Read Online The Savage Murder of Skylar Neese: The Truth Behind the Headlines by Daleen Berry, Geoffrey C. Fuller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Daleen Berry, Geoffrey C. Fuller
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them, Rachel, Colebank, and Spurlock, were talking in the upstairs living room of the Shoafs’ split-level house. Rachel and Colebank were sitting together on the couch. Spurlock sat alone in a chair. Mikinzy and Sabrina were downstairs in the family room.
“I told you, at the end there,” Rachel whined, as if she was annoyed at having to answer the same questions again. “University Avenue. Skylar got angry and told us she didn’t want us to take her all the way to her apartment.”
“You dropped her off,” Spurlock said, “after riding around smoking marijuana?”
Colebank broke in. “Look, Rachel, we don’t care about the weed. We care about where Skylar’s at. Where did you guys drive around?”
Rachel looked thoughtful, then shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m not really sure where we drove around exactly. I was pretty messed up. I think we drove down Patteson Drive.”
Patteson was the main artery leading up to the WVU Coliseum, a basketball and athletics facility, where it formed a T intersection with Beechurst Avenue at the top of the hill. Colebank realized that if the girls had turned right, they would have gone right by the State Police Detachment when they headed down the hill and into Star City. A left would have taken them along the river, into downtown Morgantown.
“Thanks.” Colebank looked over at Spurlock, nodding her head. “There should be cameras.”
Many businesses along that stretch of Patteson had video cameras, but most focused inside the establishment, on the doors, and on parts of the parking lot. None really showed a clear view of traffic. But Colebank suspected Rachel wouldn’t know that.
“Yes, check the cameras,” Rachel said, “but I don’t know if you’ll see much. We stayed on side streets as much as we could.”
“Do you know the names of any of the side streets?” Colebank asked, masking a grin. She knew it was impossible to drive along Patteson
and
the side streets at the same time. She also knew that people who are lying often stall by repeating the question.
“The names of the streets? How am I supposed to know that?” Rachel looked bored. “They were just streets. With houses. Like a regular neighborhood. I wasn’t driving. Ask Shelia.”
“We have.” Colebank let the silence draw out as she intently focused on Rachel. At the same time, Rachel’s neighbor was repeatedly pacing around the area—visiting the kitchen, perching on the steps, sitting on the downstairs couch—as if unsure of what to do with herself. Colebank fought a maternal urge to tell Kim to take a seat and stay there.
***
The young officer didn’t know it, but the same day she was interviewing Rachel, the two state troopers were paying their first visit to the Conaway place. When they pulled up, they saw a man digging in the backyard. As they walked toward the front door, the man came around the corner carrying a shovel. They recognized him from his police mug shot.
Darek Conaway held the shovel out from his body by the tip of the handle, the muddy blade waist high. Bare-chested, Darek was clean-shaven, his hair sweat-caked to his skull. The man was ripped, all corded muscle. He glared at the two troopers. Neither trooper was easily spooked, but they tensed when they saw Darek.
“Hello, Darek,” Gaskins said. “I’m Corporal Gaskins and this is Senior Trooper Berry. We’re here to chat with you a few minutes.”
Darek’s shovel blade lowered a little and he shrugged. “Okay.”
Neither trooper wanted to square off against an angry man with a shovel, so Gaskins and Berry tried to defuse the tension.
But then Gaskins asked lightly, “What are you digging back there, Darek?”
“Oh, I ain’t digging anything,” Darek said.
“You ain’t digging? You trying to hide a dead body or something?” Gaskins meant it as a josh, but that’s not how Darek took it. He drew himself up, his eyes large, and Berry could sense his heart hammering away.
Gaskins and Berry exchanged
“I told you, at the end there,” Rachel whined, as if she was annoyed at having to answer the same questions again. “University Avenue. Skylar got angry and told us she didn’t want us to take her all the way to her apartment.”
“You dropped her off,” Spurlock said, “after riding around smoking marijuana?”
Colebank broke in. “Look, Rachel, we don’t care about the weed. We care about where Skylar’s at. Where did you guys drive around?”
Rachel looked thoughtful, then shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m not really sure where we drove around exactly. I was pretty messed up. I think we drove down Patteson Drive.”
Patteson was the main artery leading up to the WVU Coliseum, a basketball and athletics facility, where it formed a T intersection with Beechurst Avenue at the top of the hill. Colebank realized that if the girls had turned right, they would have gone right by the State Police Detachment when they headed down the hill and into Star City. A left would have taken them along the river, into downtown Morgantown.
“Thanks.” Colebank looked over at Spurlock, nodding her head. “There should be cameras.”
Many businesses along that stretch of Patteson had video cameras, but most focused inside the establishment, on the doors, and on parts of the parking lot. None really showed a clear view of traffic. But Colebank suspected Rachel wouldn’t know that.
“Yes, check the cameras,” Rachel said, “but I don’t know if you’ll see much. We stayed on side streets as much as we could.”
“Do you know the names of any of the side streets?” Colebank asked, masking a grin. She knew it was impossible to drive along Patteson
and
the side streets at the same time. She also knew that people who are lying often stall by repeating the question.
“The names of the streets? How am I supposed to know that?” Rachel looked bored. “They were just streets. With houses. Like a regular neighborhood. I wasn’t driving. Ask Shelia.”
“We have.” Colebank let the silence draw out as she intently focused on Rachel. At the same time, Rachel’s neighbor was repeatedly pacing around the area—visiting the kitchen, perching on the steps, sitting on the downstairs couch—as if unsure of what to do with herself. Colebank fought a maternal urge to tell Kim to take a seat and stay there.
***
The young officer didn’t know it, but the same day she was interviewing Rachel, the two state troopers were paying their first visit to the Conaway place. When they pulled up, they saw a man digging in the backyard. As they walked toward the front door, the man came around the corner carrying a shovel. They recognized him from his police mug shot.
Darek Conaway held the shovel out from his body by the tip of the handle, the muddy blade waist high. Bare-chested, Darek was clean-shaven, his hair sweat-caked to his skull. The man was ripped, all corded muscle. He glared at the two troopers. Neither trooper was easily spooked, but they tensed when they saw Darek.
“Hello, Darek,” Gaskins said. “I’m Corporal Gaskins and this is Senior Trooper Berry. We’re here to chat with you a few minutes.”
Darek’s shovel blade lowered a little and he shrugged. “Okay.”
Neither trooper wanted to square off against an angry man with a shovel, so Gaskins and Berry tried to defuse the tension.
But then Gaskins asked lightly, “What are you digging back there, Darek?”
“Oh, I ain’t digging anything,” Darek said.
“You ain’t digging? You trying to hide a dead body or something?” Gaskins meant it as a josh, but that’s not how Darek took it. He drew himself up, his eyes large, and Berry could sense his heart hammering away.
Gaskins and Berry exchanged
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