The Girls Across the Bay

by Emerald O'Brien

  As he slid into the vehicle, his fresh cologne wafted toward her.

  “So?” he asked.

  No thanks for the pick up?

  “I might have enough to hold him,” Grace said.

  Mac’s eyes lit up, and he nodded.

  “Good, because I found some things, but they’re not enough. What’ve you got?”

  “The foster mother that John and I shared? She was able to let me know that John was dealing drugs. She didn’t tell me who they’re from—just that he was dealing—but he wanted out. Apparently, he got out, but they continually contacted him. He was going to tell them it was over the night of Lily’s death.”

  They wouldn’t let him leave, but how? Had they threatened him? Kept calling? There had to be a reason he went back to cut ties again.

  “Huh,” Mac huffed.

  The sound you make when you’re impressed but can’t swallow your pride enough to say so?

  “Anyway, John lied to us. He said he went to meet his friend and then for a drive up the coast when he came back from the city, but according to Evette, he went to end things with whoever his supplier was that night. Could it have been the friend? Luke?”

  Mac shook his head. “He’s got a sordid past at best, but he’s not our guy. Not too sharp. Not intimidating, either.”

  “How do you know for sure?”

  “Well, I’ve known there’s a gap of time missing.” Mac turned to her. “John says he was out for a drive, but if he was going to end it with these people, say it was Luke who he met at the café, he wouldn’t just casually take the long way home to get back to Lily. He’d want to get home to her. The people would be dangerous, and he’d want to make sure Lily was safe. Besides, he and Luke could have corroborated their stories and said they were there for over an hour and then John went right home. Tarek says no calls went to or from John and Luke after John left home.”

  So we received John’s records, and you didn’t tell me?

  “When did you get John’s records?” she asked.

  “Yesterday, after you left the PD.”

  Pick your battles.

  “So it’s probable—he went somewhere else then,” she said. “To see whoever wouldn’t leave him alone, if we believe Evette’s story. How do you want to play this?”

  “John could have set the fire. He told the officer he was at his mom’s and then came right back. He could have gone by the house and covered up evidence, or even drugs by burning the place down. He was out all day and didn’t get back to the motel until 9:30. Malone knows not to leave him, now.”

  Grace nodded. “Right, but the fire could have been set by his supplier. By whoever he pissed off by trying to get out. They could have killed Lily to punish him or send a message. Set the fire to destroy any evidence left behind.”

  “So let’s get the answers we need from him,” Mac said. “We’re going to see what he knows. I’ll call Banning about the details on the way and see if it’s enough to hold him if he lied to us. For now, let’s get to the lodge. I want to surprise him.”

  Grace drove out of the entry as Mac made the call.

  Where did you go last night, John?

  Were you still at Evette’s?

  “Banning says he’ll see what he can do about a warrant, but John has to admit he lied to us about where he was,” Mac said. “My car should be ready before lunch. Wanna drop me off at the station after this?”

  “Sure, but I don’t mind driving today.”

  “I’ve got a meeting with my ex, actually,” Mac said, turning to the window.

  “Ah.”

  “She knows how much I make,” he said, shaking his head.

  “How many children?”

  “Just one. Listen, I’m going to call Malone. Let him know we’re coming.”

  “Sure.”

  Speaking about his ex and child revealed a sad and vulnerable side to Mac, evoking more contemplation than anger. The last time he’d opened up, she’d surprised him by keeping her connection with the suspect from him.

  He has the guts to be transparent with me about something so personal. He probably just needs someone to vent to.

  He’s not warming up to me.

  He’s just sad and lonely.

  But she liked that side of him.

  I won’t break his trust again.

  By the time they reached the motel, John’s detail stood outside his car waiting for them.

  “Hasn’t been out since last night?” Mac asked before shutting his door.

  The officer shook his head, and they spoke as Grace took her cell phone out of the car. She dialed the PD and asked for Evette’s number, having them redirect the call to her.

  Evette’s line rang several times.

  “Hello?” she asked.

  “Evette, it’s Grace. I’m calling about John. Was he over there yesterday?”

  “Yes, he came to visit before you two did,” Evette said.

  “How long did he stay?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Evette said, dragging out the words. “It was dark out.”

  “Evette, do you know what time he left?”

  “Could have been nine just as easy as it could have been ten.”

  Grace rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  She knows about the fire. She’ll cover for him, regardless.

  “That’s all. Have a good day,” Grace said.

  “You too, Gracie.”

  Grace brought the phone away from her ear, rolling her eyes again.

  I hate that name.

  She caught up with Mac and told him about the call. He waved for Malone to follow them to John’s room.

  “We might make an arrest here,” Mac told him. “If I knock on the door from inside, alright? Might take a while.”

  Malone nodded and stepped to the side, out of the way. Grace knocked on the door, and John peeked out from behind the curtains before unlatching the lock and letting them in. He sat on the chair by the small table beside his well-made bed.

  He hasn’t slept.

  “Have you found anything yet?” John asked. “Why my house got torched? It’s a cover-up, isn’t it? Whoever killed—whoever did this—they want to make sure you don’t find anything on them.”

  “Where were you last night, John?” Mac asked.

  “I told the guy outside,” he said. “I went to see my mom in the city, and then I came back here. I don’t know when the fire started because I wasn’t the one who set it, but I was back here around nine thirty.”

  Mac rubbed his smooth chin, and she noticed the stubble John had grown, close to forming a beard.

  Mac pulled out the chair, gesturing for Grace to sit down.

  “Special Detective Sheppard here found out some very interesting details involving your case,” he said and nodded to Grace as she sat.

  He’s really letting me take the lead.

  “Involving you, specifically,” Grace said. “John, you haven’t been straight with us, which can only lead me to believe that you don’t want us to find out who killed your fiancée.”

  John shook his head and stared up at Mac wide-eyed. “No. I want you to find who did this.”

  “Then why are you lying?” Grace asked and folded her hands in front of her on the table.

  John pinched his lips with his thumb and index finger, his eyes darting from the windows back to Mac and Grace.

  “If there’s someone else we should be considering that you haven’t suggested—” Grace started.

  John shook his head.

  “No?” Mac asked.

  “Then maybe someone you have suggested,” Grace said, remembering the night he spoke about Mickey.

  John stared down at the table, shaking his head.

  “John?” Grace whispered. “Whatever you’re afraid of, if you’re honest, we can help you.”

  She remembered saying something similar to Leah the night she was killed.

  You don’t have to be afraid. I’m here for you. I promise.

&nb
sp; Grace shook the thought away and made eye contact with John.

  “I spoke to Evette,” she whispered.

  He raised his brow and leaned back in his chair, his foot tapping the floor in a nervous jitter. “Madigan told you we met?” John asked. “That I know who you are?”

  Grace glanced up at Mac, and he nodded for her to continue.

  “She did. Evette told me you two see each other more often than she led on to my sister.”

  John tapped the tip of his finger against the table, chewing at his tongue or cheek.

  “John?” Mac asked, his voice booming, and a look of fear flashed in John’s eyes as he flinched.

  John shook his head, tilting it down, and stared at Grace from just beneath his brow. “I didn’t kill Lily. I didn’t—”

  “You were caught up in something bad, John,” Grace said. “Evette told us.”

  He squinted at her and stared without moving an inch.

  “Told us you were going to end it for good with your dealer the night Lily died,” Grace said. “Who were you working with?”

  John shook his head.

  “Who?” Grace asked.

  He opened his mouth, and she was sure he’d ask for a lawyer until he shut it again.

  Don’t push too far.

  “John, I’m going to need an answer,” Mac said.

  “Evette’s lying,” John said, turning to Grace. “You know how she is, and it’s not her fault. I think she does it for attention. I’m not even mad at her, honestly, because she just doesn’t think about anyone but herself sometimes.”

  Grace stared into his eyes and he sighed. “Most of the time,” he conceded.

  It’s true.

  “Why would she tell Grace that? Why would she make something like that up?”

  “I don’t know,” John said, running his fingers through his hair and grabbing at the ends. “I don’t know why she does half the shit she does, but I know in the end she doesn’t mean harm. Grace, you know her. You know how she is.”

  “Why would she say that though?” Grace asked.

  He sat up straight. “When Lily and I first started dating, I still hung out with some of my friends from the past. Lily never wanted to be in the same room with them, and she didn’t understand why I’d want to be friends with these people. I had this rule. Bros before—well—I always promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone tell me who I could or couldn’t be friends with. Most of ‘em are harmless.”

  “Dealers?” Grace asked.

  “Some,” John said. “Some had been to juvie, and we met that way. A couple just partied too hard. Thom, my business partner, he was always after me, just like Lily, to leave them in my past. He said it wasn’t healthy as a sober person to associate with people who still use. After the restraining order against Mickey, we both agreed to leave the past behind us, and that included my friends. I told Evette I was meeting Luke. That Lily had a problem with some of my friends, and it might be the last time I saw him because we were going down separate paths in life. Maybe she got mixed up, or maybe she just took it and ran with it assuming the friend I was meeting with was into the same shit I used to be. Luke’s not a bad guy—at all—but I had to respect Lily’s wishes.”

  She turned to Mac, remembering he’d said Luke wasn’t their guy.

  “Like I said,” John leaned back in his chair, “Evette exaggerates sometimes. I’m used to dealing with it, but at the very least, she’s confused.”

  Grace rubbed her lips together and nodded to Mac.

  “John,” he said, “we’ve got police detail on you at all times.”

  “Good,” John said straight away. “Then you’ll know I haven’t done anything. All I want to do is bring whoever killed Lily to justice.”

  “That night,” Grace said. “You brought her flowers.”

  He nodded, and his eyes lit up.

  “What?” Grace asked.

  “Lily and I weren’t fighting. I know it’s what Eli used to do for my mom, but you’ve got the wrong idea. She was looking forward to us finally moving forward with our lives.”

  He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the scorpion tattoo on his forearm along with a few other designs.

  “When you brought her the flowers, she put them in the vase straight away?” Grace asked.

  “I think so,” he said, staring off past her. “She smelled them first. She always closed her eyes and took a deep sniff. Then she thanked me, and I went upstairs to shower before dinner.”

  “When you came downstairs, where were the flowers?” Grace asked.

  He frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “Not in the kitchen?” Mac asked.

  John opened his eyes wide and sat up in his chair.

  He shook his head. “They were in the living room. I saw them when I left. The vase. Did they hit her with the vase?”

  “We can’t talk about that right now,” Grace said. “You’re sure they were in the living room when you left?”

  He nodded. “On the table. Then, it was broken…”

  He stared off past her, no doubt remembering the crime scene.

  “John,” Grace said. “Did you move anything when you found her?”

  “No.” He looked up at Mac. “I already told you. I touched her arm. It was cold. I felt for a pulse. That was it.”

  He winced before his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

  Grace stood and exchanged a look with Mac.

  It was murder.

  “Let’s go,” Mac said.

  Grace nodded and followed him to the door. “We’ll be in touch, John.”

  He didn’t look up at them—only stared past her—maybe remembering the moment he saw Lily’s dead body, whether he’d caused it or not.

  Mac nodded to the officer as they passed him, and when they got into her car, Mac turned to her.

  “Do you believe him?” he asked. “His story about his friends and your—his mom lying?”

  “Everything he said about Evette is true. She is a liar, and she looks out for herself first. I mean, it could have easily been confusion, but I don’t know. I can’t say for sure. Thom didn’t mention anything about John’s friends, but maybe I can follow up and see if that part’s true.”

  Mac nodded. “He hasn’t lawyered up.”

  “I know, and we have to keep it that way.”

  “He could be playing us.” Mac leaned his arm on the armrest. “He could be lying and just enjoying the fact we haven’t figured it out yet.”

  “But it was murder. Accidental or not,” Grace said. “And talking to him can help.”

  After pulling into the department parking lot, Mac grabbed his door handle. “I’m off to get my car,” he said.

  “Good luck with your meeting.”

  “Meet you back at the precinct at five. Fire chief’s coming in to give us the results from their fire investigation.”

  Grace nodded before he got out and shut the door behind him.

  John knows she’s a liar, but he doesn’t hold it against her.

  He keeps her in his life. Maybe because she adopted him. She’s his mom.

  Maybe because he doesn’t hold a grudge like me.

  Some of her anger toward Evette melted away the night before.

  Maybe I’m just not as compassionate as John and Madigan.

  She clenched her jaw and texted Madigan.

  How’s it going? Let’s get together soon.

  A familiar, envious feeling arose inside her when she compared her shortcomings to Madigan’s strengths, but instead of breeding contempt, it moved her to be more like her sister. To have more compassion and sympathy for others. To be a better person.

  As she entered the department, Mr. and Mrs. Martin stood from the bench by the front desk.

  “Detective Sheppard?” Mr. Martin asked.

  “Are you arresting him?” Mrs. Martin asked with bloodshot eyes glaring at her. “John? He set fire to his own house, for God’s sake. He’s getting rid of the evidence.”

&
nbsp; “He killed her,” Mr. Martin shouted.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Martin,” Grace spoke in a calm voice. “We haven’t arrested anyone for Lily’s death yet, and this has just been deemed a murder investigation.”

  “When?” Mr. Martin asked.

  Mrs. Martin’s eyes opened wide.

  Why did I tell them like that?

  She must have thought it could have been an accident.

  I’d hope for an accident too, over murder.

  “We just made the development this morning,” she said.

  The truth would be out in the papers the next day, regardless. She’d give Madigan the story as she promised once she spoke to Mac.

  “I was about to call you to let you know. I can’t tell you any more as of yet.”

  “I’d say that’s a big advancement.” Mr. Martin shook his head. “What’d he do? What did he do to our Lily?”

  Mrs. Martin wrapped her arm through his and seemed to pull him back.

  Holding him back from attacking me?

  “For now, as I said, I can’t say much more. We are checking out the leads we have, and when we know something concrete, we’ll let you know, alright? You came here for a reason. Can I help you in any way?”

  “We came to figure out why John hasn’t been held accountable,” Mr. Martin said. “We think she was going to leave him again, so he killed her.”

  Mrs. Martin nodded with tears in her eyes. “It was only a matter of time, I know it.”

  “But Mr. Martin,” Grace said, “John was the one who left Lily, even by your own admission.”

  “But he begged for her to come back,” Mr. Martin said. “So he could abuse her some more. She didn’t want to be with him. She cheated on him with someone else, and even after he left, he couldn’t stay gone. He had to come back. Had to ruin her.”

  “And you still don’t know who she cheated with?” Grace asked.

  Maybe it’s better that way.

  “No,” Mrs. Martin shook her head. “But if she loved John, she wouldn’t have cheated on him. It’s him, Detective Sheppard. He killed our—” She choked on the last words, and Mr. Martin pulled her tight against his side.

  “I suggest you do your job and find out how,” he said and led his wife away.

  As they left, Grace stood in the middle of the foyer, watching them.

  I’m not at my best.

  Maybe Mac could have made more progress without me.