Free Now That She's Gone by Gregg Olsen Page B

Kendall asked anyway.
    Brit poured a packet of blue sweetener into her cup and swirled its contents with a spoon.
    â€œSmall town,” she said, almost with a sigh. “Everyone’s been talking about it. I know your sheriff had reservations about participating, but I convinced him. It isn’t like we have anything to lose. It’s been four years, you know.”
    Kendall sipped the coffee. It was a very dark roast, the kind she wanted and needed after a night of tossing and turning over what she’d read about Spirit Hunters.
    â€œMrs. Frazier, do you know anything about these producers, their tactics?”
    Brit Frazier pulled a loose strand of her red hair and rested it on her shoulder. Her expression was hard to read and she didn’t jump to answer right away.
    â€œDo you?” Kendall asked.
    â€œI heard you the first time, Detective. I have read the posts by those who are less than happy with the results of the show. There are an equal number if not more who feel that their circumstances shifted into something more bearable after Spirit Hunters came to town.”
    â€œMore bearable? How do you mean?”
    Brit drank more coffee. “You couldn’t possibly understand and that’s fine. I remember when I was counseling kids at South and telling them that I understood, I was lying. I wanted to understand. I said so. But you can’t. You can’t ever know how another person feels when the unthinkable occurs.”
    Kendall nodded. Brit didn’t know all that much about her, but she was right about that. She’d interviewed countless people who’d undergone tragedy of immense magnitude and she held their hands, cried with them, told them that everything would be all right. That they’d survive.
    â€œI’m not saying you don’t empathize with me and my husband. I know you do, but let’s face it. We’re stuck in a limbo from which we cannot escape. If Spirit Hunters does anything with Pandora and Wyatt’s help, then maybe we’re a step closer to getting a little freedom from what’s holding us down.”
    â€œYou mean closure?” Kendall asked.
    Brit shook her head. “No such thing. We both know that. But one thing I know and you don’t is that every night I go to bed and wonder what’s become of Katy. I wake up with the same thought. I’m stuck in a time warp. It’s ruining my relationship with my husband and Katy’s sister.”
    A teen with blue and orange hair came over to the table.
    â€œMs. Frazier, I finished cleaning the kitchen. Can I work in Katy’s Place for a while?”
    â€œGo ahead, Melissa. And thanks for asking,” she said.
    â€œKaty’s Place?”
    Brit indicated the corner with the big flat screen and the teen artwork.
    â€œMy daughter was good at just about everything. Classes. Tennis. She was also quite an artist. We put in the creative space for teens in her memory.”
    â€œThat’s lovely,” Kendall said. “You said her memory. So you think—”
    Kendall’s words trailed off a little and Brit cut in.
    â€œYes, she’s dead.”
    â€œBut there isn’t any evidence.”
    â€œMy daughter would never have left us. She was happy. She was well-adjusted. An achiever.”
    â€œMaybe she felt pressure to be the best,” Kendall said, echoing a note Nick Mayberry had made in the file.
    â€œI’ve heard that theory before, Detective. And I don’t buy it. That kind of theory comes from someone on the outside looking in. Katy was never pressured to be the best. She wanted to be the best because it made her happy. Not because Roger and I wanted it. We’re not like that. In fact, I find beauty in all kinds of imperfection. Imperfection is not a weakness.”
    â€œBut this show . . . you know it’s fake, don’t you?”
    Brit shrugged. Her eyes lingered on Melissa before she looked back at