by Kate Morris
A clinking sound drew her attention, and Lorena followed the noise, walking to the side of the house. The sound grew louder as she went farther and around to the back. Jack was right behind her. Craig must’ve been flanking the other way in case their possible suspect spotted them and tried to flee. When she got to the backyard, she realized the source of the noise. It was a wooden wind chime banging around, hitting against a tree trunk. Lorena approached and took in her surroundings. A narrow woodshed was about twenty yards from the rear, basement door. The house was built into the side of a hill, so the basement was ground level and they’d approached the top floor from the driveway. Wood was stacked neatly against the stone wall, and a second-floor porch above lent itself to nice views of the lake. There was a wall of windows up there, as well, which would’ve provided spectacular views and lovely sunsets. Upon further inspection, Lorena didn’t think the lake was very big, after all, and that only this house owned it. The other homes were too far away to enjoy it, and it seemed to belong with just one home.
“Hey!” a man yelled loudly as he must’ve sighted in on Craig coming from the opposite side of the house instead of her and Jack. He was standing on the balcony of the second floor, likely a master suite bedroom. “Who the fuck are you?”
“FBI,” Craig announced and flashed his badge.
“What…?”
Then he spotted her and Jack. She also showed her badge. His eyes took on a fleeting moment of panic before he swallowed hard. He looked nervous already, but he signaled them to wait.
“I’m coming down,” he shouted.
He greeted them, walking out of the lower level basement door under the deck and came toward them.
Kyle Archibald was six feet tall and weighed approximately one-eighty-five. He was a wall of solid, imposing muscle. She’d likely have to shoot him as opposed to going hand-to-hand with the man if he decided to attack them. She hoped it didn’t come to that. Lorena took a second to take in his appearance as he came closer. He was sweaty, dripping sweat actually and panting. He wore a muscle shirt, nothing else, no jacket or hoodie, and just track pants. Lorena was freezing. Nothing about his appearance mattered except for one thing. There was a smear of blood on his left cheek.
“Mr. Archibald?” Jack asked and stepped between her and Kyle. “We have a few questions to ask you if you don’t mind, sir.”
“What about? Do you have a warrant?”
“No, sir,” Lorena said and stepped forward. “But we can get one if we need to. We’d just like to talk at this point.”
His eyes jumped nervously to Jack and then Craig. Then he looked at Lorena again and seemed to relax just slightly. With great reluctance, he nodded.
“I’ll meet you back around top and let you in,” he said and backed through the door and closed it. He also locked it because she heard the bolt click home in the jamb.
True to his word, Kyle admitted them into his home. Lorena took a quick glance around, noting the open concept, the rustic-style kitchen, and masculine décor. He offered them seats on the sofas.
Lorena sat next to Craig while Jack hung back and stood a few feet away.
“Do you live here alone?” she asked.
“Yeah, just me, myself, and I.”
“Girlfriend?
“You asking for personal reasons?”
She smiled patiently and said, “It’s a nice house, big for just one person.”
“My wife doesn’t come up here.”
This stunned her. His marital status had revealed that he was not married.
“Wife?”
“She lives in Seattle. We’re separated, but don’t have any plans of divorcing. She doesn’t like it out here. Plus, her family’s up there. I prefer it here.”
“That’s an odd circumstance.”
He shrugged and explained, “Not really. Her career is up there. Mine’s here. We’re trying to work it out.”
“And this separate living arrangement works for you?”
“Sure. It’s like we’re still dating. I see her on the weekends. We hook up, she drives back or I do. It’s great. One of these days, though, I’m gonna wear her down and get her to move here.”
It was also convenient to have his wife live in another city when one wanted to kidnap and rape women before killing them and dumping their bodies.
“How long have you lived like this, separated like this?”
He sighed, “About a year. Like I said. She’ll eventually come over to my side.”
“Mr. Archibald,” Lorena started, “can you tell me where you were about three weeks ago, on the twelfth?”
He picked up his phone from the coffee table and slid the screen to open it. Then he typed in a password and scrolled through his calendar. “At work, as usual.”
“At the distribution center?”
“Seems to me like you already know where I was and why. What’s this all leading up to, Detective?”
Lorena tried not to lose her patience. Sometimes dealing with suspects during an interview was like working with toddlers.
“Do you ever visit a club called The Fig Leaf?”
He looked at Lorena, up and down as if he didn’t want to answer the question. Then his eyes shifted toward Jack, who was effectively blocking the exit should he bolt.
Finally, he nodded and said, “Yeah, I’ve been there.”
“Were you there that Wednesday?”
“Nah, I was at work. I work mostly Monday through Friday. Sometimes I’ll get in some overtime on the weekends but not usually.”
“I have two witnesses that saw you there on Wednesday night, though. And also the night before,” Lorena hit him with, which was true according to the strippers. He had visited the club just the night before Stephanie’s disappearance and then again the night of her kidnapping. He didn’t look like a stalker pervert like the girls had described him, but, then again, Lorena wasn’t dancing on the coffee table naked in front of him. Perversion, desire, loneliness, these were all factors that could make someone do something stupid. A propensity towards violence, mental illness, and the need to dominate were factors that made serial killers murder people. She wasn’t sure if she was peering into the brown eyes of a killer.
“So?”
“What time did you arrive that Tuesday?”
He pursed his lips and thought. “’Bout seven. I start work at ten, so I had some time to kill.”
“And so you just hung out at the bar until then and left when?”
“Right. Probably nine-thirty, so I’d have enough time to get to work. I don’t like being late.”
Beside her, Craig rose and left the room. She heard the front door open and close.
“And again on Wednesday, do you remember what time you got there?”
“A friend of mine from work met me,” he said.
“Oh, really? At what time?”
“Earlier,” he said and squirmed in his seat. “I think around six. We grabbed burgers at the bar and hung out.”
“Did you have a favorite girl there?” she asked.
His top lip curled as if he found them all average or even distasteful, but Lorena knew that was not true.
“Until what time were you there?”
He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes closed for a moment as if he dreaded where this was going. “Eight-thirty.”
“Why so early if you didn’t have to be at work until ten? I’m assuming the commute is less than a half hour to the distribution center since you left the night before at nine-thirty and didn’t have to report in until ten.”
He swallowed hard, darted his eyes to Jack. “I’d rather not say.”
“I think you should,” she said. “This is important.”
His eyes narrowed and became focused on Lorena. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here. Why don’t you do that now?”
“First, tell me where you went from eight-thirty till ten.”
“Not without my lawyer. You can’t just force me to answer questions,
Detective. I know my rights.”
He was starting to irritate her, “You want to lawyer up? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Why do you want to know where I was?”
“What’s your friend’s name? Could he corroborate your whereabouts that night?”
He laughed. “Uh…yeah. But I’d rather we don’t dig into this any further.”
“Why is that?”
“Me and Bill partied a little before work. No big deal.”
“How? Did you leave the bar and go to a party or do you mean you did drugs and then went to work?”
“Not exactly. I think you should drop it, little lady,” he said in a condescending tone that made Lorena’s hackles rise.
“And I insist you reveal whatever it is that you’re hiding,” she ordered firmly. “Did you know a dancer named Stephanie, Steph, went by Sassy?”
His eyes jumped straight to hers before looking away. He knew her. He didn’t actually need to admit to it. His eyes just betrayed him.
“What’s Bill’s last name?”
“I think we’re done here,” he stated and stood. “This is starting to sound like you’re pinning me to something.”
Lorena also stood. “If you have nothing to hide, then why are you ending our discussion?”
“What exactly are you investigating?”
“A murder.”
“Whose?” he asked hesitantly.
“Stephanie Pearson.”
“What?” he exclaimed on a gasp. “I want you to leave. Fuck this. You leave now.”
Without an arrest warrant, they didn’t have anything on Kyle Archibald. Lorena left with Jack and met Craig out at the SUV.
He walked over to them and said, “They’re on the way. Let’s hope he doesn’t wipe off that blood. We’ll bring him in for a formal questioning and sweep the house. They’re twenty minutes out.”
“I want to talk to the friend,” Lorena said and explained what she meant to Craig.
“I’ll get someone on it,” he answered. “Let me get his full name.”
Lorena coughed and pulled a tissue from the pocket of her jacket. “We didn’t even get to ask him about Hailee.”
“It’s not over yet. How are you holding up, chief?” Jack asked her.
“Fine. I’m fine,” she said and wiped her nose.
Craig came back to them and said, “I’ll stay here. The team will be here in a minute. Why don’t you two head to this address and talk to his friend? I already called the number. He’s there now.”
“Yes, sir,” Lorena joked.
Craig nodded, then stopped in the middle of it and cut a grin. “I’m not your boss, Lorena. If anything, you’re my boss on this one. You’ve brought out more on this case than the rest of the team that’s been working on it for a long time.”
“I just want to catch him,” she admitted.
“Ready, chief?” Jack asked as he rounded the SUV and got in.
Lorena followed suit and sent a single wave to Craig as they pulled away. Ten minutes into their trip, they passed multiple FBI black SUV’s flying down the road.
“I hope he doesn’t shower. I still want to know what the blood on his face was from,” she said.
“No kidding,” Jack replied.
Lorena coughed again.
“I can handle this interview by myself if you want me to drop you back at the house,” he offered with a look of concern on his face.
“No, I’m good. I just need to get in a run later,” she reasoned.
“I think ten hours of sleep, chicken noodle soup and some Vitamin C might be a better suggestion.”
She chuffed. “I’m good.”
“Well, as soon as we’re done, I’ll take you home.”
Lorena nodded. “What’d you think of Kyle? Think he’s our guy?”
Jack offered a one-shouldered shrug and said, “Not sure. He’s got some gaps in the timeline and was apparently one of her stalkers.”
“Once we talked about it being a murder case and gave her name, he clammed up on me. He’s not the most brilliant person alive.”
“That’s why our jails are so overcrowded. Not enough Mensa students like you.”
“Or maybe not strict enough sentences,” she reminded him as if she needed to do so. They’d had this discussion many times. All cops did. When the court systems failed, they were failing the cops who’d made the arrests.
They drove back to the city and found the home of Bill Weber and parked on the curb. It was a small brick bungalow with a white front door. Lorena got out and coughed again as they walked to the porch. Jack’s eyebrow shot up.
“Don’t start. I don’t need mothering. We just need to solve this and go home.”
“It’s gonna be hard to do when my partner’s in the hospital with pneumonia.”
Lorena moaned and rang the doorbell. They were greeted by a portly gentleman in a Seattle Seahawks hoodie and matching sweatpants. He showed them in and offered seats. It was apparent that he was a bachelor. The décor reflected his marital status unless his wife enjoyed her living room, dining room, and, from what Lorena could see, bathroom decked out with Seahawks paraphernalia.
As soon as they turned him down for coffee, Lorena got straight to work.
“Mr. Weber, let me cut straight to the chase,” she said. “I just need to ask you a few questions about a night three weeks ago. It was a Wednesday. You went with a friend to The Fig Leaf. Do you remember that?”
A deep crimson instantly bloomed on his rounded cheeks. He nodded with a grimace.
“What time did you meet your friend, Kyle Archibald?”
“Round six or seven, I think.”
“And when did you leave?”
He swallowed and said, “Eight-thirty.”
“Do you work the same shift at the distribution center as Mr. Archibald?”
“Yeah, midnights. We start at ten.”
The hour and a half gap in time was still there. He’d at least confirmed that part of Kyle’s story.
“Did you leave together?”
“Uh…yeah,” he said hesitantly. “What’s this about? Are we in trouble or something? I knew that was a bad idea.”
“What was a bad idea?”
He blushed harder, which Lorena would not have guessed possible.
“You know, paying ‘em.”
“Paying who?”
He looked at his knees, “The strippers.”
Lorena looked at Jack and frowned with confusion.
Jack jumped in and asked, “You paid them for sex? Is that what you mean?”
She hadn’t thought of that angle of questioning. He nodded.
“So, you left with strippers and paid them for sex?” Lorena repeated for clarification.
“Yeah, it was stupid. Am I under arrest?”
“What?” she asked. “No. No, sir. You’re not under arrest. Did you leave the premises with them?”
“Them? No, it was just one.”
Lorena’s heart sank. “Which one, sir?”
“I don’t know. Some girl that Kyle has the hots for. He talks about her all the time at work, how pretty she is and stuff.”
“And you left the bar at eight-thirty so that Kyle could pay her to have sex with him?”
“Sort of,” he answered with embarrassment.
Jack asked, “You both did?”
“Not sex. Just blowjobs.”
Lorena felt nauseous. She wondered how often this happened in strip clubs where the girls left with men. It was so dangerous. Just as dangerous as street prostitution. Why did people always say that oral sex wasn’t sex? What was wrong with society?
“Where’d you go?” Jack asked, picking up the slack for her.
“Down by the river. It was quiet. You know, not the best neighborhood, either, so I was nervous.”
“Which neighborhood?” he asked.
“Cathedral Park.”
This was too easy.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” she or
dered quietly, her palms growing sweaty. She wiped one on her pants.
“Kyle drove. I rode in the passenger seat. She road in the back. He parked behind a warehouse that was closed. That’s where…it happened. We paid her, and that was it.”
“And did Mr. Archibald have sex with her or was it just oral sex?” Jack asked.
“No, he wanted to, but she wouldn’t. He got pretty pissed about it, too. Started getting loud and stuff. I told him to calm down.”
“Did he?” Lorena asked.
He nodded vigorously, “Yeah, he did. He told me later that she’d done that with him before but just in the parking lot behind the club. Said he bent her over the hood. I thought…it was just all…so dirty and embarrassing. I felt embarrassed for her.”
“You mean it was all just oral sex?” Jack asked, getting another nod.
“Yeah, I felt awful about it afterward. It was awkward and weird.”
She wasn’t surprised that Stephanie didn’t want to have sex. She was supposedly a lesbian, so she probably wasn’t into any of it but needed the money.
“What happened then?” Jack pressed.
“Kyle and her, they did some drugs. She smoked some pot with me, but Kyle was hitting coke. I just hung out with her mostly. He was talking to her about leaving his wife. He had it bad for her. I remember her name now. Called her Steph.”
“Was it mutual?” Lorena asked. “Did Stephanie have feelings for Kyle, too?”
He shook his head, “Nah, I don’t think so. She was a nice girl. She said she was going to dentist school or something like that. We hung out for a while and then drove her back to the bar.”
“Then what happened?” Jack asked, his brown eyes meeting Lorena’s for a brief second. “What time did you take her back to the club?”
“I think it was probably nine-thirty.”
That cleared up some of the time gap.
“Then what?”
“We went to work. Well, I did. Kyle went back in the club. Said he wanted another beer. I think he just wanted to talk to Steph some more. I didn’t want to be late, so I left.”
