The Girls Across the Bay Page 8

  He’s been crying. Or doing drugs.

  She scanned the room.

  If he has, he hasn’t left it out.

  “We’ve got some follow-up questions for you, John,” Mac said. “I called Luke, and he confirmed you met with him last night at the coffee shop.”

  Oh, thanks for telling me, Mac.

  John nodded. “So did you talk to Mickey?”

  “Hold on there,” Mac said. “There was a time discrepancy with your friend. Luke said you were only there for the length of a coffee.”

  “Yeah,” John said. “About an hour.”

  “But see, you didn’t give us a time. You said you met your friend Luke, then took a drive up the coast and back home. You were gone, by your own account, for roughly three hours,” Mac said. “It takes less than an hour to get to the city and then again to drive back. So you were driving up the coast for an hour?”

  John nodded.

  Mac stared at him. “Why?”

  John shrugged. “I’ve asked myself that all night. If I hadn’t taken the long way around Bones Bay. If I’d just come back…”

  “Were you and Lily fighting?” Mac asked.

  John frowned. “No, why?”

  “During our investigation, we’ve been told you had some altercations in the past several months of your relationship,” Mac said.

  “Alter—what? No.” John shook his head. “I’ve never hurt her.”

  “But you kicked her out of your home last month,” Grace said.

  John turned to her. “You’ve been talking to her parents.”

  “Why did you kick her out, John?” Mac asked.

  John bit his lip and stared at the burgundy carpet, rubbing the stubble along his jaw. “She’d been unfaithful,” he muttered.

  Grace crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you divulge this information last night?”

  “I wasn’t thinking about it. I’ve tried to clear it from my mind.” He clenched his jaw and fists, looking up at Mac.

  “Did you hurt her, John?” Mac asked.

  “Never.” John shook his head. “I was pissed, yeah, but I never laid a hand on her. It was a misunderstanding, though. That’s how we were able to move past it. Mickey forced himself on her.”

  Mickey?

  “He made her uncomfortable while she worked for him and preyed on her. He didn’t stop until I convinced her to get that restraining order after she came back to me crying with a bruised arm. I told you about that already.”

  The same bruise Lily’s parents and Mickey implied were from John.

  “John, you need to be straight with us,” Mac said. “You should have told us last night. This information is important to catch whoever did this.”

  “I didn’t lie,” John said, sitting up straight.

  Push him any further and he’ll lawyer up.

  “Withholding information is the same thing,” Mac said. “Be straight with me. Were you fighting last night?”

  “No.” John stared straight at him, jaw clenched.

  “John?” Grace asked, softening her voice. “You broke up with Lily because she had been unfaithful. Does that mean she willingly cheated on you with Mickey?”

  “I don’t think so. I think he forced himself on her.”

  Shifting blame helped to take the pressure off the person being questioned.

  “How did you find out?” Grace asked.

  He rubbed his palms along his jeans before balling them into fists.

  “She told me,” he said, clearing his throat. “Lily came to me after her final realtor exam about two months ago. Maybe three. She told me he was there, waiting for her with flowers when she got to her car. She’d already quit working for him at Wild Card that week. I think he felt her slipping away and wanted her back. He kissed her, and she pushed him away. That’s what she told me. She got in her car, drove home to me, and told me he’d been doing shit like that for years, but that was the first time he kissed her since she was with me.”

  “Did you confront him?” Mac asked.

  John shook his head. “I told her we were done. I didn’t—I couldn’t believe she hadn’t told me before. Never mentioned his behaviour once to me. I felt like she was hiding it. I was angry, and I wish like hell I’d have taken the time to calm down and hear her out, but I told her to leave. She took her things and moved in with her parents.”

  “And then she came back,” Grace said.

  “I swallowed my pride, and I listened. I had to. She showed me the bruise on her arm he left after following her to one of the houses she was showing. I told her I was sorry I hadn’t protected her from him, and we went and tried to get an order of protection, but apparently the bruise wasn’t bad enough yet, or they didn’t believe her. I don’t know. We came back when the bruise was purple, and she made her case again and got the order.”

  “Does Mickey know you knew about how he handled her?” Mac asked.

  “I—I don’t think so. I just wanted to get her away from that, and we made sure of it. Things were better.”

  “Last night you said to look into Mickey, but you didn’t tell us about the infidelity,” Mac started. “You can’t keep things—”

  “Last night I was in shock. I still am. It’s real, but it’s not. I feel like I could go home, and she’d be there. Like we’re just starting our lives…”

  “John?” Grace said.

  He zoned out, staring past her. “She’s gone,” John muttered.

  “John,” Grace said louder, and he turned to her. “You were involved in an altercation outside Wild Card a couple of months ago. Why were you there and what happened?”

  He squinted up at her before shaking his head and running his fingers through his hair.

  “That was before Lily moved out. I went to visit her at work and some guy hit on her. It happened all the time, but this guy wanted a fight, and I’d had one too many, so I took it outside.”

  “Did you know him?” Grace asked.

  He shook his head.

  “After that, did you fight with Lily?” Mac asked.

  “No.” John frowned. “Why would I fight with her? It wasn’t her fault some jerk didn’t take no for an answer.”

  Lily’s dad made it seem like you blamed her when other men came on to her.

  “Guys flirted with her a lot when she worked there?” Grace asked.

  John nodded. “She hated it more than I did, I think, if that’s possible. She was a good woman. I—I didn’t deserve her.”

  “We’ll give you some time, alright?” she said.

  Mac looked back at her and frowned.

  John ran his fingers through his hair again and sighed.

  “You have our number if anything comes up, and we’ll do our best to find out what happened to her,” Grace said, turning toward the door. “We’ll be in touch, John.”

  Mac followed behind her as she opened the door. Mac closed it behind them. “What was that in there?”

  “What?”

  “You interrupted my rhythm,” he said, stalking toward the car.

  “He was going to shut us down, Mac,” Grace huffed.

  He shook his head. “It’s not up to you to make that call.”

  Challenging him this early on would only further destroy any semblance of a professional relationship they could be capable of. Worse, he could report back to Chief Banning that she’d been difficult. Obstructive.

  Don’t rock the boat.

  She got in her car and pulled out of the lot, cursing under her breath. He pulled out from behind her, passing her before they reached the traffic light.

  “Very mature,” she said.

  As she followed him to the department, she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t just let him take the lead on this first case.

  His territory, but I outrank him.

  As she parked, Mac jogged inside. She wanted to lean back against her seat and throw a pity party, but instead, she got out of the car, and strode to the door.

  You can do better. Don�
�t let him see weakness.

  He stood beside the coffeemaker with two other officers, laughing, before she caught his eye. He nodded to the men and strode to a small room adjacent from Chief Banning’s office. She followed him and shut the door behind them.

  “Tarek’s running through Lily’s phone records as we speak,” Mac said and grabbed a dry erase marker. “So we’ve got John Talbot.” He wrote his name and taped his picture beside it.

  “Prime suspect,” Grace nodded.

  “Mickey Clarke,” he said as he wrote the next name. “Suspect number two.”

  “Anyone else?”

  He shook his head and took a sip of coffee. “No one else with a motive we know of.”

  “We should run through their records. Find what we can on them,” she said.

  “I’ll take John, hometown boy. You take the city slicker,” he said, pointing to a pile on the table. “I’ve already looked through his file anyway.”

  “Technically, John’s from the city.”

  “Well, he’s a resident of Tall Pines now,” Mac said. “That no contact order was granted to the vic just a month ago. That’s the prime motive right there.”

  He wrote it on the board. “Whether she was sending signals like she wanted something to happen between her and Mickey, or like John said, he came on to her and stalked her, that order must have upset him. Triggered him maybe.”

  “But who do you think physically assaulted her?” Grace asked. “Parents say John. John says Mickey. Mickey implies it could have been John.”

  “Not sure yet,” Mac said. “Lily’s statement says it was Mickey.”

  He wrote the word bruises under his name.

  “Then why did her parents think it was John?”

  “Maybe she never told her mom specifics. Maybe her mom didn’t want to hear them. She was probably just happy to have Lily back home.”

  “Maybe,” Grace said, opening the file. “Hopefully her cell records paint a better picture. When’s the DNA due in?”

  Mac shook his head. “Takes weeks usually, but this might come in a little sooner.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “You’re not in the city anymore. Things don’t get done so fast around here, but they get done right.”

  Don’t take the bait.

  “What would John’s motive be?” she asked.

  “Jealousy?” Mac wrote the word with the question mark.

  “Lily didn’t work at Wild Card anymore. No contact with Mickey—that we know of. She sold real estate, so maybe a male colleague from work?”

  “Have you checked with them yet?” Mac asked.

  She shook her head. “I’ll go after I get through this.”

  He shrugged. “Why don’t you just take it home and go over it tonight? Check out her work now.”

  She pressed her lips together and stared down at the table.

  Let him lead.

  She nodded and stood. “Yeah, might as well. I’m off, then. Call me when the records are back, alright?”

  He nodded without looking up. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll meet with Lockwood at the morgue.”

  Grace grabbed the files and tucked them under her arm. “Right,” she said. “See you then.”

  Have it your way, Mac.

  Chapter Eight

  Madigan jogged up the steps to the middle house in the triplex and slipped through the first door. She’d read over the address many times and memorized it for all the birthday cards she’d sent Evette. She’d ridden by the triplex twice, trying to work up the nerve to knock on the door.

  She hovered her hand over the doorbell but then took it back.

  Am I crazy to be here?

  She only remembered Evette speaking about John once and while Eli wasn’t around. A few times she caught her sitting on her bed, holding the picture of him and stuffing it back under her nightstand when Madigan entered the room.

  Had Evette lost him completely, the same as Grace? Or was it possible they still had contact too?

  The building was nicer than she’d imagined both times she’d made it that far. The first time, she’d almost confronted Evette in anger, blaming her for who she had become.

  She’d been failing a few of her high school classes, always suspicious of her boyfriend’s whereabouts when they weren’t together, and wondering how different her life might have been had she been sent to the Knox family instead of Eli and Evette from the beginning.

  The second time, she longed for the way Evette always made her feel better, regardless of what she’d been through. The time she considered the worst in her life, when her brother, Drew, passed away after the boating accident.

  Both times, she decided not to go for the same reason.

  I was eleven the last time I saw her.

  I’m no one to her anymore, and she’s no one to me.

  She knocked on the door and took a step back. A tapping noise came from somewhere behind the other side of the door, followed by a thud.

  She’s home.

  Her heart beat fast in her chest as the door opened, revealing a shell of the woman Evette used to be. Her frizzy grey curls hung just over her shoulders, fried from all her perms. She wore an oversized pink house coat with a stain near the bottom hem and had a cigarette wedged between her fingers, as it always had been.

  “Maddie,” Evette whispered, covering her mouth. “It’s really you.”

  She found a comfort in her voice, just as she had during her dark days on Warbler Way—when Evette happened to be home.

  “Evette.” She nodded.

  “Well,” Evette said, glancing behind the door and back at her, “come in, won’t you?”

  Madigan followed her into a long living room. A soap opera played across the large screen TV over the fireplace, and a bag of Cheetos sat on the living room table, along with an empty bottle of vodka and a pile of cigarette butts in a crystal ashtray.

  “I’m sorry the place is such a mess,” Evette said and coughed at the end of the sentence. “I never was much of a clean freak. You know that. If I’d known you were coming…”

  Madigan peered into the kitchen to the right where dirty dishes filled the sink.

  It was never this bad. Then again, Eli was always over your shoulder, telling you what to do. Threatening to punish you if it wasn’t just so.

  This must feel like freedom.

  “Please, sit,” Evette said, nodding to an armchair beside the couch. “Tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

  Madigan sat on the edge of the seat cushion and folded her hands together.

  “There’ve been a few times I wanted to see you,” Madigan said. “That I meant to come and see you.”

  She’d never meant to admit it, but Evette had a way of disarming her.

  Evette smiled and tapped her ash into the tray, her thin fingers, covered in rings, shaking until she pulled them back toward her.

  “I’m surprised,” she said before going into a coughing fit.

  Madigan sat forward on the chair, waiting for her to stop. “You didn’t think I’d want to see you?” she asked.

  “I didn’t think you thought of me at all,” she said. “Except for maybe bad things. Bad memories.”

  Madigan nodded.

  “I have them too,” Evette whispered. “Nightmares.”

  The nightmares you told me weren’t real.

  Madigan took a deep breath. “I’m here about John.”

  Evette squinted at her.

  “Your adopted son.”

  Evette looked down at her lap, smoothing her robe over her knee and taking a puff of her cigarette.

  “Have you kept in touch, Evette?”

  “Just about the same as you,” she sniffled and butted her ash again. “Birthday cards and memories are all that’s left.”

  “What happened with him?” Madigan asked. “Why did he leave?”

  “He was practically an adult.”

  “So did Eli kick him out?”

  Evet
te frowned and set her cigarette down on the ashtray. “Who told you that?”

  “Eli never spoke about him, and you hid that picture of him.”

  “You remember that.” Evette raised her brows and nodded. “Well, I guess it was a mutual decision. Eli wanted him out, and John wanted out. Plus, you girls were coming.”

  “Then why didn’t he keep in touch with you?” Madigan asked.

  Evette sighed. “I don’t know what you’re thinking. You, Gracie, Johnny. I don’t know what you think of me, but it can’t be good.”

  She shook her head and picked up her cigarette again, puffing away at it, supporting one frail arm with the other.

  It wasn’t all bad with you.

  “You protected me,” Madigan said. “When you could. I remember that.”

  “Ha.” Evette shook her head, blowing smoke in the opposite direction. “A lot of good that did.”

  Evette could have ended their suffering by calling the police or child services a thousand times, but she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t want to have the girls taken away, or maybe she didn’t think she could make it on her own.

  Whatever you did, it was based on fear.

  It was the reason Madigan held out so long before getting them out. What they endured in that house never seemed as bad as it could have been if she’d been split up from Grace.

  Madigan pursed her lips and sighed. “I’m just letting you know what I think, and I don’t think it was your fault—not all of it.”

  Tears slid down Evette’s cheek, and she wiped them away, sending the ash of her cigarette drifting through the air and onto the carpet. She maintained eye contact with Madigan.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Madigan cleared her throat. “I—I guess you know where John lives now?”

  She nodded. “He moved into his first house two or three years ago.”

  “And his last name?” Madigan asked.

  Evette took another puff. “Maddie, are you wanting to meet him?”

  Madigan shook her head, trying to decide how much to tell her.

  “Well, what is it?” Evette asked.

  “I recognized him in the paper. His fiancée was found dead in their home last night.”

  Evette’s jaw hung slack, and she raised her brows.