Threads of Suspicion(6)
The folders were thicker than she had expected. From the dates, it looked like detectives had come back to this case many times. She thumbed through the folders, found lab reports, witness statements, daily updates, phone call lists, credit-card statements, even police reports on five possible related cases. There was a lot of reading ahead of her, but when she was done, she would know how the detectives had approached the case, what they had discovered. Good, the foundation is here.
Thankfully, the detectives had included flash drives with electronic archives of their reports. She’d have searchable information at her fingertips, which would speed up her investigation considerably.
She lifted the lid on the second box and found a treasure trove of Jenna’s personal items. Purse, wallet, keys, desk calendar, journals, cellphone. Evie opened the evidence bag holding the phone, slid the battery back in, and wasn’t surprised when the device didn’t light up. The battery was dead. She’d pick up a replacement as one of her first errands. Jenna’s laptop was sealed in an evidence bag, along with a technician’s note providing a neatly printed password. The last significant item was an accordion folder stuffed with bills, menus, flyers, handwritten notes with phone numbers, names, lists—likely Jenna’s desk and kitchen-counter clutter swept together and kept, since what would matter might be anything here. Good—the cops had paid attention to the small things that could be key to solving this case.
The third box was more of Jenna’s papers, stored in folders with the girl’s handwriting on the tabs—college class schedules, financial aid, class notes, medical records, bank statements, utility bills. One titled FAMILY AND FRIENDS was mostly saved birthday cards and a few personal letters. Jenna had liked her world organized. Her life was here, at least the structure of it.
Evie opened the fourth box and nearly laughed out loud. Jenna had created scrapbooks and photo albums—eight of them, neatly stacked. “Thank you, Jenna. You’re going to make my job easier.”
Four file boxes . . . enough material to build a solid foundation, but not so much Evie couldn’t properly get her arms around it. She was already having a good run of luck with this case.
Evie stepped to the conference room door. “I hit a gold mine.”
David looked up from the box he was unpacking.
“Scrapbooks and photo albums.”
“Girls do like photos and fluff.”
She laughed softly at the kind way he said it. His case boxes were now lined up against the far wall, their lids tucked behind each one. “Having any luck with your discoveries?”
“My PI is Saul Morris—he looks to be an interesting man. I have what may be the contents of his office spread across ten boxes. Two are personal items from his home. A box of police reports and witness statements. And finally, a good assortment of electronics—two laptops, four phones, three cameras, a shoebox full of backup CDs and flash drives. There’s a stack of handwritten notebooks in this one, not unlike a cop would make. I’m very optimistic.”
“I’m glad for you. I’m going to start putting together my board and timeline. Unless you would like some help?”
David considered what was around him. “I’m good for now. Thanks for the offer.”
Evie took the now-empty cart to get it out of his way, checked the supply cabinets, found colored markers for the whiteboards, magnetic clips to hang items. There were a dozen mobile whiteboards stored in the auxiliary space beside the conference room—the design firm had organized this office for doing a lot of visual work. Evie rolled one over to her desk, drew a horizontal line, marked the middle with October 17, 2007, the date Jenna Greenhill had gone missing.
Sometimes determining what was going on before a crime pointed at the solution, but most of the time with cold cases, the answer was discovered in how people acted after the disappearance—guilt stained a person, criminal conduct continued—so there were as many clues, if not more, after a crime as before it. She would work both sides of the timeline with equal intensity.
Perspective first, then details of the disappearance, Evie decided. She looked through the boxes again for facts that would define Jenna’s life.
Jenna Greenhill.
Last seen: October 17, 2007
DOB: 11-12-85, age 21 when last seen
Parents: Rachel and Luke Greenhill
Siblings: sister, Marla, 3 years older
She found a casual photo of Jenna with her mother in an early album—Mom and me, Saturday morning tea and talk of college plans. Jenna wore stylish glasses, shoulder-length auburn hair—she didn’t have a classic beauty, but she looked attractive. Her smile looked a touch self-conscious. No jeans and a casual top, but a summer dress, nice necklace, earrings, no rings. The mother looked much more relaxed than Jenna. Evie posted the photo.