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“Who is it?” Walt asked.
“Victoria Ford. Tessa Young’s best friend.”
Walt stood. “You sure about the ID?”
“Positive.”
“Anything else on there I need to see?”
“If you haven’t enjoyed it thus far, I’m pretty sure you won’t like the rest of it.”
“Mark that as evidence, and protect the shit out of it. Document a clear chain of custody.”
“You got it, boss.”
Walt hurried back to his office to find out everything he could about the woman named Victoria Ford.
CHAPTER 20
Catskill Mountains, NY Friday, June 25, 2021
THE BOTTLE OF CHARDONNAY WAS EMPTY BY THE TIME EMMA FINISHED telling Avery about the murder investigation her sister had been involved in at the time of her death. Avery had driven to the Catskills to interview Emma Kind about the recent identification of Victoria Ford’s remains and to determine if there was enough there on which to base an American Events feature. The idea that she had stumbled onto the story of a grisly murder had her mind churning with ideas about the special she could put together with the details of this case.
Avery’s head swam with a comfortable wine buzz, but she didn’t protest when Emma emerged from the house with a second bottle. Avery wanted to know everything about Emma’s long dead sister and the crime she was accused of. Another bottle of wine seemed like the perfect conduit to keep Emma talking. Besides, Avery was fascinated with the ancient artifact Emma had carried from the house along with the second bottle of wine. She recognized it as a telephone answering machine straight from the nineties, and now it sat in the middle of the patio table. Emma had excused herself in the middle of the story about Victoria to rummage through the house. It had been quite a production for Emma to salvage the answering machine from the storage room. It was an even greater one to resuscitate it. A relic from the past, the machine required both batteries and an electrical outlet to bring it to life. All the time, Avery sipped chardonnay and tried to control the suspense of what waited on the machine. Now, an extension cord ran from the kitchen outlet, through the patio doors, and to the table where the machine sat. Triple A batteries ignited the indicator light on the surface. The machine was, indeed, alive and well.
“At first,” Emma said, “the news was just that a wealthy novelist had been killed in the Catskills. Then rumors of an affair came out. When Victoria was connected to the murder, I didn’t believe it. I wouldn’t, in fact, until that awful video was leaked and Victoria became the center of the story. The press were like rabid animals. Reporters waited for her in the lobby of her office building, and outside her apartment. The video was everywhere. There was no social media back then, but the Internet was just sprouting its wings. The image of Victoria in that dominatrix outfit made it onto every news program and into every newspaper. The video was downloaded thousands of times and watched endlessly in every home whose owners held voyeuristic tendencies. The news media salivated over every detail. For a short time, S and M and bondage became daily headlines and utterances of news anchors around the country.”
Avery was in junior high at the time, but even now vaguely remembered the stir the video had caused. It was difficult for her to believe that two decades later she had stumbled onto the story. Avery understood why the media took such intense interest back then. The headlines would have been like giant meat hooks on which to capture an audience, move newspapers, and sell advertising spots. Not only twenty years ago, she thought, but today as well. Avery imagined her own headlines for American Events. The remains of a 9/11 victim identified twenty years after the towers fell, a woman at the center of a sensational murder investigation involving a popular novelist, and a torrid tale of sex and betrayal. The possibilities were endless. The crime scene details would likely be shocking and were sure to tap into the morbid fascination of the American Events true-crime fans. Avery wondered if she could get her hands on the crime scene photos and other specifics from the investigation. Or even, she allowed herself to imagine, edited snippets of the sex tape.
“In the weeks leading to September eleventh, one piece of bad news after another trickled in,” Emma said. “The evidence started to pile up, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing on the nightly news. A length of rope was discovered in Victoria’s car that police said matched the rope around Cameron Young’s neck. The whole damn crime scene was apparently covered in Victoria’s fingerprints and DNA. Her urine was recovered from the bathroom toilet and her blood was found in the master bedroom.”
Avery’s chardonnay-clouded mind raced. She was still working angles in her mind about how to obtain footage of that homemade sex video. But she needed more than that. She needed access to the case file and the intimate details about the investigation. She thought for a moment about the channels she could peruse to obtain such details. Finally, she brought her thoughts back to the present and pointed at the answering machine.
“What does the answering machine have to do with all of it?”
Emma took a sip of wine to steady herself. “Victoria called me that day.”
“What day?”
“September eleventh. After the first plane struck the North Tower. She called to tell me she was trapped. She called to . . . to say good-bye.”
Avery slowly put down her wineglass. “Oh, Emma, that’s awful. And you kept the message all these years?”
“Yes. But not for that reason. Not because it was Victoria saying good-bye. She told me something else that day. I want you to hear it.”
Avery waited, not blinking and barely breathing. The wine buzz was simultaneously interfering with, and facilitating, her concentration. Slowly, Emma reached over to the answering machine and pressed the play button. There were a few seconds of static before a voice was heard.
“Emma!”
The voice of Victoria Ford was amazingly clear as it echoed from the twenty-year-old machine.
“If you’re there, pick up the phone!”
There was a long pause as Victoria waited for her sister to respond to her desperate plea. Avery shifted her gaze from the machine to Emma, but Emma had her eyes closed. Avery wondered how many times the woman had listened to this recording over the last twenty years. In the background of the recording, Avery heard yelling and crying and general chaos.
“Emma, I’m in the city . . . at the World Trade Center. Something’s happened. There was an explosion and people are saying a plane hit the building. I’m in the North Tower and . . . I think we’re trapped. There’s a fire on the floors below us that is preventing us from getting to the ground floor. We’re all heading up to the roof. There will be helicopters, some are saying, to rescue us. I don’t know if I believe it, but I’m following the crowd. There’s nowhere else to go. I love you! Tell Mom and Dad I love them, too. I’ll call again when I know what’s happening. Bye for now.”
Emma pressed a button to stop the recorder. She looked up to Avery, who had tears in her eyes.
