Pretty Little Killers (44 page)

Already ravaged by weather and time, the remains were unrecognizable except for one feature: they were clearly those of a small human being. Worst of all, the head was missing.

Only Gaskins, a member of an elite state crime-scene unit, and a veteran trooper who had worked more than thirty crime scenes across the state and had personal knowledge of the case, recognized the tattered remnants of clothing Skylar had worn her last day alive: a yellow print shirt and stained green shorts.

Feelings of relief that their search had come to an end mingled with a sense of satisfaction that Mary and Dave could find closure. Overwhelmed by all of the conflicting emotions he'd kept bottled up inside for the last five months, Gaskins couldn't keep from crying.

As so often happened in this case, social media broke the news that Skylar Neese was dead. However, the news was carefully hidden behind a smokescreen because police had been cautious about whom they shared their find with—and traditional news media was not among that group. Law enforcement at the scene knew at the time the remains were all that were left of Skylar, but they wouldn't release that information until all of the standard DNA tests were performed.

Still, some people outside of police circles figured it out. Josie Snyder was one of them. At 2:53
P.M
. that same day, Josie took to her keyboard to send out a poignant tweet. She wanted the world to know what she knew, but at the same time, Josie wanted the message to be somber and subtle:
SKY is so gloomy today :(
.

Whoever they were, Josie Snyder's sources were solid. Her tweet about Skylar being found came in the early afternoon of the same day she
was
found.

For the next forty-eight hours, the crime scene was sealed off. But the presence of so many FBI agents and State Police troopers wandering around was bound to have caused a stir among the neighbors. All Gaskins and Spurlock hoped was that they could get all the goods on Shelia before she got word that Skylar's remains had been found.

Gaskins alerted Greene County authorities they would be bringing the human remains there. When they reached the county offices, Coroner Gregory Rohanna was given strict orders not to release any information about the body. Not to the media or anyone else. The police still had one suspect loose, and they didn't want her to know they were closing in on her.

thirty-seven

Skylar's Law

Dave learned the bitter
truth the day Skylar would have celebrated her seventeenth birthday.

He had chatter and rumors from various people—Skylar had been killed, her murder involved knives, Shelia and Rachel were somehow mixed up in it—but all the puzzle pieces came together the night of the candlelight vigil.

That February 10 was a Sunday, and it was Mary and Dave's first birthday without Skylar. The day had been unseasonably warm for that time of year, in the low 60s. People kept coming, and before long there were far too many to fit inside Mary and Dave's modest apartment.

Mary had announced the vigil on Facebook and the radio and newspaper mentioned it, but they never expected this many. Friends, relatives, and complete strangers came. Some just came to pay their respects; others stayed the course of the three-hour event. Cars filled the apartment parking lot and lined both sides of the street.

Mary's sister, Carol, arranged for large containers of coffee and hot chocolate, set out on the retaining wall where Skylar had hidden her vanity bench the last night she snuck out. Carol also coordinated the efforts of the people who brought snacks and desserts, placing everything on a table on the blacktop parking lot.

It was particularly difficult for Mary, who missed her daughter terribly. Skylar should have been there that night. She wasn't, though, and she never would be.

As people arrived, Carol gave each one a candle for the Chinese lantern ceremony they had planned. People mingled in the parking lot because the grass was wet from the rain. And they kept coming. Eventually, there were so many people that Carol ran far short of the 150 candles she had brought.

At one point early in the evening, County Commissioner Tom Bloom pulled Dave aside, saying he had something important to tell Dave. Being in county government, Tom heard all the stories, especially from public employees, like politicians—and police officers.

He told Dave it
was
Skylar's remains that had been found in January, just like Dave had heard. The remains hadn't been positively identified yet, but law enforcement was pretty certain what was left of Skylar had been shipped to FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia. But he had worse news.

Tom had also heard that Rachel Shoaf had confessed. She and Shelia had stabbed Skylar to death. Tom emphasized that none of this information could be made public yet.

Dave was shaken, but not surprised. It felt like all the whispers of the last few months had been leading to this. A little later, he revealed what Tom had told him to Mary, who felt the evening begin to fall apart. She didn't do well in crowds to begin with, and this event . . . this news. . . . Once again, Mary and Dave felt pushed beyond their limits.

The high point of the evening came when the lanterns were released into the starry sky in honor of Skylar. Because Skylar had been a budding environmentalist, they chose biodegradable lanterns. When someone suggested balloons early on, Mary said they were out of the question because Skylar believed balloons were nothing more than a pollutant—and a danger to animals. The large crowd lit their candles and held them aloft as the lanterns began ascending. Each one powered by its own individual flame, they rose and floated away in the night sky.

Dave remembered the evening as both sad and happy. They were touched by the concerns and well-wishes people expressed, but still couldn't quite accept the fact that their private grief had once again become a public spectacle.

As the gathering wound down, leaving mostly relatives and closest friends to linger, Dave decided he had no choice. He'd already tried telling people to ease up on their search efforts. What he couldn't say—because he wasn't supposed to know—was that the remains found on January 16 were most likely Skylar's.

Two people still at the gathering had been completely devoted to the search for Skylar: Mary's boss, Tammy Henry, and Becky Benson. Both women had pushed themselves until their health suffered. With what Tom had told him, Dave couldn't let them continue working so hard.

He took Tammy, who had been one of the most active searchers, aside privately and again tried to tell her to slow down. He said he and Mary appreciated it, but it was time to stop. The look in Tammy's eyes told Dave she wouldn't, so he told her that Skylar's remains had been found.

Then he went to find Becky. “This isn't going to turn out the way you thought it would,” he said, also breaking the news to her about Skylar. Just like Tammy, though, he could tell Becky didn't want to believe him, either.

Mary and Dave had missed so much work since Skylar disappeared they didn't even have enough money to fill their gas tank. Yet they had been invited to address the House Legislative Committee in the middle of February 2013, a month after Skylar's unidentified remains were found. Gas or no gas, they were going to Charleston to help make Skylar's Law a reality.

Skylar's Law had been introduced with Delegate Charlene Marshall as the lead sponsor. The clock was ticking, the time fast approaching for the Legislative Committee to discuss the bill, and
Charlene believed its members should hear the story of Skylar's disappearance. She wanted them to know how badly Skylar's Law was needed.

Dave hoped Mary would join him, but she refused. And Dave—who realized his wife was a more mature copy of Skylar in temperament—understood he shouldn't push her. Mary felt she couldn't hold up through the ordeal. Her emotions were like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point. She couldn't listen to Dave talk about Skylar in front of all those people.

But one of them had to make the three-hour trip to Charleston. Thanks to Commissioner Bloom, Dave didn't have to worry about fuel for their old car. Bloom insisted on providing gas money for the trip.

When Dave arrived at the state capitol, he went straight to Marshall's office. Bloom was already there.

“Dave Neese, I'd like you to meet Delegate Charlene Marshall,” Bloom said, introducing Dave to the tireless eighty-year-old representative from Monongalia County.

Dave shook Marshall's hand. “I want you to know, Delegate Marshall, that I'll always cherish the photo of you and Skylar,” Dave told her.

The senior statesman thought the grieving father was confused, because she didn't recall ever meeting Skylar.

“You probably don't remember. Skylar was your special page when she was ten.”

Marshall felt the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand up.

“Mary and I, we were sitting up in the balcony that day,” Dave said. “Skylar gave you your lunch. She was so pleased. . . . You were like a hero to her.”

Marshall felt tears welling up as she tried to remember the child page. “Well, she did something for me then, and now I'm trying to do something for her,” she said at last.

When Bloom and Marshall offered to pay for Dave's lunch, he politely declined, but Marshall insisted. She knew he had a long day
ahead of him and what he was up against. He needed enough energy to get through it.

Dave had to tell the committee about his missing daughter, and it would be the hardest speech of his life. He had to address the legislators as though Skylar was still alive, even though he was grappling with the reality that she wasn't.

He told Mary he would simply pretend that Skylar was still alive. It was their only hope of passing Skylar's Law.