He bit the inside of his cheek, and after a moment, decided to answer. “Yes.”
“Did you know Nysa well?”
“I knew her as well as I know any of my students. I always encourage them to talk to me or come to me with any issues during the year, even if they’re not swim-related. Sometimes these kids just need someone to talk to, you know?”
“Did Nysa ever need someone to talk to?”
“Sure. They all come to me at some point or another.”
“When was this?” Josie asked.
He waved a large hand dismissively. “Oh, last year. She was worried about returning to school this year because of finances. Her dad had got laid off from his job. I knew that the Vandivere Alumni Scholarship had become available—they were looking for applicants for this fall—so I told her to apply. She was a sure thing. Strongest swimmer I’ve ever coached.”
“She must have been thrilled,” Josie said.
“We both were. She got to keep going to college, and I got to keep my star.” He paused. Josie saw a range of emotions streak across his face. Then he lowered his head into his hands. From behind his palms, he said, “I’m sorry. I keep going from profound disbelief—like surely, this isn’t really happening—to devastation. But acting like it’s not real isn’t going to bring her back, is it?”
“I’m afraid not,” Josie said.
He lifted his head and slapped his palms onto his thighs. “I have to act strong for the kids. They’re really freaked out. I’m sorry. What else do you need to know?”
“Does the university conduct regular drug testing of the students on the swim team?”
“Oh yeah. It’s random. Twice a semester. More if we suspect something is going on. A positive result is an immediate suspension followed by an investigation. But we’ve never had any issues with my swim team.”
“You ever have any problems with your swimmers using drugs? Edibles? Anything like that?”
Pace shook his head. “No, I haven’t had a positive test come up in about four years. If these kids are doing stuff like edibles, they’re either hiding it really well or getting lucky on random drug tests. We found a joint in someone’s swim bag last year, but no positive tests.”
“How about you? Any recreational drug use?”
His face went from a smile to a pinched expression. Incredulity, Josie thought, except it came off exceedingly fake. “Officer,” he said.
“Detective.”
“Detective, I’m the head coach of Denton University’s swim team. Drug use is forbidden.”
“Right,” she said, noting that he didn’t say that he didn’t use drugs, only that the use of them was forbidden. She took out her phone and swiped until she found the photo of the sticker. Turning it in his direction, she asked, “Have you ever seen this before?”
He laughed but when he saw her expression, the sound cut off in his throat. “I’m sorry. You’re serious. No, I’ve never seen it. What is it? A doodle or something? The drawing isn’t half bad, but what the hell is it?”
“We don’t know,” Josie said. “It was found in Nysa’s things.”
He pointed a finger at her phone. “You found that in Nysa’s things? Looks like whoever drew that was high. Is that why you’re asking so many questions about drugs? You think Nysa was using them? Nysa didn’t do drugs, and I can’t see her drawing something as bizarre as that. She was more of a dogs and hearts kind of person. She was completely obsessed with her Havanese.”
“Really?” said Josie, flashing back to the framed photo of a small white dog in Nysa’s room. “What’s her dog’s name?”
“Oh, I, uh, I don’t remember. The kids just always teased her about how much she loved her dog. It was her phone screensaver.”
“When’s the last time you saw Nysa?”
“Friday,” he said. “That was our last practice.”
“You were in the piece that WYEP did this weekend. You didn’t see her then?”
“Oh, they taped my interview separate from the students, so no, I didn’t see her Saturday.”
“How did Nysa seem at practice on Friday?”
“She seemed like Nysa.” A genuine smile crossed his face. “She was great.”
“She didn’t seem depressed or upset to you?”
One eyebrow kinked upward. “Upset? Why would she be upset? Listen, Nysa wasn’t like the other girls, okay? She was driven and ambitious, sure, but not high-strung. She used to have this joke with the other kids where if they were whining about something, she’d say, ‘But did it kill you?’ The whole team started saying it. ‘My roommate kept me up all night with loud music. But did it kill you?’ or ‘I tanked my history test. But did it kill you?’ Man, and now she’s dead. Shit. Why are you—why are you asking these things?”
“Standard procedure,” Josie replied. “Did Nysa have any problems with anyone on the team? Any feuds or bad blood?”
“No, not at all. The kids get along pretty well. Also, I don’t allow that kind of thing. If people have issues with one another, we address it head-on so it doesn’t affect the rest of the team dynamic.”
“Are there any team members she was particularly close with?”
“No, not that I can think of. She was friendly to everyone, but I don’t think she had a best friend on the team.”
“How about a boy named Hudson?”
“Hudson Tinning?”
Josie jotted down the last name. “I understand they’re quite competitive, and that he may have had a crush on her.”
Pace laughed. “He’s always trying to impress her. He’s had a thing for Nysa from day one, but he’s kind of immature. Kind of a momma’s boy. He’s got a lot of growing up to do. Someone as independent as Nysa wouldn’t have time for a kid like that.”
Josie took down some notes. “Do you know if Nysa was dating anyone?”
“I doubt it,” Pace said. “Like I said, Nysa was laser-focused on school and swimming. If she wasn’t in class, she was at the pool. If she wasn’t at the pool, she was at the gym doing conditioning exercises. If she wasn’t there, she was at the library. If she managed to fit a relationship into her busy schedule, I’d be really surprised.”
“Coach Pace, you said you hadn’t seen Nysa since Friday. Had you heard from her, though? By phone or text? Social media? Anything like that?”
“Oh no,” he said.
“Do the students have your cell phone number?”
“Well, yeah. All the kids on the team have it. They rarely use it unless they’re going to be late or miss practice.”
This was getting her nowhere.
“Do you live in Denton?” Josie asked, changing course.
“Yeah, a couple of miles from campus,” he offered.
“Alone?”
“Does my dog count?” he laughed. “I’m divorced. No kids.”
“What kind of dog?” Josie asked.
“Labradoodle.”
“Where were you last night?”
“Last night?” he repeated. “I was—wait, why do you need to know?”