I've Got My Eyes on You Read online

  Reynolds knelt next to the body and began taking photographs. She slid the dress Kerry was wearing up to her neck to check for stab or other wounds and then examined her legs. Finding no injuries, she rolled the body over and continued to snap pictures. Moving Kerry’s hair to the side, she photographed the deep gash at the base of her skull.

  7

  When Steve and Aline came back downstairs after changing their clothes, they joined Fran in the family room, which was still littered with plastic glasses and soiled paper plates. Officer Weld had instructed them not to clean up anything until the Prosecutor’s Office arrived and had had an opportunity to examine both the outside property and the inside of the home.

  Steve’s arm was around Fran. They were sitting together motionless on the couch. Then Fran’s voice began to shake and she exploded into high-pitched sobs.

  They huddled together in mutual shock and overwhelming grief. “How could she have fallen into the pool fully dressed?” Fran wailed.

  Steve said, “We know she was out on the patio cleaning up. Maybe she leaned over to get something that had fallen in the pool and then she fell. It was probably late and she may have been tired.” He did not share with Fran or Aline his private fear that Kerry might have had way too much to drink.

  Quietly tearful, Aline was thinking. Poor Kerry, poor baby. She had been in frequent contact with Kerry in the three years she had been away. She could not fathom that she would never see or hear from her again. She couldn’t believe that yet again she was forced to deal with the sudden death of someone she loved.

  Fran was quietly sobbing now.

  There was a chiming from the doorbell, then the unlocked front door was pushed open. It was Monsignor Del Prete, “Father Frank” as he preferred to be called. The sixty-six-year-old pastor of St. Gabriel’s, their local parish, came in. Obviously someone had phoned him, because he said at once, “Fran, Steve, Aline, I am so terribly sorry.” As they stood up, he clasped each of their hands in his and then pulled up a chair close to them. He said quietly, “I would like to say a prayer for Kerry.” He began, “Dear Lord, in this time of great sorrow . . .”

  When he’d finished it, Fran burst out, “How could God do this to us?”

  Father Frank took off his glasses, removed a smooth cloth from his pocket and began to clean them as he spoke. “Fran, that is a question everyone asks after a tragedy. How can our all-loving and merciful God fail to protect us and those we love at the time when we most need him? I’ll be honest with you. It’s a question I struggle with myself.

  “The best answer I’ve heard came in a sermon given by an elderly priest many years ago. He was traveling in the Middle East and was overwhelmed by the majesty of the Persian rugs he saw. Those gorgeous creations so skillfully woven into such beautiful designs. One day he was in a shop where those rugs were on display. He walked behind one that was hanging on hooks from the ceiling. Looking at it from behind, he was shocked to behold a confusing array of threads that led nowhere. Such beauty on one side, total disharmony on the other, but both part of the same plan. It was then that the message became clear to him. In this life we see only the back side of the rug. We don’t know how or why our unspeakable hardships are part of a beautiful design. That is why having faith is so important.”

  The silence that followed was broken by a knock on the back door. As Steve got up, there was the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. A man in his early thirties, with sandy hair and piercing brown eyes stood before them. He introduced himself by saying, “My name is Detective Mike Wilson from the Bergen County Prosecutor’s Office. I am so sorry for your loss. Would it be okay if I asked you a few questions? We need basic background information.”

  Father Frank got up and offered to stop back later.

  Fran and Steve, speaking almost in unison, asked him to stay. He nodded and sat down again.

  “What is your daughter’s age?” the detective asked.

  It was Aline who answered. “She was eighteen in January. She just graduated from high school.”

  The questions were gentle and easy to answer. Steve and Fran confirmed they were Kerry’s parents and that Aline was her older sister.

  “When was the last time you were in touch with your daughter in any way—phone, text, email?”

  They agreed it was about five o’clock the previous evening. Steve explained that they had stayed overnight with friends in Massachusetts and gotten up early this morning to pick up Aline at Kennedy Airport. She was coming back from London.

  “Are you aware that a party was being held in your home last evening?”

  Of course, the answer was no.

  “There is evidence that liquor was served at the party. Did your daughter drink alcohol or use drugs?”

  Fran’s no was indignant. “She certainly did not use drugs,” Steve said. “I’m sure she had an occasional beer or glass of wine with her friends.”

  “We want to talk to her close friends. Can you give me their names?”

  “Most of her close friends were on the high school lacrosse team,” Steve said. “The roster is in the kitchen. I can get it for you.” Then he added, “Is there any particular reason you want to speak to them?”

  “Yes, there is. As far as we know, there were a lot of people in your home last night. We want to find out who they were and what went on at the party. Your daughter has a severe injury to the back of her head. We need to know what caused it.”

  “Could she have fallen and hit her head?”

  “That is a possibility. It is also possible that Kerry was struck with an object. We’ll know more after we receive the medical examiner’s report.”

  Someone deliberately hit her over the head, Aline thought. They think she was murdered.

  “There was a golf club on one of the chairs by the pool. There is evidence that it may have been used as a weapon.”

  It was Steve who asked quietly, “What are you trying to tell us?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Dowling,” Wilson began, “we’ll know more after we receive the results of the medical examination, but I am sorry to tell you we are treating your daughter’s death as suspicious and will investigate it accordingly.”

  Still trying to absorb what she was hearing, Aline said, “I can’t believe any of the kids she invited here last night would want to hurt her.”

  “I understand you feeling that way,” Wilson said empathetically, “but we have to check out everything.”

  He paused. “Another question. Did she have a boyfriend, someone special?”

  Fran spat out the answer. “Yes, she did. His name is Alan Crowley. He was very possessive of Kerry and he has a terrible temper. If anyone hurt my child, I’m sure he was the one.”

  Mike Wilson did not let his expression change. “Could I see that list now? I also want to know who were her closest friends.”

  “I can help you with that,” Steve said quietly.

  “And one more thing. We did not find a cell phone in your daughter’s clothing. Do you know where it is, and would it be okay if we take it?”

  “Of course. It’s on the dining room table,” Fran said.

  “I have a consent form in my car. I’ll ask you to sign it to allow me to take and examine the phone.”

  “The unlock code is 0112,” Aline said as her eyes filled with tears. “The month of her birthday and then of mine.”

  Aline pulled out her phone and began tapping on it. “Detective Wilson, yesterday morning I received a text from Kerry: I have something VERY IMPORTANT to talk to you about when you get home!!!”

  Wilson leaned forward. “Do you have any idea what she was referring to?”

  “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Kerry could be a little dramatic. I just assumed it was boyfriend or college related.”

  “Aline, I might have to speak to you again as the investigation goes forward. Will you be returning to London?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m home for good. In fact I’m about to start a new job as
a guidance counselor at Saddle River High School.”

  Mike paused, then said gently to all of them, “I know how awful this is for you. I’m going to ask you to help me in a very important way. Don’t share information with anyone about the wound on Kerry’s head or our concern about the golf club. As we question others in the coming days and weeks, it is critical that as few details as possible be made public.”

  The Dowlings and Father Frank all nodded in agreement.

  “I will talk to you again before I leave today. And please don’t clean up anything until the investigators go through it and we determine if we need to take anything with us.”

  8

  After returning to the house to have the consent form signed for Kerry’s cell phone and laptop, Detective Wilson spoke to the officers who were conducting a search of the Dowling home and property. From there, in his car, he tapped in the cell phone’s unlock code and hit the text messages icon. The first four were brief notes from girls thanking Kerry for the good time they had at the party. One said she hoped Kerry would be able to patch things up with Alan, while another advised her to dump “that jerk” and hoped Kerry was okay after the fight. Mike jotted down the names of the four girls as party attendees he would interview.

  He then clicked on the text message trail from “Alan.” He skipped to the bottom of the chain so he could read the messages in the order they were sent.

  Alan at 10:30: Hope you and Chris are enjoying yourselves. I’m at Nellie’s. Felt like decking him. And you!

  Kerry at 10:35: Thanks for ruining my party. You made an ASS of yourself. You don’t own me. I’ll talk to whoever I want. Do me a favor. Get out of my life.

  Alan at 11:03: Sorry I lost it. I wanna see you now. Bad enough Chris will be after you when you’re both at BC. You didn’t have to start tonite. Mike wondered if “BC” meant “Boston College.”

  Kerry at 11:10: Don’t come over. Tired! Will finish cleaning backyard then going to sleep. Talk tomorrow.

  This is going to be a ground ball, Mike thought, using detective parlance for a case that would be easily solved. Jealous boyfriend. She’s ready to move on. He isn’t. At least one of her girlfriends telling her to end it.

  Mike put down the phone. Using his dashboard computer, he accessed the Department of Motor Vehicles records. He typed in “Alan Crowley, Saddle River.” A moment later Crowley’s driver’s license filled the screen.

  His next call was to the captain in charge of the homicide unit at the Prosecutor’s Office. He gave a summary of what he had found at the Dowling home and Kerry’s altercation with her boyfriend at the party. “Ordinarily, I’d want to talk to the kids who were at the party before interviewing the boyfriend, but I’m worried that will give him a chance to lawyer up. He lives here in Saddle River. I’m five minutes away. My gut tells me I should go have a chat with him right now and lock him into a statement.”

  “You’re sure he’s not a minor?” the captain asked.

  “His driver’s license says he turned eighteen last month.”

  There was a pause. Mike knew that he should not interrupt his boss when he was thinking. Mike also knew that although Crowley was legally an adult, judges tended to give defendants latitude if they had only just turned eighteen.

  “Okay, Mike. Call me after you talk to him.”

  The Crowley home was on heavily treed Twin Oaks Road. It was a very large, white, shingled house with dark green shutters. Very impressive, Mike thought. From what he could see of the beautifully landscaped front and side yards, it was easily more than two acres. Big bucks here, he decided. A riding mower was parked on the edge of the driveway.

  Mike rang the doorbell. There was no immediate answer. He waited for a full minute before he rang it again.

  • • •

  Alan Crowley had been mowing the lawn and was hot. He had gone into the house for a bottle of water. He glanced at the cell phone he had left on the kitchen table and saw there were a number of voicemail messages, missed calls and texts. Carrying his phone as he walked to the door, he only needed to read one text before the reality of the nightmare that was enveloping him sunk in.

  The doorbell rang again. Kerry was dead. The rumor is she was murdered. The cops are talking to the neighbors and asking if they knew the names of the kids who had been at the party last night. They’re bound to find out he and Kerry had a fight.

  Terrified, he went to the door and opened it.

  The man at the door introduced himself while pointing to the badge on a chain around his neck. “I’m Detective Mike Wilson, Bergen County Prosecutor’s Office,” he said, his tone friendly. “Are you Alan Crowley?”

  “Yes.”

  From the expression on the young man’s face, Wilson was sure that he had heard that Kerry was dead.

  “Are you aware of what happened to Kerry Dowling?” he asked.

  “You mean that Kerry is dead?”

  “Yes. . . .”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m going to find out what happened to Kerry. I’m starting by talking to everyone who was at the party last night. Would it be okay if we chat for a little while?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Do you want to come in?”

  “Alan, let’s take a ride down to my office in Hackensack. We can talk there with no interruptions. You don’t have to go, but it will make things a lot easier. Come on. I’ll drive. Oh, Alan, before we go, do you remember what you were wearing at the party last night?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Just procedure.”

  Alan thought for a moment. I’m better off cooperating than looking defensive. I’ve got nothing to worry about. “I had on a Princeton T-shirt, shorts and sandals.”

  “Where are they?”

  “They’re in my room.”

  “Would you mind putting them in a bag and letting me keep them for a few days? Routine procedure. You don’t have to, but we would really appreciate your cooperation.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Alan said reluctantly.

  “I’ll go with you,” Mike said amicably.

  Shorts, a T-shirt and a pair of underwear were the items at the top of the hamper. Alan put them in a small gym bag. He grabbed his sandals and put them in as well. Holding his cell phone in one hand and the gym bag in the other, he woodenly followed the detective out to his car.

  • • •

  Mike Wilson had no intention of interrogating Alan before they got to his office at the courthouse. He knew that the more he could put him at ease, the more Alan would say once the camera was recording.

  “When I was at the Dowling property, Alan, I noticed a putting green. The Dowlings must really be into golf. Do you play?”

  “I’ve gone to driving ranges and played a few rounds. I play baseball in the spring and summer so I really don’t have much time for golf.”

  “When you were at Kerry’s party, was anybody using the putting green?”

  “I saw some guys fooling around on it last night. But I didn’t use it.”

  “I noticed you wore a Princeton shirt to the party. Any significance in that?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Alan said while staring out the car window. “The day I found out I was accepted, my mother went on the school website and bought Princeton logo stuff for me and tennis clothes for her and my father. They were really excited about my getting in.”

  “That’s a great accomplishment. Your parents and you should be very proud. Are you looking forward to college?”

  “I’m looking forward to being on my own, Princeton or wherever.”

  Their conversation was interrupted when Mike’s phone rang. After he answered, a voice came through the speaker. “Mike, we have a ninety-three-year-old male who was found dead in his Fort Lee apartment by a neighbor. No sign of forced entry.”

  Mike hit a button on his cell phone that took the call off speaker. He put the phone to his ear and listened.

  Alan welcomed the interruption. He needed time to think. In his mind he
meticulously reviewed every minute of his activities.

  The fight with Kerry at the party was because Chris was hanging around her saying that he’d help her get settled in at Boston College. The Felt like decking you text he had sent her.

  I went to Nellie’s because I knew the guys would be there, he thought. Then I started to sober up. I wanted to make up, so I’ll say I wanted to help her clean up. Kerry texted back that she was too tired to clean up. And I went back to her house anyhow.

  His blood froze at the thought.

  They think I killed Kerry. The detective will try to get me to admit it. His mind scurried around for answers. He came up with only one. The guys at Nellie’s have to cover for me, Alan thought. If they’ll say I was with them until 11:45, I’ll be okay. I got home around midnight. Mom and Dad were home, and Mom yelled good night to me from their room. I drove fast. I made it home in less than ten minutes. I wouldn’t have had time to go to Kerry’s on the other side of town and get home that fast.

  I’ll tell the guys to say I was with them until they left Nellie’s. They’ll do it for me. That reassurance calmed Alan. He fought to stay calm as he was led into an interrogation room. The first questions were easy ones. How long had he and Kerry been friends?

  “Kerry and I have been together for a year, I guess. Oh, sure, we have arguments. Sometimes Kerry starts them. She likes me to be jealous.”

  “Did you have an argument at the party?”

  “Yeah, but it was really nothing. This guy Chris has been trying to get between us. He was all over Kerry at the party.”

  Wilson said, “I’ll bet that got you really mad.”

  “It did at first, but I got over it. It’s happened before, but we always end up okay. Like I said, Kerry likes to make me jealous.”

  As he answered the questions Wilson was asking, Alan thought, This isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

  “Alan, many people get angry when they’re jealous. Do you?”