spoke on the phone.”
“Yeah, right, no prob,” she said, reflexively swiping a gum eraser over the errant line. “It’s cool. Just me, lost in my own little world. Big surprise.” She uncrossed her legs and hopped down off the stone. “Becky’s fine, by the way.”
“As I said on the phone, we have a few questions about Marie Chang.”
“Yeah, right, Ree,” Becky said. “You know, at first, I thought she flaked out on school.”
“Was she under pressure?”
“From school? I don’t know. Maybe. She was hyper-focused on her grades. Said a degree wasn’t enough anymore in this crappy economy. You had to stand out from the crowd. Make a name for yourself—a brand. She wanted people to ‘know the Marie Chang brand.’ She didn’t even know what that was yet, not really, but it’s all she talked about. She always said, ‘I need to excel, Becky. Mediocrity is not an option.’”
“What about relationships?” Nick asked.
“Not really,” Becky said. “She’d hang out in group settings, but never had time—never made time to date. She’d go on her long runs. Said it cleared her head.”
“You said, at first you thought she left school…?”
“For, like, a microsecond,” Becky said. “Thought maybe she dropped everything and went back home to Seattle. But the more I thought about it—I mean, who goes out for a run and leaves everything behind? Her money, her credit cards. I mean, willingly?”
“Did her running follow a pattern?” Nick asked.
“Daily,” Becky said, nodding. “But the times varied. Sometimes she’d run when she needed a break. Other times, she’d wait until after she’d finished everything.”
“Did she know a man named Luis Posada?” Hank asked.
“Luis—? No, not that I recall. Wait—what happened to Ree? You think she ran off with this Luis guy?”
Nick looked at the children milling around and motioned her away from the fountain, closer to the row of trees backing it.
“I’m sorry, Becky,” Nick began. “Marie’s remains were found yesterday, a few miles from here.”
“Oh—oh, God!” The sketchpad slipped out of Becky’s hands, along with her pencil and eraser. She started to sit down, as if she still stood beside one of the fountain stones, and Nick caught her arm above her elbow to support her. “I thought maybe something… she was missing but…” She wiped at tears in the corners of her eyes. “How? An accident—or… it wasn’t—was it?”
“We believe somebody murdered her,” Hank said, as gently as possible.
“But—Marie? Why?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“How—how was she—?”
“We’re not at liberty to discuss the details of the case,” Nick said.
From what Captain Renard had told them, and what little of the case Nick had caught on the news, the press knew skeletal remains had been found at Claremont Park, but neither the condition of the bones nor the identities of the victims had been released. Nick had called Marie’s parents before seeking the meeting with Rebecca, while Hank had called Posada’s wife.
“Did she suffer—much? Can you tell me that?”
Hank shook his head sympathetically. “We don’t know.”
“This Luis guy—? Did he—is he responsible?”
“No,” Nick said quickly. “He’s not a suspect.”
“Did Marie have any enemies?” Hank asked to change the topic. “Rivals? Maybe competing for the same awards or something?”
“I don’t think so,” Becky said. “Nobody she ever mentioned. She wasn’t a social butterfly or anything, never attended any parties. She called those kinds of things distractions.”
Becky looked down, attempting to regain her composure. She stared down at her sketch pad and pencil before crouching to pick them up, almost absent-mindedly.
“Ree was quiet and focused. Never caused any problems. Not really. She might ask me to turn down my music when she was studying, but that’s… This is so awful, you know.” She pressed
“Yeah, right, no prob,” she said, reflexively swiping a gum eraser over the errant line. “It’s cool. Just me, lost in my own little world. Big surprise.” She uncrossed her legs and hopped down off the stone. “Becky’s fine, by the way.”
“As I said on the phone, we have a few questions about Marie Chang.”
“Yeah, right, Ree,” Becky said. “You know, at first, I thought she flaked out on school.”
“Was she under pressure?”
“From school? I don’t know. Maybe. She was hyper-focused on her grades. Said a degree wasn’t enough anymore in this crappy economy. You had to stand out from the crowd. Make a name for yourself—a brand. She wanted people to ‘know the Marie Chang brand.’ She didn’t even know what that was yet, not really, but it’s all she talked about. She always said, ‘I need to excel, Becky. Mediocrity is not an option.’”
“What about relationships?” Nick asked.
“Not really,” Becky said. “She’d hang out in group settings, but never had time—never made time to date. She’d go on her long runs. Said it cleared her head.”
“You said, at first you thought she left school…?”
“For, like, a microsecond,” Becky said. “Thought maybe she dropped everything and went back home to Seattle. But the more I thought about it—I mean, who goes out for a run and leaves everything behind? Her money, her credit cards. I mean, willingly?”
“Did her running follow a pattern?” Nick asked.
“Daily,” Becky said, nodding. “But the times varied. Sometimes she’d run when she needed a break. Other times, she’d wait until after she’d finished everything.”
“Did she know a man named Luis Posada?” Hank asked.
“Luis—? No, not that I recall. Wait—what happened to Ree? You think she ran off with this Luis guy?”
Nick looked at the children milling around and motioned her away from the fountain, closer to the row of trees backing it.
“I’m sorry, Becky,” Nick began. “Marie’s remains were found yesterday, a few miles from here.”
“Oh—oh, God!” The sketchpad slipped out of Becky’s hands, along with her pencil and eraser. She started to sit down, as if she still stood beside one of the fountain stones, and Nick caught her arm above her elbow to support her. “I thought maybe something… she was missing but…” She wiped at tears in the corners of her eyes. “How? An accident—or… it wasn’t—was it?”
“We believe somebody murdered her,” Hank said, as gently as possible.
“But—Marie? Why?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“How—how was she—?”
“We’re not at liberty to discuss the details of the case,” Nick said.
From what Captain Renard had told them, and what little of the case Nick had caught on the news, the press knew skeletal remains had been found at Claremont Park, but neither the condition of the bones nor the identities of the victims had been released. Nick had called Marie’s parents before seeking the meeting with Rebecca, while Hank had called Posada’s wife.
“Did she suffer—much? Can you tell me that?”
Hank shook his head sympathetically. “We don’t know.”
“This Luis guy—? Did he—is he responsible?”
“No,” Nick said quickly. “He’s not a suspect.”
“Did Marie have any enemies?” Hank asked to change the topic. “Rivals? Maybe competing for the same awards or something?”
“I don’t think so,” Becky said. “Nobody she ever mentioned. She wasn’t a social butterfly or anything, never attended any parties. She called those kinds of things distractions.”
Becky looked down, attempting to regain her composure. She stared down at her sketch pad and pencil before crouching to pick them up, almost absent-mindedly.
“Ree was quiet and focused. Never caused any problems. Not really. She might ask me to turn down my music when she was studying, but that’s… This is so awful, you know.” She pressed
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