Kenhardt - Secrets 3

He got out of his car and made his way up the front steps. The door was unlocked, so he dropped his Keys back inside his pocket, walked inside, and hung up his jacket. She appeared, then, Like clockwork, smiling and walking towards him, her Black hair falling over one shoulder. ‘How’d it go?’ she asked as she approached him, bringing her lips to his. He smelt the body lotion she always wore; vanilla, but he swore it was cotton candy. He kissed her, then pulled back and looked at her. Ocean blue eyes, always filled with curiosity and empathy. ‘Not the greatest.’ ‘What happened? HERE, tell me in the kitchen,’ she took his things and ushered him into the other room, pulling out the chair for him to sit. She stood back and leaned against the island counter, holding her wine glass. Joe grabbed the glass of water that was already waiting for him on the table and took a sip. Then he sighed. ‘Three dead girls. Sixteen years old.’ Jordon’s face dropped. ‘Trying to determine whether it’s homicide or suicide,’ he said. ‘There wasn’t a note? Anything?’ He shook his head. ‘That’s the strange part. I mean, If you and your friends were going to commit suicide, wouldn’t you at least leave a note? An explanation? Tell someone what you were planning to do?’ ‘So it’s homicide, then,’ she said, matter - of - fact. He was quiet for a moment. ‘It’s not that straight - forward. Everyone’s saying it’s suicide. That the Three of them jumped together.’ ‘Why would they say that?’ ‘Right from the get - go Frank was saying suicide so that it didn’t look bad. They don’t want to scare people with the notion that there’s a teenage - girl killer out there in their small town. It would frighten people, put them in a panic?’ ‘You said Kenhardt, right?’ ‘Yeah, very small town. Five thousand - people.’ ‘I know it,’ Jordan said, taking a sip from her wine glass. ‘My grandmother’s from there.’ ‘You Don’t say?’ ‘Mhmmm,’ she nodded. ‘She’d always tell me stories when I was younger. Made it seem like such an enchanting place. Of course, it’s been years since she’s lived there. I think she left when she was young. But I’ll have to tell her about this. She’ll be shocked.’ ‘Yeah, from what I hear, their crime rate is practically non - existent. That’s why this case is such a mess. They don’t know how to react to the deaths. Murder would ruin their idyllic existence.’ ‘Yeah, and calling it a suicide is a much better approach,’ Jordan rolled her eyes. ‘In their minds, yeah. It’s a coping mechanism. They don’t want to face the truth. Like living in a blissful ignorance.; ‘That’s ridiculous. Those girls didn’t kill themselves. Someone murdered them.’ Joe sighed again. ‘That’s what I need to figure out. But as of this moment, I’m not ruling out either. And if someone did kill those girls, I need to find out why.’ Jordan walked around the counter and returned to the table with a plate of garlic bread. Joe reached over and grabbed a slice, taking a bite before Jordan could smack his hand. She laughed and began loading the pasta onto his plate. “You’ll figure it out,’ She said to him, and she meant it. ‘You’re the best one they have.’ That wasn’t necessarily true, but Joe didn’t correct her. There were many great detectives in Riverton, and yes. Joe was among the elite. But still, there was Todd Jenkins and Greg Winston. Sarah Bishop, even. Any of those detectives probably could have solved this case with their eyes closed. But those detectives weren’t the ones shipped out to the minuscule town of Kenhardt to solve a triple murder/suicide. Joe was. They finished eating and Joe nearly forced Jordan back in her chair so that he could do the dishes. She was like that - always trying to do everything, even when she didn’t need to. Joe often wondered how he got so lucky, finding someone like Jordan. She wasn’t just a girlfriend. She was a life partner. When they weren’t working, they did everything together. And they got on so splendidly. Of course they had their fights - yelling from Joe, doors slamming from Jordan - but didn’t every couple? He couldn’t think of a time when things ever got ominous. A fight where he truly questioned their relationship as a whole. No, it never got like that. It was always trivial things. For the most part, they were in sync. She would say things aloud that he was thinking before he’d even get out the thought. He knew her like the back of his hand. And she was so willing and accommodating. Being in a relationship with a cop is tough work because you have to deal with the fact that you will always - always - come second. This proved difficult in Joe’s past. But Jordan didn’t seem to mind. She encouraged him to cancel their plans when she knew he was working a difficult case. She compromised when things had to be cut short. She dropped by and made appearances at the precinct whenever she could. She was friends with his friends. Frank, adored her. Everyone adored her. Because she was Jordan Hopkins ‘Any relation to John Hopkins?’ Joe had said when they first met nearly two years prior. She laughed and shook her head. ‘I get that a lot,’ she said. And it was true, as Joe would come to learn. Anytime she introduced herself at an event or to someone new, the individual on the receiving end of her introduction would say, ‘Are you related to John Hopkins?’ Jordan worked for a magazine. OTTIS MAGAZINE, one of Riverton’s leading establishments. She was always filling Joe in on the latest office gossip - who was seeing who, who was getting fired, which big News piece was breaking before it happened. This was how things were supposed to be, Joe thought. EASY. Comfortable. Complacent. Eating dinner and watching the News with Jordan. Talking about their days, being inseparable all night. He could get used to it. He really could. Only question was, how long would the contentment last? Day Two, driving back to Kenhardt. Today Joe would need to begin speaking with everyone involved in those three girls’ lives. Parents, friends, neighbours, teachers, co - workers - everyone. It was now up to him to determine what exactly happened yesterday on that rooftop. Being in Kenhardt was different than being in Riverton. The busy streets and skyscrapers were missing. The ground was softer, the air was different. Was that even possible? He assumed with all the coal and fossil fuels burning in the city, a smog wouldn’t be that surprising to conjure. And it was almost unfathomable to him that just over forty minutes north of the city was this small, suburban town of Five Thousand. So small that you could barely notice it on a map. So small that if you weren’t looking, you might pass right by without giving it a second glance. Yet there he was, in this small town, investigating Three deaths. Joe had seen his fair share of crime and violence in Riverton. Not that it was overly violent or had extremely high crime rates, but it wasn’t perfect - far from it. There were gangs, shootings, stabbings. Downtown was the worst. Domestic disputes, theft, arson. He’d seen it all, so he was prepared for the worst. The worst was what he specialized in. Joe enjoyed working alone. Often times the officers and detectives were assigned partners. It made the job easier, gave you someone to lean on, always have your back. But as of late, Joe preferred working alone. Going out into the field, conducting interviews, surveying crime scenes. He felt that having someone else there wouldn’t be the most beneficial. Another body to take into account. Another human being to worry about. Perhaps this personal preferences was due to the fact that he was slightly introverted and enjoyed his solitude, Perhaps he just wasn’t that fond of working with other people. Or perhaps it was due to the fact that his last partner of two and a half years died on the job and he still wasn’t completely healed from it yet. It had been three years since the incident, but Joe was still haunted by it every single day. And since the death, Frank hadn’t pushed for him to be reassigned a new partner. So far the past three years, it was just him, alone, doing what he did best. Joe made it to Kendhardt shortly after 10:00am. He slowed down once he got off the highway and simply took in his surroundings. Green everywhere, surrounded by trees. Quaint roads, quiet streets. Elderly couples sitting on their front porch's, young mother’s pushing strollers, dogs chasing each other in the park. In that moment, he could understand why Frank had been so insistent that this was a suicide. He didn’t want to ruin their perfect community they had formed here. Announcing a triple - murder would be driving a steak - knife right through the center of it all. And once something like that happened, there was no coming back from it. He glanced at the GPS and veered the car over to the next street. First up on his list: the home of Haddie Taylor. Only child to Rosie and George Taylor. Mother was a defence attorney, Father was a Cardiac Surgeon. Now, they were childless. And all the money in the world couldn’t make that better. He pulled into the long driveway of a large, House, two stories, triple garage. The entrance was huge, two white pillars extending from the ground to the second floor. The lawn was well kept and the bushes were trimmed to perfection. Joe took in a deep breath, grabbed his notepad, and made his way to the front. A woman answered the door, presumably Rosie. She was either young or looked young for her age, he couldn’t tell. She had short brown hair that was cropped to her shoulders. Green eyes, no makeup, dressed in all black. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She had a pleasant face, a face that people would enjoy looking at. He could see the resemblance from the photo of Haddie that he had in his car. Practically a spitting image of her mother. Same face, same eyes, same hair. ‘Mrs Taylor?’ Joe asked as she stood there with the door open. ‘Yes.’ ‘I’m Detective O’Reily,’ he stuck out his hand. She was hesitant at first, but eventually met his grasp and gave it a light shake. ‘I’ve been expecting you,’ she said lightly. ‘Please, come in,’ she opened the door wider, allowing him to step inside. She closed the door behind him and he surveyed the foyer. Impeccable. ‘We can sit in the living room,’ she said to him as she turned to walk down the hallway. ‘Shoes on or off?’ he asked. ‘Off,’ she didn’t glance back. Joe slipped off his shoes and followed her down the hallway and into the living room. She stood there for a moment, then gestured for him to take a seat on the couch. ‘Would you like anything to drink? Tea, coffee??” ‘I’m alright, Thank You.’ She nodded then took a seat in the leather wing back chair next to the fire place. The living room was magnificent. A glass coffee table sat in front of them, large portraits were hung on the wall, and all of the furniture looked like it cost more than his house. Joe tried not to ruin the aura simply with his presence. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ He started off. He said it with great sympathy and he meant it. He couldn’t imagine the inconceivable loss of a child. Regardless of whether it was homicide or suicide - death was death. And nothing could make that better. But then he began thinking: which scenario was worse? Murder or Suicide? The notion that somebody ended your daughter’s life, or the realization that she chose to do so herself? Rosie nodded solemnly. ‘Thank you. It’s been - ‘ she broke off. ‘I can’t imagine.’ She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. ‘I guess we should begin with the basics,’ Joe removed his notepad from his pocket, clicked the pen. ‘What was Haddie like? Why don’t you tell me a bit about her?’ Rosie sniffled, holding a tissue to her nose. He watched as she closed her eyes, smiling to herself. The memory of her daughter, still alive in her mind. ‘She was,’ Rosie began. ‘Extraordinary.’ She looked at Joe and met his eyes. ‘I know most parents probably say that about their children. But Haddie was different. She was so … smart. Gifted. She was incredible, intelligent, wise beyond her years. She was always so bright and optimistic - thinking about her future, her goals in life, what she wanted in this world.’ Joe smiled as she spoke. He waited a moment in case she was going to continue, but she stopped there, getting lost in the memories. ‘And what was that, exactly? What did she want to do?’ Rosie focused her attention on Joe. ‘She wanted to become a lawyer, like me, but she wanted to be a prosecutor,’ Rosie gave a slight laugh. ‘That was Haddie, for you. She set her goals and she worked towards them.’ ‘And your relationship with her?’ Joe asked. ‘Were the two of you close?’ ‘Of course,’ Rosie said. ‘We’ve always been close. So many mother’s and daughter’s fight at this stage of their lives, but not my Haddie. We were the best of friends. She told me everything. We went on holidays together, just the two of us. We had a very special relationship.’ ‘And what about your husband?’ Joe looked around the room. ‘He’s not here, is he?’ ‘Oh, no,’ Rosie said. ‘He’s out right now. It’s been very …difficult for him. I’m just letting him be, giving him his space.’ ‘What was their relationship like?’ ‘Fine. Normal. Obviously she wasn’t as close with her father as she was with me. I mean, nothing compares to the relationship between a mother and daughter. But George and Haddie were close. They got along very well.’ She paused momentarily. ‘It wasn’t easy for George. He always wanted a son. And after Haddie, well, we tried. I couldn’t have any more children. But one was the perfect amount. That’s more than I could have asked for. And George …don’t get me wrong,’ she looked up quickly and met his eyes….