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“Okay,” Ballard finally said. “We have a copy of the yearbook from when you were in tenth grade. I’m hoping you can look at it and tell me if you remember who some of the people in the photos are.”
“I can try,” Todd said. “But that was like twenty-five years ago.”
“I know,” Ballard said. “I just need you to give it a try. We’re interested in identifying people in the photos from the prom. Also, I assume there were more than just the three of you at the odd-fellows table. It would be good if we could get those names as well.”
“You know, you never said exactly what this is about,” Todd said. “I mean, if Mallory wasn’t murdered, then what are you investigating? Was it rape?”
“Like I said, we’re not investigating her death,” Ballard said. “But we can’t really give more information yet. When it comes together, we will let you know.”
Ballard pulled the yearbook out of her leather bag and opened it to the double-page spread of photos taken at the prom. There was a center photo showing the prom king and queen onstage with a cutline that identified the couple, but the four other photos did not have any captions beneath them.
“We’re trying to figure out who was at the prom because we might need to speak to them,” Ballard said. “Do you remember any of these people?”
Todd gazed down at the five black-and-white photos.
“I don’t think I can—well, that’s Rodney right there,” she said.
She tapped a photo of a group of boys standing around a table where some of their dates were seated.
The individual in the photo she tapped had a beard.
“Really?” Ballard said. “I thought that was a teacher.”
“No, he had a beard then,” Todd said. “I remember that. Made him look old.”
Ballard looked at the senior photo of Rodney Van Ness again and then flipped back and forth between that and the prom picture, doing a comparison between the clean-cut and studio-styled Rodney and the bearded prom-night Rodney.
“I think you’re right,” Ballard said.
“I know I’m right,” Todd said. “He had a full beard by the end of the year. I think he might have been held back a year in grammar school. He was like a grown man by graduation.”
Ballard counted six boys standing behind the table and only four girls seated.
“So if that’s Rodney, where is Mallory?” she asked.
“She’s not there,” Todd said. “Maybe she was in the restroom or something.”
“And maybe not,” Ballard said. “Do you know the names of anybody else in this shot?”
Todd tapped the boy standing next to Rodney.
“That’s Victor somebody,” she said. “I can’t remember his last name. He and Rodney were tight.”
“Victor,” Ballard said. She turned back through the senior photos looking for a Victor. There was only one. “Victor Best,” she said.
“That’s it,” Todd said. “Victor Best. I should have remembered a name like that.”
“He was friends with Rodney?” Ballard asked.
“Yes,” Todd said. “He and Rodney and a few other guys used to hang out on these benches behind the school. Down in the arroyo.The rumor was that they’d get high there during lunch. Seniors were allowed to go off campus.”
“You remember the names of any of the other guys in the photos?” Ballard asked.
“No. They weren’t really on my radar, you know,” Todd said. “They were seniors.”
“What about the girls?”
“Same thing. I didn’t know any seniors. In fact, I think Mallory was the only sophomore who went to the prom that year. From what I remember.”
