by Alex Barclay
Seth let out a breath. ‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing is never nothing with you, Seth Fuller. You’re thinking of contacting an FBI agent? Talk to me.’
He weighed it up, his shoulders sunk, he opened his mouth to speak.
Shannon smiled. ‘You’ve been doing that since you were four years old: slumping your shoulders, dragging yourself into a conversation you really don’t want to be a part of.’
He smiled, but there was sadness in it. ‘You got me.’ He paused. ‘Let me pour your Coke.’
He handed it to her, took his time getting eye contact. ‘You have to promise me you won’t judge.’
‘Have I ever judged you?’ said Shannon.
‘No,’ said Seth. ‘No. I’m sorry, but … there’s something that’s been on my mind about John Veir …’
‘John?’ said Shannon. ‘What about him?’
‘Did he ever tell you about Franklin J. Merrifield … and me?’
‘You?’ said Shannon.
Seth took a deep breath. ‘Merrifield was dealing in BRCI—’
Shannon put her hands over her face. ‘No, Seth. Please don’t tell me—’
‘You promised not to judge.’
He took her hands gently away from her face, squeezed them.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Shannon. ‘Go ahead, sweetheart … but, you’re breaking my heart, here.’
‘So Merrifield was dealing heroin and TNT—’
‘Heroin!’ said Shannon. ‘You—’
‘No!’ said Seth. ‘I didn’t do heroin, I swear to God.’
‘TNT, then?’ said Shannon. ‘I don’t even know what that is.’
‘Fentanyl … patches.’ He lowered his eyes.
Shannon’s eyes were lit with anger. ‘Jesus Christ, Seth. Fentanyl? And you were taking it?’
Seth nodded.
‘What?’ said Shannon. ‘Chewing patches? I saw a news program about that. It’s an overdose waiting to happen. It’s, like, fifty times stronger than heroin.’
Seth looked away. ‘About a hundred, actually. And I only did it once.’
‘Jesus Christ – once is all it takes! What were you thinking? That patch is for putting on your skin! To slowly release it – if you’ve got cancer or you’ve had an operation or … it’s not for you! And after getting off heroin, you don’t have a clue what your tolerance is like. Why would you gamble with your life that way?’
‘I know, I know,’ said Seth. ‘I haven’t touched it since that last time with Merrifield. I swear to God.’
‘When was that? What happened?’
‘Like, eight months ago,’ said Seth. ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you about. This one night, I got a patch from Merrifield. You know how Fent makes you; sleepy, slows your breathing and shit. I started nodding out, but it was weird, I was kind of aware that this wasn’t good. And I remember Merrifield, he was still in the cell with me, I remember thinking, “He’s going to let me die right here, he doesn’t give a shit if I die right here.”’
Shannon was shaking her head, struggling to hold back tears.
‘Then John Veir showed up,’ said Seth.
39
Ren called Rob Lockwood, the BRCI psychologist, and agreed to meet him in a coffee shop in Salem, instead of going through the visitors’ procedure at the prison. She ordered coffee for both of them, and they sat in a quiet corner.
‘So, how long have you been treating Franklin J. Merrifield?’ said Ren.
‘For the past year or so,’ said Lockwood.
‘Were you surprised he escaped?’ said Ren.
‘Yes, actually,’ said Lockwood. ‘I mean, I knew he was unhappy with the outcome of his appeal, and he was angry and very bitter at his buddy, his accomplice, but Merrifield’s not very bright. I don’t think he would have the smarts to pull something like that off.’
‘That’s slightly different from having the desire to escape, though,’ said Ren. ‘If he got help on the inside and bought his way into someone else’s plans, or made himself indispensable for other reasons, then anything could have happened.’
‘Merrifield is a loner,’ said Lockwood. ‘I just can’t see how that would work.’
‘Were you aware of any contact between him and John Veir, outside of routine interaction?’ said Ren.
‘No.’
‘Do you think Merrifield could have had anything to do with Caleb’s disappearance?’ said Ren.
‘I don’t know,’ said Lockwood. He shrugged. ‘I wish I could give you a better answer than that.’
‘What was his reaction to losing his appeal?’ said Ren. ‘Just anger, or was there more to it? Did he have any plans to do anything further about it?’
Lockwood nodded. ‘He mentioned reaching out to a lawyer who specialized in wrongful conviction lawsuits.’
Holy. Shit. ‘Did he mention a name?’
Lockwood shook his head. ‘No.’
‘You know John Veir’s sister has quite a high-profile wrongful conviction case,’ said Ren.
‘Really?’ said Lockwood. ‘John didn’t mention that.’
‘Did Merrifield?’
‘Not to me.’
‘Was Merrifield the type to want revenge?’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Lockwood. ‘Absolutely. He held grudges. That was the kind of guy he was. Small slights, big ones – it didn’t matter.’
‘I know John Veir is a friend of yours,’ said Ren. ‘I’d like to ask you about him.’
‘Sure,’ said Lockwood. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Do you think it’s likely that he could have carried out the arson attack on his own house?’ said Ren.
Lockwood’s eyes went wide. ‘John? No way. No … what makes you think that?’
‘Do you think Merrifield could have done it, whether he took Caleb or not?’
‘Well, it wasn’t exactly a wise move, considering the law enforcement and media attention around the house,’ said Lockwood, ‘so, yes – like I said, Merrifield wasn’t the smartest of men …’
‘John’s very intense,’ said Ren. ‘I get the sense that he’s suppressing a lot of anger. Am I right?’
Lockwood tilted his head. ‘John suffers from PTS, so that explains the intensity. But he’s not an angry man, not in my opinion, whether I’m speaking as a friend, colleague or psychologist. He’s very compassionate, in fact. He saw some terrible things when he was overseas.’
Ren nodded. ‘Do you know much about his relationship with Caleb?’
‘They have their ups and downs,’ said Lockwood, ‘but he adores that boy.’
‘Has there been any change in John’s behavior recently?’ said Ren.
‘No.’
‘Have you met Caleb?’ said Ren.
‘No,’ said Lockwood, ‘but John talks about him a lot.’
‘In what sense?’
‘Mainly positive,’ said Lockwood, ‘but he mentions the bad behavior too.’
‘Has he looked for your advice?’ said Ren.
There was a flicker of a frown on Lockwood’s face. ‘Not in the professional sense – but more like a “what can you do?” attitude. Caleb was like a teenager a little before his time. I told John to give him some responsibility, have him do volunteer work, do some odd jobs for a neighbor. It would teach him to work hard, it would give him goals, a sense of achievement. So, that’s what he did, and it seemed to help.’
‘Good idea,’ said Ren. ‘I hadn’t heard about Caleb doing that.’
Could he have crossed paths with a killer that way?
‘Why did you call John last Sunday?’ said Ren.
‘Just to chat,’ said Lockwood. ‘“How’s your weekend going …?”’
‘Did John mention Caleb?’ said Ren.
‘Just that he was there with him, that’s all.’
Ren nodded. ‘OK.’
Back at Tate PD, Ren filled Ruddock in on her conversation with Lockwood. ‘Did you know Caleb did odd jobs for someone?’
‘Yes,’ said Ruddock. ‘I
t’s somewhere on one of the Veirs’ questionnaires.’
‘How did I miss that?’ said Ren.
‘It was a recent addition,’ said Ruddock. ‘Neither of them had put it on the original … it came up in a later interview. Caleb had stopped working there a month before he disappeared, so the Veirs just didn’t think of it.’
‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Let me go take a look.’
Ren went back to her desk and looked through the Veirs’ questionnaires. The woman Caleb worked for was called Rose Dennehy. She was eighty-three years old, a widow with three grown-up daughters, two of whom lived out of state, one of whom lived in Salem. Ren called Paul in the command center.
‘Did you send anyone to talk to a Rose Dennehy?’ said Ren. ‘Caleb did odd jobs for her.’
‘No,’ said Paul. ‘She wasn’t a priority.’
‘Mind if I go talk to her?’ said Ren.
‘Not at all,’ said Paul. ‘Go ahead.’
40
Rose Dennehy brought Ren into her kitchen, and immediately put the kettle on, without even asking if she wanted a drink. She was a little slow on her feet, but moving around steadily, eager to make Ren feel at home. She set coffee and cake down on the table.
You sweet woman. ‘Thank you,’ said Ren, taking a drink. ‘So, we’re trying to figure out who may have crossed paths with Caleb, either once-off or regularly, while he was here. Can you help me with that?’
Rose nodded. ‘Caleb comes here every second Saturday to shovel snow, bring logs in from the woodshed, clean the gutters or help me out with whatever small jobs I need. His father drops him off at eleven a.m., and he usually finishes up around two.’
‘And the last time he was here was a month ago,’ said Ren. ‘February eleventh?’
‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘The poor dear. I hope he’s OK.’
‘I know,’ said Ren.
‘About who he would have met,’ said Rose, ‘… my neighbors, if they were around. And every Saturday, my daughter, Eileen – she lives in Salem – she stops by around eleven thirty to take me shopping, and drops me home by one. So Caleb would know Eileen a little.’
‘So when Caleb’s here – you’re out for part of that time,’ said Ren.
‘Yes – I’m always here when he arrives to let him know what needs to be done, but I don’t like having to listen to whatever banging is going on, so that’s why I leave while I can.’
‘You trust Caleb to be here on his own,’ said Ren.
‘Oh, yes. He’s a hard worker, a serious kid. He doesn’t fool around if there’s work to be done.’
‘Is there a reason he hasn’t come back to you since?’ said Ren. ‘Or did you not need him?’
‘No – he was supposed to be here two weeks ago, but he never showed up. I called his house, and his father apologized and said that Caleb would no longer be working, that he was going to have to devote more time at weekends to his homework.’
No one mentioned this.
‘How did Caleb seem to you that last day?’ said Ren. ‘Could something have happened that bothered him, that maybe meant he didn’t want to come back here?’
Rose was taken aback. ‘Lord, I hope not,’ she said. She paused. ‘Now that I think about it, he did seem a little off that day. He was very eager to get paid and leave. In fact, I owed him one hundred dollars – it had added up. I kept forgetting to go to the machine.’
‘And the neighbors you mentioned – did they talk to Caleb, did they know him?’
‘In passing,’ said Rose. ‘I wouldn’t say he’s the chattiest of kids.’
‘Did Caleb have access to your house while you were out?’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Rose, ‘for washing up, using the bathroom, getting a drink – whatever he needed.’
‘Do you think he would have ever let a stranger in?’ said Ren.
‘No,’ said Rose. ‘He’s pretty street smart.’ She looked at Ren with great compassion. ‘It must be very hard for you to deal with things like this every day.’
‘Finding the bad guys makes it all worthwhile,’ said Ren.
‘I’m sure it does.’
Ren glanced over at a photo of Rose and her family.
‘What a beautiful family,’ said Ren. ‘And what a handsome man your husband was. You look so happy.’
Rose beamed. ‘We were. He passed eleven years ago, and I miss him every day.’ She glanced down at Ren’s ring finger.
Uh-oh. Don’t ask.
‘Have you someone special in your life?’ said Rose.
‘I … did,’ said Ren. ‘I did. I miss him too.’ I will die alone. And be eaten by neighborhood cats. Not even my own cats. She stood up. ‘Thank you so much for your hospitality, Rose, and for answering my questions.’
‘I hope I was of some help,’ said Rose.
‘You absolutely were,’ said Ren.
‘I can’t believe any man would let a nice girl like you go.’
Oh, Jesus. ‘You’re very kind,’ said Ren. But I killed him is actually what happened. I’m not a nice girl at all.
‘You’ll find your Mr Right,’ said Rose. ‘And you’ll know it in your heart.’
Then I’ll doubt it, then I’ll fuck it up.
‘Is there anything else you can think of?’ said Ren. ‘About that Saturday?’
Rose looked toward the counter. ‘Sorry, I was looking to see where my cell phone is, but I lost it a while back – Eileen’s trying to organize a replacement for me. You could talk to her as well, actually, if you wanted, because, like I said, she was here that day too, but I’m not sure you’ll be able to get a hold of her – she told me she’s headed off on one of her “switched-off” long weekends. If you can’t, I can let her know when she gets back.’
Ren saw a calendar stuck to the side of the refrigerator with a magnet. It had notes scattered throughout the month. ‘Could you maybe go back to February on that?’ said Ren.
‘Good idea,’ said Rose. She went to the calendar and flipped it back a month. ‘Yes!’ she said, stabbing a finger into one of the boxes. ‘Plumber! He came that day. It was an out-of-hours call. He was in and out, quickly. He didn’t have the part he needed, said he had to order one in.’ She paused. ‘I haven’t been able to get him back here since.’
‘What?’ said Ren. ‘In a month?’
‘I know,’ said Rose. ‘And I’ve called him several times, but no luck.’
‘Could I get his name from you, please?’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Rose. ‘It’s JJ’s Plumbing Services.’
Ren’s heart rate shot up.
The plumber from the hotel … the one who was in my room …
‘J. J. Nash is his name,’ said Rose. ‘His mother is a sister of Pete Ruddock’s late wife. So, I guess that makes him the police chief’s nephew.’
Uh.
Oh.
41
Ren sat in her car outside Rose Dennehy’s house, her mind on J. J. Nash in her hotel room, going through her things, reading her notes, taking photos with his cell phone … showing them to his uncle.
Stop.
It could all be completely legitimate.
There’s no way it is.
Yes, there is.
We’ve been here before.
Paranoia. Paranoia.
Why doesn’t it ever go away? I’m taking drugs!
Mood stabilizers, not paranoia eliminators.
Imagine trying to do this job on antipsychotics. Snoozing in the corner.
She ran a background check on Nash, then called Gary.
‘Well, here’s a delicate one,’ she said. ‘Rose Dennehy – the woman who Caleb Veir used to do odd jobs for? There was a plumber in her house the last time Caleb was there. It’s Ruddock’s nephew, a guy called J. J. Nash.’ She paused. ‘And I happen to know that he was in my hotel room one of the days I was at work. The hotel said there had been a problem with the showers.’
‘Does he have a record?’ said Gary.
‘No,’ said Ren. ‘I ra
n him, and he’s negative in NCIC. He’s twenty-six years old, lives on the outskirts of Tate, has his own plumbing business: JJ’s Plumbing Services. It’s just him – no staff.’
‘Does Ruddock know about this yet?’ said Gary.
‘No,’ said Ren. ‘I’m hoping to slam that ball into your court, if you don’t mind. I’m getting along just fine with Ruddock.’
‘You don’t want to be the bad guy,’ said Gary.
‘No, I do not.’
‘Let’s go talk to him together when you get back,’ said Gary. ‘You’re the one who met the woman.’
‘I’m not going to bring up Nash’s visit to my hotel room,’ said Ren. ‘That could come across a little paranoid.’
‘Ruddock was the one who invited us to consult on this, so he can’t have suspected his nephew … unless he found something out afterward.’
‘Or,’ said Ren, ‘he knew all along it was his nephew, but didn’t want to be the one to have to take him in.’
Back in Tate PD, Ruddock was surprised to hear that J. J. had met Caleb at Rose Dennehy’s.
‘He never mentioned it,’ said Ruddock. ‘And, with my job, I would have expected that – you know, he’d say “I met that missing kid”, or whatever. It makes sense you’d like to bring him in. But he’s a good guy, J. J. – I can vouch for him one hundred per cent. I’m sure all his clients would say the same thing. He’s very well-liked.’
‘Are you and J. J. close?’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Ruddock.
‘Have you discussed the investigation with him?’ said Gary.
‘In passing, yes,’ said Ruddock. ‘But I didn’t tell him anything that wasn’t already in the media. And there’s also the fact that J. J. goes in and out of a lot of houses, I’m sure he loses track of who he saw where or when.’
Hmm.
‘What kind of hours does he work?’ said Gary.
‘Usually eight to five,’ said Ruddock, ‘but he’d work late if he had to, and he does call-outs, obviously. He’s a hard worker.’ He paused. ‘Do you want me to tell him to stop by this evening?’
‘No,’ said Gary. ‘We’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to him about this for now.’
‘Sure,’ said Ruddock. ‘I understand.’
