Pierce's words. "What cases?"
"The disappearance of Sarah Moon in Portland, we found evidence that led to her killer's arrest. The murder ofthe Johnson family in Nevada, our investigation prompted authorities to reopen the case and identify the real perpetrator."
The mention of concrete results seemed to give Liam pause. Pierce could see him weighing his desire for privacy against the possibility that cooperating might finally bring justice for his family.
"Five minutes," Liam said finally. "In the back room. And if I don't like where this conversation is going, you leave immediately."
He led them through the maze of bookshelves to a cramped office that looked like it served as both workspace and storage area. Books were stacked from floor to ceiling, creating towers of literature that seemed to defy gravity. A small desk occupied the center of the space, covered with invoices and inventory lists.
"Look," Liam said, settling into a chair behind the desk, "I don't know what else I can tell you that isn't already out there. I was away studying at SUNY Plattsburgh when my mother and brother were killed. I didn't know anything about their day-to-day lives in that week, and I didn't know who might have wanted to hurt them."
"But you've lived with this for ten years," Pierce said. "You must have theories, suspicions, thoughts about what really happened."
Liam was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming against the desk with nervous energy. "There's something the State Police never shared with the public. Information I only learned about last year."
Pierce felt his pulse quicken. "What kind of information?"
"You know about the photo of the black truck, right? The one that was supposedly taken by a security camera at the ski center?"
"Yes, we've seen it."
"What you haven't seen is the video that photo came from. There's surveillance footage showing the truck arriving at my mother's house that night. And in the video, you can see a figure getting out of the truck and approaching the front door."
"A figure?"
"Grainy, hooded, impossible to identify. But the important thing is that whoever it was used the front door. Family and friends always used the front door. Strangers, delivery people, solicitors, they used the side entrance where the driveway was."
Pierce exchanged glances with his team, understanding the implication immediately. Someone familiar with the family's routine had visited Rebecca Hale the night she died. Someone who knew which door to use, who felt comfortable approaching the house directly.
"Why wasn't this information made public?"
"Good question. When I asked the state investigator about it, he claimed the video was too poor quality to be useful as evidence. But he wouldn't let me see it, wouldn't explain why they'd kept it secret for ten years."
"Do you have any idea who might have had access to that video?"
"BCI. Adirondack County Sheriff’s Office. It’s a small department, limited resources," Liam said in a way that made it clear he’d spent years trying to get answers from authorities who seemed more interested in protecting their own than finding the truth.
"Liam, I have to ask. There have been suggestions that you might have been involved in your mother's death because of insurance money."
Liam's expression hardened. "Let me save you some time on that theory. Yes, there was a life insurance policy. Yes, I was the beneficiary. And yes, I donated every penny of it to the reward fund for information leading to my mother and brother's killer.Anyone who thinks I murdered my family for money can check the public records. It is still there, held by a lawyer ready to be used if and when information is offered that leads to the arrest and conviction of whoever did this."
The anger in his voice was genuine, and Pierce found himself believing the young man's denial. Family members who killed for insurance money typically didn't donate the proceeds to victim advocacy funds.
"Is there anyone specific you think we should be looking at? Anyone who had motive and opportunity?"
"I've heard rumors over the years. Married men who might have been involved with my mother, people with grudges against our family, local assholes who might have seen her as an easy target for initiation into a gang." Liam shrugged. "But rumors aren't evidence, and evidence seems to have a way of disappearing when it points in the wrong direction."
They talked for another twenty minutes, with Liam providing insights into his mother's personality, his brother's routine, and the family dynamics that might have made them vulnerable to someone with violent intentions. Nothing he said contradicted the established timeline, but his perspective as Rebecca's surviving son added emotional weight to facts that had seemed abstract in police reports.
"One last question," Pierce said as they prepared to leave. "Do you think the person who killed your mother and brother is still in the area?"
