“My alarm just went off,” he whispered before kissing her forehead. “I thought we should get some breakfast before we make the drive into Amherst.”
She opened her eyes wide and pulled away. “Wait, what time is it?”
“Almost six.”
“Why did I sleep for so long?” She flung the covers off and leapt to her feet, cool air from the ceiling fan tickling her bare skin as she scurried to the bathroom.
“You fell asleep going over the files,” he called. “You only got four hours’ sleep.”
“I slept before you came,” she groaned, jumping in the shower. “We’re going to hit rush hour.”
“We?” he called.
She smiled, letting the warm water relax her, and after she got out of the shower and changed, she met him in the kitchen. He shook some cat food into Waffles’ bowl. “I’m telling you. He’ll come around.”
“Sure.” She smiled, slipping her shoes on as she noticed Mac wearing his.
On the carpet? Shoes on the carpet?
He smiled, walking across to the cupboard and setting the food back in.
How can I scold him for that? He fed Waffles.
She grabbed her keys from the bowl by the door.
“Oh, are we taking your car?” He smiled, joining her at the door.
“Best we go separate,” she said, closing it behind them. “Never know if we’ll need to split up.” She avoided eye contact with him after speaking.
It’s best for now, even if he doesn’t see it. I trust us. I don’t trust the image it gives others when we’re together all the time.
They drove through heavy traffic into Amherst, arriving at Charles Gaines’ house together minutes before eight. Mac waited by the driveway of the two-story, two-car-garage home until Grace joined him, and they walked in tandem to the front door.
“This is close to the cell tower where Tyler’s phone pinged from,” she whispered and knocked on the door. It opened seconds later, revealing a tall man in dad jeans and a stained t-shirt.
“Mr. Gaines, I’m Detective Sheppard, and this is Officer MacIntyre. We spoke over the phone.”
“About Tyler Gibbons.” He opened the door, waving them in. “I read about it in the news—the car accident.” He stepped back as they walked down a long front hallway into the minimalist home with clinical white walls and stared at Grace.
“Yes, that’s what I’m here to talk to you about. May we sit?”
He nodded and led them into the small kitchen toward a round table with two chairs.
“I’ll stand,” Mac muttered to her.
She took a seat across from Gaines and waited to see if he would say anything. He cleared his throat and stared at Grace without blinking, pursing his lips, and squinting toward the end.
“Mr. Gaines, I understand your daughter was a friend of Tyler’s.”
He let out a low huff of an incredulous laugh.
“She wasn’t?” Grace asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. What is a friend?”
She waited; this time unwilling to fill the silence.
He licked his lips and looked up at Mac. “You two friends?”
Mac stood still without glancing at Grace.
“Say you were friends,” Mr. Gaines said. “Would you let your friend walk alone through a college campus at night, out into a dark parking lot on her own, defenseless?”
Mac didn’t speak, maintaining eye contact with Mr. Gaines until he turned back to Grace. “I don’t think a friend does that—and that’s only what I know for a fact happened.”
“Had you met Tyler Gibbons?” Grace asked.
You met at least once, because one of your statements read that you knew he was a bad seed from the moment you met.
“What has this got to do with me? I don’t understand what you could need from me, unless you’re here to tell me he confessed before he died? Wrote a note? Sent an email? Called the police directly?”
“Confessed to what?”
A flicker of understanding sparked in Mr. Gaines’ eyes. “Causing my daughter’s death. Guess that’s a no.” He crossed one leg over the other and stared at the table.
“I understand your daughter was also friends with Joel Wallace, a fellow classmate. Tyler and Joel started a company together, but they’ve recently been accused of copyright infringement and stealing their idea from someone else.”
Mr. Gaines narrowed his eyes as she spoke.
“Had you met Tyler Gibbons or Joel Wallace?”
He sneered. “Three—maybe four times.”
“Here?”
“Here and picking Donnie up from school sometimes.”
“And as for their character?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed before speaking. “Is that really what you’re here for, or have you come to assess me? Trying to find a motive for, what? Causing a car accident?”
He’s not afraid of confrontation, and I can’t let him think I am, either.
“I’m here about Tyler Gibbons.” Grace sat up straight. “I know what happened to your daughter, and I’m very sorry for your loss, but this is about the investigation into the death of Tyler Gibbons.”
Mr. Gaines smirked. “Trying to figure out if it was an accident, or if someone meant him harm? Why don’t you mark this one down as a suicide? Hmm? Make all the paperwork, long hours, and questioning people like me go away and just sweep it all under the rug. You people. What? Can’t find your balance anymore, standing on that huge pile of shit that’s accumulated beneath you?”
He pushed his chair back, and the legs scraped against the floor. “You don’t know what happened to my daughter,” he slammed his hand against the table, “so don’t come here and insult me by pretending to need my help.”
His knuckles are red.
“You wanna know if I did something to cause Tyler’s death? Well, I didn’t, but I assure you, I’ll sleep better tonight knowing he’s gone. How’s that, Detective? That a help?”
“Sir,” Mac said, but he stood.
“You can both get the hell outta my house, now!”
Grace stood and walked to the door with Mac following between them.
“You ever come back here,” he shouted as Grace opened the door, “you better have some real information on what happened to my Donnie!”
Mac joined her side as they stepped down the driveway.
“I won’t hold my breath!” Mr. Gaines shouted and slammed the door shut.
He’s upset—I get it. I couldn’t let him think this case was about his daughter. I couldn’t give him hope that something more could come of it. Maybe if I’d been kinder, he would have opened up more…
Mac stopped at Grace’s car as she grabbed the keys from her pocket. “You okay?”
But if he hadn’t gotten angry, we may not have seen the condition of his knuckles.
She nodded. “Did you see his knuckles on his right hand? They’re red. He’s a bus driver. He doesn’t work with his hands like that as far as we know.”
Mac tilted his head, standing beside her door as she opened it. “Okay, where now?”
“Now, we try the old best friend.”
Grace and Mac sat in the middle of the food court at Tall Pines Mall.
“We’re a bit early,” Mac said. “Want something to eat?”
Grace scanned the court. “Not hungry, but thanks.”
A tall, curvy young woman with jingling gold and silver bracelets carried a tray to their table. Her flowy, bohemian dress swished with each step she took until she stopped in front of them. “Detectives?”
“Karlie?” Grace nodded, and she sat across from them. “I’m Detective Sheppard. This is Officer MacIntyre. Thank you for meeting with us.”
She set her tray with a bowl of salad in the middle in front of her. “Is this about Donnie? Did you find out what happened?”
“Could you elaborate on that?” Grace asked.
“Donelle…did she… Was it not a suicide?” She s
wallowed hard and winced.
“We’re here in relation to an investigation concerning Tyler Gibbons.”
She frowned. “Tyler? What did he do? Was he…did he kill her?”
“Why would you think that?” Mac asked.
“Well, you’re here, and you want to talk to me. I thought maybe the other detective told you to let me know what happened?”
“We don’t have any new information about Donelle Gaines,” Grace said, “but we hoped you could tell us more about Donelle. Her family? Her friendship with Tyler?”
Karlie sighed and picked up her fork, her bracelets falling down her arm as she rested her elbow on the table. “I don’t understand what this is about, but if you’re not here with new information, I don’t know how I could help. I told that detective everything I knew. Listen, I only have half an hour for lunch, and I’ve got to be back in like, twenty now.”
“We respect your time,” Grace said. “We could use your help. Could you tell us about Donelle and what your relationship with her was like before her death?”
“We were best friends for a long time,” she sighed, stabbing at her salad. “Like a lifetime. Very close. I knew everything about her, and she knew everything about me, but it changed after she went to college. We were drifting apart, and it made it even more difficult when she died.”
“What was she like around that time?”
Karlie dropped her plastic fork into the bowl and stared at Grace. “She had it all. Smartest person I knew. Got into college, and her dad paid for it. I think that’s why we drifted apart. If I’d gone with her…but I didn’t have the money. I took a job here, working retail, trying to save up, but it’s a hamster wheel, and here I am—still. She had the opportunities, but she had challenges, too. When she first started, she wasn’t taken seriously by most of her teachers, and she thought it was because she was a girl. Maybe it was.”
“Did she talk about any of her teachers?”
Karlie shrugged. “Sometimes, but I don’t remember much about it except for what I just told you. They weren’t all bad, but she felt defeated by the ones who made her feel unseen.”
“Did she mention a Professor Redding?”
Karlie frowned. “I think so. I don’t think he was one of the bad ones, but it’s been three years…”
“I understand. Please, go on about Donelle and how she was doing at the time.”
“How she was doing? Well, they say she was depressed, but we weren’t close enough by that point for me to know. She seemed depressed at the beginning of college, but by the second semester, she’d made new friends, and it looked like she was having a lot of fun.”
“Looked like? You saw her?”
Karlie pulled her phone from her purse, tapped the screen several times and stared at it for a moment with tears in her eyes before handing it to Grace.
Donelle and Joel each had the hose end of a funnel in their mouths, and a young man and a young woman poured beer into the funnels above them. Tyler was absent from the photo.
“That’s Mia, Joel’s fiancée.” Mac pointed to her. “And who’s that guy?” He pointed to the man pouring the beer.
“Roger something.” Karlie shrugged. “I think he worked for the radio station at the college.”
“Did she hang out with many other people? Other than Tyler and the people in this photo?”
“Probably, but those are the ones who always seemed closest, always partying, going out and doing fun things.”
“So you think she was happy?” Grace asked.
Karlie shrugged. “I have depression. How things look and how they actually are—two different things. I really can’t say how she was feeling, and I wish I could, but—”
“But?”
“Mr. Gaines told me not to blame myself for not being there for her. He said he did that at first, but we can’t hold ourselves to blame because she pushed us away. He said she wasn’t depressed, and it was her friends, but I don’t understand why they would have done that, and it’s not what the detective said happened. Her dad’s in denial, I think.”
“Who does he blame?”
Karlie pointed to the screen. “Them. Her new friends. The teachers who couldn’t see Donelle’s potential. Who didn’t give her a fair chance. College security for not doing their jobs. No matter what happened, she should have been safe there.”
“No matter what happened?”
“I don’t know what happened.” Karlie cleared her throat and picked up her fork again. “I spent a lot of time wondering, but it—it hurt too much, so I convinced myself what the detective said was true. That she did it, that she was depressed, and she took her own life.” She shook her head and stabbed at some lettuce and a piece of cucumber. “Her dad messages me on Facebook from time to time to ask a question or share a story. I share some memories too.”
“When’s the last time he messaged you?”
“About a week ago.”
“Can we see it?”
She frowned and reached for the phone. Grace gave it to her, and she tapped the screen a few times and gave it back. “It’s usually harmless, but sometimes it puts me in a dark place again. I don’t think he’s left that dark place, and I can’t blame him, so when I can brighten his day, even a bit, with a memory, I try to.”
Grace scrolled up in their conversation a little further than Karlie had, and Mac leaned in closer.
Charles Gaines: I never knew that, but it sounds like Donnie. I appreciate you letting me know. Now when I think of that place, I’ll think of her.
A week later, he messaged her again.
Charles Gaines: Hi Karlie, just something that’s been on my mind. Did Tyler or any of those guys reach out to you again, or did you ever see them out or talk to them?
Karlie Poe: No. I promised if they did, I’d let you know. I don’t break my promises.
Charles Gaines: I know. I appreciate that. I don’t mean to bother you.
Karlie Pope: You’re not a bother.
Charles Gaines: Okay. Just making sure.
Less than a week ago, he reached out again—their last conversation, but Grace turned back to Karlie.
“He asks if Tyler or the guys ever reached out to you again? They did before?”
“Once, and it wasn’t really reaching out. The school had a memorial for her a week after her death, and I went with Mr. Gaines. Those guys were there, Tyler, Joel, and Roger, and when we went to leave, Tyler pulled me aside and expressed his condolences. Mr. Gaines overheard, and he came over to give them a piece of his mind. He told them they had no right being there. That if it wasn’t for them, he’d still have his daughter. It was bad.” She shook her head and pursed her lips, twisted her bracelets around her wrist.
“Did it become physical?” Mac asked.
“No. I convinced him to leave with me. Security got involved and escorted us out. He had a lot to say to them, too. ‘Oh, so now you want to protect your students. Where was Donnie’s protection?’ That sort of thing. I didn’t blame him.”
“And the boys never reached out again?” Mac asked.
She shook her head, and they both turned back to the screen, to the final conversation, five days before Tyler’s accident.
Charles Gaines: I’m having an especially hard time today.
Karlie Poe: It was the anniversary last month. Is that why?
Charles Gaines: Probably. Any good stories for me?
Karlie Poe: Let me get back to you after work, okay?
Charles Gaines: Yes, of course. Just thinking about her a lot. Missing her more than ever. Time doesn’t help or heal. The pain never goes away.
Karlie Poe: I know how hard it is, but Donnie would want you to be okay. She’d want you to be happy.
Charles Gaines: Wouldn’t she want the truth to be known? Wouldn’t she want justice?
Karlie Poe: I think she’d want peace for you, Mr. Gaines. Peace and happiness more than anything.
Charles Gaines: You’re right. She needs peace.
<
br /> “Could you send me these messages, Karlie?” Grace asked.
“Is there something helpful there?”
“Maybe.” Grace tapped Charles Gaines’ name and the webpage reloaded to his profile.
She scrolled down his timeline. He posted several pictures of Donelle over the months, but one post in which he had tagged his daughter stood out, posted on the same day he messaged Karlie: The truth will come out my dear, sweet Donnie. It’s not over yet, but it will be soon.
Grace handed her the phone back.
It sounds like he’s been doing some investigating of his own.
“Just one last thing. Do you think Mr. Gaines was mad enough to do something to the people he suspects were involved in his daughter’s death?”
“Would he hurt them, you mean?” She sighed. “I want to say no, that he’s past it now, but you saw the messages. I hoped the last time we talked, maybe he’d let peace into his heart and be happy like Donelle would have wanted.”
“Do you know of anyone else who was upset at Tyler Gibbons or any of those guys? Anyone who had a grudge against him?”
She shook her head. “They seem like they were all popular. Well-liked. Fun. I guess that’s why Donnie became friends with them.” She collected her tray and stood.
“Why’s that?”
“Maybe she thought it would make her happy? Her dad and I couldn’t, and her classes couldn’t, so maybe she was looking for something that could.”
“Thank you for your time.”
Karlie walked away, her dress swishing behind her.
“It sounds like Charles Gaines wanted justice and peace for his daughter,” Mac whispered. “But not the kind Karlie’s hoping for.”
Grace stood. “And if he did something to Tyler, he either had reason to suspect he was the one who pushed Donelle off the roof, or one of many. We need to talk to Joel and the others.”
Fourteen
The early evening breeze rustled through the bushes surrounding Madigan as she took her spot at the dead end of Raven Lockwood’s road. The uneventful day spent covering the outside of the morgue had provided her with ample time to think, both about the possibilities of Raven’s follower and where her mom could be. Perhaps even more curious were the things she had already discovered about the person her mom was, and how each person in her life saw her.
The One Who Watches Page 8
