Paper-Thin Walls

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  Just as Ryan had suspected, he had been drugged out of his mind.

  “Ma’am, Joyce, I found what I want. I need a copy of this.”

  “A copy? That’ll cost you extra.”

  Ryan wanted to strangle her, but he made another trip down to the ATM and withdrew a hundred dollars to cover Joyce’s extortion fee. That bitch, Ryan thought.

  But when he walked out with a copy of the recording, he anticipated not only getting Hailey back, but he might also get Jason Patterson fired.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Hailey

  As soon as Detective Sutton officially determined he had spoken with Belinda Simpson, and not Kenna Simpson, he put in a call to the Fort Worth Police Department to have Bill brought in for questioning. He also requested a search warrant for Bill and Kenna’s apartment.

  “It’ll take longer than fifteen minutes on that search warrant,” he told me. “This little town never sees any excitement and they were overly eager to accommodate us.”

  “Yeah, I gathered as much.” I nodded at the numerous officers, the neighboring onlookers, the several TV crews, and the endless stream of passersby.

  An hour and a half later, the officers began emerging from the house with long looks on their faces. After a thorough search of every room and the attic, they didn’t find a dead body. In fact, there wasn’t any indication that Kenna had been staying in the house. There were only two dirty plates and two stained coffee mugs in the kitchen sink. Only two toothbrushes were in the one bathroom. And even though there was a third bedroom, no additional clothing was found. And on closer inspection the bed had fresh sheets as opposed to ones crumbled from several nights of sleep. For all appearances, only Bill’s mother and his sister were the occupants of the small house.

  The news teams were disappointed that a dead body hadn’t been discovered or a murderer hadn’t been arrested, or even that the homeowners never showed up. Once they realized there was no story to be had, they packed everything up and left. Little did they know the alleged murderer was, at that very moment, being hauled down to the Fort Worth Police Station to be taken into an interview room for questioning.

  The Hillsboro officers went on their merry way, little by little the townsfolk stopped driving by, and the residents disappeared back into their homes. Only Captain Watson and Detective Sutton remained.

  “We’ll stake the place out and see if the Simpsons return,” Captain Watson proposed. “If they do, we’ll bring them in for questioning and notify you.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  Detective Sutton and the captain shook hands and parted ways, and we turned the truck to the north and began our route back to Fort Worth.

  “Well, that was a real dog and pony show, wasn’t it?” the detective commented once we were a few blocks away.

  I laughed. “We gave them something to talk about. That’s for sure.”

  We speculated as to how long Irena and Belinda would avoid going home. “They’ll show up, sooner or later. It’s doubtful they can afford any place else,” the detective surmised.

  “Do you think they might try to stay at Bill’s place?” I pondered.

  He nodded. “It can’t be ruled out. Although, I think they’ve probably already received word from Bill to stay clear of there, too.”

  “Will he be arrested? I can’t go home if Bill’s not in jail. He’ll kill me.”

  “He’ll most likely be held overnight, pending a thorough search of his apartment and his truck.” He frowned. “But I’d highly recommend you staying somewhere else until we know for sure what’s going to happen.”

  “My parents will let me stay with them,” I decided. I needed to make sure Adam was safe and Bill didn’t have any idea where they lived.

  My cell dinged a notification, and I pulled my phone out. “Jesus,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Everything okay?” he asked as he merged into traffic, matched the speed limit and set the cruise control.

  “My bank sends an alert each time a cash withdrawal is made. Ryan’s made two in the last hour or so, one for five hundred dollars and the other for one hundred. These were from a local bank. But last Thursday night, he pulled out three hundred dollars from an ATM at the Bottles Up Distillery.”

  Detective Sutton frowned. “Does your husband have a drug problem?”

  “No, neither of us do drugs.”

  Then again, what did I know about my husband? Two weeks ago, I thought he wouldn’t cheat on me. Thursday night I thought he was entertaining the heck out of someone on a three- hundred-dollar withdrawal. And I couldn’t even begin to imagine what the other two withdrawals were this afternoon. There was no telling about him anymore.

  But one thing I did know: When the news aired tonight, there was the possibility I might be portrayed as the detective’s girlfriend. And for what it was worth, I didn’t want to hurt Ryan or Adam, or my parents. So, I sent a text to Ryan and my parents.

  Weird day. If you watch the news tonight, I’m not a detective’s girlfriend. Will explain later.

  A few moments later, I received a text from Ryan.

  Weird day for me, too. I have footage proving I didn’t sleep with Shannon. Will explain later.

  For the next few miles, my thoughts were centered on Ryan’s text, wondering how he could possibly prove he didn’t sleep with Shannon, especially considering I’d seen proof with my own eyes. A picture of them having sex was hard to dispute. Even so, I found myself hoping it was true. I loved Ryan and I wanted my little family back.

  “If Bill talks, will you let me know what he says? I’d like to see Kenna receive a proper burial.” I frowned. “I’m assuming she’s dead.”

  He nodded. “I’d say that’s a safe bet. And yes, I’ll let you know. I’ll also let you know if he’s arrested, and if he makes bail, too.”

  “Thank you.”

  He waited a beat. “Hailey, I’m sorry about everything. Your instincts were correct all along and no one took you seriously, including myself. The girl I interviewed, Belinda, she even had a black eye and a busted lip. I thought for sure she was Kenna.”

  For a moment, I pondered why Bill’s sister would’ve had a black eye and a busted lip. Could it have been makeup? Or had Bill gone so far as to batter his sister to gain her compliance?

  “It didn’t change anything,” I told him. “Kenna was already dead when you came on the scene. I’m certain the bump in the night was when he killed her. He probably strangled her. I base that on the fact that he put his hands on my throat. Hopefully, he’ll disclose the location of her body.”

  “Do you know if she has any family?”

  “She never knew her father and had lost contact with her mother. She talked about foster homes and rehab centers. I don’t think there’s anyone. She said Bill saved her.” I shook my head. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

  He grimaced and gave a slow nod.

  As we entered the metroplex, I asked. “Would you mind accompanying me to my apartment? I’d like to collect a few things to take over to my parents’ house.”

  “I’d be happy too. If you’d like, I’ll follow you over.”

  “No, I’ll be fine once I leave the premises.”

  “What about your son?”

  “He’s staying the night with Ryan. He’ll be safe.”

  When we pulled into the parking lot, there were two police cars parked near the front.

  “Search warrant,” he explained as we went inside and climbed the stairs.

  Sure enough, the door to Bill’s apartment was standing wide open and crime scene tape had cordoned off an area around the entrance to keep other tenants from entering. Detective Sutton made sure I was safely inside my apartment, then he went next door to see what was going on.

  While he was gone, I stuffed a good amount of mine and Adam’s clothing, hangers and all, into two large trash bags, adding to the bag I had begun packing the day Kenna and I were going to make a break for it. My toiletries had already been
transferred into a box, so they were ready to go. The task was completed before he returned. He knocked on the door and I let him inside.

  “There’s nothing over there. No blood. No weapons. No sign a murder occurred. You’re probably correct about the strangling. His truck was taken in for forensic testing. Hopefully, we’ll be able to tell something from that. But in the meantime, you’ll rest easier knowing he’s been arrested for the murder of Kenna and will be spending the night in jail. But Hailey, if he gets a good attorney, he’ll most likely be released on bond. And if we don’t find Kenna’s body, the charges may not even stick.”

  “Then find her,” I urged him.

  “I won’t stop until I do,” he promised.

  “What about the basement?” I asked. “Did anyone search it? I tried looking down there the night of the storm, but I got too scared and ran out.”

  “I didn’t realize there was a basement. But let me go ask.”

  He was gone for a moment while he stepped next door, then he returned. “The search warrant didn’t include a basement. No one has been down there. But you’d think one of the tenants would’ve spotted a body by now, or certainly smelled it. Is this really a possibility?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s a furnace and a boiler down there. I thought he might have tossed her in one of them.”

  He rolled his whole head. “Yep, he might have. We’ll have to get another warrant to do a thorough investigation, though. However, since it’s a public area to the complex, I’ll go down and look around to see what needs to be included.” He hesitated. “How do I get down there?”

  The main staircase only gave access to the first and second floors. “I’ve only been down there twice and both times, I took the elevator. But surely there’s a set of stairs leading down.”

  “I’ll stop in at the office and ask the landlord because I need to check out the stairs, too. If you’ve packed your things, I’ll help you carry them down.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I took a moment to heave out my belongings and lock my door.

  He grabbed up both bags as if they weighed no more than a feather while I carried the box of toiletries and led the way to the stairs. At the bottom, he stuck his head in the manager’s office and asked Gladys where the stairs were to the basement.

  “Around the corner to the left,” she answered. She blew out a puff of smoke. “What’s going on with all this police business?”

  “We’re trying to locate Kenna Simpson,” he answered. “Do you know where she might be?”

  I was standing behind the detective. Gladys leaned her head over to see more of me. “That’s right, Mrs. Sinclair thought she was missing.” She turned back to the detective. “So, she ain’t turned up, yet?”

  “Not yet,” the detective answered. “We’re still looking, though.”

  “Well, she often does laundry on Saturday. She might be down in the basement,” she reasoned. The detective didn’t bother to tell her we suspected she was murdered.

  “We’ll take a look,” he told her, which I took to mean that I could tag along, especially when he left my bags just inside the doorway. “We’ll leave these here for a few minutes if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure thing, knock yourself out. Oh, I don’t recommend taking the stairs. It’s kind of dark in there. Most people use the elevator … you know because of hauling baskets of clothing and such. You wouldn’t want to risk the fall.”

  “It’s dark in the basement, too,” I warned. “If you have a flashlight, it’d be helpful.”

  “Here, take this one,” Gladys offered, digging around in the bottom drawer of her desk. When she popped her head back up, her complexion had reddened. She coughed several times, took in a long breath and then went right back to puffing on her cigarette.

  The detective took the flashlight and headed for the stairwell, I followed along with him after leaving my box of toiletries next to the two bags.

  We passed by the elevator, and he opened the door next to it. “Good Lord,” he said immediately, noting the place was barely lit.

  The place was so dark it was difficult to make out the steps. Thank goodness I hadn’t brought Adam down this way. He had been scared as it was.

  “Watch your step,” he cautioned, turning on the flashlight and taking hold of my hand to guide me along. The beam of light bounced from one step to the next, down a narrow stairwell that smelled of rat pee. Periodically he stopped and shined the light all around, looking for any signs of foul play.

  After finally making it to the bottom, he pushed on the door. Then we were in the long dark hallway that led to the laundry room. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, realizing the flashlight was still a necessity.

  A rat scurried in front of us, and I let out a yip. “Sorry,” I apologized after causing him to jump.

  “Scared me too,” he admitted as we kept on walking. “Shoot, I didn’t know about these tenant lockers,” he mentioned, referring to the basement storage spaces where Bill could’ve easily stuffed Kenna for temporary hiding. He slowly made his way forward, shining the light above each numbered unit, searching for Bill’s corresponding apartment number. When we came to the unit, he yanked on the garage-like door, but it was locked. When we came to my unit, I handed him the key and he rolled the door open.

  “Thank goodness,” I said when it was found to be empty.

  “Did you expect Kenna to be in there?”

  “Yes, and if she was, I expected you’d arrest me, thinking I did it.”

  He chuckled and moved farther down the dank, hallway, passing underneath the section of rusted pipe that was dripping. “Watch your step,” he cautioned, making sure I noticed a slick spot.

  A few feet farther, we came to the mechanical room, containing the building’s boiler, furnace, air conditioning system and electrical panels. When he opened the door, we were met with a ghastly smell. I gagged, thinking I might throw up.

  “Go back if you need to,” he suggested.

  “I’m fine,” I said, holding my breath and backing up a few steps.

  “Wait here. I need to look inside.” He poked his head in and shined the light all around. Then he cautiously moved on in. He found the light switch and flipped it on. Fluorescent bulbs began flickering and slowly coming to life. Within a few seconds, the room was much brighter. “The smell is coming from over by the furnace,” he reported to me. He disappeared into the room, leaving me in the hallway. It was a good fifteen minutes before he returned. “The smell is coming from two dead rats behind the boiler. They’re both covered in maggots, and they’re close enough to the furnace heat to be cooking a little. It’s a nasty site, but it’s not Kenna.”

  “What about inside the furnace?”

  “I’ll need to get a search warrant for the boiler, the furnace, and the storage locker. Until then, let’s check out the rest of the area.”

  Not surprisingly, Bill hadn’t stuffed Kenna in one of the washers or dryers. After a good inspection, we were headed back upstairs where we returned to Gladys’s office. “Thanks for the flashlight. We’ll be getting a search warrant for Bill Simpson’s storage unit as well as the mechanical room downstairs. Oh, and by the way, there are two dead rats down there that I’d appreciate you removing before we come back.”

  “Sure thing,” Gladys said. “I put some poison out down there a week ago. I guess it’s working,” Gladys said, adding a deep, smoker’s laugh.

  He grabbed both bags of clothes and I picked up the box. He followed me out to my car where we loaded everything. Then he gave me his private number and he already had mine.

  “Thanks for helping me today,” he said.

  I giggled. “I don’t think I did anything.”

  He grinned. “Well, thanks for keeping me company then.” He walked me to the driver’s side, opened the door for me and I crawled in. “I’ll be in touch,” he said and closed my door.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Hailey

  Detective Sutton foll
owed me out of the parking lot and over to I-30, both of us heading west. When I exited south on Bryant Irvin, he kept going. A few streets later, I pulled into my parents’ driveway and parked behind Ryan’s car, which surprised me to no end. Considering we were separated, the last place I expected him to be was his in-laws.

  The door was locked, so I dug for my keys and let myself in. Laughter came from the kitchen, so I worked my way to the back of the house.

  “Mama,” Adam screamed the moment he saw me, running at me like a linebacker coming in for a hug. I reached down and picked him up. “Me and Daddy played detective today and we solved a crime.”

  “You did? What did you discover?”

  “Fingerprints were all over the windows.” He wiggled down, wanting out of my arms. Then he dug in his pocket. “I found this.” He opened his fist and showed me a candy bar wrapper and two pennies. “These were stuck between the cushions on the couch. Daddy said they’re good clues.”

  “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to make a great detective someday.”

  He put on a proud face. “I’m already one.”

  My father, my mother and Ryan each eyed me suspiciously. My dad nodded at Ryan. “Come on, sport,” he said to Adam. “Let’s go play trains for a little while.”

  Ryan and my mother kept quiet until Adam was out of earshot.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, suddenly feeling like I was part of an intervention.

  Following my mother’s lead, we each took a seat at the breakfast table. They both had solemn expressions on their faces.

  Ryan took a sip from a water bottle he had. “According to Adam, you spent your day with a real detective.”