“I was never interviewed, so I never lied.” He blew out smoke. “And I know how that statement itself sounds, how it makes me look.
“Those first few days I was still angry at what Jenna had been preparing to do, and when conversations would come up about Jenna, most of the time I was standing right beside Lynne. Lynne didn’t need to know her friendship with Jenna had been more a mirage than authentic, and she certainly didn’t need cops grilling her, ‘Tell me about your boyfriend and his relationship with your friend Jenna.’
“I always assumed the cops would eventually be at the coffee shop or the house to ask me about that night. I would have been seen walking Jenna home, what time was that, what had we been talking about, they’d want to see the texts with Lynne, put on extra pressure because I would have been one of last, if not the last, to see Jenna. But no cops came.
“At first I was relieved. Evidence had them looking at something that happened to Jenna Saturday morning, and they hadn’t been around because they don’t need my statement. Then I’m wondering maybe no one saw us that night or thought to mention it to the cops?
“So it’s a couple of weeks later when I hear the time on Jenna’s text to her mom is before midnight, before she came to the coffee shop. Cops had been working on the assumption Jenna was home at eleven-fifty p.m., and I knew Jenna got home exactly an hour later than that. If I’d thought that time difference was significant, I would have come forward. But by then everybody was hunting for blood, and I hadn’t been involved. I’d re-created that walk in my mind numerous times. Had I seen anything out of place—a van, a car, a person who didn’t belong? Except for the bright, near-full moon, I couldn’t come up with one fact that distinguished that night from others.
“I got as far as the police station twice, but self-preservation turned me around. I wasn’t sure who was going to believe me other than my dad, Lynne’s parents, a few others who really knew me. It’s a pricey college, and an arrest would have made people more comfortable—guilt or innocence wasn’t going to play into it. The lawyer fees alone would have cost my dad the coffee shop, probably the music store, likely both.”
Evie raised a palm to stop him there. “Is there anyone you can think of who might have seen you walk Jenna home that night, someone you know from the neighborhood who maybe kept quiet for the same reason? If so, I’d like the name.”
Jim thought about it and shook his head. “I didn’t notice anyone in particular that night. The close-at-midnight crowd—we pass each other, say a friendly good-night, but no one lingers to talk. And it was twelve-thirty before Jenna and I left the coffee shop that night. The streets were quiet by then.
“Those who live on that route, who would know me at a glance if they saw me, who might have been up at that time of night—there are a few. Paul Sanders waits up for his wife, Lisa, to get home. They sometimes sit on the porch and talk if it’s a nice night. There’s Jerry Verma—he owns the bakery and deli, sometimes goes in around midnight if he’s catering a breakfast meeting. And the corner house is where Wilma Parks lives. She likes to read, and her living room light is often on until two or three a.m. The only other one I can think of would be Neva Timber. She works for the local paper, comes home after it’s gone to the printer. Sometimes they hold off for a late-breaking story in which case she gets home after midnight. Those four might know a few more I haven’t thought of.”
“No dog owner taking a late-night walk, the dog wagging his entire body wanting to say hello to you?”
Jim faintly smiled as he shook his head. “No. Not on the night it would have helped me out.”
Evie studied him. She’d formed a lot of impressions, opinions, thoughts while listening to him. Some of what she most wanted to know was likely lost to history and the passing years, but some of it remained. “Why tell me, Jim?”
“I’ve regretted the silence. It might have been the safe thing to do, even the wise thing given I was innocent, but it wasn’t the right thing. I told myself if a cop ever showed up, I’d tell it like it was.”
“You’re the last one to see Jenna alive, other than who did this.”
“I guess I am.” He looked directly at her. “And I honestly don’t have a clue what happened to her. I’m not hiding anything, Lieutenant. I’ll answer any question, I’ll take a lie-detector test if you like—not that it’s going to be that useful after nine years, but it might. Put me through the ringer, I’ve earned it. But if you can spare Lynne, please do so. She doesn’t deserve to have reporters hounding her for what she remembers. She’s mostly been able to let go of what happened, move on with her life.