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universitypenguin · 10 months

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Summary: Princess conducts interviews with witnesses in Fredericksburg to learn more about the disappearance of Li Wei and Zoe Chapman. Meanwhile, Lloyd confronts Tate Corbin about what he saw the night Julia went missing, but the answers only lead to more questions.

Word Count: 5,064

Masterlist

Author’s Note: I’d like to dedicate this chapter to @nomadstucky. Without her, I never would’ve been able to dig my way out of this latest writing slump. Her feedback was critical to getting this chapter moving in the right direction when I was going off the rails creatively. Thank you so much!

Warnings: Allusions to domestic violence, discussion of murder and other criminal behavior. Minor use of foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.

Chapter XXIII

The cabins were in good repair. Seeing them in person disrupted the mental image you’d formed of the Chapman Bible Camp. It wasn’t the neglected place of crumbling disrepair you’d imagined it to be. Words like charming and neat came to mind, rather than decrepit and gloomy. The cottages were arranged around an ellipse shaped quad in uniform fashion, like spokes on a wheel. Their vibrant colors were reminiscent of the famous bathing boxes at Brighton Beach. Each one was painted a different shade of the rainbow and trimmed in a contrasting hue. The yellow cabin had purple trim, the green cabin fuchsia pink, and so on.

Instead of the Adirondack style commonly found in rural Virginia, the cabins boasted steep, angled roofs and front-facing gables adorned with whimsical gingerbread bargeboards. The whole aesthetic was so unabashedly Queen Anne that the cabins could’ve blended in with the homes on San Francisco’s famous Postcard Row. They seemed both too sophisticated and too cute for these primitive woods.

After her husband passed away, Mrs. Chapman had sold the bible camp. It was now in the hands of a musician who’d turned the tabernacle into a concert hall and rented out the cabins on Airbnb. Zach was fetching the keys from the owner while you waited on the porch of the converted tabernacle.

Standing here, you wondered if this visit was a fool’s errand. This morning Lloyd had called to tell you he’d be leaving the search party this afternoon to cover Roth’s interview with Tate Corbin. After hanging up, you’d itched for something productive to do. The abduction had injected a fresh sense of urgency into the investigation, but you’d agreed to keep your distance from Harmony because Lloyd was worried that Shun Nguyen would return to familiar surroundings. It was a reasonable assumption, one you didn’t have a counter argument for.

Still, you’d itched with a need to do something, so you’d turned to the mystery surrounding Li Wei and Zoe Chapman. Now that you were actually here you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d drifted off course. The place to look for fresh leads was forty miles north of here, yet this was where you’d come.

What breakthroughs did you expect to generate digging into a case that was almost twenty-five years old? You were about as far from a lead as Pluto was from the sun.

Gravel crunched as Zach came up the walk behind you.

“I got the keys,” he said.

“The place looks better than I expected. More charm, less gloom.”

“Like a fucking rainbow in the woods,” Zach said, inserting the key in the lock.

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s creepy, though.”

“Creepy?” you asked.

“The place feels off. Too pretty for its history, like Gettysburg without a war memorial.”

- - - - -

Zach went to explore the camp and forest while you waited in the concert hall for your witnesses. Twenty minutes later, the first of two former employees arrived.

Mrs. Koep was a petite fair-skinned woman with thin lips and a broad face. She wore a white button down with a silk scarf draped around her neck and carried a pink Michael Kors purse. Her handshake was firm when she introduced herself as the camp’s former groundskeeper. Right behind her, the other ex-employee Mrs. Brittenridge entered the hall. Mrs. Brittenridge was the opposite of Mrs. Koep. The former administrative assistant and camp nurse was tall and thin. In contrast to Mrs. Koep’s carefully coiffed appearance, Mrs. Brittenridge wore a plaid button down with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, straight leg jeans, and scuffed suede boots. Her dark brown hair, worn in a shaggy bob, gleamed with red highlights that complimented her olive complexion.

If they hadn’t introduced themselves, you’d have figured Mrs. Brittenridge for the groundskeeper and Mrs. Koep for the nurse. You sat down together in the pews. The two women took the second row while you sat in the first, angling yourself to face them.

“Thank you for coming,” you said.

“Of course,” Mrs. Brittenridge replied.

“Why did you want to meet us here?” Mrs. Koep asked.

“My colleague, Zach, is exploring the grounds, and I thought the familiar setting might help jog your memories.”

Mrs. Koep’s chin lifted. “My memory is just fine.”

Mrs. Brittenridge shot the blonde woman a tired side-eye, but didn’t comment.

“Rolling Stone magazine said your law firm is investigating the murders in Harmony,” Mrs. Koep said. “Is that true?”

“I’m afraid I can’t comment about ongoing cases.”

She scowled.

“We’re glad someone’s looking into Li Wei and Zoe’s disappearance again, and we’re happy to help anyway we can,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

“I was hoping you could fill in some blanks surrounding Li Wei’s disappearance. What was she doing just before she disappeared?”

Mrs. Koep answered first. “She was supposed to take the campers on a nature hike before lunch, but never showed up. I learned she was missing when Mr. Chapman came to the potting shed and asked if I’d seen her.”

“The last time I saw her was that morning,” Mrs. Brittenridge said. “She came into the office to fill up her water bottle.”

“What time was that?” you asked.

“Eight-thirty,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

You turned to the other woman. “And you, Mrs. Koep?”

“I caught a glimpse of her around nine. She was heading into the woods.”

“And Zoe?”

They debated whether Zoe had been with Li Wei that morning or not, but neither one could say for sure. With some more questioning the women decided their last official sighting of the little girl had been on Friday afternoon.

“What about Li Wei’s personal life?” you asked.

Mrs. Koep scoffed. “Non-existent. Her social life fell off a cliff after Zoe was born - some people even compared her to Boo Radley.”

By the icy glare she shot at Mrs. Brittenridge, you could guess who ‘some people’ had been.

“Betty, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You were right, though! She was a recluse! She was bored and lonely. All of her friends had gone off to college and left her behind.”

“She had Zoe, and her parents. You were there for her, too,” Mrs. Brittenridge said.

“It wasn’t enough,” Mrs. Koep said, wringing her hands. “Her mother should’ve pushed her to date, to get out and socialize. She practically was Boo Radley in the end.”

Mrs. Brittenridge sighed. An uncomfortable silence settled, and you waited to see if they’d continue. When they didn’t you pivoted to the main line of questioning you hoped this visit would shed light on.

“Who was Zoe’s father?”

Mrs. Brittenridge stiffened. Beside her, Mrs. Koep’s expression transformed from distraught to frosty. Neither of them answered. You retreated to a less aggressive position, realizing the delicacy of the subject called for coaxing, not pushing.

“Mrs. Koep, you worked here the longest. Since 1982, if the records are correct. Were you close with Li Wei?”

“Yes. She used to follow me around everywhere, always wanting to play in the dirt when I was planting flowers. I had kids who were a few years older than her, so I didn’t mind.”

“Did she ever confide in you about Zoe’s father?”

“Li Wei was a quiet girl,” Mrs. Koep said.

“She was quieter after she had Zoe,” Mrs. Brittenridge interjected.

You weren’t getting any useful information from the direct approach. Despite their obvious dislike of one another, the women were working in concert to dodge your questions.

A strategic retreat was in order.

“Do you have any theories about what happened to Li Wei and Zoe?”

Mrs. Brittenridge lowered her gaze, but Mrs. Koep offered a theory immediately. “I always assumed it was an accident of some kind. There’s a lot of abandoned mining shafts in the area.”

Mrs. Brittenridge’s lips compressed into a flat line.

You smiled at the former groundskeeper. “Mrs. Koep, would you mind taking my colleague, Zack, around? It would be nice to get the perspective of someone who knows the area.”

“Of course.”

“Mrs. Brittenridge, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to see where the administrative building was.”

“There’s not much to see. The new owners tore it down.”

“Any familiar spots would be great,” you said.

You led them out of the tabernacle and Mrs. Koep headed east to where Zach was inspecting the tree line, while Mrs. Brittenridge turned west. She walked to a picnic table hidden behind a grove of trees and sat down on one side. You took the place opposite her.

“This is where I used to take my breaks.”

“It’s a pleasant spot.”

“It’s private. You wanted to get me alone, so go ahead. Ask,” Mrs. Brittenridge invited.

“Do you know who Zoe’s father was?”

“No. Li Wei and I were friendly, but we didn’t have a relationship where she’d be comfortable sharing such personal information.”

“Would Mrs. Koep know?”

“Maybe. Betty was like an aunt to her. I always assumed she’d confided in her, but I’m not sure.”

“How long did you and Betty work together?”

“Seven years.”

“Were you full or part time at the camp?”

“Full time, May through August. I was a school nurse at Monroe High.”

“Li Wei graduated from Monroe, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“What was she like as a student?”

Mrs. Brittenridge considered the question before answering. “She was very smart, especially in English and exceptional in art. She wasn’t the most outgoing person, but always had friends.”

“You’d say she was well liked?”

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Brittenridge said. “She wasn't exactly shy, just reserved. The kind who thought before speaking.”

“Was she much of a partier?”

“Not in high school.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And after?”

“Sometimes when you’ve led a sheltered life, a little freedom goes to your head.”

“Got it. One more question. Why don’t you and Betty get along?”

“I had a cell phone in 1992.”

“Mmmhhh.”

“You’re too young to understand, aren’t you?”

“Probably.”

“Back in the early nineties, only drug dealers had cell phones, or at least that’s what people thought. I had one, which immediately roused her suspicions. To add insult to injury, I set up a website for the camp in 1996, then persuaded the Chapmans to put in a computer station so the kids could email their parents instead of writing letters. You’d have thought I suggested we convert to Satanism.”

You ran through your follow up questions and then walked Mrs. Brittenridge to her car, thanking her again for coming.

Then you headed down the curving path, around the oval lawn, past the cabins, to the garden shed. Zach was waiting outside.

“How’d the tour go?” you asked.

“I don’t think she likes me,” he said.

“Welcome to the club.”

Zach smirked. “Oh? Your charm met its kryptonite?”

You sneered at him, ignored his silent laughter, and stepped over the threshold into the plywood floored shed. The only source of light was a rectangular skylight on the roof.

Mrs. Koep was standing on the far side of the shed with her back to you. Her hands rested on a high table constructed from two-by-fours and MDF board. She stared at the garden tools that hung from the pegboard behind the table. Despite her chic clothing, she looked far more at home in this spartan surrounding with its crude furnishings than she had in the concert hall.

“I missed this place,” Mrs. Koep said, breaking the silence. “It’s weird to miss somewhere that smells like manure and gasoline, but I did.”

Mrs. Koep turned around and leaned against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. It was time for the confrontation.

“You knew Li Wei better than anyone,” you said.

“I like to think so.”

“Do you really believe she and Zoe fell into an abandoned mining shaft?”

“No, I don’t. But that’s what I want to believe, so I do.”

“Is it easier that way?” you asked.

“Being in denial for twenty years isn’t easy, it’s a survival mechanism.”

“What exactly were you in denial about, Mrs. Koep?”

It was stuffy and warm in the shed, but she rubbed her arms as if trying to generate heat.

“At first, you let yourself believe something irrational. Then… when reality breaks through the facade… you make yourself believe it because you can’t accept the truth.”

“You know something about Li Wei’s disappearance that you’re not telling me.”

“You’re very blunt for someone so young.”

“Thank you.”

“I wish I’d been that way when I was twenty-five. It would’ve spared me a divorce.”

This time you didn’t respond, just nodded.

“Li Wei didn’t give me the name of Zoe’s father. She said he was from up North - I think she meant D.C. - and that he’d been in a fraternity. They weren’t in a relationship or anything like that. Zoe was the product of a one night stand.”

“Did he know about Zoe?”

“I’m not sure but I think she would’ve told him. Whatever the case was, he wasn't in the picture. Li Wei was dating someone else.”

Excitement surged in your blood. That hadn’t been in the file. “Really? When did she start seeing him?”

Mrs. Koep squeezed her arms, gripping them until her knuckles turned white.

“Some time in March.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police?”

“Because I was afraid her parents wouldn’t approve. I didn’t want to start any trouble for her.”

You nodded. “And you’re sure the relationship began in March?”

“Pretty sure. I always came up early to start on the flower beds. He drove a motorcycle - not a Harley, it was a sporty thing, like the one Tom Cruise rode in Top Gun. I saw it parked in front of her cottage a few times.”

“Did you ever see her boyfriend?”

“A couple times, from a distance,” Mrs. Koep said.

“Can you describe him?”

“Caucasian, early twenties, with dark blond hair. I guess he was about six feet tall, give or take. He looked a bit like David Beckham.”

“You spoke to her about him?”

Mrs. Koep nodded. “I warned her that if I’d seen her sneaking around with him it was only a matter of time before one of her parents caught on.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me it hadn’t been serious and that they’d broken up.”

You swiped open your phone and pulled up an image of Julia Xiarong.

“Have you seen this woman before?”

She studied the photo carefully. “I don’t think so. Who is she?”

“She was related to Li Wei. A friend of hers said she’d been looking into her family history in 2002 and uncovered records of an adopted cousin.”

“How did she know they were cousins?”

“There was a family mystery about her uncle. He fought in the Chinese Civil War and fled to Taiwan in the 1940s. No one ever heard from him again. She found his death certificate and learned that he’d had a daughter who died in childbirth, which led her to Li Wei’s adoption records.”

“Was there proof Li Wei was related to her?” Mrs. Koep asked.

“If you mean a DNA test, I don’t believe so. Her friend said she came to Fredericksburg in March 2002 and tried to get in touch with Mrs. Chapman. I don’t know if they connected or not.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if they did,” Mrs. Koep said. “Mrs. Chapman had Alzheimers. She’d lost everything but her long-term memories by the end of 2001. Her sister came up from Arizona to take care of her. She stayed on for a year until it was time to move Mrs. Chapman into a memory care unit, then sold the camp.”

“Is it possible she met with Mrs. Chapman’s sister?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you have a number for the sister?” you asked.

“In my address book. I’ll send it to you.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Koep squinted at Julia’s picture. “She’s dead isn’t she?”

You cringed internally, realizing your mistake. Detective Roth was going to have your head.

“I do recognize her. She was in the Rolling Stone article.” Mrs. Koep’s eyes narrowed. “You found Li Wei and Zoe’s bodies, didn’t you?”

“I can’t share any information about the investigation.”

You braced yourself for her to unsheathe her claws, but instead of lashing out, she opened her tiny pink purse and handed you a card. It was an old-fashioned calling card with her name, phone numbers and email address.

“When you can release their bodies, please call me. They deserve a proper funeral.”

“That’s very thoughtful. Especially after all this time.”

“It’s the only thing left. I can’t do anything else for them now.”

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I’m sure talking about this wasn’t easy.”

“I wish I could’ve been more helpful,” she said.

“On the contrary. You were very helpful.”

Mrs. Koep looked confused. When you didn’t elaborate, she sighed. “Alright then. Is that everything?”

“Yes. Zach can walk you to your car.”

You watched from the doorway of the shed as the pair walked down the ellipse shaped path towards the tabernacle and the parking lot beyond it. When they were far enough away, you took out your phone and dialed Annabeth Greene.

She answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, how’s it going? Have you made any progress on your case? The one with the cousins?”

“That’s why I’m calling. Do you remember running Li Wei and Julia’s DNA samples?”

“Of course I do. It’s the most interesting thing I’ve cracked in months.”

“What about Zoe’s?”

“The little girl?” Annabeth asked.

“Yeah.”

“I thought I already sent you an analysis of her DNA.”

“You did, but I was wondering if there would be any way to identify her father?”

Annabeth sucked in a long breath. “Ugh. Look, I can try, but I’m not optimistic. A lot of genetic libraries have closed the loop holes that allowed us to use ancestry DNA to identify suspects for law enforcement.”

“I’m not law enforcement.”

“You’re as bad as Lloyd.”

“Can you do it?”

“If I loosen my definition of ethics,” Annabeth said.

“You’re the best. I owe you.”

“Uh-uh. Lloyd owes me. It’s going to be something good, too. Expensive. You tell him that.”

“Will do.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In a semi-private alcove within the vast common room of Fairfax Fields Assisted Living facility, Lloyd faced down his prime suspect. Tate Corbin didn’t look eighty-three. His face was wrinkled but his posture was impeccable. Also, he seemed to be made of Teflon, because nothing stuck to him. It wasn’t charm that formed the protective coating that resisted Lloyd’s best interrogation tactics. Just the opposite - the Teflon shield surrounding Corbin was constructed of impertinence.

None of his usual tricks were working, and that pissed Lloyd off. He was good at two things in the interrogation room: getting a rise out of someone and building a sense of despair that made them unravel. Corbin was immune to both tactics.

First, there was no getting a rise out of Corbin. The man existed in a perpetual state of annoyance; the only dependent variable was the subject of his ire. Second, Lloyd didn’t have any actual evidence and therefore wasn’t equipped to build a sense of despair.

He wished he’d brought you along. If he had, he probably wouldn’t be sitting here listening to Corbin monologue about his various hatreds. Mr. Corbin hated scarlet macaws, because his neighbor had one and it wouldn’t shut up. He hated New Jersey and their subpar roads that were always under construction.

Trying to forge a connection, Lloyd empathized with that sentiment and inadvertently triggered a cascade of grievances.

The architecture of FedEx Field was hideous and the Washington Commanders had been on the downhill slide ever since they’d let Kirk Cousins sign with the Vikings. Tate claimed to despise Roger Goodell, Jerry Jones, and the entire NFL organization. And he loathed the football commentators on TV, too. They didn’t know shit about football. He preferred to watch the games on mute these days. Lloyd really, really didn’t want to agree with Tate Corbin… but he was right about a lot of things, especially the Commanders letting Kirk Cousins go. However, he wisely kept his agreement to himself and sat back, waiting for Corbin to run out of steam.

There was a rant against the commissioner of baseball, which didn’t have enough context for Lloyd to figure out whether Corbin hated the office or the individual who currently occupied it. Without a segue, the topic shifted to how social media addictions were the younger generation’s smoking. As much as he hated social media, Tate also had plenty to say about the mass media, and he didn’t hesitate to bend Lloyd’s ear about it.

Tate had been talking for almost ten minutes straight before Lloyd found an opening to put the conversation back on track.

“I hate dogwood trees,” Corbin said.

“You had a disagreement with Shun Nguyen about a dogwood tree, didn’t you?”

“Eh?”

“Dogwood trees,” Lloyd repeated, louder.

Corbin turned up the volume on his hearing aides. “Yeah, I did. That damn tree was growing over the fence and he wouldn’t trim it! Claimed he didn’t have the time!”

“We need to talk about his girlfriend’s death.”

Tate turned his head. His eyes shifted to the window. Uncharacteristically, he didn’t offer a comment.

“I’m here to talk about Julia’s death and the missing women,” Lloyd said.

“Always back to that, huh?”

“The investigation has been re-opened.”

“It’s old news. What’s there to talk about?” Corbin asked.

“You were convinced that Shun Nguyen killed Julia, is that right?”

“Damn right. They were always scrapping. I told her straight out that he’d kill her someday, but she didn’t listen.”

“Were you familiar with any of Dr. Nguyen’s other victims?”

Tate’s initial chattiness had waned. He shrugged. “The whole town heard about them. Heck, most of the country did.”

“Tell me about it.”

Mr. Corbin ran his tongue around his teeth. An expression of disgust, like he’d just bitten into something rotten, flashed across his features. The silence lengthened between them and Lloyd decided to prod.

“Did you know Stacey Moore?”

“Her grandfather and I golfed at the same course. We never played together or anything, but we’d see each other at the bar sometimes. I suppose you already know Maya Sutton interned for my accountant.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’ve done your homework. Everything I’ve told you was in the files, so you tell me - what’s the point of this? What are you getting at?”

Lloyd uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“In 2002 you claimed you saw a man walking across Nguyen's lawn on the night Julia went missing. I think you were lying.”

Tate straightened, his scowl darkening. “Lying about what?”

“You didn’t see a man. You made it up.”

“Why would I do that?”

“To throw the police off your scent.”

Realization dawned, and then Tate chuckled. “You think I’m the killer?”

“You hated Shun and Julia.”

“And the others?”

“You’re not much of a people person, Mr. Corbin. That can be very frustrating. You couldn’t join them, you couldn’t beat them, so what does that leave? You kill them.”

“That’s pretty twisted logic,” Tate said.

“Six women are still missing and we have the bodies of three others, so yeah. The whole thing is pretty twisted.”

“I’m not much of a people person, Mr. Hansen, but I’m not a killer.”

“Can you prove that?”

Tate snorted. “Actually, I can. You see, you’re not the first person to accuse me.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Peter Shaw, a reporter out of D.C. - obnoxious bastard.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“He tried to accuse me of being the killer in a story for some hipster magazine ten years ago. The editor called before they ran the story, trying to verify the facts.”

“What facts?”

“About my whereabouts during the times those other women went missing. Stacey Moore was the first, in June of ‘99. A few months later Maya Sutton disappeared. The next summer it happened again. Two more victims.”

“Do you remember their names?” Lloyd asked.

“Peyton Quirk and Kayla Ballesta.”

“They disappeared in the summer, too?”

Lloyd knew the answers to the questions he was asking, but he wanted to see if Tate did.

“Peyton disappeared in July and Kayla went missing during the first week of September.”

Lloyd pretended to make a note on his pad.

Tate continued down the list. “He took Lucy Lund in May 2001. Stephanie Young went missing in September.”

“You’re very familiar with the case, Mr. Corbin.”

“Of course I am. I was at Nguyen’s trial every single day, both times. Which is why I was able to track down the tickets and photos from my summer vacations in 1999 and 2001. There are three ex-merchant marines, guys I served with in the sixties, who can vouch for me. We’ve done a biennial fishing trip in Maine for the last thirty years.”

“Their names?” Lloyd asked.

He took them down, along with the phone numbers the old man rattled off from memory.

“You’re grasping at straws if you think I’m your guy,” Corbin said.

Lloyd had a sinking feeling he’d just grasped at said straws and they’d slid through his fingers. He clicked his pen and sat back, studying Tate carefully.

His body language was open and relaxed. He didn’t seem rattled by Lloyd’s prodding, which made him think the man was being honest. Of course he would check with the merchant marines to be certain but Lloyd suspected his alibi would check out. It was a shame Peter Shaw didn’t share information from his unpublished articles, because it would’ve saved Lloyd a trip.

“I didn’t lie, you know. I saw someone walking across Nguyen’s yard that night,” Tate said.

Lloyd noticed the way Tate’s left hand shifted to cover his right wrist when he said ‘someone.’

It was a subtle gesture of self-protection, the kind of thing you or Zach would be able to discern the meaning of. He couldn’t read the emotions on Tate’s face. Discomfort? Fear? Or was he gloating over some withheld piece of information? Being caught out of his depth was irritating. Lloyd switched tactics, dropping the confrontational strategy.

Corbin had a propensity to interject whenever he felt something was being misconstrued, so Lloyd phrased his next words as a statement instead of a question.

“You saw someone that night and recognized them.”

“No, I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t recognize them for sure. Not at the time.”

“But later, you figured out who it was,” Lloyd said.

“It was just a guess.”

“A name?”

Mr. Corbin adjusted the leg of his trousers, smoothing out a crease. “Guess isn’t really the appropriate word. Maybe you’d call it a… hypothesis?”

Lloyd wanted to grab Tate by the collar of his polo shirt and shake the answer out of him. Instead, he smiled, trying to school his features into a neutral expression.

“About a month afterwards, I had an epiphany, of sorts and the puzzle pieces just snapped together. There was a neighbor boy. He was college age but still lived with his parents. A big, strapping kid, just like the figure I saw.”

“Why do you think it was him?” Lloyd asked.

“I woke up that night because their dog was barking. I got up to see what was going on, but by the time I reached the window the dog had shut up.”

“Which house did these neighbors live in?”

“The one adjacent to Nguyen’s property.”

“Left or right?”

“Right,” Tate said.

Lloyd jotted down a note. “Anything else?”

“Like I said, I wasn’t sure if it was the kid or not. But he fit the general description of the person I’d seen, and that dog didn’t bark much. I figure that’s why the dog started barking - he’d smelled his owner.”

“Was he coming or going from the house?”

“Assuming it was him, he would’ve been returning to his house.”

“By cutting through Nguyen’s yard?”

“His parents had a security camera pointed at the front door,” Tate said. “I asked his father about their setup after things went down. I was thinking of getting myself a security system and he told me they only had the one camera for the front door.”

“And?” Lloyd prompted.

“Given the camera at the front door, he would’ve had to sneak in through the back. Nguyen’s yard wasn’t fenced. The easiest path would have been to cut through Nguyen’s front yard, go around the back of their house, and jump the fence into the next yard.”

“You never mentioned this to the police,” Lloyd said.

“Dealing with ‘em left a bad taste in my mouth. They’re idiots, the whole lot. Look at who they’ve got locked up now! One of their own evidence clerks! While I happen to think they’ve got the wrong man, I'm sure glad that fellow is off the streets.”

“Yeah?”

Corbin’s face scrunched. “With Leo McKenzie in the slammer Harmony’s DUI rate is about to go into free fall, if you catch my drift.”

“You didn’t think it mattered if you said anything or not.”

Tate grunted in acknowledgement.

“You seem to have this whole case figured out,” Lloyd said.

That earned him a smile. The old man leaned in, lowering his voice. “Want to know what else I think?”

Lloyd mimicked the posture, inclining his head.

“I’ve got a theory about why they never found any remains.”

“Really?”

“Copper Ridge Quarry.”

“I’m not familiar,” Lloyd said.

“It’s an abandoned mine, closed down in the 60s. Toxic waste. Acidic runoff. That’s where the bodies went.”

This interview was burning up more leads than it was generating. Perhaps he didn’t need to check out Corbin’s alibi after all, Lloyd realized. Tate definitely wasn’t their guy. The coroner’s findings on Julia and Li Wei pointed towards the other end of the pH spectrum, away from acid.

Even so, he played along, raising an eyebrow. “Acid.”

“It’s so strong it’s off the pH scale, into the negative numbers.”

“Interesting.”

“It’s more than interesting. Acid dissolves everything. No bodies, no evidence. Take my word for it - look into Copper Ridge Quarry and you’ll find your killer.”

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Next - Chapter XXIV

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@denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne @charmingprincess @amiets2 @seitmai @elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @kaleidoscopepov @fangirl-and-doctor-help @jesevans @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen @adoreyouusugar @awkwardgiraffe726 @pono-pura-vida @mysweetlittledesire @liecastillo @marantha @babyevansblog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @thegirlnextdoorssister @ladygrey03 @cynic-spirit @rosedpetal @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bambamwolf87 @yiiiikesmish @calwitch @peachiestevie @texmexdarling @here4thefanfics @rogersbarber @spikeluv84 @dear-fifi @crayongirl-linz @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @andydrysdalerogers @mrsbarnes32557038

#the princess and the lawyer #series: the princess and the lawyer #the princess & the lawyer #series: the princess & the lawyer #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen au #chris evans character au #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans character x reader #the grey man fanfiction #the grey man fanfic #the grey man fic

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