Look Closely - Laura Caldwell [78]
I read again the summary of my father’s last interrogation, trying to discern any other information that could have led to Manning’s change of mind. After all, why should he believe my father’s version of Leah falling down the stairs when he supposedly wasn’t there that night? I was about to put the summary back in the stack, when two small typed annotations at the bottom caught my eye: D: 6/3/82. T:6/3/82.
I knew from reviewing documents at work that this meant the interview was both dictated and typed on June 3, 1982, three days after it took place.
I reviewed the dates of the other interviews. Without fail, Manning had dictated every summary on the day the interview was conducted. On a few occasions, the summary was actually typed a day or two later, but Manning, himself, had performed his dictation with immediacy. So why had it taken him three days to dictate William Sutter’s last interview?
It was possible that Manning had simply come to believe my father and had, therefore, lost interest in the case. He might have been put on some other project. Or maybe he’d made up his mind, closed the file, and then remembered to go back and document his thought process. But really, there wasn’t much there in terms of his thoughts. Just a short summary of an interview and a conclusion that the case would be closed.
I moved back to his handwritten notes to see if there was anything else. After the note about my father’s second interview on May 31, Manning hadn’t made any notes at all for two days. This was also odd, since he’d made numerous comments every day since the death. There was only one left after my father’s last interview. It said simply, Death Accidental. Case closed.
Had I been off base in looking for some other reason for my mother’s death? After reading the records, I didn’t think so. This quick labeling of the death as “accidental” seemed abrupt, dubious. And my brother and sister had seemingly disappeared soon after I’d received the anonymous letter. Matt had believed that Caroline’s disappearance was somehow connected to a call from our father.
Which reminded me, I’d promised Matt I would contact him after I had spoken to my dad, and yet I’d been putting it off, not wanting to admit that I’d realized my father was lying. I gathered the police records and left the newspaper on the table for the next person. Heading back to my apartment, I realized that Matt’s wasn’t the only phone call I needed to make. I had the number for Crestwood Home, as well.
I called Crestwood Home, telling the receptionist I was looking for information about my sister, Caroline Sutter. But I didn’t expect to learn anything that day. It was Sunday, after all. Yet within twenty minutes, I received a return phone call.
“Dr. Adler will see you today,” the woman said, “this afternoon in fact, if you can make the trip to Connecticut.”
“Dr. Adler?” I asked.
“Yes, he’ll speak with you about your sister. Can you get here today?”
“Today,” I repeated, not sure whether to be thrilled or wary. Finally, I recovered. I got directions and grabbed my car keys.
It took me no time to drive to Holly Knolls, Connecticut. Following the directions I received, I turned off the highway and glanced at my odometer. Thirty miles since I had left Manhattan. It would have been sixty or so miles from Long Island, which meant that during part of her stay at Crestwood Home, Caroline had been only sixty miles from where my father and I had lived in Manhasset. I’d never had any concept of what had happened to Caroline after we’d left Woodland Dunes, but my father had known. That was clear now. He would have