Officer Taylor picked up a snow globe off his desk. He was about to put it in his box, then paused, and looked at it in a way that said he hadn't thought about in years. He gave it a shake, and watched the snow swirl. Lara wondered what he saw in there. It couldn't have been anything good.

“I can't believe you're retiring,” said Lara, leaning on the wall of his cubicle. “I thought you were in this for the long haul.”

The man looked at Lara under greying eyebrows, then put the snow globe away. “It hasn't been long, but it's been full. A damn full career,” he said wearily.

Taylor was the one who was called to the cabin to investigate, that day. That would certainly have been more bloodshed than the typical Sunnycrest police officer saw in a full career, no question. Lara was sure the sight of those mutilated, snow-frosted teens would be with him forever. She knew she'd carry them with her.

He pulled down some sticky-tacked pictures of his family next. “Between finding that missing girl in that tiger pit in McGuff's pass, and now this...it's been an eventful year. I've seen shit I ain't ever wanted to see,” he said. He sighed. One by one, he flicked the photos in the box. “Things are just getting too damn exciting in this town for my taste, Lara.”

“That's for sure,” she replied honestly.

“Thanks for taking over this case for me,” said Taylor. “For an open and shut deal there sure are a lot of details.”

“Yeah, well, with a dozen bodies that's how it is,” said Lara. “Don't mention it. Happy to do it.”

He flicked the last photo in and gave Lara a sympathetic glance before opening his briefcase, then his top desk drawer. “I'm sure this kinda thing hits close to home for you,” said Taylor. He began making his final transfers from desk to case. “With the kid and all.”

Lara's throat suddenly felt a little tight. She looked away. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“How's Caitlin doing? How's she handling all this?”

Lara watched him move papers, folders, pens and pencils. “She's just happy it's over and she can breathe easy.”

“Aren't we all?” he asked. “Didja hear about Denver Hightower?” Lara shook her head. “Don't spread this around, but I hear the prosecution's taking a deal. Can you believe that shit? We had her dead to rights. We had a confession. She shoulda gotten a half dozen life sentences. Why the fuck would you bargain when you have all that? Go to trial. Send a message.”

Lara shrugged, knowing full well why, and knowing her hand in it. Setting aside the bugs she'd put in Denver's ear, she and the state prosecutor went back a long way. “They always bargain. Just how the system works,” she said. “Besides, the public may be outraged at her, but she's still a teenage girl. Mental issues on top of that. You never know how sympathetic a jury might be. You go to trial, she could flat out walk.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don't tell me I have to like it,” Taylor grumbled. “Say, that reminds me.”

He lifted up the papers he'd just transferred into his briefcase, and pulled a large orange envelope with a metal clasp out of the bottom of the heap. He handed it to Lara. “Just got it back from evidence today.”

Lara opened the envelope and reached inside. She pulled out a hefty stack of paper: photocopies of a book small enough to fit two of its pages to a sheet if it was lying flat. The book's pages were filled with a girl's looping but neat handwriting.

“Paris Bronstein's diary,” Taylor explained. “Just as Brooklyn did in her own diary, Paris goes into considerable detail about the sacrifices, the rest of the volleyball team, the dynamics of their group. As if you needed any more evidence, but this about puts the nail in the coffin on this one. Or coffins.”

“Holy shit,” said Lara, flipping through the pages. “This is amazing.”

Taylor closed his briefcase up again, then picked it up along with his box. “Glad you like it.” He nodded. “Tell Caitlin I said hi. Stay safe out there.”

Lara gave a forced smile. “I will. Enjoy your retirement.”

..............

Sunnycrest Police Department

Audio Transcript: Interrogation and Confession

Voices on tape:

Denver Christine Hightower – Suspect (DH)

Lara Kelsey Boyd – Interrogating Officer (Officer)

Officer: Why don't you start at the beginning?

DH: Uh...okay.

DH: How much of the beginning?

Officer: You mean how far back should you go?

DH: Yeah.

Officer: However far back you need to go to explain what happened...and why it happened.

DH: Oh.

Officer: You could start with how you came to join the volleyball team. You joined at the start of last school year, right?

DH: Yeah. That was my first year at Sunnycrest...Before that, I went to school in Fort Cochran, but, um, when I changed foster parents- My new foster parents lived here in Sunnycrest. Because they didn't have a lot of foster families in Fort Cochran.

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Officer: It's a small town.

DH: Yeah. So I started going to school here.

Officer: Did you like it here?

DH: Well, at first I didn't really make any friends. I'm kind of used to that.

Officer: You've been in a lot of different schools in the past.

DH: Yeah. I was in a lot of special classes and the other kids usually stay away from you when that happens. Plus, they spread rumors. Usually it doesn't take long for them to peg me as a bad kid. Guess it's just how I look. And that's how it was at Sunnycrest.

Officer: Mmm.

DH: But after a couple days London came up and started talking to me. I figured she was there to mess with me or make fun of me. She asked me if I did any sports, and I said no. She said that was a waste because I'm tall and I look athletic, and asked me to join the volleyball team. So I did.

Officer: Were the others also members of the team at that time?

DH: Yeah. I mean, they were all really good. They had all been playing a long time. I was the new one who didn't know what the hell she was doing.

Officer: And they taught you?

DH: Yeah. They were really nice to me...they taught me everything.

Officer: They meant a lot to you, didn't they?

DH: Oh yeah. They were...nobody ever liked me like that. Nobody ever let me be a part of something. They got close to me, and...I mean, they never did it to hurt me or make me feel bad...They just honestly wanted me there...Nothing meant more to me than that, nothing...

Officer: You'd do anything for them, wouldn't you?

DH: Yeah. I would. I did.

Officer: Were they interested in Satan at that time?

DH: No. This was before all that.

Officer: When did that start?

DH: I don't know. Last summer.

Officer: Who initiated it?

DH: What?

Officer: Who started it?

DH: Uh, London, I guess.

Officer: Can you tell me a little about London?

Maureen paused the tape. This was her third time listening, second time reading along as she did. She freshened up her glass of wine, took a sip, then rested her forehead against her wrist as she looked down to reread that last part. The light from her desk lamp illuminated the words and an open folder of crime scene photos, and made dim suggestions at the surroundings of her home office.

On the news, they had called this crime something that defied explanation. Something that seemed impossible, completely unheard of. Listening to Denver's confession, she began to see how something like the killings could come to pass. The volleyball girls had been a nuclear cocktail of dangerous personalities. Sadists, sociopaths, psychopaths, feeding into each other relentlessly. Unbelievably, Denver seemed like the most normal girl of the lot.

Maureen fast forwarded. She didn't need, nor want, to hear the gruesome details of the sacrifices again. Not tonight.

Based on Denver's story, there could be little doubt that she had been expertly sucked in by her teammates. She was made to love them, to cherish their well being above anything else. It was a cult of personality, but the team was the personality. Each other. Some of them were probably partly victims too. Maybe they wouldn't have gone the route they had, had they never met each other. Maybe they each brought their own brand of poison to the group, and once they all had a sip from each bottle they were all equally sick.

Maureen pushed play.

Officer: So you confess you helped in the sacrifices. That's good.

DH: Yeah.

Officer: Then who killed the others?

Maureen perused the crime scene photos as she listened. Five bodies were immediately discovered in the cabin, plus four more in the surrounding woods within the next twenty-four hours. Some of the pictures were...truly grotesque.

According to Denver's confession, which was quickly adopted as the official explanation and timeline of events by investigators, London was the ringleader of the group. London led the others to the cabin under the pretense of sacrificing the boys, but in reality she was planning to sacrifice the whole group, with Brooklyn as an accomplice. Things did not go quite as planned, and in the end it had been just London and Paris. Denver didn't know what happened after that, but police had determined Paris stabbed London in the eye, then London broke her neck before killing herself by slitting her wrists. But was that really possible? Maureen forced herself to take a closer look at the photo of London's body. The knife wound to the eye looked deep. How did that not finish her off?

DH: What?

Officer: Who killed the other volleyball girls and tried to kill you?

DH: Oh. That was...uh...well...

Officer: Was it London?

DH: Huh?

Officer: Did London betray you all? Maybe she thought you'd all make the best sacrifice yet?

DH: ...Well, no...

Officer: Then who was it? It had to be somebody.

DH: ...I guess so, yeah...

Officer: [pause] I need you to be honest with me, Denver. London's gone, you don't need to protect her anymore. Did she do this?

DH: ...Yeah...Yeah. I guess it was her.

Officer: You guess?

DH: [inaudible]

Officer: Did London do it or not?

DH: Yes.

Officer: Alright. [pause] Alright, that's good, Denver. I'll be right back and we can continue. Do you need anything to eat? Anything to drink?

DH: No thanks.

Maureen reread it once, then a second time.

There was something about this part that felt odd to her. The parts where Denver went through each sacrifice, confessed to what happened and how she helped...it made sense. More significantly, she spoke without hesitation. She didn't need to think about her story, mentally straighten things out. It was chilling how calmly and readily she detailed such horrific deeds.

But this part felt odd. Denver had confessed to all the sacrifices so readily, so easily. Why did she stumble when it came to implicating London in the massacre at the cabin? Why did Lara have to feed her London's name?

It would hold up in court. Nobody on the jury would doubt her story. The prosecution might not even play that part. It wasn't relevant to the case, after all, since Denver was only being charged with the sacrifices. She was just one of the victims of London's cabin massacre.

She took her wine glass into her hand, then leaned back in her chair to think. She looked across her home office at darkened shelves of books and a potted fern in the corner.

Did Lara convince Denver to make a false statement? Maybe with the promise of a plea deal or light sentence? If so, why? Sure, obtaining a confession was what an interrogating officer hoped for, but there was plenty of evidence tying Denver to the crimes. It would have been an open and shut case, confession or not. Why would Lara see the need to fabricate details, especially with something that seemingly had nothing to do with the case?

There was only one thing she could think of. Lara wanted a statement on record about the massacre, implicating London. And the only reason she'd want that...would be if she was covering for the real killer.

Were the police involved? Is that what this was? Or someone else?

Maureen took a sip of wine.

And then she wondered, why should she care? She had a prosecution pushing for a deal. There was no doubt Denver was going down for the sacrifices, but she had everything in her hands to get Denver the best possible outcome. As a defense attorney, she should do exactly that and leave it alone.

She looked at the clock. Jesus, already past midnight.

After draining her glass, she stood up, corked the wine bottle, and turned off her desk light. She'd sleep on it...although she suspected that when she woke up, nothing would change. Something about staying the course, following the script which was handed to her, still just wouldn't sit right.