The One Who Watches Page 2

  “You don’t know anything about her, do you?” He stared at Madigan, his dark eyes searching hers.

  He won’t say something. Is he protecting her? Is it something personal?

  “She had… issues with her mental health,” Madigan said.

  His chest heaved, and he stared at the ground. His salt and pepper hair fell in front of his eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Sir, anything you can tell me about my mother would be greatly appreciated. I’ve gone my whole life without knowing her—or about her—but I want to. You don’t want to tell me much, and that’s fine; I respect that, but could you help me find her so I can ask her questions for myself?”

  He lifted his head, but he stared somewhere past her, just below her chin. “She went to the Amherst Psychiatric Hospital.”

  “When was this?”

  “Close to thirty years ago. Maybe more.”

  Before I was born, maybe.

  Madigan nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

  He stood still, frozen in time, staring at the house.

  “I appreciate your help,” Madigan said in a soft tone and nodded before turning back toward the road.

  She turned over her shoulder after crossing, but he hadn’t moved, still staring off into space as she mounted her bike. As she revved her engine, he shook out of his daze and stared at her, watching as she rode past him.

  I have a lead, and that’s something, but I stirred up something for that man that I’ll probably never understand.

  As she rounded the corner, the man had disappeared from the sidewalk.

  I could try the hospital tonight, but I should wait until morning during visiting hours. If she’s there, it explains why she never tried to regain custody since I left Eli and Evette’s. And it’s a better excuse than anything else I’ve thought of.

  She rode toward the bridge over Bones Bay, back to Tall Pines, letting the wind blow away any further thoughts as she enjoyed her ride home.

  Three

  Grace climbed the hill of Blackrock Road as the Chief Medical Examiner, Raven Lockwood, drove by and they waved to each other. Grace reached the top and walked to the in the middle of the intersection where Mindy claimed the vic had stopped.

  Skid marks riddled the road, but none that could be identified as most recent beneath the rain. As she descended the hill and passed the police tape once more, Raven joined her in the spot the ambulance had been parked.

  “Sheppard, how are you?” She stared up at Grace, slipping on her gloves.

  “I’m well, thanks. You saw the wreck?”

  She raised her eyebrows, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced. “I did. My assistant is taking pictures as we speak, and then I can get the vic back.”

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Raven nodded, avoiding eye contact.

  Okay, something’s off with her, but I guess she doesn’t want to talk about it.

  “How long do you think it’ll take before we can meet with you for the findings?”

  Lockwood sighed. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to rush you.”

  “Oh, it’s not you.” She shook her head, her long black braid swaying back and forth behind her, and bit her lip, lowering her voice. “I had an awful first date last week. I’m still just a little shaken up about it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Did something bad happen?”

  “Nothing that serious,” she said with the same hushed tone. “It was just… there was something off about him, and I should never have agreed to the date in the first place, but… Look at me going on. Not the time or place. Never mind. It’s over now…hopefully.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” Grace tilted her head toward the wreck. “They’re still not finished taking pictures yet. So, how did you meet him? The bad date.”

  “At an alumni event at the university where I did my undergrad. I didn’t want to go in the first place, but a few friends I hadn’t seen in a long time coaxed me into it. It was a fun night, all in all. I had a few drinks—I think that’s why I agreed to the date.”

  “Did you know him from before?”

  She shook her head, and her chest heaved.

  “What?”

  “He told me he went to school there as well, and he thought I looked familiar. We had a decent conversation. He was shy, didn’t look me in the eyes for too long at any given time, but he was smart. A little aloof, and I have a weakness for men who don’t seem needy, desperate, or cocky. Before we said goodbye, he told me he’d be in Amherst the following week and asked for my number so he could take me out while he was over this way.”

  “So you gave it to him.”

  Raven nodded and sighed. “It’s been rough out there—the dating scene in Tall Pines—and I thought I’d be a little adventurous. We had our school in common, both invested in our work, and I wanted to see if there was even more we shared. Besides, one of my friends recognized his name and told me he was a nice guy from what they remembered.”

  “Sounds okay so far.”

  “I met him at the restaurant, and pretty much from the beginning, he acted differently than the night we met at the alumni event. He was talking a lot more, rambling at times, and had an air of desperation that turned me off from the beginning. I thought since I was sober, I saw through him, or since he was sober, he lost his chill. He kept telling me how happy he was that we were doing this while we ate, and then he let it slip that he had a crush on me in University.”

  “What? But you didn’t know him then.”

  “Right. I told him that, and he said we’d hung out in some of the same circles. I asked with whom, but he couldn’t remember their names, so I said my friend’s name. He told me he remembered her, and that he spent a lot of time in the library and would see me with my study group. Even specified where we met—and he was right. It was just so weird and overwhelming. I mean, he seemed nice enough, so I guess my friend was right about that, but he was also coming on so strong. Wouldn’t stop talking about how beautiful I am. After we finished our meal, I told him I had to go, and he looked so…”

  “Disappointed?”

  “Sad. Hurt, I guess. I lied and said I had to get up early the next morning, and with the commute, I should leave right away. He paid for the meal, although I tried to split the bill with him, and he asked if he could call me again. I said sure.” She groaned and rubbed her fingers against her forehead. “It was so awkward, and I don’t know why I wasn’t honest with him about the connection, so this past week, he’s been texting me. At first, I didn’t respond, but then, when they kept coming, I told him I thought it would be best if we didn’t see each other again.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  “Nothing. He hasn’t texted me since.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Mac’s car caught her eye as it drove up around the bend and parked behind them where it had been before. “It’s a good thing he got the message and you won’t have to run into him around here. He’s not from here, right?” She turned back to Raven, but her frown remained. “What is it?”

  “Yesterday, I got home from work, and there was a teddy bear sitting in front of my door. No card or note…”

  “You think he sent it?”

  “I don’t know who else would. I’ve asked my friends and parents. It—it seemed like it was used.”

  “That’s strange.”

  Mac walked behind Raven to her assistant, who stopped taking pictures of the body to speak with him.

  “What’s strange is that I feel like I’m being watched,” Raven muttered. “I think he’s watching me.”

  “But he doesn’t know where you live, right?”

  “I told him I was from Tall Pines at the conference. That’s how the whole thing came up with him coming into Amherst. It was a convenient coincidence.”

  “But he wouldn’t know your address, and none of your friends at the conference would have given it to him, right?”

  Unless he followed her home a
fter their date…

  “No, they wouldn’t do that. I feel silly even telling you about it.” Raven cleared her throat and turned around. “Looks like she’s finished with the photos.”

  “Hey, what’s his name?”

  “The guy? Paul. Rothman. I looked him up on Facebook before the date, but his account is pretty private. Not much on there.”

  “I’ll look into him and let you know if I find anything suspicious, alright?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that—”

  “Raven, it’s no trouble, really. I’ll feel better, and hopefully, I can put your mind at ease, too.”

  Raven sighed again. “Thanks.”

  “Sheppard!” Mac called, waving her over.

  The women walked toward the wrecked car, parting as Grace joined Mac at the bumper.

  “How was the ride back?” Grace asked.

  “Mindy couldn’t give any more details, but I reminded her to call us if she remembered anything. Melanie was saying she avoids this road altogether when it’s raining. Too steep—”

  “Melanie?”

  “Lockwood’s assistant M.E.” Mac nodded to the woman with straight, dark hair and thick dark-framed glasses, holding a camera. “What was Lockwood saying about the body?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  Jack Holden joined them again. “We found something,” he said with urgency to his tone, and turned back toward the car, pointing to the wheel. “The brake pad’s been ripped. Maybe cut. Maybe tampered with. Cooper saw it while we were waiting to get the guy out of the car.”

  “He was trying to stop,” Mac muttered.

  “Is there anything else we can do here?” Jack asked.

  “Forensics will look into it,” Mac said.

  Grace turned to Jack. “Thanks for letting us know.”

  “Of course.” Jack turned back to his team.

  “We need to determine what happened to the brakes as soon as possible,” Mac said.

  Grace rested her hands on her hips. “I’ve been working the scene, and I haven’t come across anything yet. I need to see what they find with the car, on the vic, and look into those cell phone records.”

  “Right. Are you joining me to notify the family?”

  She nodded.

  “You sure? I can go it alone this time.”

  She smiled at the offer as he opened his car door for her, suppressing the smile, worried others might be watching them. She turned back, scanning the scene.

  The firefighters pried the vic out of the car, and Lockwood brought the gurney over to meet them. Malone worked the police line at the mid-point of the hill, and Officer Vila stood by the wreck, watching them.

  This is our first case together since we told Banning about our new relationship. I know at least some of our co-workers have figured it out about us—if not all. We need to keep this professional.

  “Let’s take separate cars,” Grace said.

  Mac closed the door. “Sure. You follow me and be safe.”

  She gave him a warm smile before climbing the hill. The slippery ascent each time may have been one of the most difficult parts of the night, if not for the visit they had to make to Tyler’s parents.

  Possibly the worst part of any homicide investigation, and he offered to do it for me, but I can’t miss the opportunity to learn more about the vic and his state of mind.

  Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons sat at the kitchen table, holding hands as Grace finished telling them all she could. Tyler’s mom’s eyes had already turned bloodshot and red, while his father’s face turned white when they told him the news, and the colour still hadn’t returned.

  “We’ll be looking into all possibilities,” Grace said, “but right now, there is still a lot of testing to be done.”

  “Testing?” Mrs. Gibbons asked.

  “On the car and your son’s body.”

  “His…” Mrs. Gibbons stuttered before sobbing again as her husband rubbed her back.

  His body.

  They don’t want to hear that. They’re not ready to hear that.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Grace said, turning to Mac.

  Mac nodded to her, a reassurance that brought a calming sensation over her.

  “I want to see him,” Mrs. Gibbons choked out between her muffled cries.

  No, you don’t.

  “Mrs. Gibbons,” Grace said in a soothing tone, “we have the Chief Medical Examiner looking into cause of death right now, and once she’s able to give us all some answers, I’d like to discuss that possibility with you, but I don’t recommend that right now.”

  “I want to see him right now!” Mrs. Gibbons shouted.

  Mr. Gibbons rested his free hand on their enmeshed ones and turned to his wife. “They just want to find out what happened. Then we can—”

  “What happened?” Mrs. Gibbons huffed, turning to Grace. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I can’t speculate about that, but there are many influences we need to consider, including personal, environmental, and mechanical.”

  “You think it was his car?” Mrs. Gibbons asked. “It was brand new!”

  “When did he purchase it?” Grace asked.

  “Last month,” Mr. Gibbons said.

  “Where?”

  “The car dealership in Amherst. What’s it called… Barry’s.”

  “Had he had any issues with it?”

  “Nope—it was brand new.”

  Grace wrote it down. “Okay, and when was the last time you spoke to your son?”

  “He was here last night for dinner,” Mrs. Gibbons said, her tone fading. “He sat right there.”

  She stared at Grace, pressing her lips together and shaking her head in disbelief.

  “And how did he seem to you last night?”

  “What? Fine. Normal. What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Was there anything unusual going on with him?” Grace asked. “Did you notice anything different about him, or had he been under any stress lately?”

  The hum of the fridge buzzed between them.

  “It was raining.” Mr. Gibbons cleared his throat. “Pouring! It was an accident. You know that, right? You’re not suggesting this could have been done on—on purpose.”

  “What?” Mrs. Gibbons turned to her husband, but he continued to stare at Grace. “Are you insinuating someone did this to him?”

  “Or that he did it to himself?” Mr. Gibbons asked in a deep tone. “Because I can assure you, Detective Sheppard, our son was not depressed! He was not suicidal!”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Gibbons, I am not suggesting anything right now, and I want you both to know, it’s my job to investigate all possibilities and get the answers—”

  “Then why did you ask that?” Mr. Gibbons pressed. “Is this…is this being treated as a homicide?”

  “This is an investigation into your son’s death, and no assumptions have or will be made. I asked that question because it’s important for me to get as much information as possible to do my job well, and as I was about to say, to get the answers needed to come to a proper conclusion about what happened tonight.”

  The Gibbons exchanged a brief look before Mr. Gibbons spoke. “He was in good spirits. He had so much to celebrate—to be happy about.”

  “Could you tell me more about that?” Grace asked.

  “Tyler’s a genius.” Mr. Gibbons cleared his throat once more and squeezed his wife’s hand. “He graduated college at the top of his class and went on to develop apps. You know what those are? For your phone?”

  Grace and Mac nodded.

  “Well, last year, he invented and developed the program for this wonderful app that lets you play songs on your phone as if they were from a record—an album—and a little album played right there on the screen, and with the touch of your finger, you could place the needle on different points, and it played that part, just like a record. Of course the sound isn’t exactly like a record—”

  “Oh, you can’t let that go, can you?” Mrs. Gibb
ons huffed, turning to Grace. “It’s the closest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s wonderful. He—he’s brilliant…”

  “He signed a huge licensing deal with a major music company, and everything has just taken off ever since. He launched the app last month, and it took off so fast. Table Turner. Have you heard of it?”

  “I think so,” Mac said.

  Mr. Gibbons gave a weak smile. “He’s got himself a brand-new house in Tall Pines and was pushing to buy us a new one, too. We didn’t want to leave because…so many good memories.” He hung his head, and Mrs. Gibbons rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Did Tyler have a girlfriend? Partner?” Grace asked.

  “No,” Mrs. Gibbons whispered, raising her head. “He’d have told us.”

  “Okay, would you be able to put us in touch with any of his friends? Anyone else he was close to?”

  Mrs. Gibbons gasped. “Joel. Oh, we have to tell Joel.” She pressed her hand over her mouth as she cried, shaking her head once more.

  “Okay, if we could get his phone number, I’d appreciate it.”

  Mr. Gibbons nodded, raising his head. “Joel’s been his best friend since high school. He hired Joel right after he had the idea for Table Turner. They work together in a small office in Amherst and were on the hunt for a bigger one so they could hire more people…”

  Grace gave Mrs. Gibbons her notebook and pen, and while she stood to get her address book, Mr. Gibbons wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Listen, you do whatever it takes to find out what happened to our boy, but know that he didn’t do this on purpose. He was happy. Everything was finally happening for him. You understand?”

  “I appreciate you letting me know,” Grace said, standing as Mrs. Gibbons came back with her notebook.

  “That’s his cell phone number there. He only has a cell phone now. Could we give him a call first?” Mrs. Gibbons asked.

  “Of course. I’ll call him tomorrow morning.”

  Mrs. Gibbons handed her the notebook. Grace went to take it, but Mrs. Gibbons held on.

  “My son is a good boy. If someone did something to him, you’ll tell us, right? If that car malfunctioned in any way, we need to know.”