Jocelyn had called ahead. Once she introduced herself, the secretary waved Jocelyn into Lonnie’s office through a doorway to her left. Lonnie stood up from behind his massive oak desk and came around it to shake her hand. He had a kind, easy smile. He was tall, like Caleb but huskier, carrying more weight in his torso. The rangy teenager she had seen in Knox’s interrogation video was gone. The man before her had obviously filled out, resembling a football player rather than a lawyer, although the wire-rimmed glasses resting on his face made him look more erudite. His hair was cut close to the sides of his head but was longer and curly on the top.
“Ms. Rush,” he said, motioning to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Nice to meet you. Have a seat.”
She sat in the nearest chair, and he took the one across from her, instead of retreating behind his desk. She liked him already.
“I saw on the news that Syd’s case has been re-opened,” he said. “Do they really have a suspect this time?”
Jocelyn nodded. “I think so, Mr. Burgess.”
“Call me Lonnie.”
Jocelyn smiled. “Lonnie, I’ve been asked to assist in trying to bring some attention to Sydney’s case—try to help bolster the police efforts. I could use your help.”
He spread his hands in his lap. “Anything.”
“One of the things we had in mind was a scholarship in Sydney’s name.” She explained about the fundraiser, and he eagerly agreed to speak about Sydney.
“What else can I do to help?”
“It would be great if you could tell me a little bit about Sydney,” Jocelyn said.
Lonnie’s smile faded for a moment, his eyes taking on a glassy, pained look. “Sydney was an amazing girl. She was gorgeous, smart, and funny as hell. She had a real dry wit about her, a great sense of humor. I know people tend to romanticize the dead, but Sydney really was a great person. Always kind to people. Always had a smile on her face.”
“When did you start dating?”
“We were in the tenth grade.”
“You were both students at Franklin West?”
He nodded. “Yeah. We had geometry together as sophomores. It wasn’t easy for me. Syd helped me out. Like I said, she was smart.”
Jocelyn motioned toward the law degree on the wall behind him. “I see you went to Temple, here in Philadelphia. Sydney had planned to go to Georgetown. Had you planned on staying together?”
“Do the long distance thing? Sure, we talked about it. D.C. is only a short train ride from here. We were going to try to make it work.” He scratched behind his ear and shifted in his seat.
“But?” Jocelyn prompted, sensing something unsaid. “Did something change?”
His forehead crinkled. “About a month before she died, Sydney became . . . I don’t know . . . distant. I didn’t see as much of her. Even when we were together, she seemed distracted. I just thought it was the specter of graduation, of college, of the fact that everything about our lives was about to change.”
Jocelyn crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward. “Lonnie,” she said. “I need to ask a very personal question.”
He smiled. “Can’t say I’ll answer it, but go ahead.”
“How were things between you and Sydney sexually?”
Lonnie frowned. He didn’t look as shocked or put-off as she had expected. He considered his words for a long moment before speaking. His tone was a statement, not a question. “You think there was someone else.”
“There is a theory that has come up in the investigation—then and now—that Sydney might have been seeing someone in secret, so yes.”
He looked away. His shoulders slumped a bit. When he looked back at her, the glassy look was back. He sighed. “I always wondered. I mean we were teenagers, you know? Filled with raging hormones. We had sex a lot—as much as we could. You know how it is when you’re teenagers. You want to do it all the time. You sneak around so you don’t get caught by your parents. It’s all new and exciting, but there’s nowhere to actually do it.”
He laughed, and she laughed with him—she and her first-and-only boyfriend in high school had had the same problem. Now she was sneaking around with Caleb and hiding it from her four-year-old.
“Then,” Lonnie said, “about two weeks before she died, she kind of pulled away. She didn’t want to do it. Said she needed time to think about things. I pressed her on it—what things? But she wouldn’t say. I just thought it was the college thing—that we were about to be separated, that everything was going to change. I suppose, in the back of my mind, I worried there was another guy. I mean now, fourteen years later, as a grown, more experienced man, it seems pretty obvious that she needed time to think because she’d met someone else.”
“When was the last time you talked to her before she died?”
“That day at school,” he said. “I waited with her at the bus stop. She kissed me before she got on the bus, like, really kissed me. I thought—” again, he spread his hands in his lap. “I thought it was a good sign. Like maybe she had thought about things and decided they were fine as they were.”
“I’m sorry,” Jocelyn said.
Lonnie waved a hand dismissively even though tears glistened in his eyes. “We were teenagers. Who knows what would have become of us. I’m sure Syd would have met someone else away at school. Or maybe we might have made it.”
“Are you married?”
Lonnie laughed, the tone bitter. “Twice divorced,” he said. He reached over to his desk and turned a photo frame so that she could see its front. A tall, pudgy boy with a gap-toothed smile lay in a pile of fall leaves. He looked seven or eight, maybe. “But my second wife gave me a beautiful son,” Lonnie said. “He is all that matters now.”
“He’s cute,” Jocelyn said, meaning it. Lonnie’s face shone with obvious pride. Jocelyn could relate. Her entire world revolved around her own daughter. Right now, if anyone checked her phone, they’d find 661 photos of Olivia taken just in the last year, and in her jacket pocket were two pictures Olivia had drawn for her on Post-it notes the last time she’d gone to work with Jocelyn.
“So,” Lonnie said. “You haven’t said why you think there was someone else.”
“I can’t tell you why. Not yet. But let me ask you, looking back on things, do you have any idea who she might have been seeing?”
He looked at his lap, lips pursed, thinking. He shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. “I really can’t. I mean I’ve thought about it over the years—from time to time—but I could never come up with anyone. Syd had a full life, a busy schedule. We had trouble fitting each other in. I’m not sure where she would have found the time to meet someone else and develop a relationship. Although I suppose things happen.”
“What about someone she already had a relationship with? Someone older, perhaps?” Jocelyn suggested.
“Like who?”
“I don’t know. A teacher, maybe? A coach?”