by Lisa Regan
“Angel lady,” whispered Emily from the bed.
Josie set her laptop aside and leaned in toward Emily, offering her hand, which she took. “You can call me Josie.”
“Josie. Are we still alive?”
Josie squeezed her hand. “Yes, we’re still alive. I’ll be right here until morning. You go back to sleep.”
Emily nodded and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, she relinquished Josie’s hand and turned onto her other side. Josie returned to her laptop, focusing her attention on Lorelei’s property instead. It took an hour of digging through the Alcott County Recorder of Deeds and Tax Assessment records before she found what she was looking for—and that led her to an extensive search through the County Court records.
“Son of a bitch,” she mumbled.
She looked at the clock in the bottom right-hand corner of her laptop. It was nearly five a.m. For a moment, she considered calling and waking Noah, but they couldn’t do anything with this information for at least three hours. Shutting the laptop, she tried to go to sleep. She would need at least a few hours if she was going to function during the day. It seemed like an eternity since she’d stood before the mirror at her private suite at Harper’s Peak, barely recognizable in her wedding dress and expertly done make-up. Soon she would return, this time in her capacity as a detective.
Fifteen
Josie sipped coffee from a paper cup and watched the vibrant scenery pass by the car window as Noah drove them out of central Denton toward Harper’s Peak. He had arrived at the hospital with coffee and a cheese Danish—one of the many reasons she had planned to marry him—and served the warrant for Lorelei’s and Holly’s medical charts on the hospital. They made one stop at the stationhouse so that Josie could print out some documents. Then they headed toward Reed Bryan’s Farm Fresh Produce Market and after that, Harper’s Peak.
“Mett found birth certificates for both Holly and Emily Mitchell,” Noah said. “It took a while, since all we had were their approximate ages and no birthdates. Anyway, no father listed on either one.”
Josie sighed. “That’s a dead end then. Still, it’s strange. The birth certificates are a matter of public record. I’m sure there were copies at Lorelei’s house, and yet, the killer destroyed every document in that house—and every photo.”
“Makes you wonder what he was trying to hide,” Noah said.
“Exactly. Oh, and I found some information for a Dr. Vincent Buckley in one of the counties outside of Philadelphia. He’s a psychiatrist. I left him a voicemail.”
As they pulled onto the road that led past Lorelei’s home and on to Harper’s Peak, the produce market came into view on the left. It was an old barn that had been converted to a market. The words “Farm Fresh Produce” were stenciled on the side of it in large green letters. Crude wooden tables and crates lined one side of the parking lot, filled with various fruits and vegetables. A tall, sturdily built teenage boy wearing a green apron over the top of a long-sleeved black cotton T-shirt and faded jeans moved watermelons from a wheelbarrow onto one of the tables. Shaggy brown hair hung over his eyes. Beside the produce displays were two vans parked side by side. Each one had a magnetic sign affixed to its body that read: “Bryan’s Farm Fresh Produce.”
They parked and headed inside. The building was cavernous and cool with rows of produce tables from one side of the building to the other. A counter with a cash register sat near the front doors. Arrayed across it were plastic containers filled with different kinds of nuts and candy. Next to the counter was a row of refrigerated display cases filled with milk, cheese, and eggs.
They looked around. Several people browsed the aisles, using plastic baskets to carry their selections. Behind them, the front door swished open, sending a bell overhead jangling. A large man in a tattered green T-shirt beneath overalls carried a bushel of corn. White hair hung from the back of his mostly bald head. Small brown eyes regarded them from over ruddy cheeks. “Help you?” he said gruffly, brushing past them to get behind the counter.
Josie showed him her credentials. “Is this your place?”
“Yeah. Reed Bryan. What can I do for you?”
“We came to talk to you about a woman named Lorelei Mitchell,” she said.
“What about her?”
Noah said, “Do you know her?”
Josie knew he wanted to see if Reed was going to deny his association with Lorelei. Reed didn’t know they’d found his prints inside the house. If he chose to lie about knowing her, they’d have to look much more closely at him for hers and Holly’s murders.
He nodded. “Lives up the road. Something happen?”
Noah said, “I’m afraid she was murdered. So was one of her daughters.”
The man went very still. His large, calloused hands were flat against the counter. Josie noted that there were no visible injuries on his arms or hands, although that didn’t mean much. They knew the killer bled at the scene of Lorelei’s murder, but they had no idea what body part had been injured. She counted off fourteen seconds before Reed spoke. This time his voice was softer. “What, uh, what happened?”
“We’re still investigating,” Noah said.
“Just the two of them were killed?”
“Lorelei and Holly,” Josie answered.
“When? When did it happen?”
Josie answered, “We believe it happened yesterday morning.”
Noah said, “Where were you yesterday morning?”
Reed’s eyes sharpened. His voice took back some of its flintiness. “I was here, working.”
“What time was that?” Josie asked.
“Got here at seven.”
“Where were you before that?” Noah asked.
He hesitated a moment, looking back and forth between them, his eyes dark with suspicion, as though they were trying to trick him. “I was home,” he answered.
Noah said, “Can anyone confirm that you were home until you arrived here at seven a.m.?”
“My son.”
Josie asked, “Did you know Lorelei well?”
“No. She came in regular, but I didn’t know her other than to say hi.”
“Do you know where she lives?” Noah asked.
“Up the road aways.”
“Have you ever been to her home?” Josie asked.
He shifted his weight uncomfortably. He looked past them, craning his neck to see through the front doors. Then he lowered his voice. “I mighta been there once or twice. What’s any of this got to do with me?”
“When is the last time you were at her house?” Josie asked.
“Why do you need to know this?”
“We’re investigating the murder of a mother and her child. You can tell us what you know here and now, or you can come down to the police station and make a more formal statement.”
He glared at her. “I don’t know, okay? It was a long time ago.”
“What was your relationship with Lorelei?” Josie asked.
He squeezed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Wasn’t no relationship between us, okay? I went to her house to get my son. Sometimes he goes off on his mountain bike and rides over there.”
“Is your son’s name Pax?” Josie asked.
“It’s short for Paxton, but yeah, that’s him. Now what else do you need to know?”
Noah asked, “Did you ever see her with anyone?”
“Just her kids. You about done?”
Ignoring him, Josie went on, “We believe that Lorelei and her children were targeted for personal reasons. You’ve been here a lot of years, right?”
“Twenty-two years. Used to run this place with my wife till she passed. Now it’s just me and my boy. I got a farm outside of the city. Got a few people I pay to work it. Get the rest of our stuff from local farmers, other places.”
“That’s a long time to be in business,” Noah said. “You don’t ever remember seeing Lorelei or her children with anyone else?”
“She talked to some other customers no
w and then, but no, she never came here with anyone besides her kids, and usually they weren’t with her. Most of the time it was just her.”
“How often was she here?” Josie asked.
“Couple times a week.”
“Is your son here?” Noah asked. “We’d like to confirm with him that he was with you yesterday morning.”
Reed responded with a grunt. He moved back around the counter and out the door. Josie and Noah followed. He walked over to where the teenage boy was now arranging apples, oranges, and bananas on the outdoor tables. Every so often he seemed to get stuck on a particular row of fruit. He would take the entire row off the table, put it back into the bushel, and start again. Reed leaned down and said something in his ear. Then he snatched the basket away and tossed it to the ground. The boy winced.
Josie and Noah walked over with their credentials out for the boy to peruse as they introduced themselves. Wide-eyed, he studied their IDs. Up close, Josie saw that his face was covered in acne. His eyes were brown and wide with what looked like a combination of fear and uncertainty. Reed nudged the back of his neck. “Tell ’em.”
Josie said, “Hello, Paxton.”
Mumbling a hello, he looked down and jammed both hands into his apron pocket.
“How old are you, Mr. Bryan?” asked Noah. If he was a minor, they wouldn’t be able to speak to him without his father present.
“Eighteen,” said Pax. “You can call me Pax.”
Josie and Noah looked at one another. He gave her the nod to continue. “Pax,” Josie said. “We had some questions about friends of yours: Lorelei Mitchell and her daughters, Holly and Emily. Can you tell me—”
“Hey,” Reed said, cutting her off. “You’re not asking questions here. You said you wanted him to confirm I was here and at home yesterday morning. That’s what you’ll do.”
Quietly, Pax said, “My dad was home with me yesterday. We woke up at five. Then at six thirty we drove here to the market. I was with him the whole time.”
“Thank you, Pax. When was the last time you saw Lorelei, Holly, or Emily Mitchell?”
Reed stepped in front of his son, fists clenched. “What the hell do you think you’re pulling here? I didn’t say you could ask my son questions.”
Josie stood her ground, hands on her hips, chin thrust outward. “Emily Mitchell said that he was a friend. You said you had been to the Mitchell house on more than one occasion to retrieve your son. I’m trying to figure out who killed Lorelei and Holly. Your son might have information we need.”
Pax’s voice was still quiet as he spoke from behind his father. “No,” he said. “I have no information. We weren’t friends. I wasn’t friends with them.”
Noah said, “Then why were you at their house—more than once?”
Reed took a deep breath. On the exhale, he said, “This is on me, okay? Pax is right. They are not friends. I didn’t want him being friends with the Mitchell family.”
Josie said, “Why not?”
“Pax,” Reed said. “Go on inside and put out the rest of the lettuce.”
Reed stepped aside so that Paxton could get past him. Paxton scurried toward the doors to the market, stopping briefly to look back at them. Once he had disappeared, Reed turned back to Josie and Noah. “My son ain’t right, okay? You couldn’t tell from talking to him?”
“He seems perfectly normal,” Josie said. Terrified of you, though, she added in her head.
“Well, he ain’t, okay?” Reed said. “He’s always been a little off. His mama used to see to him right up till she passed on. She had him to a bunch of different doctors over the years, couldn’t nobody fix what’s wrong with him.”
“Did you get a formal diagnosis?” Josie asked.
He waved a hand in the air. “I don’t know. It don’t matter, though, does it?”
Noah said, “Maybe it does. There might be treatment for whatever he’s dealing with.”
Reed lifted an index finger and pointed it at Noah’s chest. “Ain’t no one gettin’ in my boy’s head. You got that? No talking doctors, no social workers, no teachers. Nobody. I take care of him now. That’s all he needs. I don’t need nobody messin’ with him, especially nosy bitches like Lorelei Mitchell.”
Both Josie and Noah remained calm. Josie said, “Lorelei thought she could help him?”
“Yeah, she did, but she couldn’t. No one can help him.”
“Is he violent?” asked Noah.
Reed’s eyes narrowed. The finger came back up, this time inches from Noah’s nose. “Don’t you try putting whatever happened to that bitch on my kid. He would never kill anyone. Sometimes he gets upset. Has little meltdowns, but he’s only ever tried to hurt himself. Banging his head against the wall sometimes. That’s all. If I keep things just the way he likes them, he’s fine. That’s what Lorelei didn’t understand.”
Noah didn’t step back. Slowly, Reed lowered his arm.
Thinking of Emily and her OCD, Josie asked, “How does he like things?”
“That’s none of your damn business, now is it?”
“Maybe Lorelei just wanted to offer him friendship,” Josie suggested. “Emily said Pax used to come to the house, bring fruit, and play games with her.”
“I put a stop to that soon as I found out. It ain’t right for a young man of his age to be playing around with young girls.”
“I thought you said he wasn’t dangerous,” Noah said.
“He’s not. It ain’t him I’m worried about. It’s other people. Like you. You don’t understand him. You don’t know him. I can tell what you’re thinking—that because he’s got problems in here—” Reed tapped his finger against his temple. “That he would hurt people. You just assume that’s what would happen. I knew if he hung out at Lorelei’s house, not only would she be gettin’ into his brain, someone would get the wrong idea about him being around a little girl.”
Josie had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know Pax at all, but what would lead Reed to believe that his son might be accused of inappropriate behavior with Lorelei’s girls? Had Pax done something to put that into Reed’s head, or was Reed projecting his own sick thoughts onto his son?
“Is he still in school?” Noah asked.
“He dropped out after his mama died. Couldn’t do it without her.”
Josie’s heart broke a little for Paxton—losing his mother and now being raised by a man who felt he wasn’t “right” in the head. Lorelei and her girls must have seemed like a breath of fresh air to the boy. Josie wondered if there was any truth to Reed’s assertion that Pax struggled with some sort of mental illness. Or did he just have a disorder of some kind? Perhaps Pax had no illness, disorder or condition that needed managing. Maybe he was merely different; and required more care, work, and effort than Reed was willing or able to give the boy. What had Lorelei seen in him? If there was something affecting Pax, then surely she’d come to a conclusion or made a diagnosis even if it was only in her own mind. Josie bet his school had done some kind of evaluation, perhaps even made a diagnosis back when his mother was still alive. But it wasn’t Josie’s job to interfere with Paxton Bryan and his father. Her job was to find the person who killed Lorelei and Holly.
“Did Pax sneak off to their house?” Josie asked. “You said you didn’t want him to go.”
“Yeah, he’d disappear on me when I was busy or when he was on his own. Ride his bike up there.”
Noah said, “Do you leave him on his own often?”
“It’s a lot of work dealing with him and trying to keep my farm and business going. Yeah, sometimes he has to be on his own. Can’t be helped.”
“Was he on his own at any time yesterday morning?” Noah asked.
Josie counted off the seconds of hesitation before Reed answered. One, two, three. A vein in his neck throbbed. “No, like I told you and like he told you, he was here with me.”
“When is the last time you saw Lorelei Mitchell here at the market?” Josie asked.
/> “Few days ago,” he answered instantly.
“Mr. Bryan, could you tell us yours and Paxton’s blood types?” Noah asked.
His face reddened. One hand fisted at his side. “What in the hell do you need to know that for?”
Josie said, “It’s for our investigation.”
“Bullshit. I ain’t gotta tell you that kind of stuff. That’s medical. It’s private.”
“How about your shoe sizes?” Josie pressed.
Color rose in his cheeks. “I ain’t tellin’ you nothing private. Now get the hell out of here and leave me and my boy alone.”
Without missing a beat, Noah said, “Thank you for your time.” Calmly, he handed Reed a business card and told him to call if he thought of anything that might help the investigation. Josie suspected the card was going directly into the trash as soon as Reed got back inside.
They returned to the car. Reed stood outside the doors of the produce market, burly arms crossed over his chest, glaring as they pulled away.
Josie said, “Why wouldn’t he tell us their blood types or shoe sizes? If he hasn’t got something to hide?”
“Maybe he does. Unfortunately, I don’t think we can get a warrant for their blood types or shoe sizes since he and Pax alibi each other.”
Josie sighed. “You’re right. No judge will sign off on a warrant if they’ve both got alibis. We can have Hummel or Chan come over here and lift prints from something Pax has touched—maybe from the trash or something inside the market—to match up his prints to the scene.”
“He’s already admitted to being in the house, though,” Noah said. “You think he killed Lorelei and Holly?”
Josie took out her phone and fired off a text to Hummel. They didn’t need a warrant to pull prints from something that Pax had touched and then discarded. Someone from the ERT could hang around the market until he threw something away and then they could take it and get the prints. They didn’t even need to tell him. “I’m not ready to rule anything out yet,” she said. “I just know that if we can figure out which prints are Pax’s, and we already know which prints are Reed’s, then we’re down to two sets of unidentified prints at Lorelei’s house instead of four.”
