by J A Whiting
Looking at the time, Nell yawned. “Come on, Iris. Let’s call it a day and go to bed.”
Iris got up and did a long, slow stretch as Nell was about to shut down her computer. She stopped when the idea came into her head that the university website might have Pepper’s biography posted online.
Bringing up the chemistry department site, she scrolled through the professors and staff section until she found the entry about Pepper.
Penelope “Pepper” Forrest was born in New Hampshire and moved with her parents to California when she was a young child. Graduating from college with honors, she worked for several years as a high school teacher before moving to the Boston area to study for her Ph.D.
Penelope.
Nell stared at the photograph of Pepper smiling out at her from the corner of the biography and her heart contracted.
What happened to you? Who wanted you dead? How did you know someone was after you? You were only thirty-four. There was so much life left to live. How long had this person been chasing you down? How long had you been afraid for your life?
Anger flooded Nell’s veins as she stared into the woman’s eyes … and then she made a vow and spoke it aloud.
“We’ll figure it out. I’ll help the police find the person responsible for taking your life. I won’t give up. I promise.”
19
The Bluewater Public Library was a stone, two-story building with black shutters at the windows set on a landscaped acre of trees, flowering bushes, pachysandra, and flowers planted in the borders around the periphery of the property.
Nell and Violet met the three accident witnesses in the small, back conference room with rich wood-paneled walls, gleaming hardwood floors, and large windows that let in the light and looked over the pretty property.
Happy to be in the library instead of the bare, utilitarian police station, Nell was able to relax in the informal setting as she and Violet took seats at the polished table to await the arrival of the witnesses.
Three people came into the room within five minutes of one another. All were residents of Bluewater. There were other witnesses besides the three Nell and Violet were meeting with who were on the street when Pepper had been hit, but they did not see the accident itself.
Shelby Porter was a thirty-one-year-old nurse practitioner who had been shopping for her young daughter’s birthday gift before hurrying off to see a client.
Mick Jones, twenty-four, a tall, slim musician who played in an area band, had his hair cut longer on one side and wore a small, gold, hoop nose ring.
Marjorie Wallis was a sixty-three-year-old math teacher at the town middle school who had been running errands before heading to her spin class.
When everyone had settled around the table and introduced themselves, Nell thanked them all for meeting. “My sister and I were in our shop standing by the front door and the windows. I heard and saw the car racing down the road. I didn’t see it hit the woman.” She swallowed. “But I heard the impact.”
Marjorie Wallis closed her eyes for a few seconds and took in a long breath.
Nell asked if they could talk about what they’d been doing in town and what they saw of the accident.
Marjorie said, “After I left school, I did a few errands on Main Street. I bought a gift card at one of the restaurants for an anniversary gift for a couple of our friends. I also ran into the sporting goods store to get some athletic socks and I stopped at the candy store to get some candy for my husband. I had just stepped outside onto the sidewalk when the accident happened.”
Shelby explained that she’d run into the children’s store to pick up a couple of presents for her daughter’s upcoming birthday. “I was walking to my car when the man hit that woman. It happened right in front of me. I’ll never forget it. It all seemed to happen in slow motion.”
Marjorie nodded in agreement. “It plays in my head over and over. I wish I could have yelled to the woman to alert her, but it all happened too fast.”
Mick Jones said, “I was in the music shop. I picked up some new strings for my guitar. We had a gig that night in Boston. I stepped outside and was waiting to cross the street further up from the woman who got hit. That car shot down the street like a rocket. I was about to step into the road, but held up when I heard the roar of the engine as the guy accelerated away from the curb.” He shook his head in disgust. “Idiot.”
“And you all saw the impact?” Nell asked.
The three people nodded.
“I’m not going to ask you to describe what you saw when the car hit Dr. Forrest.”
The three faces looked relieved to hear that.
Nell asked, “If you could, would you be able to tell us what happened right before Dr. Forrest was hit? Did she see the oncoming car? And would you speak about anything you noticed about the car and the driver?”
Mick went first. “Like I said, I could have been hit by the jerk, but I heard him coming and was able to keep from stepping any further into the street.”
“Think back on the experience,” Nell suggested. “Had you taken steps into the road before you stopped yourself from advancing any further?”
“Yeah, I took, maybe, two steps into Main Street and then stopped.”
“Did the driver see you in the road?”
Mick thought back on the day. “You know … I think he did see me. He swerved a little.”
“To avoid hitting you?” Nell asked.
“Yeah, maybe,” Mick said. “He wasn’t that close to me. I think he saw me about to cross. I think I remember him swerving the car a little towards the middle of the road in case I got further into the street.”
“Did he swerve when he saw Dr. Forrest?”
Mick looked down at the table for a few seconds, and before lifting his head, he said, “No. The guy accelerated. He aimed right for her.” The young musician shrugged. “That’s what it looked and sounded like to me from my vantage point.”
“Did the professor see the oncoming car?” Nell asked.
“At the last second, yeah,” Mick said. “It was too late though.”
Shelby said, “I was walking in the direction of my car. I’d parked at a meter on Main Street. I was in a hurry, thinking about all the things I had to do for my daughter’s party. I was on the same side of the street where my car was parked so I didn’t have to cross the street. I saw the car speeding down the road. He was going way too fast. I gave him a dirty look as he zoomed by me. I turned my head to watch him go past. That’s when he hit the woman.”
“Did he slow before he hit her?” Nell asked.
“No, he didn’t.” Shelby’s jaw was set in disgust. “It seemed like he sped up.”
“Do you think he saw her in the road?”
“He’d have to be blind not to have seen her.”
“Could he have been on his phone or looking down at something inside his car and didn’t see Dr. Forrest in the road?”
“I don’t think so,” Mick said. “He seemed to see me. It seemed like he tried to avoid me.”
“He certainly didn’t try to avoid the professor,” Marjorie Wallis chimed in. “I’d just come out of the candy store. I was right on the sidewalk a few yards from Dr. Forrest. She stepped into the street. I heard the car’s engine roar like the driver had gunned it. It looked intentional to me. He saw her in the road. He had no intention of stopping. It was like watching someone get murdered right before your eyes.”
Nell silently agreed with Marjorie. It was murder, and it took place in broad daylight on the Main Street of a small town.
“Do you think this guy hit the woman on purpose?” Mick asked Nell.
Nell replied, “I didn’t see the car after it went by our shop. I didn’t see the approach it took … whether it sped up or slowed down or tried to avoid hitting her.”
“He did not try to avoid her.” Marjorie’s voice was adamant.
“I didn’t see any indication that the driver tried to avoid hitting the woman. As I said, he seemed to speed up.” Shelby
rubbed at the back of her shoulders. “But I don’t know if I can say it was intentional. Maybe it was the result of distracted driving.”
“I don’t think the driver was distracted at all,” Mick said. “He was facing forward, not looking down. He had to have seen Dr. Forrest.”
“Can you describe what the man looked like?” Nell asked. “It was definitely a man? Could it have been a woman?”
Mick’s eyes widened. “No. It was a guy. I’d put money on that. The shoulders, the way he held the wheel. It wasn’t a woman.”
“What do you mean about his shoulders?” Nell questioned.
“He had the shoulders of a guy, wider. Broader.”
“What about his hair?”
“It was longer, kind of poorly cut,” Mick said. “Being a musician, I pay attention to people’s appearances. We have to look a certain way on stage. Hair, clothes, attitudes, it all plays into the performance. People can be the best musicians in the world, but if there isn’t any performance quality and energy, then the crowd won’t be impressed.”
“Is there anything you remember about the driver’s face?”
“Not really.” Mick shook his head. “The car flew past. I noticed the hair because it was a little longer and messy-looking. The guy had on sunglasses, too, so the eyes were hidden from view. That’s all I can tell you about him.”
“I only saw the car from the side,” Marjorie said. “I didn’t notice anything about the driver. I do think he had a hat on.” She looked to Mick for confirmation.”
“Yeah,” Mick said. “A hat. One of those winter kinds of hats. You know the kind some guys wear all year round? Fits over the head, but flops a little in the back.”
Shelby sighed. “I didn’t see the man in the car very well at all. When he came towards me, the sun was creating a glare on the windshield so I didn’t get a good look at him. I couldn’t say if he had on sunglasses or was wearing a hat. I wasn’t paying much attention either. Sorry.”
“Did the driver slow the car after hitting Dr. Forrest?” Nell asked.
“I don’t remember,” Shelby said. “I was so horrified by the accident that I was totally focused on the woman lying in the street. I just stood there for a few seconds, staring in disbelief. Then my medical training kicked in and I rushed to her to see if I could help her.”
Nell watched Marjorie turn red before she said, “That driver didn’t slow at all. He seemed to want to get out of there as fast as he could. He floored it. I didn’t watch the car take off, but I distinctly heard the sound of the engine speeding up.”
“That’s right,” Mick agreed. Red color completely shaded his body. “As soon as he hit her, he drove even faster. He didn’t hesitate to see what happened to her. I don’t care what the police think. I was there. I saw it. That guy hit the professor on purpose.”
20
“An officer is getting the lease contract from evidence storage,” Chief Lambert said. “We’re going to Boston to interview David Belk a second time.”
Nell sat at the table next to the chief in his cramped office. The big wooden desk was piled high with folders and notebooks and his desktop computer, and the table they sat at had a stack of colored folders and the man’s laptop.
“Don’t mind the mess,” Chief Lambert said with a low chuckle. “I have my own personal filing methods. It works.” The chief gestured to the multi-colored folders. “See. I use color in my daily life, too.”
“I noticed that.” Nell gave him a smile. “It’s useful, isn’t it?”
“It is to me. Do you mind if I ask? What’s it like to be able to see so many colors in the world?”
“I’m not sure how to answer that. I’ve never seen the world the way most other people do, but from talking to my sister and my parents and our friends, I think the way I see things is richly beautiful, nuanced, wild. The way most people see colors seems to me to be more calm and orderly while still being beautiful. There are times when what I see is overwhelming, like when I go into a grocery store … there are so many things going on with products stacked tightly together. The colors can be clashing with each other because there are too many shades competing with the others. Product designers choose several colors for their package designs and even though it looks attractive to most people, to me the multiple shades clash and the presentation looks way too busy and loud and makes me want to avoid the product.” Nell shrugged.
“I bet it can be exhausting,” the chief said.
“It can. My eyes get tired. My head gets tired. I need a calming space with few colors. The wall color in here is calming and easy on my eyes.” She glanced around at the mess and gave the chief a little smile. “The clutter … well, not so much.”
“Hey,” Chief Lambert said. “This is a very important mess.”
Nell explained more about how the world looked to her and then the conversation turned to Pepper Forrest’s case.
“Have you seen colors on any other people?” the chief asked.
“I saw colors on the witnesses when I spoke with them. The colors came from the emotions evoked from recalling the details of what they’d seen when Pepper was hit by the car. Anger, disbelief, sadness, horror. They couldn’t believe someone could hit a person with a car and take off from the scene without stopping to see if they could help the victim. The musician, Mick Jones, he thinks it was a deliberate act on the part of the driver. He strongly believes it was intentional.”
The chief nodded in agreement. “He said as much to us when he was interviewed right after the accident. He’s perceptive. We’re looking into where the medical researcher, Atkins Murray, was during the timeframe when Pepper was hit. So far, no luck.”
“Atkins must think he’s a suspect,” Nell said.
“I’m not sure if he does or not. We spoke with quite a few employees at the medical center. Dr. Murray might think we talked to him as part of a general gathering of information. Our interest is due to him having dated Dr. Forrest and being sullen about the breakup, and that you saw him covered in red when you spoke with him.”
“I’m sorry my new skill isn’t that helpful,” Nell said.
Chief Lambert moved his hand around in the air. “Don’t say that. Your skill is very new. You need to learn about it. My hope is that someday, when it’s more fully developed, it might become a valuable asset to the department. Unusual skills have helped many police investigations. I don’t dismiss anyone’s skills. To me, it’s nothing more than a heightened sensory ability. I don’t think humans tap into anywhere near what is possible for them to do or achieve. Most of us hold ourselves back. We don’t push. We don’t believe certain things are possible. And then we miss opportunities.”
“When I’m talking to you, I feel almost normal.” The corners of Nell’s mouth turned up and the chief let out a hoot of laughter.
“None of us are normal, Nell. Everyone has their own special quirks and oddities. It gives life its spice. How awful it would be if we were all the same.”
A knock on the door caused Nell and Chief Lambert to turn to the sound.
“Come on in,” the chief said and an officer came into the office carrying a plastic bag with some documents inside.
“Here’s what you asked for,” the officer held out the bag.
The chief thanked the man and when he had gone, Lambert placed the item on the table. He went to his desk and returned to Nell with a pair of surgical gloves.
“You’ll need to wear these while you’re handling the papers. Put on the gloves before you remove the documents,” the chief instructed. “Don’t take them off until you return the papers to the bag and seal it.”
Nell nodded and pulled on the gloves.
“I’m going to let you have the room to yourself. I’ll be in the conference room next door doing some paperwork. Come by when you’re done and leave the evidence bag with me.”
“Okay,” Nell said.
After the chief picked up a few folders and his laptop and left the room, Nell looked
down at the bag with apprehension. A nervous wave of heat started in her chest and made its way up to her cheeks. She didn’t know why looking over some papers should make her feel so anxious.
When she removed the four-page lease agreement from the bag, she spread the documents onto the table and let her eyes roam over the pages, and then she started to read.
The words were a mix of legalese and common directions and statements about the lessee’s responsibilities and expectations. Scrawled initials had been placed at regular intervals on sections of the documents by the person who rented the car. On the last page, at the bottom, was the person’s signature written in green ink.
Justin Carr.
Nell’s cheeks reddened with anger and her heartbeat increased. Liar. Murderer.
She touched her gloved index finger to the signature.
Without warning, the green letters flared red with such intensity in Nell’s vision that she yanked her finger away from the document.
The letters slowly settled back to their original shade.
Staring at the signature, Nell swallowed hard and gingerly lifted her hand to place her finger back onto the killer’s autograph. This time the letters shimmered and changed color less dramatically, but soon they were flaring red, almost lifting from the page like burning flames.
Uneasily, Nell forced herself to keep her finger against the paper, and then she closed her eyes trying to pick up anything she could from the dried ink on the page about the person who placed it there.
Her body began to fill with a sense of rage … with a feeling of having been wronged … a perception of a boiling, uncontrollable need for revenge.
Nell’s eyes popped open as she pulled her shaking finger from the lease. Her eyes stared at the squiggly green ink thinking about the furious, blazing energy the killer had transferred to the page in front of her. An energy so strong, the sensation still lingered on the document sapping away Nell’s own vitality.
Her muscles ached and she had the fleeting idea to curl up on the floor and fall asleep. Nell stood, shaking herself and wanting nothing more than to rush away from the toxic emotions she’d felt from the signature.
