Page 3 of Shadow of Justice
“What’s your name?” I asked.
She shot a frightened look at Sam, then back at me. “Hayden. Hayden Simmons.”
“Okay, Hayden,” Sam said. “Are you hurt? Are you … safe?”
Hayden looked like she was about to be sick. Sweat beaded her brow. The reddish tone to her skin turned positively purple.
“I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I didn’t want … I can’t … there isn’t …”
“Honey,” I said. “What is it? Did somebody hurt you?”
She shook her head almost violently. “No. No. I’m okay. It’s not me. It’s … please. I don’t even … It’s … I have to … God. I have to report a crime.”
Sam and I shared a look. For an instant, I felt certain of what Hayden Simmons would say next. Someone had hurt her. Badly. But the girl finally settled. She went still. She took a breath and turned to Sam. Her voice was low enough that no one but Sam and I could hear it. But she spoke clearly.
“I need to report a crime. I need to tell you. Ihaveto tell you. It’s my father. He … my father killed someone. He’s a murderer. I brought proof.”
2
The girl shivered so badly I worried she might fall out of her chair. Sam set her up in one of the interview rooms on the first floor of the Public Safety Building. She asked for water but had left it untouched in front of her.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. “Would you like me to call someone to be with you? A friend? Do you have family?”
At the mention of the word family, her head snapped up. “No. They won’t help me. You don’t understand.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “You can take all the time you need. Whatever you want to talk about, we’re here to listen, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. She reached for her water bottle but rather than drinking it, she clutched it to her chest.
“Can you tell me your name again?” Sam asked.
“Hayden,” she said. “H-A-Y-D-E-N. Simmons.”
“Hayden,” Sam asked. “Where do you live?”
She cleared her throat. “1492 Gulliver Lane. That’s over in Hemingway Estates. The subdivision off Route 7 near Bear Lake.”
“I know right where that is,” Sam said, his voice calm, soothing. The girl was like a scared kitten. We both felt any sudden movement might startle her and have her diving under the table. She couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. The leather satchel she carried had something big and bulky inside of it. She dropped it to the ground at her feet.
“Hayden,” I said. “Did someone hurt you? Do you feel safe in your home?”
“No. What? I mean, yes. Nobody hurt me. Nobody’s trying to hurt me. This isn’t about me.”
“Then what’s it about, honey?” Sam said. “You said you think your dad killed someone. Did I hear that right?”
Hayden put her water bottle down and laid both hands flat on the table. “Yes,” she said.
“Who?” Sam asked.
“How long have you been here?” she asked Sam. “I mean, with the Sheriff’s Department?”
“A long time,” he said. “I was a detective for a number of years before they elected me sheriff. I’ve been with the department eighteen years.”
“Eighteen,” she repeated. “Then you wouldn’t have known her. She died before I was born. I just turned nineteen.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “Maybe you should start from the beginning.”
Hayden nodded. “Right. My aunt was Ellie Luke.” She said it as if the name should mean something to us. Hayden looked from me to Sam, then realized we were both at a loss.
