“Mr. and Mrs. Dowling,” Wilson began, “we’ll know more after we receive the results of the medical examination, but I am sorry to tell you we are treating your daughter’s death as suspicious and will investigate it accordingly.”
Still trying to absorb what she was hearing, Aline said, “I can’t believe any of the kids she invited here last night would want to hurt her.”
“I understand you feeling that way,” Wilson said empathetically, “but we have to check out everything.”
He paused. “Another question. Did she have a boyfriend, someone special?”
Fran spat out the answer. “Yes, she did. His name is Alan Crowley. He was very possessive of Kerry and he has a terrible temper. If anyone hurt my child, I’m sure he was the one.”
Mike Wilson did not let his expression change. “Could I see that list now? I also want to know who were her closest friends.”
“I can help you with that,” Steve said quietly.
“And one more thing. We did not find a cell phone in your daughter’s clothing. Do you know where it is, and would it be okay if we take it?”
“Of course. It’s on the dining room table,” Fran said.
“I have a consent form in my car. I’ll ask you to sign it to allow me to take and examine the phone.”
“The unlock code is 0112,” Aline said as her eyes filled with tears. “The month of her birthday and then of mine.”
Aline pulled out her phone and began tapping on it. “Detective Wilson, yesterday morning I received a text from Kerry: I have something VERY IMPORTANT to talk to you about when you get home!!!”
Wilson leaned forward. “Do you have any idea what she was referring to?”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Kerry could be a little dramatic. I just assumed it was boyfriend or college related.”
“Aline, I might have to speak to you again as the investigation goes forward. Will you be returning to London?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m home for good. In fact I’m about to start a new job as a guidance counselor at Saddle River High School.”
Mike paused, then said gently to all of them, “I know how awful this is for you. I’m going to ask you to help me in a very important way. Don’t share information with anyone about the wound on Kerry’s head or our concern about the golf club. As we question others in the coming days and weeks, it is critical that as few details as possible be made public.”
The Dowlings and Father Frank all nodded in agreement.
“I will talk to you again before I leave today. And please don’t clean up anything until the investigators go through it and we determine if we need to take anything with us.”
8
After returning to the house to have the consent form signed for Kerry’s cell phone and laptop, Detective Wilson spoke to the officers who were conducting a search of the Dowling home and property. From there, in his car, he tapped in the cell phone’s unlock code and hit the text messages icon. The first four were brief notes from girls thanking Kerry for the good time they had at the party. One said she hoped Kerry would be able to patch things up with Alan, while another advised her to dump “that jerk” and hoped Kerry was okay after the fight. Mike jotted down the names of the four girls as party attendees he would interview.
He then clicked on the text message trail from “Alan.” He skipped to the bottom of the chain so he could read the messages in the order they were sent.
Alan at 10:30: Hope you and Chris are enjoying yourselves. I’m at Nellie’s. Felt like decking him. And you!
Kerry at 10:35: Thanks for ruining my party. You made an ASS of yourself. You don’t own me. I’ll talk to whoever I want. Do me a favor. Get out of my life.
Alan at 11:03: Sorry I lost it. I wanna see you now. Bad enough Chris will be after you when you’re both at BC. You didn’t have to start tonite. Mike wondered if “BC” meant “Boston College.”
Kerry at 11:10: Don’t come over. Tired! Will finish cleaning backyard then going to sleep. Talk tomorrow.
This is going to be a ground ball, Mike thought, using detective parlance for a case that would be easily solved. Jealous boyfriend. She’s ready to move on. He isn’t. At least one of her girlfriends telling her to end it.
Mike put down the phone. Using his dashboard computer, he accessed the Department of Motor Vehicles records. He typed in “Alan Crowley, Saddle River.” A moment later Crowley’s driver’s license filled the screen.
His next call was to the captain in charge of the homicide unit at the Prosecutor’s Office. He gave a summary of what he had found at the Dowling home and Kerry’s altercation with her boyfriend at the party. “Ordinarily, I’d want to talk to the kids who were at the party before interviewing the boyfriend, but I’m worried that will give him a chance to lawyer up. He lives here in Saddle River. I’m five minutes away. My gut tells me I should go have a chat with him right now and lock him into a statement.”
“You’re sure he’s not a minor?” the captain asked.
“His driver’s license says he turned eighteen last month.”
There was a pause. Mike knew that he should not interrupt his boss when he was thinking. Mike also knew that although Crowley was legally an adult, judges tended to give defendants latitude if they had only just turned eighteen.
“Okay, Mike. Call me after you talk to him.”
The Crowley home was on heavily treed Twin Oaks Road. It was a very large, white, shingled house with dark green shutters. Very impressive, Mike thought. From what he could see of the beautifully landscaped front and side yards, it was easily more than two acres. Big bucks here, he decided. A riding mower was parked on the edge of the driveway.
Mike rang the doorbell. There was no immediate answer. He waited for a full minute before he rang it again.
? ? ?
Alan Crowley had been mowing the lawn and was hot. He had gone into the house for a bottle of water. He glanced at the cell phone he had left on the kitchen table and saw there were a number of voicemail messages, missed calls and texts. Carrying his phone as he walked to the door, he only needed to read one text before the reality of the nightmare that was enveloping him sunk in.
The doorbell rang again. Kerry was dead. The rumor is she was murdered. The cops are talking to the neighbors and asking if they knew the names of the kids who had been at the party last night. They’re bound to find out he and Kerry had a fight.
Terrified, he went to the door and opened it.
The man at the door introduced himself while pointing to the badge on a chain around his neck. “I’m Detective Mike Wilson, Bergen County Prosecutor’s Office,” he said, his tone friendly. “Are you Alan Crowley?”
“Yes.”
From the expression on the young man’s face, Wilson was sure that he had heard that Kerry was dead.
“Are you aware of what happened to Kerry Dowling?” he asked.
“You mean that Kerry is dead?”
“Yes. . . .”
“Why are you here?”
“I’m going to find out what happened to Kerry. I’m starting by talking to everyone who was at the party last night. Would it be okay if we chat for a little while?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Do you want to come in?”
“Alan, let’s take a ride down to my office in Hackensack. We can talk there with no interruptions. You don’t have to go, but it will make things a lot easier. Come on. I’ll drive. Oh, Alan, before we go, do you remember what you were wearing at the party last night?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just procedure.”
Alan thought for a moment. I’m better off cooperating than looking defensive. I’ve got nothing to worry about. “I had on a Princeton T-shirt, shorts and sandals.”
“Where are they?”
“They’re in my room.”
“Would you mind putting them in a bag and letting me keep them for a few days? Routine procedure. You don’t have to, but we would really appreciate your cooperation.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Alan said reluctantly.
“I’ll go with you,” Mike said amicably.
Shorts, a T-shirt and a pair of underwear were the items at the top of the hamper. Alan put them in a small gym bag. He grabbed his sandals and put them in as well. Holding his cell phone in one hand and the gym bag in the other, he woodenly followed the detective out to his car.