Page 88 of Love Always

“I’m here on my own.”

“Oh,” he seems deflated. “I thought you were here because of—”

The interrogation room door opens and Carlson steps out. Right behind him is Kevin Barr, who doesn’t look at any of us. Carlson passes him off to another officer and they walk down the hall together.

Carlson waves Chris, Laurel, and me into a small conference room, at the center of which is a small white-ish opaque plastic bag, tied off with a rubber band. Inside is something soft with dark stains.

“That was found in Saxton’s Bay, a mile from Echo Bay, on the side of the road. An anonymous caller dialed it in.”

I start to slip an arm around Laurel, but she’s running on anger, her body, rigid.

“We’ll send it away to Boston for testing, but my guess is that it’s your blood,” he says to her.

Glancing to Chris, he holds out a hand. “Did you bring the book?”

The kid is staring at the bag, which has an ominous presence. “Ah. Yes. Yeah. Here and there are these too,” he says, and fishes out what looks like a journal, a deck of cards, and a chess piece.

“She told me to keep these for her.”

“And it took us a while to catch up with you. You doing well?” asks Carlson.

Chris blushes. “Yes. Yes. I hope I can stay sober this time.”

“It would be helpful if your teachers didn’t identify you as a user from your paper and then push the stuff on you.” As he starts to flip through the simple pink journal, I could see what looks like a template of sorts on each page with a lot of writing.

Carlson glances at Laurel. “You’re in here.”

He hands her the journal.

It is a series of confessions. Confessions from other young women identified by name, phone number, and the date of the “confession.”

Laurel reads hers and then passes the book to me. “It’s all about what Professor Cruz did—the texts, the weirdness in the classroom—trying to date me.” She hands the book back to Carlson.

He takes it and slips it into a large plastic evidence bag and sets it behind the desk. “When did she give this to you?”

“That Wednesday before she was killed,” he wipes his nose and then stands taller. “A couple of days before I ran off. I stuck it in my backpack because she was so adamant I keep it safe. It’s one of the few things I took.”

A thought worms its way into my brain. “Maybe this had nothing to do with a drug deal gone wrong.”

Carlson nods. “If Cruz thought or discovered that she had documented these cases of harassment, the next step could be to report or blackmail him. I contacted Portland Community College security when Chris told me what was in this book. Thad Cruz is already under internal investigation and is not going to be rehired as an adjunct professor. That also might explain the timeline. He’s going to be moving back to New York—at least that’s the forwarding address he’s given the school and he’s gotta wrap stuff up here. This guy’s dirtier than hell. We just have to figure out a way to get him. What he doesn’t know is that we have DNA evidence of our own.” He pauses, deciding whether or not to read us in. “There was skin found under some of the fingers on her right hand. We think she grabbed her assailant just as she was shot.”

Carlson turns to Laurel. “Can you stand to be in the same room with Kevin Barr?”

She takes my hand “Yes. You do know he’s trying to—”

He nods and cuts her off. “I know he’s a prick, but we can use him. We are not putting you at risk again.” He hits a button on the wall by the door. “Send Barr back in here.”

In a few seconds, Kevin Barr walks in, slumped, haunted, hands stuffed into pockets.

Carlson cuts to the chase. “Did you know about this?” Carlson drops the evidence bag with the pink book on the table.

Kevin, who doesn’t dare look at Laurel while I’m standing two feet behind him, goes to pick up the bag.

“Don’t touch it. You can see what it is.”

With a completely deadpan face Kevin shrugs. “It’s her tell-all book.”

Carlson never lets his stare waver. “So, you knew what was in there?”