Twenty-Five Years Ago Today (20 page)

Today, the Diana Ferguson case remains the
Fremont area's only unsolved mystery. Although suspects were
questioned, police never had enough evidence to make an arrest.

Lieutenant Gerald Frank, who investigated the
murder, estimates that between five and 10 percent of homicides are
true mysteries.

"We had no confessions, no eyewitnesses, not
even the crime scene as Diana was probably killed somewhere else,"
he said. "These are the cases you carry with you to the grave."

Diana was last seen alive shortly after 9
p.m., police said. After waitressing at Rossi's Bar, she met
friends at the former Campus Pizzeria. She left the college hangout
with her former boyfriend, who says she dropped him off at his
apartment. From there, police don't know what happened to
Diana.

According to Frank, 80 percent of murders are
committed by people close to the victim. He doubts that Diana was
killed by a stranger.

"Although it's possible that Diana was in the
wrong place at the wrong time, the victim and the offender are
usually at least somewhat acquainted," he said. "And let me tell
you, most murders are about stupid things."

He points to a case in Boston in which a man
stabbed his cousin with a butcher knife over a Thanksgiving turkey
leg. In a tragedy closer to home, Scott Miles, a 19-year-old
Fremont State student, was stabbed to death at a party last month.
Rick Huber, a 22-year-old classmate, allegedly jammed a knife into
his chest as they both liked the same girl.

"A lot of times, the murder is a mistake,"
Frank said.

"Most are done in an irrational moment of
anger, using a rock, brick, bottle, or whatever is handy. Often,
the person is remorseful afterwards."

Irene Ferguson hopes that the murderer is as
haunted as she is. She describes her daughter, the younger of two
girls, as a talented artist devoted to her family. Diana had still
been devastated over the death of her father in high school.

"When Diana was killed, I was left with a
lifetime of pain," said Irene, now 75. "Losing a child is the
cruelest thing that can happen to a parent. It's not supposed to
work that way ... I kept waiting and waiting, and she never came
home."

Lieutenant Frank says that the Diana Ferguson
case is still open, and that police would be happy to investigate
new leads. Anyone with information may call the Police Hot Tip Line
at 555-3232 and speak with an officer, or leave an anonymous
message.

"Nobody should get away with murder," Frank
said.

***

Eric called Kris between classes and thanked
her for the story. She paced the living room on restless legs,
gripping the phone to her ear. The rewritten article would enrage
Jacqueline. Bruce would raise hell, too, once he saw how Kris had
hacked apart his writing. "You've got a damn nerve talking about
objectivity," he’d snapped the previous night. "I saw you through
the window at the Soares' house. That guy wasn't a family member
upset about an obit. He was Cheryl Soares' son. You've been lying
all along."

Kris tried to focus on Eric’s words, her
stomach twisting. She and Dex could lose their jobs.

"I guess we didn't have to worry about that
Bruce guy after all," Eric was saying. "Did your editor give you
more control than you thought?"

"Something like that," Kris said.

"My mother asked if you could come by before
your shift. She wants to apologize. I'll come with you if you
decide to go."

Kris twined a lock of hair around her finger.
If she saw Eric, he might sense something was wrong. She couldn't
tell him about her risk, or he'd feel terrible. He might even show
up at the paper and defend her honor, creating a bigger mess. "I
don't know. Your mother was really upset. You didn't pressure her
to forgive me, did you?"

"I didn’t have to. She suggested this on her
own. How about I meet you in front of my parents’ house around
three? Come on, do it for me. I've been dying to kiss those tender
lips all day."

Despite her somber mood, Kris smiled. She
missed Eric, too. His presence would make her feel better. Besides,
smoothing over the awkwardness with Cheryl would be a welcome
relief.

"Boy, could I use a kiss," she said. "You
don't know how badly."

***

Irene answered the door that afternoon and
wrapped Kris in a hug. "It was perfect, honey, just perfect," she
whispered. "You really listened to me."

Her happiness steeled Kris's resolve. She had
made the right decision. She would handle whatever happened at
work. "I'm glad you liked it."

"Kris did a great job," Eric agreed.

Beaming, Irene ushered them into the living
room. "I'll bet someone calls the tip line. Maybe one of Jared's
friends knows something."

"That'd be nice, but don't be disappointed if
it doesn't happen," Michael said from the recliner.

"My birthday's almost here. Wouldn't that be
perfect timing?"

"Hey, Dad, what're you doing home?" Eric
asked.

Kris had wondered the same thing. She hadn't
expected the entire family to gather in her honor.

"I had a couple appointments on the road, so
I cut out early after the last one. I heard your mom was making my
favorite snacks. I just finished reading the article. Everyone's
right, Kris, it's well done." Michael tapped the
Fremont Daily
News
issue folded on his knees.

"Thank you," she said.

"Kris, could you help me in the kitchen?"
Cheryl stood framed in the doorway, wearing a ruby cowl-neck
sweater and a pair of black jeans. Her lipstick shone bright on her
pale face.

Eric gave Kris's hand a reassuring squeeze.
Squaring her shoulders, she followed his mother to the granite
counter.

Cheryl dumped ruffled potato chips into an
earthenware bowl, stirred the homemade onion dip and turned around
with a faltering smile. "I owe you a huge apology. I had no right
to speak to you like that. I shouldn't have taken out my
frustration on you. This whole thing has just been emotional for
me."

"I don't blame you," Kris said. "I would've
reacted the same way. I never meant for my editors to find out. Not
unless we solved the case."

"It worked out fine, thanks to you, I'm sure.
I told your editor how sensitive you've been. I don't know if it
made a difference, but I tried."

"I appreciate that."

Cheryl patted her shoulder. "Let's put this
behind us. By the way, I'm happy for you and Eric. He told us
you're dating."

"I, uh, didn't know how you'd feel about
that."

"I think it's great. I had a hunch you two
might get together. I've seen the way he looks at you."

"I'm glad you approve. That means a lot to
me. Thanks for asking me over and for going to all this trouble."
Kris reached into the potato chip bowl, hungry for the first time
all day. A pleasant aroma emanated from the oven, making her
stomach rumble. Solving one problem had restarted her juices.

Eric popped his head into the room.
"Everything okay in here?"

His mother opened the oven and withdrew a
cookie sheet of sausages and gooey cheese in fluted pastry shells.
"We're fine. You two, sit down and relax. Ask your grandmother to
come help me."

They returned to the living room and sent
Irene into the kitchen. Eric stroked Kris's hand on the couch. She
slid closer to him. Her skin tingled, goosebumps prickling from the
heat of his glance and the intense memories it invoked.

Michael closed the sports section of the
Fremont Daily News
. "I didn't want to ask this around Irene,
but now that you've got your story, are you continuing with the
investigation?"

Kris reeled herself back into the moment. "Of
course."

"I'm sure she'd understand if the paper
doesn't want to devote more resources."

"I've been mostly working on my own time,
anyway."

"We've come pretty far, Dad," Eric said. "We
can't stop now."

"Just wanted to make sure you were still up
for theories. I was thinking about Yvonne Peyton. Her father was
influential in town. Her brother still is. This is a stretch, but
what if she killed Diana? What if she was jealous over Jared?"

Kris stared at Michael Soares over the coffee
table, his casual words triggering an avalanche in her mind.

"Dad, that's nuts. Are you serious?"

"That might not be such a crazy idea," Kris
said.

"What do you mean?" Eric asked. "You think
it's possible, too?"

"Don't forget, Yvonne had a crush on Alex
Thaddeus, but Diana was one of his favorites."
Or conquests
,
but Kris didn't dare say it out loud. "Maybe Yvonne resented that.
She also envied the recognition Diana got for her art, at least
according to Raquel. When Diana started dating Jared, it could have
been the last straw. And there was no sexual assault, so the killer
could've been a woman."

It sounded farfetched, but wasn't that what
had happened to the poor kid stabbed at a party? His murderer had
been jealous over a girl. If the guy hadn't snapped in front of a
dozen witnesses, maybe he would've gotten away with it, too.
Especially if his father had served on the Police Station Building
Committee.

"It's an avenue no one considered, that's
all," Michael said.

"Yeah, but listen to this," Eric said.
"Everyone was talking about the article in the teachers' lounge
today. One of the longtime teachers told me she was taking a
continuing education class at Fremont State the night Diana
disappeared. It shook her up because she'd been close to where the
killer dumped the body."

He glanced over his shoulder toward the
kitchen, then back at his father and Kris. "I don't want Gram to
overhear this. Alex Thaddeus was in the class, too. He and Diana
could have crossed paths that night."

Chapter 18

25 Years Ago Today

Reynolds Appliance Store in the old Westwood
Plaza raffles off 10 television sets and a state-of-the-art stereo
system in a special promotion.

J
acqueline sat across
the conference table from Kris, spine stiff, as if it had a ramrod
shoved up it. Even her ponytail seemed rigid. "You’re fired," she
said flatly.

Air whooshed out of Kris’s lungs. She’d
half-expected the news, but it still came as a shock. How would she
explain this to her family? To Diana’s family? Breathing hard, she
moistened her lips. "But the story was misleading. I put myself on
the line because I believe in the truth. That shows
dedication."

"It shows blatant lack of respect for
authority," Jacqueline said. "But I'm not firing you because of the
story. Dex made that decision. I'm firing you because this
relationship isn't working out. You were hired on a three-month
probation. I don't see the point of postponing the inevitable."

A burst of white hot anger flared in Kris's
mind. "The inevitable? I've gone above and beyond my job
responsibilities. You've had your own personal vendetta from the
start. This paper had better pay me Unemployment."

Jacqueline smiled. "Good luck. Dex, at least,
will have a nice severance package. He'll officially announce his
'retirement' tomorrow. Walter Barnes is informing him as we
speak."

Kris bolted up from her chair and pressed her
hands against the conference table. "Dex Wagner is the eyes and
ears of this paper. You might know how to play up a big headline,
but you'll never win the trust of this community like Dex did."

Jacqueline's smile faded. Her shoulders
curved, the movement barely perceptible. "You don't know what
you're talking about."

"You're nothing without your staff. If you
treat them like pond scum, you're going to lose talented people.
You've just lost a damn good editor and a damn good reporter. Do
you think your readers are blind? They'll notice how you're taking
this newspaper downhill."

Heart pounding, Kris paused at the door.
"Good luck to you, Jacqueline. You'll need it."

Kris strode out of the conference room and
veered into the bathroom. She would not cry. Telling off Jacqueline
had jolted her adrenaline, but it ebbed as Kris rubbed her flaming
cheeks with a paper towel.

She'd loved journalism. Listening to police
reports on the scanner. Knowing front page stories before the
public. Seeing her byline. Working late night hours. What would she
do now? And poor Dex. If she hadn't accepted his help, he could
have hung in longer.

Once again, Kris had let down a friend. She'd
been doomed to fail someone. If it hadn't been Dex, it would've
been Irene. Maybe she was a messenger of destruction, sent to wreck
people's lives.

Her co-workers watched and murmured as she
emptied her desk drawers of personal belongings. Dex trudged up to
her.

"Sorry you were pulled into the middle of
this," he said in a strange voice, an old, tired voice that didn't
sound like Dex. "I tried to persuade Barnes how valuable you are,
but my opinion doesn't mean much anymore. I've been here fifty
years. Used to follow reporters around like they were movie stars.
This isn't the same paper."

"I'm sorry, Dex," Kris said. "It isn't fair.
They had their own agendas. You're a much better editor than
Jacqueline."

He looked at her through blue eyes that had
lost their glimmer. "It's not me I'm worried about, Kid. I've been
in this business too many years, but you're just starting out. I
don't want you getting discouraged. You need to hit the pavement
and apply to as many newspapers as you can. Freelance if you can't
find a full-time job. Do something else to make ends meet."

"What about you?"

"My wife and I will drive down to Montana,
visit Sadie and the grandkids. They've been after me to retire. Now
I'll see what the hype is about."

His casual tone didn't fool her. Kris
followed Dex's gaze to his desk and a pang washed over her. Red
circles brightened the front page of
The Greater Remington
Mirror
.