Chapter 16

CHAPTER

16

LINDSEY

Present Day

"WHAT DO YOU mean he was there?" I demanded.

Daisy lit another cigarette. The incessant smoke was making me ill.

"Ryan was at Jess's house—your house—that night. He admitted it to me. And given how mad he could get sometimes, and how jealous he was of Jess spending so much time with Dr. Daniels, I now wonder if he did something to her … even accidentally." She appeared apologetic for her bluntness. "I refused to see it then because I was so fixated on Dr. Daniels, and Ryan was right there, pushing me down that path. But hindsight is a bitch, and looking back now … I have to ask myself, is that really why he lied? My young, naive self accepted his story and filed it away as another justification for being his alibi. Because it reinforced the idea that he would have been unjustly labeled a suspect, but what if I was wrong?"

I was glad I was sitting down. The suspicions about Ryan had been sitting there, in the back of my mind, since finding out he had been Jess's boyfriend. But I hadn't fully accepted them.

But now I couldn't deny the real possibility of his guilt any longer. And I had been alone with him in his car. My foolishness was infuriating.

"What about Dr. Daniels? Isn't he as much of a suspect as Ryan?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course. Or maybe he's simply your run-of-the-mill white, middle-class pervert. Being a sleaze doesn't mean you're a murderer," Daisy scoffed bitterly. "The only way this will ever be solved is if I tell the truth. If the police know everything. Because either way, he needs to be exposed. Whether he's responsible for Jess and the others is up to the police to figure out."

Had Ryan really hurt Jess?

Could he have killed all those women? Was he actually a serial killer who had gotten away with his crimes for over two decades?

I had believed him when he said he only wanted to find out the truth, yet he had lied to me from day one. Had I been completely bamboozled by a killer?

"You don't believe it was someone else?" I croaked.

"You mean those theories about a random serial killer stalking campus?" Daisy looked doubtful. "Not anymore. Look, at the time, everyone was terrified. Women couldn't go anywhere without thinking they were going to be snatched by some stranger. The fear was everywhere. In everything we did. You couldn't escape the idea that any one of us could be next."

"So what do you think now?" I asked, already knowing, and dreading, her reply.

"I think it's too easy to cast suspicion on a faceless villain. No one wants to blame the very real evil that may be right there in front of you. Oftentimes, the truth is something you don't want to admit to yourself. I've learned to stop putting my head in the sand. Which is why I'm going to the police with everything I know about Ryan and about Dr. Daniels."

"I never really believed it was a stranger either," I admitted. "We all have heard that when a woman is hurt, most of the time she knows her attacker. The police believe that as well. Lieutenant Higgins says that the women knew the perpetrator."

Daisy's shoulders drooped. "It makes sense. And by not telling the truth, I hampered the investigation. I messed up. I've been terrified of owning up to my mistakes for years, but not anymore. I'm going to tell the truth now. I'm going to the station to tell them that I lied. I'm trying to put this right. Jess deserves it. Tammy, Phoebe, and Meghan, too." Daisy sounded heartbroken, yet determined.

"Is that what you and Ryan were arguing about?" I asked her.

Daisy blew out a noisy breath. "I was an idiot and called him. I've been stewing on what I should do for days—since Lieutenant Higgins called me. She was asking about Jess's blanket and following up on my interview from back then. But I knew I needed to come clean. So, thinking I was being the better person, I reached out to let Ryan know my plans. I didn't want him to be blindsided." She raised her eyebrows. "To say he took it badly is an understatement."

"So, he came here to what? Stop you?" I asked, aghast.

"I had no idea he was even in town. The last time I had heard, he was living in Chicago. I was shocked when he showed up here, though perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised. If he thought they found Jess, of course he'd come. He could never stay away from your sister." Daisy looked pained. "He was all fired up, saying he didn't hurt her. And let me tell you, if I was still nineteen, I probably would have believed him. His sincerity is very convincing." She made a look of distaste. "He wanted me to hear the whole story before I went to the cops. As if that would stop me."

"What was his whole story?"

Daisy flicked ash out the window, watching students walk by. "He said that he went to her house and parked down the street. He said he saw her car out front so he knew she was there."

Daisy aggressively put out the cigarette before turning in her chair to face me again.

"Ryan said he didn't know how long he sat there. He was wasted. He claimed he'd had a fifth of vodka. The stupidity of driving while intoxicated alone should have convinced me to turn him in, but here we are." She briefly closed her eyes, obviously irritated with herself. "Eventually, Jess came out of the house and he started to get out of the car, but then he saw her talking to an older man he thought was Dr. Daniels."

"So, Jess was sleeping with him then," I stated matter-of-factly.

Daisy could sense my frustration. "Like I said, I honestly don't know. Ryan told me he saw Jess talking to an older man—he assumed it was Dr. Daniels, but it could have been anyone really. Ryan was drunk, it was dark, and he was upset, so who knows. He did say it looked, well … heated. That he felt like he was watching two people about to fight and make up if you know what I mean."

My empty stomach rolled. "And then what?"

"He said he dropped his keys on the floor and he reached down to get them. By the time he sat up again, Jess and the man were gone, the trunk of her car still open. He said he sat there for a little while longer, but when she didn't reappear, he decided to head back to school. He swears he didn't think anything was wrong. He went back to his dorm room and passed out."

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. "So, he was there when Jess disappeared. He saw her with a man he thinks was Dr. Daniels, and he didn't think it important to tell the police?" I sounded incredulous.

Daisy's jaw stiffened. "I know. That's exactly what I said to him when he showed up here to tell me a story that should have been shared twenty-four goddamned years ago."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Do you believe his story?"

"I don't know. What I do know is that Ryan was scared."

"Scared? Why?"

"Because Dr. Daniels wasn't the only man to have been involved with all four women."

"What are you saying?"

Daisy looked conflicted. "Ryan slept with Tammy and Meghan. And he dated Phoebe in high school. And, of course, he was Jess's boyfriend. So yeah, if the police knew, then he would definitely be on their radar, that's for sure."

"Oh my god," I gasped.

Ryan was connected to all of the missing women.

Every.

Single.

One.

"The police need to know what Ryan saw," Daisy continued. "They need to know I lied for him. Then let the chips fall where they may." I could sense her growing agitation. "Ryan says if I go to the authorities with the information now, we'll both be charged with obstruction of justice and lose our jobs. But at this point, I don't even care. We've both lied for long enough."

I was still trying to process Daisy's revelations. "How can you be sure Ryan was even telling the truth about going to my house? I don't think he'd know how to be honest if his life depended on it."

"Because why would he implicate himself like that? Regardless, I can't keep what I know a secret any longer. If there's a chance—even a small one—that Ryan's story checks out, it could mean a killer, whether it's Ryan or Dr. Daniels, will finally be put away and those women will get some justice." Daisy looked at her watch. "I'm so sorry, Lindsey, but I need to head to the police station before it gets any later." She stood up and grabbed her jacket off the back of the door.

"Would you like me to come with you?" I got to my feet and watched as she gathered her things.

Daisy shook her head and then pulled me into a hug. "I have to do this on my own. I made a promise to Jess that I would make things right. And I'm promising you the same thing." She stepped back, taking my hands. "I'm going to admit that I lied for Ryan. I'm going to tell them what Ryan saw. And I'm going to tell them what I know about Dr. Daniels." She went to her desk drawer and retrieved a manila folder. "I've kept years of documentation about his predatory behavior and how the school has covered it up. And if the police won't do anything about it, I'm going to the press. It's way past time."

"You're definitely going to lose your job over that one," I warned.

Daisy opened the door to her office. "Then so be it. I need to put these ghosts to rest."

We stared at each other for a long moment. We were mirror images of grief and rage. Whatever had happened, I knew I couldn't blame Daisy. She had been young and scared, and quite possibly even deceived by the killer. I followed her out of the office. Once outside, Daisy turned to me, her lips trembling slightly.

"I'm sorry, Lindsey. I should have been honest a long time ago."

"You're doing the right thing now, and that's what counts," I assured her.

Daisy looked uncertain. "Before you go, there's something else. I'm not sure if I should even mention it, but I don't want to hold back anything ever again."

"Okay …" I felt myself bracing for impact once more.

"You know how I mentioned Jess was acting strange after Christmas break? How much she had changed?" I nodded. "And I told you I had stopped trusting her." I nodded again. "It has to do with my student ID card."

My mind went to the interview transcript I had read in the case file. It was the reason Daisy had been questioned by the police in the first place.

"It went missing sometime before we left in December. I didn't think much of it at the time because Jess would often use it when she couldn't find hers." She seemed to be struggling to piece things together. "Then the police called me downtown to ask about it. It wasn't long after Meghan Lambert went missing. The detective wanted to know why I was at these different locations at the same time as the missing girls. And the thing was, I hadn't seen that ID in months. I told the police that. I was freaking out by the time I left, thinking they were looking at me as a suspect or something."

"Understandably," I told her, imagining how terrifying that must have been for her.

"Yeah, well when I got back to my room after the interview, the ID was on my desk, like it had been there the whole time. And when I asked Jess about it she said Ryan brought it back. That he found it in his dorm."

"And it all comes back to Ryan again," I said.

Daisy seemed conflicted. "Yes, sure it makes Ryan look bad, but that wasn't the part that bothered me most." She hesitated.

"What was it?"

"When I asked Jess if she had been using it, as I knew she had done before, she denied it. In fact, she tried telling me she only used it once, which I knew was a lie. I remembered handing it to her myself at least half a dozen times. But she insisted. As if my memory was mistaken."

I frowned uncertainly, not sure what she was getting at.

"Even then, I knew when someone was trying to snow me. My bullshit meter has served me well over the years." She gave me a small smile.

I wasn't sure what her lying about using her roommate's ID card meant, but it seemed important to Daisy. As if it confirmed a suspicion she couldn't quite put into words.

"You know, I came to see you once," Daisy added before leaving.

"You did?" That surprised me.

She looked distraught. "I did. I'd been worrying about you for so long, I decided to come and check on you. I knew Jess would want me to. Especially with how strained things were between her and your dad. I knew she didn't really trust him. She loved him, yes, but trust him? Not so much." Again, with the pointed remarks about my father.

"I drove over to your house. I knocked on the door, but no one answered. I could hear music and I thought it was coming from the house. So, I knocked again. Then I started looking through the windows to see if someone was there."

"You're lucky Mrs. Lewis, next door, didn't see you. She would have turned the hose on you," I chuckled, thinking of my busybody elderly neighbor.

Daisy didn't laugh, she seemed … disturbed.

"Yeah, well, when I looked through the window of the garage, I could tell the music was coming from the yellow car inside. And I could make out someone, who I assumed was your dad, sitting in the driver's seat."

"So, he was sitting in the Mustang listening to music." It wasn't a question. I could picture what she had seen perfectly. I had seen it myself many times before.

"Yeah. He was just staring into space. Frankly, it creeped me out. I couldn't see him clearly, because the window was pretty dirty, but I got the impression he was upset. His shoulders were shaking like they do when someone is crying. I felt weird being there, so I left and could never bring myself to go back."

I thought about all the times I had found Dad doing the same thing. Sitting in his car, listening to music, staring out the window at nothing in particular. I'd always thought it was odd, but Mom never commented on it, so neither had I. But, obviously his behavior was peculiar, because Daisy was as bothered by it as I had always been.

"For what it's worth, I really am sorry. I hope that we finally find out what happened to Jess—to all of them." Daisy gave me one more hug before leaving. I watched her go, my mind running a million miles an hour.

I walked slowly back to my own car, not sure what to do now. I had no one that I could talk to about any of this. No one I could trust.

For the first time in my life, I felt truly alone.

Back in my car, I sat with the engine running. My mind felt too full to properly process anything. I had discovered so much—too much—and yet none of it made any sense.

But one thing was painfully clear—my dad was the worst kind of man. A person who could betray his wife and lie to his family. A man who preyed on young women.

When I thought back over the years, I could remember times when he had perhaps looked a little too long at some of my friends. Maybe flirted with a waitress or two. At the time, I hadn't thought it was anything sinister. It was only my charismatic dad being his friendly self. Mom said he'd always been a flirt, but that didn't necessarily make him a cheater.

Yet it seemed my father hadn't stopped at a wink and a comment. He had taken it to a place he shouldn't have.

My thoughts swirled in my head like sewage. The more I tried to push them away, the more they forced their way to the surface.

Then there was Ryan. He had no alibi for the night of Jess's disappearance. And neither did Dr. Daniels.

They were both connected to each of the missing women. One seemed as guilty as the other.

And, of course, there was my dad.

There were so many unanswered questions about these men, and I felt no closer to discovering any answers.

I pulled my car out of the parking lot and headed back down the hill towards town. Horror swirled inside me as I drove closer to home and the lies I had been raised on. I wondered what secrets Jess had held on to.

And what dark truths she had likely taken to her grave.

I woke early the next day with a terrible headache.

When I'd gotten home, I had taken a bottle of wine to my room and spent the night reading, and rereading, the case file.

Mom had already been in bed and Dad was presumably still at work.

I woke up around 3 AM to my parents arguing.

It wasn't a sound I was used to hearing. Except for that one time over Jess's room, I realized they never fought at all, which was strange. Because all married couples fought at one time or another. But not my mom and dad.

They seemed to exist in a delicate balance of real and pretend. I knew now they worked hard to keep up the image of a perfect couple. But it seemed the cracks were finally starting to show.

It was now early. The sun had barely risen when I dragged myself out of bed. I looked out the window and saw that Mom's car was gone. I remembered she had an early morning doctor's appointment followed by a few hours at the gym. She most likely wouldn't be home until sometime this afternoon. But my father was home. So, I opened the door slowly, listening for any sign of him before deciding it was safe to leave my room in search of food and painkillers.

I had barely eaten anything yesterday, and after drinking the entire bottle of wine on an empty stomach, I was feeling worse for the wear.

Downstairs, I put on a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table waiting for it to brew. I looked around the familiar room. A space once filled with, what I thought was, unconditional love. We had shared so much, but now I wondered if we had really shared anything at all. The pieces of my life, the parts I had trusted and counted on, now felt like a work of fiction.

Had I been purposefully blind to the reality of the people around me? When I thought about it, really thought about it, that picture perfect childhood I was so sure about, was anything but. My life had been constricted and restrained. I grew up feeling both smothered and an afterthought.

I had manipulated my own memories to make them palpable. To make them seem healthy and genuine.

Not only had my parents lied to me, but I had done a damn good job of lying to myself.

Dad hadn't wanted me at all, he had been content with his one, perfect daughter. And Mom had wanted someone to make her feel loved. The hurt and betrayal was overwhelming.

My hands were shaking and I balled them into fists to stop them.

A loud bang came from the garage, as if something had fallen over.

I walked toward the door at the back of the kitchen that led directly to the garage. It was painted the same color as the kitchen cabinets. Because of that, it blended in, making it hardly noticeable. Sometimes I forgot it was there altogether. No one, other than my dad, ever went out there anyway.

I retrieved the key from the hook and slipped it into the lock, the door clicked and I pushed it open. The air was cold. Much colder than one would expect given the temperature outside.

The garage was piled high with decades' worth of family clutter packed into plastic tubs, and bags. Fishing gear, paddles, Christmas decorations and old clothes I had long since outgrown. Stuff that was supposed to be donated to Goodwill or sold at yard sales, but instead had accumulated here, gathering dust.

The walls were lined with shelves filled with old tools I had never seen my dad use. I also noticed glass bowls from the vinegar he used years ago to eradicate the smell of rot from the dead animals that had died in the eaves. I recalled the rancid odor and Mom's loud complaints about the smell wafting under the door. Then one day the smell was gone, replaced by the overwhelming perfume of peppermint.

In the corner, underneath a large, blue tarp was the paddleboat. The same one Jess and Dad used to take to Doll's Eye Lake. The same paddle boat I had never been on. It had remained untouched since the last time the two of them had taken it out. It seemed sad and lonely, discarded with a hundred memories. I could only see the bottom rudder. It was otherwise covered.

And there, in the center of the garage, was Dad's beloved Boss 429 Mustang—once a vibrant yellow, now cracked and peeling. It was a far cry from its mint condition in the photographs in Sergeant O'Neil's case file.

My dad loved the car. Some of my earliest memories, the hazy, half-formed ones I could vaguely recollect from before Jess disappeared, involved standing at my father's side as he buffed and waxed its bright yellow surface.

Then one day, Dad declared it had broken down. A busted carburetor or something. He said it was an expensive part to replace in a retro vehicle, so he'd never had it fixed. I had never thought to question the obvious lie. How he could listen to music in a car that apparently didn't run. I felt foolish for my obliviousness. Now, like the unused boat, it sat in this cold dark space, rusting away.

I tried the door handle and found that it was open. Impulsively, I climbed inside, sitting in the driver's seat like I'd seen my dad do countless times before—like Daisy had seen that day long ago. The keys dangled from the ignition. I turned it on, surprised, though I shouldn't have been, when the engine turned over. I let it idle. I fiddled with the radio, turning it on. A slow, melodious voice whispered through the speakers like a phantom. I recognized the old fifties classic. An agonized ballad about love and death.

I looked at the small window in the garage door that Daisy must have looked through all those years ago. What the hell had he been doing sitting there, listening to sad music? I wondered, briefly, if he had been thinking about Meghan. Or maybe one of the other girls he had been involved with. The thought made my skin crawl.

A few minutes later, I turned off the engine and got out of the car, not wanting to be inside it any longer. Something about the garage and the Mustang didn't feel right.

As I turned to leave, I glanced back at the car, noticing that one of the taillights was broken. There was a black cavity where the glass had once been. I wasn't sure if it had always been like that but, I couldn't imagine my father not fixing something cosmetic and easily repaired. I looked at the floor and there was no broken glass anywhere.

I walked to the trunk of the car, gently brushing my fingers over the empty socket. I moved as if possessed, my hands hovering over the lever. The sudden need to see inside felt important.

Imperative even.

But when I tried to pop it open, it wouldn't budge. I pulled and pushed, frustrated, but it still wouldn't move.

A shudder went through me, and I wondered what could possibly be inside that he felt the need to lock away. I remembered the pictures from Sergeant O'Neil's case file. The list of items police had recovered from this very car. What secrets did it hold? I quickly grabbed the keys from the ignition and went to open the trunk. My hand trembled as I turned the key and lifted the lever. I peered inside, expecting to see the worst …

And it was empty.

I patted around to see if something was hidden, but there was nothing there.

With a sigh I slammed the trunk shut. What was I doing? Did I really think my father was hiding something nefarious in the trunk of his Mustang? I was letting my imagination run wild, looking for the worst in the people around me.

There was a rustling of movement out of the corner of my eye. I froze.

The tarp covering the boat slightly fell to the side revealing a portion of its faded orange hull.

Curious, I walked toward it. I couldn't remember ever having actually seen it before. It had always been hidden by plastic. I had only seen it in photos.

I reached out to pull the tarp from its worn body …

"Lindsey!"

I went completely still.

Looking over my shoulder, I felt my body go rigid with a fear that felt rooted in survival if not sense.

My father stood in the doorway, the light from the kitchen throwing him deep in shadow.

"What are you doing?" His voice sounded strained—almost breathless.

My hand still hovered over the tarp-covered boat.

"I—"

"Stop that, right now!" he roared, practically running across the garage and pulling me away.

He was shaking, his face flushed red. The vein on his forehead popping in a way it did only when he was angry.

But my dad didn't look angry.

He looked terrified.

Ten Seconds to Vanish: The Unsolved Disappearance of Jessica Fadley

Episode 12

Stella: Hi everyone. Welcome to our penultimate episode. I'm your host Stella—

Rachel: And I'm Rachel.

Stella: And this is Ten Seconds to Vanish: The Unsolved Disappearance of Jessica Fadley.

*Theme music plays*

Stella: We should address something before we get started. There's been a lot of blowback in regard to the interview we did with Erica Stead last week. It seems a lot of our listeners were pretty upset with how she characterized Jessica, a woman who isn't around to defend herself.

Rachel: We get it, guys. And we totally agree. As much as we loved having Erica on the show, it's important to note that those were her impressions, which are completely subjective.

Stella: And we received several emails from acquaintances of both Erica and Jessica who claim that many of the things Erica said during her interview were blatantly false. We are so sorry we didn't vet her better. But, we're human, and in the rush to get the scoop, we let you all down.

Rachel: More importantly, we let Jessica down. That's not to say Erica didn't provide some important insight. And it's always good to get an eyewitness account, no matter how skewed it may be.

Stella: That's right, because it turns out Erica did provide some accurate info. Like the fact that Jessica had, in fact, been kicked out of her sorority.

Rachel: And she had broken up with her boyfriend the same day she went missing.

Stella: That's a big one. Because all this time we've been looking at the professor. But we also need to look at the other men in Jessica's life. Men that were connected to the other missing girls as well. We mentioned earlier in this podcast that this hottie boyfriend had a history with our four girls, and Erica did confirm that.

Rachel: This is a week of big surprises. So let's get to it.