by Blake Pierce
***
The library in question was just a fifteen-minute drive outside of the Carvers’ subdivision. It was a small but beautiful building, complete with a back lawn filled with trees, chairs, and picnic tables. When Chloe and Moulton got out of the car and walked toward the doors, there was a small reading group of toddlers sitting on a blanket, listening to an older woman read.
They walked in through the front sliding doors and for a moment, Chloe was transported back to her middle school years—specifically during the summers, when she’d opted not to spend time with friends or family, instead retreating to the public library and losing herself in old Sherlock Holmes novels. The smell of books and overworked printers brought it all back to her.
They approached the check-out desk, where two women were stationed behind computers. The woman on the right looked up to them as they approached, giving a tired smile. “Can I help you?”
“We were hoping to speak with a librarian named Shelby,” Chloe said. “Not sure of a last name.”
The other woman at the second computer spoke up, her voice a little uncertain. “I’m Shelby Wickline. The only librarian here with that first name.”
Chloe approached her side of the check-out desk and kept her voice low. “We’re Agents Fine and Moulton with the FBI,” she said quietly. “We were told you’d spoken with Kim Wielding a few times during her tenure as a nanny for the Carver family.”
“That’s correct,” she said, a small little frown touching the corners of her mouth. Chloe guessed the woman to be in her forties but the frown made her look much older.
“Could we speak to you in private?” Moulton asked.
Shelby gave the other librarian a perplexed look, to which the other librarian nodded. “Sure,” Shelby said. “We can speak in the conference room in the back.”
Shelby came out from behind the desk and led the agents to the back of the library where three doors sat along the back wall. She opened the door to the middle one, taking them into a small room that was mostly occupied by a table and several chairs.
The moment Chloe had closed the door behind them, Shelby asked, “Do you know who did it yet?”
“We don’t,” Chloe said. “That’s why we’re here. We were hoping some of the conversations you’d had with her might lead us closer to a suspect.”
“Oh,” Shelby said, clearly deflated. “Well, she really wasn’t the type to share too much personal information.”
“Did she ever mention a man named Mike Dillinger?”
Shelby thought about it for a moment and then nodded slowly. “I think at one time she did mention seeing a man named Mike. I’m pretty sure it was nothing serious, though.”
“No details on him at all?” Moulton asked.
“Not that I can remember.”
“Do you know if she had any other romantic relationships while she was working for the Carvers?” Chloe asked.
“If she did, she never mentioned them.”
“What about Bill Carver? Did you ever suspect anything between the two of them?”
“I personally never did. But…well, you know these sorts of neighborhoods.”
“Could you elaborate on that?” Chloe asked, thinking instantly about how Courtney Vedas had made a similar comment.
“Well, the Carvers lived in that really well-to-do subdivision. And it’s like something out of a really bad soap opera if the rumors and gossip are to be believed.”
“Did you ever hear any gossip about Kim?” Moulton asked.
“No. Which is odd. She was a bit older—mid- to late thirties, I believe—but incredibly pretty. And single. That would have made her ripe for the picking when it came to the grapevine. But I never heard anything about her.”
“What about the Carvers?”
“Well, rumor had it that Bill Carver was clearly sleeping with other women while he was traveling for work. He was always known to be something of a flirt. But I know the Carvers. I don’t see Bill as being the type to cheat on his wife.”
You apparently aren’t a very good judge of character, then, Chloe thought.
“Is the library generally a place where gossip is shared?” Moulton asked.
Shelby chuckled and nodded. “Absolutely. You have a bunch of stay-at-home moms that have their kids involved in all kinds of activities. Throw in a retired grandmother or two and it can get pretty toxic.”
“Can you think of anything you’ve heard in the last year or so that might have directly affected the Carvers or Kim Wielding?” Chloe asked.
“Not right off the top of my head, no. I suppose of there was any truth to the rumors of Bill having an affair, there’s a chance that Kim might have known about it.”
Chloe slid one of her business cards across the table to Shelby. “In the following days, if you think of any other information, please let us know,” she said.
“I will.” She plucked up the card and considered something for a moment. “You know, I may be reaching here, but something seemed a little off with Kim the last time I spoke to her.”
“How long ago was this?” Moulton asked.
“Three weeks or so. She seemed sort of moody. Depressed, even. And that was not something I had ever seen out of Kim. She was usually always full of smiles and laughter. I remembered thinking she seemed sad about something that last time…”
Maybe that was when she was starting to realize her mistake of being involved with Mike Dillinger, Chloe thought.
“Any feeling as to what it might have been that was bothering her?” Chloe asked.
“No. And…well, shame on me, but I never even bothered to ask her.”
And with that, Shelby looked down to the table as a tear trickled out of her eye, thinking about things she should have said, perhaps.
A shift in mood three weeks before she was murdered, Chloe thought. Either something had happened in her personal life or something in her life had been starting to change. Had she been developing feelings for Bill Carver that went beyond their two romps? Or was she perhaps starting to regret giving up a career in DC for a life in suburbia with kids that weren’t even her own?
Suddenly, based solely on the dead-end conversation with Shelby Wickline, there were many new unanswered questions. And with the trail growing colder and colder, Chloe started to feel that if some of them weren’t answered very soon, the trail would come to an end, with no killer at the end of it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The day came to an end with no leads and no real hope. Thinking back on it later, Chloe supposed that was why she wasted very little time when she and Moulton arrived back in DC. Chloe didn’t even bother grabbing anything to eat for dinner before getting in her car and making the drive to Reston, Virginia.
She’d obviously not liked the way the last conversation with Danielle had ended. And she knew if she stayed in her apartment by herself with no leads on the Wielding case and no resolution with Danielle, she’d overthink everything. Never one to leave things lying dormant, Chloe made the drive with little hesitancy. Besides…she wanted to see her sister thriving in her new position with responsibilities and the stress that came with them.
When she parked in front of the bar—a place called Vexes—she noticed right away that it was a trendy place. Even before she opened the door to go inside, she saw the lighting was very dark. Odd electronic pop music was playing at a low volume, a mixture of melody and glitchy beats.
There was a large lounge area that was sparsely populated, connected to a more traditional restaurant setting. An elaborate bar separated the two areas, lined with light blue ambient lighting. There were only a few people sitting at the bar and there, behind it with her back to Chloe, was Danielle. She was fitting a spout on a keg of beer beneath the bar.
Chloe approached the bar and sat down like any other patron would. When Danielle was done fixing the spout, she looked up and laid eyes on her new patron. She smirked as she walked over to her sister.
“What’ll it be?” she asked.
“Whatever you feel you make the best,” Chloe said.
“I make a mean mojito.”
“I’ll have one of those, then. And a few minutes of your time, if you can manage it.”
Danielle grabbed a glass and a few bottles from the rack at the center of the bar. “There’s a little table in the back of the lounge area,” she said. “I’m pretty sure it’s open. Go grab it for us and I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Chloe did as she was asked, a little disappointed at the lack of excitement Danielle had showed at her appearance. Sure, there had been some shock in her smirk, but that had been about it. Chloe had thought that after working together to uncover what had truly happened to their parents, things might finally be mended between them. But now Chloe had to face the fact that it might have only served as a temporary solution—a solution that was already falling apart.
She found the table in the back of the dimly lit lounge area and sat down. She looked around the place and decided the darkened atmosphere, peculiar music, and borderline modern appearance of the place fit Danielle rather well. She knew why she was here and knew where the conversation would eventually end up. The trick, of course, was to approach that topic without pissing Danielle off before anything was resolved.
Danielle appeared in the darkened lounge a few minutes later, Chloe’s mojito in one hand and a beer in the other. She sat down at the other side of the table, sliding the drink over to Chloe.
“It’s good to see you,” Danielle said. “Sorry if I bitched you out on the phone the last time we spoke.”
Chloe shrugged and took a sip of the drink. It was very good—the sort of alcoholic drink with enough bite to make sure you drank it slow but smooth enough to make you want to savor it.
“It is what it is,” Chloe said. “This is a nice place. How does the assistant manager role suit you?”
“Not too shabby. So long as I stay behind the bar, I don’t get tasked with too many of the manger shit. The owner and manager is a pretty cool guy. I think he has a crush on me, which works in my favor.”
“He won’t slap your wrist for having a drink with your sister while you’re on the clock?”
Danielle shrugged. “I’m on break. And he’s not here tonight. But I should tell you, I can’t chat long. I do need to get back to work soon. The other tender on the schedule tonight is an idiot. But we keep her on because she’s insanely hot, knows how to work cleavage like a fucking savant, and keeps men at the bar well into the night.”
“Danielle…look, I hate to do it but—”
“But you’re going to ask questions about Dad. And keep bringing him up. Right? I figured that’s why you’d show up unannounced.”
“It’s not as simple as all of that,” Chloe said.
“I know. It never is. It never was. I just thought you were always the stronger of the two of us, you know? It pisses me off that he still has such a hold on you.”
“I don’t exactly like it, either.”
Danielle shrugged as if she honestly couldn’t care less and took a very large gulp from her beer.
“I keep trying to pull memories out of my head,” Chloe said. “But no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember any time when Dad was abusive to Mom. Can you?”
Danielle looked at Chloe as if she were stupid. “Are you for real? I saw him get rough with her at least three times. One of them was an out and out right-handed punch to her stomach.”
This was all news to Chloe. It felt like she had been punched in the stomach. She’d never seen anything like that from her father. Yes, she’d seen their father get angry from time to time—especially at their mother—but never any form of physical abuse.
“It doesn’t surprise me that he would make sure to never do such a thing in front of you,” Danielle said. “You were something special to him for some reason. He liked you better than me…I don’t think that’s some big secret. Maybe he made sure that you never saw it. But I sure as hell did.”
“So why are you telling me now? Why not months ago when we were uncovering the truth?”
“Because you had this fake view of him. I didn’t see the need to pile more shit on the pile. But now…Jesus, Chloe. If this is what it takes for you to let it go, I can keep going if you want. The man was a monster as far as I’m concerned…even if he didn’t kill our mother.”
It then occurred to Chloe that perhaps Danielle’s anger at the mere mention of their father didn’t come out of some sort of entitled anger, but a protective love for her older sister.
“Is that why you flipped out when I told you I went to see him?” Chloe asked. “Because you want all ties to your life cut off from him? Including me?”
“Partially. That and I hate the fact that you never quite saw the monster I saw. You were always more forgiving. I worried that the longer you stayed around him, the better the chance was that you’d have your heart broken. And that’s why it irritates me even now that you won’t just cut the bastard from your life.”
“He says there’s evidence that could get him out of prison sooner.”
“Of course he’s saying that! Anything to thread you along—anything to make him seem like the victim. Chloe…I hope you’re not this blind in your work. If you are, you don’t have much of a career ahead of you.”
Chloe winced at the low blow but couldn’t help but wonder if Danielle was right.
“Danielle…did he…”
“What?”
“Did he hurt you?”
Danielle said nothing. She just sipped from her beer and looked at her sister as if she was learning how to speak to her all over again.
“Would it matter?” Danielle asked, getting up. She then did something that took Chloe by surprise. Danielle hugged her and kissed her cheek. It was the most affection she had seen from her sister since she had walked back into her life about a year ago.
“Drive safely back home, sis,” Danielle said. “The drink is on me.”
And then she headed back to the bar, ending their brief visit almost as soon as it had begun. Chloe watched her go, noting that Danielle had not really answered her question.
Did he hurt you?
But maybe, Chloe thought, no answer was the strongest answer of all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next morning, Chloe was behind the wheel of a bureau car, once again headed back into Bill and Sandra Carver’s neighborhood. Most people were headed out to work with coffee cups and packed lunches at their side as they headed out to their cars. The morning was pretty enough, a thin layer of mist blanketing the yards as the air grew warmer.
“Places like this always creep me out,” Moulton said from his place in the passenger seat.
“Why is that?” Chloe asked.
“I think Courtney Vedas summed it up perfectly. Nice houses, nice lawns, but people with such messed up secrets and ambitions. It’s like peeling back the pretty wallpaper of a bedroom and finding cockroaches and mold.”
“Cheerful,” she said.
He smiled thinly. “I grew up in a place like this. I never really liked it.”
“Clearly.”
She didn’t like that any conversation that didn’t directly involve work seemed to be forced or strained between them. It made her feel as if he could sense the crush she had on him—a crush she honestly wished she could just ignore. It made her feel immature and a little unprofessional.
She ignored the tension and pulled past the Carvers’ house. The plan of the morning was to meet with the Carvers’ neighbors. It felt like a stretch yet as she parked the car in front of the neighboring home, she saw a man sitting on the porch; it almost seemed as if he had been waiting for them to come. As Chloe and Moulton stepped out of the car and started up the sidewalk, she took note of the name on the mailbox: Schwartz.
As they neared the porch steps, the man on the porch stood up from the rocking chair he had been sitting in and looked at them with concern. “Can I help you?” he asked.
Moulton showed his badge, taking the lead. “Agents Moulton and Fine, FBI,” he said. “We’re looking into the death of Kim Wielding. Being that you live next door to the family she worked as a nanny for, we thought you might have some information to help us along.”
The man offered his hand, though he looked uneasy. Moulton shook it, as did Chloe. “David Schwartz,” he said. “And unfortunately, I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”
He took his seat again. A small table sat by the rocking chair, holding a cup of coffee, a Bible, and a notebook.
“Well, we’re honestly just looking for anything you can share with us about Kim or the Carvers,” Chloe said. “Did you know Kim?”
“I knew who she was. We were on a waving basis.”
“Do you have a wife?” Moulton asked.
“Yes. She left for work about ten minutes ago. But she was on the same waving basis as I was. We know the Carvers, of course, but we aren’t exactly friends. We’ll both borrow small things from time to time like most neighbors do, but that’s about the extent of it.”
“Can I get your honest opinion about your neighbors?” Moulton asked.
“They’re fine, I suppose. If I’m being one hundred percent honest, I never really fully trusted any man that can spend so much time away from home because of work, though. And from what I gather, Bill is gone quite a bit. Which I suppose is why they needed the help of a nanny.”
“How about Kim?” Chloe asked. “You say you barely knew her, but did you ever see her speaking with anyone else in the neighborhood?”
“Yes, a few times. There’s a gay couple that lives a few streets over. She would chat with them if they happened to walk by. This gay couple…they’re really big into fitness. Always running or walking.”
Whenever he said gay, it seemed to pain him. Chloe looked at the Bible and wondered if there was a direct correlation.
“Do you know their names?”
“Andrew and Collin Dorsett. They live in the third house from the end of the block over on Hyde Street. I’m pretty sure they both work from home, so you could probably speak to them this morning.”
