The Bloody Canvas Page 2

  “Good job back there,” Zara said breathlessly.

  Kat and Zara had met earlier in the week in the buffet line. Zara was an aspiring journalist who was just getting started on her career. Whether their meeting was by chance or designed, Kat wasn’t sure. Either way, it had been nice to have someone to pal around with while she was at the conference. “Thanks,” Kat said. She glanced down at her phone, seeing that Van had tried to call a few times. “Listen, I’ve gotta run up to my room. My husband just called.”

  Zara panted, “Sure! I’ll catch up with you later. Meet up for dinner maybe?”

  “That’s fine. Just send me a text.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that! Thanks! Maybe we can talk about your process of finding a story? Like how you found out about the guy that was setting the wildfires, right?”

  Kat paused. She didn’t know if Zara was more of a stalker or just someone who needed to talk. She smiled. “Sure.”

  “You broke that story, right?”

  “I did.”

  “Great. Can we talk about that later? I’d love to pick your brain.”

  Kat glanced down at her phone again, feeling anxious to talk to Van. “Look, I really gotta go. You know, when the editor calls…” Kat started moving before Zara could say anything more. She heard a shout of “I’ll text you later!” as she walked away.

  The chime of the elevator told her it was time to get out. As she put the keycard into the slot in her hotel room, she pushed the redial button on her phone. Van picked up after one ring. “Were you sitting by the phone waiting for me?” Kat asked.

  “Kinda.”

  Kat couldn’t tell if he was flirting or serious. “Are you making a pass at me, sir?”

  “I wish. Except that you are in New York City and I’m in California.” Kat and Van had been married for two years. Their son, Jack — it was really hers from her first husband — was ten.

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s the entire reason for your call.”

  There was silence on the phone for a minute. “It isn’t.”

  Kat sat down on the edge of the bed, the flowered comforter sinking underneath her. “Is everything okay? Jack?”

  “He’s fine. He’s at school. Has a big math test today. He said he wished you were home to study with him.”

  Knowing that she wasn’t around when Jack needed her made her heart ache. Though she knew he was okay, and that Van would take care of him — it was in his Marine training to do so, not to mention that she knew he really loved Jack — she was sad. “I wish I was too, but my mean boss made me come to this conference.” Kat liked to tease Van about his double role as her husband and editor-in-chief of The Hot Sheet, the online newspaper that Van had started when he left the military. The success had been noted by an investment group who bought the paper and moved Kat and Van to California, promoting him to Editor-In-Chief. It was a win-win. She had the flexibility to do the things she wanted to do, but going to the conference hadn’t been her idea. The organizers wanted her to come and speak about her stories and her career. Van thought it was good visibility for the paper. Now she wished she had said no.

  “He’s fine. There’s something else going on though…”

  Kat could immediately hear the darkness in his voice. “What’s wrong?“

  “There’s a story that broke. Thought you might want to have a look.”

  “What happened?” There was a pause. Kat could hear papers shuffling in the background.

  “I’m just starting to see some information on this now. Looks like an art student in Savannah was murdered.”

  “Murders happen every day. Why this one?”

  “It’s not the person that has been murdered that’s the problem. It’s who they think did it that is…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are some initial reports coming out of Savannah that it was a ten-year-old boy that stabbed the art student. She was about twenty. I’m waiting to get the final information on her age. I’ve got a call in.”

  “A kid? Jack’s age?”

  “Yup. I think there’s a story here, Kat.”

  Kat chewed her lip. There were still two days to go at the conference. She was scheduled to speak on three more panels. After that, she wanted to go home. She wanted to hug Van and Jack and play with their dogs, Tyrant, and Woof. She was ready for a normal life again. “So, what are you asking me?”

  “I’m asking you to go to Savannah and figure this out.”

  “Can’t you send someone else? I mean you have a whole stable of journalists.”

  “We don’t have anyone else to send.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Everyone else is out on other stories. I need someone who can do the work, someone who isn’t going to give up if the story takes a turn.”

  Kat got up and walked to the window, looking at the bustling streets of New York City below her. It seemed that no matter the time of day, there were people moving. Cabs filled the road below and a constant stream of people walking congested the sidewalk. Lights from the stores flickered on and off even though it was just approaching evening. The night before, Kat sat up for a few hours, watching the people go by. She had no desire to join them. “You are seriously telling me there’s no one else in your vast stable of journalists that can go? I’m sure this is nothing.”

  There was silence. Kat knew by the silence Van was giving her a moment to think. He wasn’t the kind to snap at her. She was grateful for that. “I’ll do anything for you, Van. I just don’t know how I’m gonna get out of this conference. I’ve still got appearances to make.”

  “They will do without you. Think about it. Send me a text when you decide. Stephanie will get you a flight if you want to go.”

  As Kat ended the call, she started to pace. She really just wanted to go home, to leave the Zara’s of the world at the conference and go back to running with the dogs and working at home. She knew she was out of her comfort zone, something her therapist told her was good for her. She had been counting on going home in a couple of days, but now Van needed her.

  She sat down at the tiny desk the hotel had put in the corner of her room and opened her laptop, searching for information on the murder in Savannah. There were only sketchy details and only from local outlets. No national media had picked up the story yet, though it was early. A picture of the girl that had died, Hailey Park, was on the page header. The name of the child that had been accused of stabbing her hadn’t been released. The first line of the article read, “Fingerprints from a ten-year-old were found on the murder weapon, but the Savannah Police Department hasn’t released the name of the child yet.”

  Kat closed her laptop, her mind wavering. If she said no to Van, she knew he wouldn’t be mad. She’d arrive home probably more disappointed in herself for not taking a chance than in him for asking her to go. She leaned back in her chair, shrugging her shoulders forward, hoping to release the tension in her back. She pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and reached for her phone. “I’ll go,” was all she wrote.

  By the time Kat was packed, Stephanie, Van’s assistant, had texted her flight information for the quick jaunt from New York City to Savannah. She checked the times and realized she needed to get moving. Her flight was scheduled to leave in just over three hours. With New York City traffic, she’d need every bit of it to get to the airport. She checked the room one more time to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind and let the door click closed behind her.

  As she rolled her suitcase through the lobby to the front desk to check out, Zara found her. “Where are you going? I thought we’d have dinner together!”

  “Sorry, duty calls. Hey, have you seen Margaret?”

  Zara, her eyes wide, looked across the lobby for the conference organizer, who was usually flanked by at least two assistants and a pack of people who wanted to get a word with her. “She’s over there.”

  “Any chance you can go and snag her for me while I check out?”

/>   “Yeah, sure.”

  Kat finished her checkout just in time to see Zara pushing her way through the throng and pointing to Kat while talking to Margaret. The throng moved toward Kat as she stepped away from the reservation desk. “Are you leaving us?” Margaret said, her thin lips covered by crinkled red lipstick.

  “Duty calls. I’m so sorry.”

  “You were supposed to speak on how many more panels?” Margaret turned to one of her assistants, who was madly flipping through information.

  “Three,” Kat said, saving the assistant from looking.

  “When we invited you to come, it was for the entire time. Our attendees will be disappointed.”

  Kat frowned. Guilt trips weren’t her thing. Living with Van had broken her of that. “And my editor will be disappointed if I don’t do my job.”

  “You are married to your editor.”

  “Which makes it even worse. Listen, I’m sorry about this. Not my intention. Sometimes stuff happens.”

  “I’m not sure we will be able to extend you an invitation to come next year if you leave so suddenly,” Margaret said, her lips pressed together. Kat noticed her assistants made the same faces as she did.

  “That’s okay. I’m not a big fan of New York City anyway…” Kat walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. As much as she had tried to sound confident, she didn’t feel it. She didn’t like to break the rules. When she made a commitment, she really tried to stick to it. All she could do was to keep moving. Outside of the hotel, the fresh air hit her like an oven. New York City in the summer was miserable. High heat and even higher humidity. She immediately felt sweat start to form on the back of her neck even though it was well after dinnertime. The doorman hailed a cab for her, and she got in, heading for the airport.

  The flight to Savannah took just over an hour. Kat tried to sleep a little on the plane, listening to relaxing music on her headphones, but restless thoughts kept her from drifting off. Why was this story so compelling to Van? She understood that a child committing murder wasn’t ordinary, but she still couldn’t get a read on why he felt she needed to go. She rolled her head from side to side, trying to loosen her neck. She opened the bag of pretzels they had given her, putting a few of the stale pieces in her mouth. She’d find out soon enough.

  The landing into the airport was about as different from New York City as you could get. There was barely an airport in Savannah, only a few gates. What there was of it was done impeccably, serving both Savannah and Hilton Head, South Carolina. It was clean and bright even though it was dark by the time they landed. As Kat walked through the terminal, the wheels on her suitcase clattered over marble floors. She passed posters of well-dressed people golfing and playing tennis, others showing off the historic parts of the city. The people that passed her looked like they could have been in any of the images that she saw hung on the walls. It took just a minute to get outside. As she walked out in the sultry evening air toward the rental car agency, she could smell the ocean.

  Within a few minutes, she was on the road. There would be nothing to see in the dark, so Kat headed the car to the hotel that Stephanie had reserved for her.

  The next morning dawned bright and early, the long southern days streaming light into her room before six in the morning. Kat got up and went for a quick run to get the aches out of her bones. She went back to the hotel, returned the wave from the woman manning the front desk, and went upstairs. After a shower, she sent a text to Van, not wanting to wake him up with the time difference between Georgia and California. “Heading out soon to see what I can find. I’ll call later.”

  As she walked away, heading into the bathroom to dry her hair, her phone chirped. “Miss you. Call me with an update when you get a sec.” Kat smiled. She was surprised Van was up. The time change would have put it nearly in the middle of the night at home.

  After a quick breakfast in the hotel, Kat got into her rental car, a red four-door sedan, and drove into town. The first place she wanted to check was the square where the murder had taken place. She plugged in the address and started to listen to the directions, music playing in the background. The windows of the sedan were down, the ocean breeze rustling its way through the car.

  Savannah was a charming city. Kat could see that after driving for just a few minutes. The city planners must keep a tight rein on development, she thought, driving past a historic railway station that now housed the visitor’s center. She pulled in the parking lot and chose a spot, deciding to take a brief detour before going to Calhoun Square. The heavy wooden door was already open, a few families inside even though it was just after eight o’clock, their bright eyes glistening with vacation excitement. The building had expansive ceilings and rough brick walls. A young man in a red vest approached Kat, “Hi, welcome to Savannah. How can I help you?” he said with a drawl.

  Kat looked past him at racks of brochures of things to do in the city. “I’m not sure. Do you have any historical information? Anything on Calhoun Square?”

  “Certainly, right over here.”

  Kat followed him to a rack that was in the corner of the room, walking carefully over uneven planked floors that she thought were probably original to the station.

  “Here’s a bunch of information on all of the squares in Savannah.”

  Kat frowned, “How many are there?”

  “Roughly twenty-two,” the young man said. “They were originally built to give Georgians a place to gather and sell their goods. There were even some squares that were used to train the militias.”

  “Really?” Kat said, her eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You’ll find a map for a walking tour if you want to take a look at them. You can also take the trolley.”

  Kat furrowed her brow. “How far is Calhoun Square from here?”

  “About a mile, ma’am. Should take you about fifteen to twenty minutes to walk there depending on how fast you move.”

  Kat nodded and said thank you. By the time she headed back outside, the temperature had inched up a few degrees. It was sure to be a hot day. Kat got back in the car, turning on the air conditioning. She looked more closely at the map, unfolding it and draping it across the steering wheel. He was right. The city was dotted with squares. As she studied the map, she saw the Savannah College of Art and Design noted near where she was parked. That would be her first stop, she decided. Kat put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot, turning right and heading down the street. The college was just a few blocks down on the left, according to the map. Kat drove slowly, looking at the small shops that dotted the side of the road, offering everything from coffee to ATV rides. The mix of community and tourist life was interesting. Unlike New York City, where the tourist areas seemed to be cordoned off in certain sections, Savannah had mixed them up within the daily life of the city.

  At the end of the street, Kat turned the sedan to the left and immediately saw the signs for the college on the right side of the road. She pulled off to the side to get her bearings. From the map, it looked like the buildings were dotted over a large area, like most college campuses. She looked up the college on her phone. Tapping the about page, it said that SCAD was housed on what had originally been a large plantation. She put the car in gear. Driving through the campus, she saw a few students scurrying to class, portfolios slung over their shoulders. Others carried things that looked like toolboxes. Maybe for supplies, Kat wondered? Some students walked together chatting and smiling. There were other students who stared straight ahead and moved with purpose toward their next class.

  Kat sighed. Hailey Park had been one of those students. On a telephone pole near the intersection that would take her out of the campus, Kat stopped for a red light. Something caught her eye. It was a poster with flowers on the edge, the words Hailey emblazoned on the bottom of it, a picture in the center. The memorials had started already. Kat shook her head and took a deep breath, her thoughts spiraling. What had happened to Hailey? Why was she a targ
et? Kat pushed the thoughts aside and started toward Calhoun Square.

  The square was about a three-minute drive from campus. The GPS took Kat through side streets and quickly announced her arrival. Kat pulled the sedan off to the side of the road, finding a parking spot in front of a building that was now used for historic candle dipping, according to the sign. She got out of the car and looked left and right. The square wasn’t enormous, not like the squares that were in places like Washington D. C. In fact, it was pretty small, maybe half an acre, with sidewalks that went around the perimeter and cut across the middle in a diagonal pattern. Much of the area was grass, but large trees drooped over the green areas, providing shade for people who had come to the square to get out of the sun. Kat started walking, not sure where Hailey’s death had happened. The buildings were crowded up to the edge of the square, so close it felt like they were leaning over. In the center of the square, there was a statue of a man. Kat guessed it was Vice President Calhoun. As she turned the corner, past a pile of shrubs that had been carefully trimmed and shaped, she saw a bench ahead of her, flanked by a sign that she imagined described the historic significance of the area. On the bench were flowers.

  Kat’s steps quickened, realizing she had found where Hailey Park had been killed just about twenty-four hours before. She approached the bench, slowing to a stop. Whatever had happened, the day before had been washed away. There was no sign of blood, or struggle, or pain. It was as if Hailey had never stopped there to sully the Savannah square. Kat stared at the bench, taking in the wilted bunch of flowers. A brown teddy bear sat in the middle of the patch of flowers. On the ground were petals from flowers that were shedding from lack of water and the suffocating heat. Kat looked to the side of the bench, trying to imagine how Hailey had been sitting. Frustration tightened her chest. There was no way to understand what the scene had looked like without more information. Kat stood up and looked at the edges of the square, trying to imagine where the boy who had stabbed her had come from. She shook her head. The news reports hadn’t revealed much information. Whether that was because it was an ongoing investigation or they had sanitized the information because of Savannah’s pure reputation, Kat didn’t know.