by Blake Pierce
“No,” Barnes said. “In fact, she’s gone missing.”
“We spoke to Jeremy about his involvement with her,” Kate said. “He told us that Mercy didn’t like her parents and he’s suggesting that Mercy had something to do with their murders.”
“I don’t know why he’d lie about it,” Floyd said. He did not sound offended that they were making such an accusation. In fact, he seemed rather detached from the whole situation, like he simply didn’t care at all. “Were they dating?”
“Jeremy says it was just a physical relationship,” DeMarco said. “But he also said that she would confide in him—telling him how she hated her parents. How she wanted to kill them.”
“Forgive me for asking such a dumb question,” Floyd said, “but why are you here? Hell, Sheriff Barnes…you probably know Jeremy better than I do.”
“Does he have a room here?” Kate asked.
“Yeah. Last one down the hallway.”
“Would you allow us to look around it?”
Floyd hesitated here, unsure of how to answer. He looked to Barnes, as if for help or backup of some kind.
“You got something in that trailer I might not approve of, Floyd?” Barnes asked.
Instead of answering outright, Floyd asked: “Just Jeremy’s room. Right?”
“For now,” Barnes said with some skepticism. “Thanks, Floyd.”
Barnes escorted Kate and DeMarco to the trailer. As they walked up the rickety porch, Kate looked back out at Floyd Branch. He was walking back into his shed, seemingly unaffected by the exchange.
“He wasn’t nearly as bad as you were letting on,” Kate said.
“Apparently he’s getting a late start on drinking today.”
They walked inside the trailer and Kate was surprised by what she saw. She had been expecting it to be in a state of disrepair, cluttered and messy. But Floyd apparently owned very little, including anything that could consist of clutter. The place was fairly clean, though it had the same sort of smell Kate had experienced at his son’s trailer earlier: stale beer and something slightly pungent that was probably old pot smoke.
The hallway was thin and only held three rooms: a bedroom, a bathroom, and a smaller bedroom near the back. Kate and DeMarco entered Jeremy’s room while Barnes hung back.
“I’m here for any support you need,” he said. “But there’s barely enough room for the two of you in there, much less the three of us.”
He was right. The room was very small, taken up mostly by a twin mattress sitting on the floor and an old desk that was piled up with DVDs and CDs. A small television and dusty DVD player sat on the floor at the foot of the mattress, their wires and cables snaking around the floor. A cell phone sat on top of the television, hooked to a charger that ran to a multi-outlet adapter that also powered the TV, DVD player, and the small box fan in the window.
Kate picked the phone up. It was an iPhone, about three models behind the most current. When she pressed the Home button, the screen instantly popped up. No password needed. The home screen showed only a few apps: a few games, settings, photos, and clock. She figured this was just a passed down phone, one with no service but still used for games. She had a few friends who had eased their older kids into owning a cell phone this same way. Before gifting them with a full-service phone, they had allowed their kids to have a hand-me-down without full services, capable of only texting selected users and playing games that did not require Wi-Fi.
Behind her, DeMarco was flipping through the movies. “Floyd really wasn’t kidding about his son watching porn back here. Half of these are amateur porn titles. The other half are Cinemax-style sex stuff.”
Kate kept looking through the phone. She opened up photos and found that it was packed. Some were of girls, all partying. A few were topless. A few were kissing one another, the expressions on their faces a clear indication that they were wasted. There were a few videos of these events, all rather brief. She slid right past these until she came to one that was just under five minutes long. In the thumbnail of the video, she saw Mercy Fuller’s face.
She pressed Play and it took her less than three seconds to understand what she was seeing before she shut it off. In the video, Mercy was lying on her back, being videoed from just above her. The director was apparently Jeremy, filming while having some fairly rough sex with her. It was not forced, if the sounds coming from Mercy were any indication.
“Jesus,” Kate said, sliding out of Photos.
“What was that?” DeMarco asked.
“Proof that Jeremy Branch was telling the truth about at least one thing: they were definitely having sex.”
Kate saw that while the phone in her hand had no access to Contacts—it did not need it, as calls were impossible from it—she did see that there were a few text threads. She opened up the messages and saw only three conversations. One was with a contact that had been titled BRO and the texts made it obvious that they were to and from his brother, Randy. One of the others was to a guy named Chuck and the entire thread was about which celebrities they would like to have sex with and why.
The third message thread was from a contact Jeremy had titled BOOTY CALL. The little picture above the name was Mercy Fuller, head tilted and making a kissing face.
“I might have hit the jackpot over here,” Kate said.
DeMarco came over and they both started reading through the thread. It was quite long, spanning back over the last several months. The vast majority of it consisted of long drawn-out messages from Mercy with very short, often only one-word responses from Jeremy. The more they read, the clearer it became that Jeremy Branch had been lying to them. He may have been truthful about the nature of their relationship, but the picture he had painted of Mercy and her parents was totally untrue.
And that raised a very important question.
If he was lying about that, what else was he hiding?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kate walked back into the interrogation room as calmly as she could. DeMarco was with her and while she, too, was irritated, she had agreed to let Kate run the bulk of this second interrogation. Similarly, Barnes was also hanging back, fielding a few calls about other local interests in his office.
Kate sat down across from Jeremy, her expression blank. She could already tell that Jeremy was nervous, his eyes shifting back and forth between Kate, DeMarco, and the surface of the desk between them.
“The good news is that you’re a very convincing liar,” Kate said. “The bad news is, you aren’t particularly bright.”
Jeremy said nothing. He continued to sit there, looking dumbfounded, waiting to see where Kate took the conversation next. Kate took the old cell phone out of her pocket and placed it on the desk.
“You left this in your bedroom at your father’s place,” she said. “Stored away with all of your porn. We noticed that some of your own amateur stuff is also on this phone. Of course, I can tell by the look on your face that you know there is more than just incriminating pictures on here.”
Jeremy still remained silent. He was not being defiant; he was simply at a loss. He had nothing to say. So Kate went on, assuming that if she kept pushing, he’d end up talking.
“There are very long conversations between you and Mercy Fuller on this phone,” Kate said. “Several times during those conversations, she talks about her parents—her father in particular. In one of those conversations, she goes so far as to say that she likely has the coolest father in the world, the exception being his taste in music. She also, at one point, tells you that she’d like for you to meet her parents, even if only for you to taste how delicious her mother’s homemade lasagna is. She also talks about being excited for college and how the only real thing that makes her afraid to leave home when college time comes around is leaving her parents behind. Now…that does not sound like a girl who hated her parents and not at all like a girl who was planning to kill her parents.”
Slowly, Jeremy reached for the phone. Kate promptly grabbed it back up
and got to her feet. “Why’d you lie to us, Jeremy? Are you hiding something?”
“No,” he said. “I just wanted you running in circles for coming after me. The law in this stupid county is always after my brother. Gave my old man a hell of a hard time back in the day, too.”
“Trying to stick it to the law?” Kate asked. “You really aren’t very bright, are you? This is not you just screwing with some local investigation, wasting the time of the cops. This is interfering with a federal case. And based on all of the drugs I found in your brother’s house, your little act—your bullshit story—could get you in a lot of trouble.”
Jeremy looked genuinely scared now. It had not taken much and the way he was shifting between emotions—from prideful to stubborn to scared—told her all she needed to know about him. He had lived his life wanting to appease someone—probably his brother or father—and was seldom thinking for himself. And now here he was with his tough-guy act crumbling before him, looking down a path that could lead him to some very serious trouble.
“Look…I don’t know anything about what happened to her.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Kate said.
“I swear, I don’t! I’ve done some messed up shit, but I would never kidnap someone. And I wouldn’t k-k-kill someone.”
His stutter and the glistening of tears in the corners of his eyes made Kate believe that he was right. No matter how good of a liar he was, it was very hard to fake that sincere sort of emotion.
“Where is Mercy, Jeremy?”
“I swear, I don’t know!” He slapped at his own face as a tear trailed down his cheek.
“When was the last time you saw her?” DeMarco asked.
“Last week. It was just for a little while. Usually we at least talk and hang out a bit before I take her back to Waterlick Road. But that last time…”
“What? It’s okay,” Kate said. “No need to be modest on us now.”
“Well, she was really into it. It was quick and sort of rough and when we were done, she said she wanted to go home. Right away.”
“And that was unlike her?”
“Yeah. She usually liked to cuddle up and talk when we were done. Maybe smoke a little weed.”
Kate waited for about thirty seconds before she tried again. She leaned across the table and, as menacingly as she could muster without actually accusing him, she asked: “Where is she, Jeremy?”
“I don’t know!”
“How do I know you’re not lying to us about this, too?”
“I’m not! I’m telling you the truth!”
Kate crossed her arms, stared him down for a moment, and then headed for the door. When she walked out, DeMarco followed closely behind her.
“It’s not him,” Kate said quietly.
“I’m getting that vibe, too,” DeMarco agreed.
“You feel like staying overnight in Deton?”
“It wouldn’t be on my bucket list, if that’s what you mean. But I’d rather stay here than drive back to DC and repeat it all over again tomorrow morning.”
“I think we need to have Sheriff Barnes hold Jeremy for a while. The longer he’s here, the more he’ll start to worry about his brother. The more he’ll start to worry about his own fate. If he is hiding something else, time will pull it out of him. Besides…based on his lies, the drugs, some of the stuff on his phone, and his relationship with Mercy, there’s plenty to hold him on.”
“Maybe we should get one last meeting in before the day ends. Get Foster back in here and go over what we know.”
“Good idea. And while we’re doing that, maybe some more truths will come tumbling out of Jeremy Branch.”
But really, she thought Jeremy had been as truthful as he could be. While he showed no real remorse for the disappearance of the underage girl he was sleeping with, the fear she’d seen in his eyes made her believe he’d given them everything he had. And at the end of the day, it hadn’t been all that much.
***
At 6:15, a very small meeting was held in the conference room. It consisted of Kate, DeMarco, Barnes, and Foster. Barnes had considered bringing one more officer in on it but decided not to. The Deton police force consisted of six active-duty cops and, as Barnes had explained, Foster was the only one Barnes trusted not to blab about the case all over town.
“So you went out to Floyd’s place?” Foster asked.
“We did,” Kate said. “That’s where we found the phone.”
“I assume Floyd did absolutely nothing about the fact that his youngest son was spending time at the station?”
“Hardly,” Barnes said. “I’ve already explained to the agents the type of stand-up father Floyd Branch is. He won’t be a factor in whatever happens to Jeremy.”
“That’s what we need to figure out,” Kate said. “I don’t think Jeremy is guilty. Not of Mercy’s disappearance and not the murders. If he had something to do with her disappearance, I don’t see him so casually answering the door for us the way he did this morning. And if he killed the Fullers, there’s no way he would stick around town.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what he’d want you to think,” Foster said.
“I’ve considered that.”
“Frankly,” DeMarco said, “based on what we’ve seen and been told about Jeremy and his family, I simply don’t see him being motivated enough to kill anyone. There’s also the fact that he really had no real reason to commit the murders.”
“Well, he is having sex with their fifteen-year-old daughter. And, as you said, by his own admission, she was taking drugs with him.”
“Let’s not forget, though,” Kate said, “that we don’t have a single shred of evidence that points to him. Just a sexual relationship with Mercy Fuller.”
Barnes let out a deep sigh and massaged his temples. “This is a damned mess. I’m hearing out on the streets that people are assuming Mercy Fuller killed her parents and just ran away. Why people would assume that before they assumed that some killer did away with her parents and then took her as some sort of a prize is beyond me.”
“Can you think of anyone local who might be capable of such a thing?” Kate asked.
“That’s just the thing. I can’t think of a single one. Look, I’m not blind to what Deton and most of the county looks like. Poor old country people. Not very educated. Borderline poor. A place where people like Floyd Branch and his sons are pretty much the norm. They might lead sketchy lives, but they are, for the most part, pretty quiet. We don’t have real troublemakers here.”
“Outside of seventeen-year-old guys having lots of sex and drugs with underage girls,” Kate said. She regretted it the moment she said it. There was the slightest flinch in both Barnes and Foster as she basically insulted their town.
“This was probably an outsider,” DeMarco said. “Someone passing through town or, maybe more realistically, someone meeting up with a local dealer like Randy Branch and sticking around to start some trouble.”
“Could be,” Kate said. “Most murders in small towns end up being the work of someone not local.”
“So that makes the net a lot wider,” Barnes said. “Great.”
“In the meantime,” Kate said, getting to her feet. “Is there any way we could get files on any arrests for violent activity in Deton and the surrounding towns over the course of the last five years or so?”
“I can get that together for you,” Foster said. “But I’m afraid it won’t be much.”
They adjourned their little meeting, Kate deciding not to pay another visit to Jeremy Branch before she left. The longer he sat in the interrogation room with his thoughts, the better chance they had of him revealing something else.
But she was pretty sure that avenue was all used up.
And she was also sure that if they didn’t find another one soon, Mercy Fuller might never be seen again—alive or dead.
CHAPTER NINE
The floor was hard and cold. She’d been sitting on it for days and it had made her backsid
e go numb. Her back was aching, too. There was nothing comfortable about the place. It was dark, it smelled bad, and it felt like a coffin.
Maybe it is my coffin, she thought. Maybe this is where I die.
This thought made her want to start bawling again, but she was too tired to cry. She doubted there was enough moisture in her body to produce any more tears.
Although the space was much larger than an actual coffin, she could not ignore the way the place made her think of a grave. She wasn’t sure how long she had been here because of the darkness. She had no idea if it was day or night. She could have been here for maybe two days…or maybe five. Maybe longer. She had no idea.
Whoever had placed her here had taken meager precautions for her. There was a small cooler against the back wall, something that had taken her forever to open because of the absolute darkness. Inside, she had found a six-pack of soda in ice. Beside the cooler, she’d found a thin rectangular box. Upon opening it, she found cheese crackers.
She’d snacked on them even though she had no appetite. And already, she had finished two of the sodas. She’d had to pee and, in a humiliating moment, had done so in the back corner of her pitch-black prison.
On a few different occasions, she had occupied her mind by doing a study of her environment while trapped in the dark. She had to. It was the only thing preventing her from curling up in the back and just waiting to die. It not only gave her something to do but it gave her just a glimmer of hope—a hope that told her if she could better understand where she was, maybe she could figure a way out.
She did it again now, needing to move her legs and keep her blood flowing. There was the floor, made of what she assumed was metal. She reached up, standing on her toes, and could not touch the ceiling. She figured that meant that whatever weird place she was in, it was at least seven or eight feet tall.
