“I don’t know.”
I need this job, and I think she needs my help.
“I—I won’t charge you if I can’t figure out who it is.”
Raven shook her head. “It’s not about the money, and honestly, if Grace says you’re good, I believe her. I feel like I’m overreacting… or I thought I was until this rose.”
“Let me follow you home. You won’t even notice, and neither will the person doing this if they are still hanging around, waiting to leave something else on your doorstep or your car.”
“I’m not someone who takes help easily.” Raven pressed her lips together and scanned the lot again. “But, fine… thanks.”
“I’ll text you if the coast seems clear tonight, and tomorrow, I’ll come back early and find a place to watch this lot until your shift is over. If nothing happens, great. I’ll let you know. If it does, I’ll be here to see it.”
“It’ll feel good to get some sleep,” Raven said before getting in her car. “Can you do something with that?”
Madigan grabbed the rose, slipping it into her bag before putting her helmet back on and mounting her bike. As Raven drove out of the lot, Melanie’s car followed her, and Madigan followed behind until Raven made a right turn at the next set of lights while Melanie went straight.
Madigan followed Raven further behind, remembering the way Luke had taught her to tail someone while they had been staking out the places she thought the man who’d attacked her in Grace’s kitchen could have been.
Follow further behind.
Make believe you’re doing your own thing—like you have something else do to.
I’m looking for my friend’s house to drop something off.
Raven made another right turn into a cozy subdivision, and they both slowed down, passing beautiful houses that continued to space further apart, until she turned onto a road with a dead end. Madigan stopped before the turn.
She got off her bike and pretended to search for something in her bag as Raven pulled into the driveway of a cute little gray house with a red front door. She slipped her key in the keyhole and disappeared inside.
I need a good view of the house without getting too close. I’ll circle around the other street and get to the dead end there. There’s good cover behind the brush.
I’ll wait until dark and see if anyone shows up.
Eleven
Grace poured piping hot coffee into her “S” mug, the first gift she received from Mac, and opened the back door to her patio overlooking the coast. The remnants of the burnt orange sky glowed over the horizon as Waffles skittered past her, out the door and to his favourite place on the cushion beside her chair.
She sat and pulled her cell phone from her pocket.
Almost time to go back out. No message from Mac. He should have let me know about the persons of interest by now.
The coffee mug warmed her hands as a breeze blew wisps of her dark hair that had fallen from her bun across her face. Waffles stretched out beside her as she tapped into the email Tarek sent and scanned Tyler Gibbons’ cell phone records once again.
That unknown number only appears twice, and so close to when the car crash happened.
Who’d be using a burner cell to call him? Maybe someone who had proof Tyler and Joel had stolen Derek’s idea? Maybe Derek himself made it so the call was untraceable?
If he was blackmailing him, though, what was the point of taking legal action?
She went back to her inbox, and Tarek had sent another email. He wrote, The security camera from Derek Mann’s office building came through. He entered the building at seven-thirty on the morning of Tyler Gibbons’ crash and did not leave until after you and Mac left the next day, just after noon. I included those clips of his entrance and exit, plus the whole video if you need it.
Waffles sat at attention, his head turning toward the house.
“What is it?” Grace whispered, reaching out to rub his head, but he ran to the back door.
Grace stood and opened it as knocking echoed through the home from the front door. She passed Waffles in the living room and opened the door.
“Hey.” Mac stood in front of her in uniform, holding a file folder. “I thought my findings called for an in-person meeting before we go back at it again.”
His grin disappeared as she turned back inside and waved him in, Waffles nowhere to be seen.
“Something wrong?” he asked, following her to the backyard.
“I think we should keep work out there, and our personal lives in here.”
“Ah, so this is about what Malone said?” He took Waffles’ place on the cushion beside Grace as she sat.
“Everyone’s talking about us—watching us—judging us.” She turned to him. “This is exactly what I didn’t want, because we’re working together, and I need to be taken seriously.”
“They do take you seriously.” He leaned back and stared out at the horizon. “I brought these to work on, and I hope you have enough faith in me to believe that I can actually separate the two.” He handed her the files and ran his fingers through his hair.
She took them and tilted her head, watching as he clenched his jaw. “I do. I know you can—I can, too—but it’s about perception, too.”
He sat forward, turning back to her. “Well, we’ll prove them wrong then—whatever their judgements are. So, I found some things. You want the weird first or the deceitful?”
“Oh, deceitful.” She opened the file.
“Wait for that then.” He pointed to it, and she closed it, turning to him. “So, I looked into Derek Mann, and by all accounts, he’s an upstanding citizen.”
“Tarek just sent me the security footage from the building.”
“Proving he was there the whole time. Right. If he were involved in Tyler Gibbons’ crash, it was by tampering with the vehicle in the early morning, before Tyler even got to work at eight, or hiring someone else to do it.”
“Okay, so what was he deceitful about?”
“Not him. Joel Wallace. He told you no one else had been at the office that day before the crash, right?”
“Besides the person who served him the papers from Derek.”
“But there was that coffee cup with lipstick on it, and I found out through social media that Joel has a fiancée, and through their building security, I know she was there that day at around noon carrying a tray of coffee for the three of them. Joel might have forgotten, but it’s worth noting, and if he hadn’t, why would he have hidden that?”
“Okay, that’s interesting. Joel was talking about all the attention they were getting or going to get from women, and the travelling they would do, and never once mentioned his fiancée. What’s her name?”
“Mia Sidor. She’s in there too.” He pointed to the file. “Now, time for the weird. The last of the three I looked into, Professor Redding, was involved in another closed case in Tall Pines.”
Grace opened the folder to a death certificate and read, “Donelle Gaines. Twenty-One. Died just over three years ago. What does this have to do with the professor?”
“Okay, so Donelle Gaines was a first-year college student at Tall Pines College. Professor Redding taught a few of her tech classes.”
“Let me guess. Classes she shared with Tyler, Joel, and Derek?”
Mac nodded. “So the case states that Donelle was working on a project for Redding with Tyler late one night at the school, and as far as I see, no one could fill in the gap between what happened from the time they were working together, to when he left and she went to the roof of the building and jumped to her death that same night.”
“She jumped?”
“That’s what the final ruling was. Suicide. There were no witnesses to that, but the records of teachers, students, and family spoken to are all in there.”
Grace scanned one of the pages to the bottom until she found a signature. “Daniel Newcomb. Deerhorn County’s longest-running detective before I came along.”
“Danny closed it
as a suicide, and I wouldn’t have had any reason to look into it except for the connection with their professor, and then I found all these names I recognized. Tyler Gibbons was questioned, and to a lesser extent, so were Joel Wallace and Mia Sidor, his now fiancée.”
“Wow.”
“A couple of Donelle’s other friends were questioned. A campus security guard there that night was interviewed, and he saw Tyler leaving but never saw Donelle. A janitor seems to have been there but didn’t see anything. Then the notes get messy. Tyler couldn’t say for sure what time he left, and neither could the security guard who saw him leave.”
Grace scanned over the final report. “Donelle’s body was found that morning. Okay, wait, where’s the evidence that it was a suicide?”
“There were no signs of a struggle, and despite her father’s arguments, her friends all corroborated the fact that Donelle was dealing with depression, and that her mood had changed significantly during that last semester. According to the professor, she seemed withdrawn from her studies and her grades dropped. Her best friend said Donelle barely spoke to her anymore, and apparently, they hadn’t been as close since Donelle made friends with Tyler, Joel, Mia, and their friends earlier that year.”
“Did the father say what might have changed in her life?”
“He blames it on her friends. Danny concluded it was suicide, but he notes Donelle’s father, Charles Gaines, fought for the case to stay open. Danny reached a dead end, with no evidence pointing to foul play, and made the call to close it. Then, here’s the weirdest part. Danny announced his retirement a few months before you started working here, but he stayed on until then to fill in the gap. He hasn’t been working since autumn of last year. This case was closed three years ago, but he signed out these files right before he retired.”
“Taking one last look?”
Mac shrugged. “Maybe something about it still bothered him. He signed it out and then returned it back the next day on his last official day of work.”
Grace nodded. “He could have made copies to keep and take home. So, Tyler could have been the last to see her?” Grace scanned the files for Charles Gaines’ address and phone number. “We have to speak to her father.”
“Grace, we have to be careful with that. It’s been just over three years. That’s not a lot of time he’s had to heal or…settle with the case being closed. It’s also an awful lot of time he’s been without his daughter.”
“I get it. I won’t make it about Donelle at all. I’ll make sure he understands this is about Tyler Gibbons.”
“What do you think he has to offer?”
“I think he has a motive.”
Mac opened his eyes wide as she pressed the phone to her ear as it rang.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mr. Charles Gaines?” she asked. “I’m Detective Sheppard.”
“Sheppard?”
“Yes, and I’m hoping you might be able to help me. I’d like to ask you some questions about someone you might know. Tyler Gibbons.”
“Tyler? What’s this about?”
“I’d rather speak to you in person, Sir. Could I come and see you this evening?”
“This—right now? No, no, I’m busy.”
“Tomorrow morning then. I could come to you, or you could come to the Tall Pines police station?”
“Yeah, fine. You can come over.”
“Do you still live on Cardinal Crescent?”
“I do. Could you tell me what this is about?”
“I’ll explain everything tomorrow at eight. Thank you, Mr. Gaines.” She pressed “end” and rested the phone on the table.
“Okay,” Mac stretched out the word, “I was going to say, we need to find out everything about the case before we see him.”
“I plan on it. Tyler could have been the last person to see Donelle alive, and if Charles Gaines doesn’t believe his daughter killed herself, he might think Tyler had something to do with it. That’s motive, Mac.”
“I know, I thought about it, too, but I thought you might want to explore the Joel avenue first.”
“I want to talk to anyone with a motive to do harm to Tyler Gibbons. Joel lied; that hasn’t slipped my mind. I’ll see him tomorrow, too. For now, I want to study this case.”
“Let me guess,” Mac stretched his arms out, “you don’t want a study buddy.”
“No,” Grace turned to him, “actually, I could use the help.”
“Here?” Mac exaggerated a scan across the yard and toward the house. “I thought we weren’t mixing business and pleasure? I can look over these at the station and come back at the regular time for that pleasure part.”
She smirked and handed him a file. “Listen, you’re right. I need to focus on the work and not what everyone else is saying. Grab a cup of coffee and try not to scare Waffles while you’re at it.”
“He’s going to warm up to me.” Mac stood and put the file on his seat.
“Uh huh, sure,” Grace teased, flipping through the file on her lap as he went inside.
Could Danny Newcomb’s case have anything to do with mine? I need to get familiar with it, find out how strong of a connection this is, and go from there.
Twelve
As the sky turned from navy blue to black, Madigan sat in wait, tucked behind the bushes at the dead end on Raven’s street. Owls hooted in the trees behind her, and the cool night air sent shivers down her spine as she texted Raven.
No sign of anyone or anything strange.
The only action on the street that night included the couple across the street coming home from work, and Raven’s next-door neighbor, an older woman, coming out to check her mailbox.
No cars driving through here. No one walking on this street. And the only good place for someone to watch Raven would be right where I am.
She shivered again and switched from her knees to a crouching position behind a dark, leafy bush.
Next time I’m on a stakeout, I have to bring provisions. A van might be better, too.
A figure walked by an upstairs window in Raven’s house, and Madigan’s phone vibrated in her hand.
Thank you, Madigan. I’m heading to bed now. Maybe you should do the same.
Madigan hit reply.
I’ll wait a while longer, and then I have to get home for my dog. I’ll come back by 5 am and follow you to work. I’ll stay there the whole day and make sure no one comes by.
She sent the text, and the bedroom light went out, leaving that end of the street dark.
Sounds good, Raven texted back.
Madigan shoved her phone in her pocket and crept further toward the other side of the road to get a different vantage point. She remained hidden behind trees and brush until a rustling noise ahead made her stop.
Something metal clicked, and as she peered out from behind a tree, a figure in a black hoodie walked out of the backyard gate of the house across the street. She caught a glimpse of his face as he turned around, looking up at the second story windows of the house he left.
A blond boy, probably still in high school. He’s sneaking out.
The metal gate clicked again as he pressed it closed and checked the windows above once more before heading toward the sidewalk.
“Hey,” Madigan hissed, stepping out from behind the tree.
He turned, a shocked look on his face as he stepped back, clutching the backpack over his shoulder.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to scare you,” she whispered.
“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed. “Who are you?”
“I’m a friend of your neighbour’s, Raven Lockwood.”
He frowned. “Okay, what are you doing out here?”
“Listen, we’re both sneaking around right now, but I won’t get in trouble if anyone finds out I’m out here. Can’t say the same for you, can we?”
He grimaced and sighed.
“Listen,” she whispered, “I want to ask you a question. Raven’s been getting some weird gifts lately, and she feels l
ike someone’s been following her. I’m looking out for her, and I’m wondering if you’ve seen anyone or anything weird around here, say, in the past two weeks? A man coming around Raven’s house, lingering, or sneaking around?”
“No.”
He didn’t even think about that.
“Let me be more specific. Anyone leaving things on her doorstep?”
“No,” he huffed.
“Anyone you don’t recognize come around lately? Any cars come down this dead end that you’ve never seen?”
His chin jutted out as he seemed to bite on his cheek. “Okay, yeah. There’s a black car that’s been by a couple times, or I think it’s black. It’s always night, but it’s dark. Maybe blue. Probably black.”
“Make?”
“I don’t know. It’s kinda old, but I don’t remember much else about it. Just a regular car.”
“How many times have you seen it?”
He huffed. “I gotta go.”
“Yeah, I have somewhere to be, too. Your parents’ doorstep. Are they light or heavy sleepers? Should I knock or ring the bell?”
“Ugh, fine, like three times maybe? No more than that.”
“Thanks.”
“Whatever,” he mumbled and turned toward the sidewalk.
“Hey,” she hissed, “if you see it again, I want you to call me. Get the plate if you can.”
He frowned, but she grabbed a pen from her bag and wrote her number in one of her notebooks, ripping off the piece of paper and handing it to him.
He rolled his eyes, crumpled it in his fist, shoved it in his pocket, and skulked across the street.
Will he call? Maybe not. Maybe I’ll have to pay him a visit.
He turned onto the next road and disappeared past the spotlight of the streetlamp.
Thirteen
Grace turned over in bed and squinted through the glow of the lamplight at Mac.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Too bright,” she mumbled as he wrapped his arms around her, and she nuzzled her head into his neck.
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