A good man, David Marshal, she thought, even more sure of it after hearing his story last night. He would give Maggie as much time as needed to make that decision of faith, showing himself faithful both to his God and to his word to Maggie. Evie thought he was handling it beautifully, given how the situation had developed. And it had to be unbelievably difficult for him.
She was glad it was not her dilemma with Rob. He had been a Christian since high school. How he expressed his faith was different than she did, yet it was real for them both. David and Maggie deeply desired to be married but were caught in an impasse. Evie was in a limbo of a different sort. Rob loved her, had made it clear over Christmas that he’d like a life with her. There was a marriage proposal waiting if she wanted to say yes. And she wasn’t there yet.
She owed Rob a call to get dinner on their schedule. They were, for once, within an hour’s drive of each other. He wasn’t in the habit of sending texts, and she wasn’t the kind to send short messages either. She wanted eyes on him when they were talking, expressions, flow of conversation, not thirty seconds of information. They talked frequently enough that she knew the news going on in his family and heard anything unexpected that happened in his life. She gave him the highlights about her activities, but the rest could wait until they were together. So far it was a pace of a relationship that worked for them.
She made a mental note to call him, then wondered what it said about her that she was okay making that call at the end of day rather than reaching for the phone now. Rob was a good man, important to her, but she hadn’t wrapped her world around his yet, wasn’t sure she was ready to take that last step. She wanted more time and couldn’t precisely say why, simply knew she needed it.
Last night’s weather update announced another cold winter day—as if she needed a reminder in Chicago’s January. She pulled out the warmest dress pants she had with her and an expensive suit jacket to slip over a black knit sweater. Professional and approachable for interviews. As she quickly blow-dried her hair, she planned her morning.
Jenna’s best friend would be a good place to start. The woman had been studying fashion. Odds were decent she might still be in the Chicago area.
She would need to talk with Jenna’s family today, but pushing a formal interview with them off for a few days would be wise; she would have better questions when she did sit down with them. This didn’t seem like a family crime, but that possibility was pulsing to its own beat. Evie had seen too many fathers murder daughters not to leave it an open theory. Maybe a sibling collision—family member shows up at an unexpected hour, knocks on the door, Jenna leaves the apartment with them, trouble happens . . . it fit the facts as they so far existed, and she doubted cops had seriously explored the possibility.
Interviewing Jenna’s boyfriend was also a priority. An older student than most, he’d been working at the campus newspaper, reporting on sports, been at an away game for the basketball team on the weekend Jenna went missing. Maybe he killed her, but the forethought to create an alibi good enough to hold up to scrutiny suggested a premeditation that didn’t fit the current appearance of the crime. Probably not the boyfriend. The case would have been solved by now if that was it. The cops would have gone back to take another look at Steve Hamilton every time they revisited the case. But he’d still be a good interview for her as he’d have a unique perspective on Jenna.
Evie paused drying her hair to add another theory to her growing list.
26. Was it an accident and a cover-up?
Late night, Jenna’s out for a walk. “I was drunk, it was dark, I didn’t see her, I hit her with my car. I took her body away and dumped it.” A college guy, wanting to save his own skin, hid the accidental killing. If you grew up in this area, knew where to dump a body where it was unlikely to be found, it could fit the facts. Evie made a note to look at the aerial maps for rivers and lakes nearby.
College kids got drunk and drove vehicles—that was policing 101 around college campuses. She might be able to find a vehicle damaged that night by an erratic driver, maybe a vehicle repair or an insurance claim—those got filed and lingered around in databases. Or maybe come at it from the other direction: which college student had abruptly entered rehab in the days after Jenna’s disappearance—killing someone would put a load of guilt on a guy. He could either become a raging alcoholic or get scared into going sober. There would be signs somewhere.
A drunk driver kills Jenna, manages to hide the body where it can’t easily be discovered, or talks a friend into helping him hide the body. The combination of bad luck, accident, cover-up fit why this crime hadn’t been solved.