Page 46 of See You Again
Cami had learned, after talking with Amy’s sister, that this group of friends had followed the path taken after high school by many of the young people in this tiny, southern town. After attending the large university in the nearby city of Stoverton, most ended up staying in the region after graduation, which was convenient for Cami’s purposes.
She would have preferred to interview the women separately, to make sure their memories were organic and not influenced by each other. However, when she’d reached out to Lindsay Moore about the interview, the young woman had invited the rest of the friend group to join her.
A mile from Lindsay’s house, Cami pulled into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant and pulled out the notebook where she liked to jot her notes. After locating Janelle Dixon’s phone number, Cami wasn't surprised when Amy’s former friend and teammate didn’t answer. It was obvious the call was sent straight to voicemail.
Cami had only connected with Janelle once, but now the woman could recognize Cami’s number when she called. The fact that Janelle hadn’t blocked her number gave her some hope that she might eventually convince the young woman to talk.
"Hi, Janelle, this is Camellia Messina again, from the Murder She Spoke podcast. I’m in Wheaton today, and I'd really love to talk with you about the events of the night Amy disappeared. I promise we aren’t trying to paint you in a negative light. We just want to share the complete story in the hope it encourages someone else to remember something they saw that night. Maybe jog their memory. You don't have to be on the air. I only want to talk to you. I can meet you whenever or wherever you would like."
Cami left her number, sighing as she ended the call. She could understand the young woman's trepidation. In the three years since Amy had disappeared, Janelle had faced her own share of difficulty. With speculation rampant over her role in the disappearance, Janelle left college after the following spring semester and married a man she had grown up with.
Cami and Madison had done a deep dive on the public social media profiles of all the people connected to the case. After reading the comments on the “Justice for Amy” page, it was clear that even if the majority of people in Wheaton didn’t think Janelle had actually murdered Amy, they had already convicted her in their minds as a back-stabbing whore. A friend who stole her best friend’s boyfriend and then caused the fight that led to Amy leaving the party alone—ultimately resulting in her death.
It didn’t seem to matter to the various posters that the rumors they were spreading might not be the truth. In fact, most of it was obviously false, but good gossip was apparently irresistible.
Cami wondered why Janelle hadn’t simply left the area to start over, like Amy’s ex-boyfriend had. Perhaps if Janelle shared her side of the story, it might humanize her, making her life easier in the community.
She toyed with the idea of finding Janelle’s address and showing up at her house, but she didn't like ambush journalism. Cami needed her subjects to trust her in order to talk. She could only hope that, as the story gained traction, Janelle would want to be a part of it.
One benefit of being podcasters, and not law enforcement, was that people often felt more comfortable speaking with them. The sheriff brought Janelle in for questioning after Amy had disappeared, and again when her body was discovered last spring, leading to more wild speculation.
Closing her notebook, her next call was to Detective Barlow. “Hey, Mark, I'm in Wheaton today to do some interviews, and I thought I'd let you know. I’d love to touch base when I’m done, if you’re available.”
Provided the interviews didn’t run long, she should have just enough time to make the short drive to Stoverton. If nothing else, she hoped her phone call showed she was keeping the Sheriff’s Office in the loop.
Aware that she was drawing some interested looks, Cami pulled out of the parking lot and followed the directions to Lindsay's house, coming to a stop in the driveway. Several cars were parked on the grassy verge in front of the house.
Checking her reflection in the rearview mirror, Cami applied a quick swipe of lip gloss and grabbed the bag containing her voice recorder, portable microphone, and notebook. The front walk was neatly tended, leading to a front door framed by a display of pumpkins, book-ended by pots of mums and metal turkeys.
Thanksgiving was only a couple of weeks away. She pushed down the instant anxiety the thought caused. She loved the holidays when she was younger. Her mother cooked lavish meals, even though it was just her father and Cami. Throughout her high school years, when it was just the two of them, Cami had tried to recreate the feeling by herself, but her mother usually retreated under a blanket on the sofa. Eventually, Cami stopped trying.
Madison always invited her to join the Amherst family, but Cami had only gone once. Madison’s family was almost as dysfunctional as her own. Now, the day consisted of a quick meal before her mother dissolved into tears and reminisces about the holidays of Cami’s youth before her father left.
Stop, Cami ordered herself, putting a smile on her face. She needed to focus. This was about Amy, and that was far more important right now. Cami pressed the bell, avoiding the reflection of her strained eyes in the glass.
The door swung open to reveal a pretty brunette in her mid-twenties, dressed in a tailored, print dress. She was completely made up with a full face of heavy makeup and a beaming smile. It took Cami back for a moment.
Normally, people were nervous when they first met in person. Cami and Madison were a reminder of the loss of someone they cared about. Lindsay looked like she was getting ready to take the stage in a play. After an enthusiastic hello, Lindsay led Cami into the front room, where three other women waited on overstuffed couches. Each woman wore an identical look of excitement and was as equally done up as their hostess.
“Do you want to set up your camera in the corner? I think the light would probably be best. You don’t have a crew coming, right?” Lindsay asked, hope shining in her eyes. “You didn’t mention it, but I didn’t know if I should expect it. I’m new to all this,” she giggled.
“I don't have a camera with me.” Cami’s heart sank at the crestfallen looks on the women's faces. Their appearances suddenly made perfect sense. “We don’t film our podcast. It’s audio only.”
Had they never listened to the podcast before they agreed to be interviewed? Cami hoped these women wouldn’t let their excitement color their memories.
“Today, I want to speak with you about the Amy you knew. Parents and family have their version, the police have their own, but you were her friends. You probably knew her better than anyone. I think your perspective on her final days will be invaluable.” Cami’s flattery worked, easing the sting of not being on film. “I’ll record our conversation today, and I’m sure there will be plenty of material that makes it into the upcoming episodes.”
“Would you like a glass of sweet tea?” Lindsay asked, her enthusiasm returned.
“That would be nice, thank you.”
Lindsay poured Cami a glass from a pitcher sitting on a tray on top of a tufted ottoman.
“I'll just sit here. Is that all right?” Cami gestured at the wing-back chair between the two love seats. She surreptitiously scanned the room. Fresh flowers were on one end table, silver framed pictures on another. She recognized Amy in several of the photos. Was that intentional because Lindsay thought this was filmed, or because she truly missed her friend?
Cami resisted the urge to rub her head. This job was making her cynical. “Just give me a second to set up, and I’ll be ready to go.”
She was conscious of the women’s nervous energy as they watched her plug the microphone into her phone. Cami flipped open the notebook in her lap but left the pen lying flat. She found that if she started off looking like she was taking notes, people were less likely to open up.