“All this time, I never told you. I never told anyone. I thought I’d killed my parents with my chime in the fire. When the new chime arrived at the house, I was horrified. How could anyone know? I didn’t want anyone to know! It’s why I went to see Dr. Maynart, because I thought the chime came to remind me that I’d killed my family, that someone knew my horrible secret.”
“But Jenn, Cobb said he started the fire, not you,” Greg said.
“Yes, but now, after thinking all my life that I killed my loving mother and father...now Cobb tells me he killed her because she was a monster.”
Ninety-Nine
Buffalo, New York, Clarence and Trailside Grove
The case was not closed.
Not all the way.
Kozak and Carillo were firming up charges on Zoran Volk while pursuing unresolved aspects on Cobb.
Guided by the statements Jennifer and Greg Griffin had provided after their prison visit, the investigators worked with Melinda Hyland, the case analyst, to verify Jennifer’s family history with the aim of identifying the woman who was killed in Cleveland.
“I went through what Cobb told the Griffins.” Hyland leaned on Carillo’s desk as she updated them. “It was all new with names, locations—more than we had before.”
“Right. So where does that leave us?” Kozak said.
“To verify it, I reached out to Children and Family Services in Syracuse and requested they send us old records, unsealing them if they’re sealed. Our DA will help with warrants if we need them. I’m waiting to hear back from Syracuse.”
“Nice work, Melinda,” Carillo said.
Hyland saw Carillo’s screen saver. “Cute puppy. Is that Trigger?”
“Yeah.”
“Ned’s actually a softy,” Kozak said.
“So Claire,” Carillo said. “How’d your date go with the FBI guy?”
“It was just coffee.”
“And that’s how it starts,” Carillo said.
“It shouldn’t be long before we hear from Syracuse,” Hyland said before leaving.
* * *
Jenn sat alone in her kitchen, gazing into her cup of tea.
Cobb’s claims had left her flailing in a whirlpool of disbelief and despair.
Was it true? Was my mother cruel, wicked?
Visiting Cobb had shaken Jenn. She was contemplating her next appointment with Dr. Maynart when her doorbell rang. She went to the window; a FedEx truck was pulling away.
She opened the front door to a package addressed to Jennifer and Greg Griffin, from a Frances Penney in Toronto.
She texted Greg.
She used to live in your old neighborhood and was helping us. Open it, he wrote back.
Frances.
Memories flooded back with images of an older, kind girl, who lived down the street from Jenn.
The accompanying note said:
Dear Jennifer and Greg:
I was so happy to hear of the rescue and reunion, that your prayers were answered. After talking with Greg, I began looking into all of the things my mother left us after she’d passed. I’d mentioned to Greg how after the tragic fire, my mother held some of the recovered items for a short time before they were given to Jennifer’s grandmother. Going through my mother’s things, I recently discovered something that was missed, something that belonged to Sofia Korvin, your mother, Jennifer.
I enclose it here because now it belongs to you.
With warmest hopes and prayers for you,
Frances Penney
Jenn slid her fingernail along the seam of the wrapped item, unfolding the paper to reveal a small book. It was tattered, its edges blackened and scorched. It had a red, hardboard cover with stitched binding.
She opened it to find handwriting on lined paper.
It was her mother’s journal.
* * *
The request to Syracuse by the New York State Police had come back to Melinda Hyland sooner than expected—and with documents from several agencies.
The state’s regional office of Children and Family Services, the office of Onondaga County Children and Family Services, and the Syracuse Child Welfare Division searched their archives. Going back more than three decades, they found records for the case of Clark and Sofia Telfer and their children, Bertram and Heather of Syracuse.
Hyland pulled together a quick summary with key points to share with Kozak and Carillo that read:
After she was assaulted by her husband, Clark Telfer, Sofia Telfer immediately fled her home without her children. Police were called but her husband, who knew the senior responding officer, reported Sofia Telfer to police and to social services, claiming that she had abandoned her family after he found that she was unfaithful and abusing their children. He claimed that “she was so cruel and threatening that the children would deny it for fear of reprisal.”
Shortly after that, Clark Telfer committed suicide in his garage. His death was discovered by his son, Bertram. But Clark Telfer’s allegations against his wife, Sofia, became part of the record and were investigated.
In keeping with policy, nothing was made public.
Investigators determined that the children, Heather and Bertram, said that their dad often struck their mom; but their mom was always yelling at him and had slapped him, too, leaving the children traumatized by the violence in their family.
Sofia Telfer and her attorney, along with lawyers for the child protection agency, appeared in court. The children were not present. Upon consideration of key points of the family’s heart-wrenching tragedies—the abuse, real and/or alleged—in the home, the fact the mom did walk out, and that the allegations of abuse against her could not be entirely dismissed, the judge in the case, known to be strict, decided that in the interest of protecting the children, the mother was forbidden to ever have contact with them again.
The children were swallowed by the foster care system.
Records show that Sofia Telfer later moved to Buffalo where she married Leo Korvin, a cabdriver. They had one child, a daughter, Jennifer Korvin.
Highland wrote that a note found in the records indicated that Sofia continued legal efforts, searching the foster care system for her children, Bertram and Heather. It went on for years without success. Then one day, a child care official, thought to have been sympathetic to Clark Telfer’s claim and believing she was protecting the lives of Sofia’s children—“lives the mother ruined”—put an end to Sofia’s inquiries by telling her “to cease her search efforts” because her children had passed away. She told her one had drowned and the other had died of illness, and she could provide no other information.