Dead Center

by Susan Sleeman

“Just basics about what happened.” She kept her gaze pinned to him, and he squirmed. “I want you to think about this. If you’re hiding something from me, I want you to come to the right decision to tell me what it is. If you don’t, I’m not sure we can clear your name.”

  Grady glanced at Ainslie as they drove toward her brother’s rental house in the early evening. The lights from the instrument panel on his truck and street lights highlighted her profile, shadows playing on the planes of her face. Her arms were crossed, and she was staring out the front window. Even after a long afternoon of hard work, she was still likely thinking about her visit to Ethan.

  At least Grady was. On the drive back to the center, she’d said the only potentially helpful info he shared was that Wade might be into illegal gun sales. Then she’d shut down and watched out the window, her arms crossed. So Grady had let her be. The minute he got back to the center, he asked Nick to keep an eye out for illegal gun sales when doing his background check on Wade. After that, Grady asked Blake to obtain Wade’s prior arrest records.

  Grady looked at her again. Maybe she’d moved on. Maybe she was thinking about finding a witness.

  He turned onto Ethan’s street and searched ahead for parking spaces in a rundown and dangerous neighborhood—the last place he’d expected her brother to live. Sure, rents were cheaper in this area of town, but crime was high, especially drug crime. He wanted to ask why Ethan wasn’t still living with her, but that was too personal even for a nosey guy like Grady to ask.

  Older model cars, many looking to be held together with wire and duct tape, filled the street, and there wasn’t a parking space in sight. Grady circled the block, making sure Drake stayed with him. “I never asked what Ethan does for a living.”

  She shifted in her seat. “He’s kind of been all over the board. Getting jobs, mostly in construction, but losing interest fast. That all changed a year ago. He applied to be an electrician apprentice, and he’s been in the program and doing great until the last few months. He’s been really struggling to get to class and work. Something changed, but he won’t tell me what.”

  “You think it has to do with Wade?” Grady parked and grabbed his gun from the lockbox to holster it.

  “I’m beginning to.” She got out of the truck and slammed the door, the sound reverberating through the quiet neighborhood.

  Grady joined her and scanned their surroundings. The night was crisp and clear but clouds hung in the distance. He only hoped they finished their questioning before the skies opened up in a typical spring rain.

  A car door slammed, disturbing the quiet. Drake had parked a few cars behind them and marched in their direction. He dressed much like Grady in comfy tactical clothes, but he carried himself with an assurance that said people should beware. Grady had often been told he was intimidating, but he didn’t have quite the striking appearance Drake presented, and that wouldn’t help their cause at all.

  Grady eyed Drake. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come along with us. The whole deputy thing will put people off.”

  Drake rested his hands on his waist. “I’m not in uniform.”

  “But you still have that law enforcement vibe going on,” Ainslie said, looking apprehensive. “You’re very intimidating. Trust me on that.”

  Drake’s gaze softened, and he shifted his focus to her. “I still need to keep an eye on you.”

  “Station yourself in a place where you can see us,” Grady said. “But pick a spot where the person we’re interviewing can’t see you.”

  Drake rubbed the back of his neck and looked around. “Not the best neighborhood, but if that’s what you want me to do, I can do it.”

  “Then it’s settled. Keep a low profile.” Grady looked at Ainslie. “Mind if we start at your brother’s place? I’d like to get a look at the scene where Wade was shot.”

  “Sure,” she said, but she didn’t look at all eager to go back to his house.

  “You could wait here with Drake if you prefer.”

  “I can handle it.”

  They headed down the street together, the cool night air nipping at Grady. He tugged his jacket closer and noticed that Ainslie was zipping hers. She stopped in front of a tiny bungalow with clapboard siding and a wonky porch. The nearest streetlight was burned out, leaving the house in dark shadows. She took a few steps up the walkway, the shadows deepening. An ominous feeling hung in the air.

  She drew in a breath. “This is where it happened.”

  Grady shone light from his phone over the area. Blood, now a crusty brown, stained the sidewalk panel, and spatter consistent with a gunshot wound dotted the ones nearby. Other than that, the scene was unremarkable.

  She crossed her arms as if protecting herself from the crime. “Except for the blood, there’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Yeah,” he replied, but wished he’d seen something that would break this investigation wide-open. “So let’s go talk to the person next door. Maybe they saw something that night.”

  They made their way to a worn wooden porch with peeling green paint. Light spilled out from a large picture window. Grady knocked, and he soon heard footsteps heading their way. The door opened a crack. A security chain held it in place as a frail woman with frizzy gray hair peered at them.

  Ainslie offered her a big smile. “Hi. I’m Ainslie Duncan. Ethan’s sister.”

  The woman’s penciled on eyebrows rose. “Ethan?”

  “The guy who lives next door.”

  “Oh, him.” Judgment lingered in her tone, and Grady saw Ainslie stiffen. “We never met, but I heard he killed someone.”

  “No,” Ainslie said gently, and Grady was surprised she didn’t snap at the woman. “Someone was shot on his walkway. Ethan didn’t do it, and the man survived.”

  “That’s better, but still. Someone was shot. Right there.” She poked a bony finger out of the door and aimed it at Ethan’s place.

  Grady needed to get this conversation moving. “We were wondering if you heard anything that night.”

  She blinked and shook her head. “It happened way past my bedtime, and I’m a very sound sleeper.”

  “Did you talk to anyone in the neighborhood who did see it?” Grady asked.

  Her mouth tightened into a grim line. “Just Malcolm. But he didn’t really see anything. He was the one who called 911. He might be in a wheelchair, but he looks out for those of us who’ve been in this neighborhood forever.”

  “And where does Malcolm live?” Ainslie asked.

  The woman waggled a finger across the street. “The neat blue bungalow. He’s about the only person who still keeps up his property around here.”

  Her dejected tone hit Grady hard. It was sad to see an older woman like this living in a neighborhood that had deteriorated around her.

  “We’ll head over to talk to him, but is there anything we can do for you before we go?” Grady asked.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”

  “Take out the trash. Other chores.”

  She squinted at him. “Why would you do that?”

  “Just being neighborly.”

  She shook her head. “My dinner’s getting cold.”

  “Thank you for your time, ma’am.”

  She slammed the door, and the deadbolt snicked into place. Man. Seemed like she felt like a prisoner in her own home. Such a shame.

  Grady started down the steps with Ainslie.

  “That was nice of you.” She looked up at him. “Offering to help her, that is.”

  “I felt bad for her. Wish she could find a safer place to live.”

  “Yeah. I thought the same about Ethan. But he said he had to stand on his own two feet to learn to cope with his drug addiction, and this was all he can afford.”

  “That’s admirable.”

  She nodded. “I thought he was really getting things together this time, but then he started drinking and fighting. Who knows where that might’ve led if he hadn’t been arrested.”

&nbs
p; Her anguish cut right through him, and he wanted to do something to help, but he had to know more to do so. “How long has he been struggling with drugs?”

  “Started in high school. Thankfully, his love for football curtailed it, but something changed him back then. He was once this carefree kid, and then he got all sullen and moody. I often wondered if something happened or if this is just his true personality.”

  Speaking of changes. I know all about that, he wanted to say but clamped his mouth closed before he shared his uncle’s secret.

  They reached the crumbling sidewalk for the house on the other side of Ethan’s place, and Grady looked down the street to be sure Drake was still standing watch. Grady located him in the shadow of a tall maple. Good. He was well hidden. If not for Grady’s Delta tracking training and experience, he wouldn’t have spotted him.

  The harried homeowner at the next house had a baby on her hip and cursed the lack of a spouse while two other children fussed in the background. She quickly declared that she hadn’t been home the night of the shooting and closed the door.

  “Looked like those kids were all under five,” he said, wondering how anyone could cope with that. “She could use some help, too.”

  Ainslie nodded. “One thing I can tell you from growing up in a very similar neighborhood is that you see a lot of suffering and misery. Which leads to drug and alcohol abuse, making things even worse.”

  She paused and shook her head. “My dad fell into that. He was a roughneck on oil rigs. He was gone most of the time, and by the time he got home, he’d spent most of his paycheck on booze.”

  Grady looked at her. “I wish you could have experienced the kind of life I had growing up. I mean, we didn’t have much, but we had enough. We learned strong values from our parents. They live a life of faith, really living their commitment to God and the church I grew up in. Gave me a good foundation to base my life on. That is, when I don’t get in God’s way.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said. “I was lucky enough that a girl in drill team invited me to her church youth group. The kids there were more accepting than most of the other kids in school, and I became a believer. That’s when I figured out that God had a plan for my life. Problem was, I didn’t much like the plan at the time.” She frowned. “Don’t much like it at the moment either.”

  He nodded. “I get that.”

  “You?” She tilted her head and peered at him. “Seems to me you have it all together.”

  “That’s what I want you to think, but…” He shrugged and knocked on the next door. No answer.

  They continued down the walkway, but he didn’t restart the earlier conversation. Ainslie remained silent, too, a pensive look on her face. They moved down one side of the street and up the other, knocking on ten more doors in all, but came away without any witnesses.

  They reached Malcolm’s bungalow, and Grady hoped for Ainslie’s sake that this man knew something helpful. She rang the bell. The porch light came on, illuminating crisply painted siding and window trim. A whirring noise sounded from the other side of the door, likely the wheelchair.

  “Who’s there?” his gravelly voice snapped out.

  Ainslie moved closer to the door. “Ainslie Duncan. I’m Ethan’s sister. He lives across the street from you. And I have my friend Grady with me.”

  The door opened, and an elderly man with a broad face and silvery gray hair stared up from his wheelchair. He had a guarded look on his wrinkled face. “How can I help you?”

  Ainslie gave him a tight smile. “I was hoping you could tell me what you saw and heard the night someone shot Wade Eggen outside my brother’s place.”

  He tsked, and his upper dentures slipped. “Didn’t see much of anything except your brother standing over a man on the ground.”

  “Did you hear the men fighting before the gunshots?”

  “Nah.” He tapped his ear. “My hearing aids don’t work that well.”

  “What about the gunshot?” Grady asked. “Hear that?”

  He nodded. “Took me a minute to realize what it was. At first I thought the sound was coming from the TV next door. They like to play the dang thing so loud even the devil himself could hear it. By the time I got to the window, your brother had put his gun away and was standing over the body.”

  Ainslie squared her shoulders. “So, you didn’t see Ethan shoot anyone, and you didn’t see a gun.”

  “No, but—”

  “There’s no proof he was the shooter,” she snapped, irritation finally getting the best of her. “Unless you know of someone else who actually saw the shooting.”

  He clenched his teeth, denture on denture sounding hollow as he raised his stooped shoulders. “No one else said anything to me, but then I didn’t go around asking either. This neighborhood is going to the dogs, and it’s not safe to be out and about. I stick close to home.”

  He stared past them and shook his head. “Should’ve sold this place years ago. Now I’m stuck here. With all the crime, I can’t get a decent price for the house, so I can’t afford to buy another.”

  “I just have one more question for you,” Ainslie said. “Do you think it’s possible that someone else shot the man, then Ethan came home and found him, and that’s what you saw?”

  “Like I said. I didn’t see the shooting, and it took me a while to get to the window. So yeah. Sure.” He shrugged his bony shoulders. “That could’ve happened.”

  Ainslie’s expression perked up, and her head raised higher. “Would you be willing to testify to that?”

  Malcolm nibbled on his lip, then nodded. “I guess. I mean it’s just speculation is all. Not sure it’s of value.”

  “We’ll let the attorneys figure that out.” Ainslie took out her business card and handed it to him.

  Excitement burned in her eyes, but Grady didn’t want her getting her hopes up too high. Not when they really hadn’t found a strong lead to help Ethan.

  8

  Grady ran his gaze around the area, checking for danger as he and Ainslie approached their final house. Drake had moved down the street and squatted in the shadows of a utility box, which surprisingly hid his large body. Grady was glad to have Drake watching their backs, but Grady wouldn’t lose his focus on protecting Ainslie.

  She looked at him. “I hope this place pans out.”

  Grady checked out the house, a tiny white box with an equally tiny brick stoop out front. Without any lights on inside, he suspected they wouldn’t learn anything. “At least Malcolm allowed for the possibility that Ethan might not be the shooter. A strong attorney could work that for Ethan’s good in court.”

  She nodded. “But it would be better if we found someone who actually saw the shooting.”

  Grady motioned at the crumbling concrete walkway. “After you, then.”

  They strolled up to the house, and Grady noticed the video doorbell mounted near the door. He glanced back across the street. “Their doorbell camera might have caught the shooting.”

  “You think so?” Ainslie turned to stare at Ethan’s place.

  “It’ll depend on if they have it set up to detect motion only and how sensitive the settings are.” He rang the bell.

  He heard the chime ring inside, and a girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, peeked out from behind a cracked open door, a chain lock holding it ajar. She was short and plump with dyed black hair chopped at her chin in a blunt cut.

  Grady was about to hand her his card when Ainslie stepped forward. “Is your mom or dad home, or maybe another adult we can talk to?”

  “Nu-uh,” the girl said.

  Grady grimaced. This girl should never have opened the door if she was alone, and she sure shouldn’t have told strangers that her parents weren’t here.

  “What’s your name?” Ainslie asked.

  “Jayla.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jayla. My name is Ainslie.” She handed her business card through the opening. “My brother Ethan lives across the street. Do you know him?”

 
Jayla looked at the card. “Seen him around. Don’t know him.”

  “Did you know he was arrested for shooting a man outside his house?” Ainslie asked.

  Jayla’s healthy complexion paled, and she fidgeted with the card. “Nah. But heard a guy got popped.”

  Grady didn’t like that a girl this age had to deal with a shooting near her home. It was obviously bothering her. And he disliked even more that he had to question her. “Were you home the night of the shooting?”

  She didn’t answer at first, then nodded. “In bed sleeping. Didn’t even hear the gun go off.”

  “Your mom or dad home then?” Grady asked.

  “Not Dad,” Jayla answered quickly but shifted her focus over Grady’s shoulder.

  He got the feeling she was hiding something or just didn’t like to talk about her dad. “And your mom?”

  “She was here.” Jayla shoved the card in her skinny jeans pocket. “Sleeping too.”

  “Do you know the man who was shot?” Ainslie asked.

  Jayla gave a brief shake of her head. “Don’t pay no attention to the people over there. Just mind my own business in this neighborhood.”

  Seemed like she was still holding something back, and they were going to have to pry it out of her. Grady knew about keeping secrets at this age—if indeed she was hiding something. “Does your doorbell camera pick up motion?”

  She hesitated for a moment but then shrugged, and her expression closed down tight, like she’d bitten into a sour apple.

  Grady wasn’t an experienced interviewer, but he could tell this girl wasn’t going to give them any more information. It was time to talk to her mother, and to ask Detective Flores if she requested video from this doorbell camera.

  He handed his business card to Jayla. “Can you give our cards to your mom and ask her to call one of us?”

  “Sure, but she didn’t see nothing either.” Card in hand, Jayla crossed her arms.

  Grady searched the girl’s gaze, thinking that, behind those cloaked eyes, she knew something. Maybe he just wanted her to have witnessed the shooting so he could clear Ethan for Ainslie, but he didn’t want to let this lead go. “Still, have her call us.”