by Jana DeLeon
“It might stick out a bit.”
“That’s what I said.”
They stepped off the elevator and headed back to their desks.
“What now?” Jackson asked.
“I was on the phone with St. Claire’s office when the lab called. They’ve got those employment records ready for us. I figured I’d go interview those employees at Archer that Corrine gave us and you could start on the employment records.”
“So a long afternoon of paper pushing.”
“Who knows? Maybe our match is in those files.”
Shaye pulled a ball cap from her glove box, grabbed her laptop from the passenger seat of her vehicle, and headed into the coffee shop. It wasn’t her usual hangout, and that was deliberate. Her café of choice near her apartment and the one she frequented when she’d lived with Corrine weren’t good options. Everyone knew her at those places and the ball cap probably wouldn’t throw them off. But across town in the Marigny, people probably wouldn’t take a second look at a young woman wearing jeans, a tee, and a ball cap.
She needed an Internet connection and for whatever reason, she felt that avoiding her apartment and her mother’s house was a good call. So far, she hadn’t seen any signs that the press had been alerted of her return, and she knew Corrine would notify her at the first sign of a microphone or camera, but the longer she could remain hidden, the more efficiently she could go about her work.
She walked into the café and took a seat at an empty table in the back corner. A sullen-looking woman, around thirty years old, came over and asked for her drink order. Shaye ordered a Diet Coke and the woman shuffled back off to the kitchen with barely a glance at her. Smiling at her bit of good luck, she opened her computer and logged on to the café’s Internet. Whatever was bothering the waitress, she was too deep in to pay much attention to Shaye.
The woman returned a couple minutes later and sat the soda on the table. “You want something to eat?”
Shaye hadn’t thought she was hungry when she’d walked inside, but now that the waitress had mentioned food, Shaye decided she might as well eat while she worked. She glanced at the chalkboard up front with the specials written on it.
“I’ll have the club sandwich special,” Shaye said.
“Chips, fries, or a salad?”
A couple seconds of internal argument ensued, but finally, guilt won out and she ordered the salad. The waitress turned around without another word and Shaye went to work.
She pulled up a browser and started with Ethan’s seemingly clueless roommate, Brett Frazier. A surprising amount of information loaded but as she scanned it, she realized it was a lot of sports reporting, most of which she could read the short description of and skip. She was about to decide that the only thing Google could produce on Brett was his player stats when she saw an old article and frowned.
Local High School Freshman Wins Chess Championship
And there was Brett’s name in the description.
She clicked on the link. It wasn’t as if Brett or Frazier was an uncommon name. Perhaps there was another more cerebral Brett Frazier in New Orleans.
But the photo at the top of the article was Ethan’s roommate. The boy in the photo lacked the maturity that the current Brett did. His shoulders hadn’t broadened and his jaw was still rounded. But the cheekbones, eyes, nose, and lips were all the same. This was definitely the Brett Frazier that Shaye had met.
As she read the article, she struggled to fit the description of the highly intelligent overachiever in the article with the seemingly clueless jock she’d spoken to in the dorm. If she weren’t looking at the article herself, she wouldn’t have believed it to be true. Maybe Brett had cruised through lower-level studies but hit a wall at some point. Or maybe his age had caught up with his IQ. That happened a lot. Still, freshman was old enough that one would think his IQ would be rather set.
Was Brett Frazier hiding his intelligence?
Tara had mentioned that he was always skipping class. Shaye had assumed he was blowing off his education, but what if the lower-level courses were simply so easy for Brett that he didn’t have to attend class? Or perhaps he’d decided that professional athlete was the direction he intended to go and he didn’t feel like spending time on harder pursuits.
Maybe it was just as Shaye had suggested to Tara—that the killer had presented himself as someone else to his victims. Had Brett been pretending all this time? If so, it was an elaborate game and a risky one as well. At any point, someone could have looked harder into his past and found out that the goofy sports star used to be considered a whiz kid. It was hard to hide with the Internet at everyone’s fingertips.
The waitress returned with her salad and Shaye pushed the laptop to the side while she consumed the bit of lettuce and shredded carrots. What was her next move? She couldn’t depend on leads or information from Jackson unless it directly concerned Tara. She definitely needed to work on deciphering the code, but she could do that tonight when it wasn’t as safe to be roaming around alone.
She was pretty sure she’d gotten all she was going to get out of the sorority sisters, and besides, the police would be questioning them again and since Shaye couldn’t be certain that Jackson or Grayson would conduct that questioning, it was better for her to stay away. It was one thing to do it before she’d gone down to the police station with Tara. It was completely another to do it now that she had been told it was an open investigation.
The waitress returned once more with her sandwich and she abandoned the less-than-stellar salad and took a bite out of the surprisingly decent club sandwich. She opened a document and made some notes about the interview with Grayson and Jackson and other thoughts from her talk with the sisters that morning. As she reread the notes, she got to the comment about George Moss and wondered about the temper tantrum Brittany had witnessed.
The convenience store owner had been somewhat surly and clearly aggravated with the young people for stealing his merchandise, but Shaye hadn’t seen any sign of the level of anger that had been described. Was George hiding a dark side behind his usual complaining outward look? Had the increasing theft been the thing that pushed him over the edge from ranting to something more insidious?
A quick search on the convenience store gave her the basics. The building was owned by George Herbert Moss and the business license was in the same name. She did a search on the business name but didn’t get anything except business-related websites and commercial listings. She did another search, this time on George Moss, and hit pay dirt.
George Herbert Moss wasn’t a hardened criminal, but he was no stranger to the police. He’d been arrested four times for assault and battery. Twice the charges were dropped. The other two times, he’d gotten away with a fine, probation, and court-authorized attendance in an anger management program. All four incidents had occurred at the store and Moss had claimed they all concerned stolen merchandise.
She frowned. Why risk your business over someone stealing sports drinks and candy bars? All it took was laying hands on the wrong parents’ kid and George could lose everything. She checked the dates on the arrests. All were within the last two years. Had the frustration over the increasing losses pushed him over the edge? Had he escalated right past anger and into insanity?
So many unanswered questions.
It was time to take a closer look at the store owner. As soon as she finished her sandwich, she’d head for the store and park across the street to watch for a bit. Maybe get a better idea of how George reacted when it was just him and the kids around. Then she’d do some more checking into Brett Frazier. Both had access to Ethan Sunday night. Both had the size and strength to manage moving his unconscious body.
She’d gone from no suspects to two. At least that was something.
16
Shaye parked her SUV across the street from the convenience store. She’d lucked out and managed to pull into the parking lot just as a car was leaving a front-row spot. That meant she could see everythi
ng she needed to see from the comfort of her own car. She pulled her binoculars out of the glove box and sat them on the passenger seat. She wouldn’t use them unless she felt it was absolutely necessary, because that might look a bit strange. The last thing she wanted was someone telling George that a lady was spying on him. With the store owner’s apparent anger issues, he might come after her.
For about ten minutes, the only thing she saw was the regular traffic of cars getting gas and the occasional student going in and out of the store. Everything appeared to be normal, and then she spotted a familiar figure. Brett Frazier walked around from the back of the store and entered. Through the plate-glass windows, she saw him walk to the rear wall where the coolers were. She saw him reach for a can and then turn around and head for a chip display.
She lost sight of him behind the display and didn’t see him again until he walked up to the counter. A young man Shaye hadn’t seen before rang up Brett’s items and Brett picked them up and left the store. He walked around the side and started toward the dorm when George pulled into the parking lot. The store owner parked behind the store and came around the side as Brett was about to step into the empty lot. George strode directly for Ethan’s roommate, so Shaye picked up her binoculars and zoomed in on the situation. George’s face was red and he moved his hand back and forth as he pointed his finger at Brett.
Brett looked taken aback at first but then his expression shifted to one of anger. He began to argue back and George glanced around, then moved closer to the student. Brett continued to shake his head and argue with the irate store owner, but it didn’t appear that either was interested in backing down. Finally, Brett whirled around and stalked off across the empty lot toward the dorms. George watched his retreating back for a couple seconds, then headed back for the front of the store.
Thomas wheeled into the parking lot on his bicycle as George walked around the corner of the building. He spotted Thomas and made a beeline for him, accosting the student as he chained his bicycle to the post. Shaye could tell the owner’s mood hadn’t improved one bit since he’d finished his argument with Brett. George yelled at Thomas, waving his hands and pointing to the trash, then stalked back around the building again. Shaye started up her SUV and pulled across the street and into the convenience store parking lot as George was pulling out onto the street, tires squealing.
She pulled up to the pump and got out. Thomas was putting the lid back on the trash can and looked over as she walked to the pump.
“Oh, hi,” Thomas said. “You’re the PI, right?”
“That’s me. Your boss looked like he was going to blow when I pulled in. Is he always like that?”
Thomas shrugged. “He gets a little crazy over shoplifting and then starts yelling over everything.”
“Did he catch someone shoplifting?” Shaye asked as she removed her gas cap and started fueling the SUV.
“Who knows? He sits back there and watches those cameras all the time. I’ve seen guys pocket a sports drink and snacks, but if I’m working alone, I don’t say anything. All that does is invite a fight, and calling the cops is useless. They’re not coming down here over a candy bar.”
“Probably not. Well, I’m sorry he took his frustration out on you. I had a professor like that when I was in college. It’s not much fun.”
“It’s no big deal. His wife is sick, cancer. He’s been stressed ever since she was diagnosed. My mom had breast cancer so I know how hard it can be seeing them so sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. How is your mother doing?”
“Oh, she’s fine now. I know George can seem a little crazy, but I need a job to help pay for school and this one doesn’t require me to have a car.”
“You live on campus?”
“No. Bywater, but I like working next to campus in case my work schedule runs close to class schedule.”
“Bywater? Wow! That’s quite a trip.”
“It’s doesn’t take that long, really, and as long as the weather’s decent, it’s not a bad deal.”
Shaye smiled. “And it’s good exercise.”
“I guess so. Well, I just stopped to pick up my paycheck. Do you need any help with the fuel?”
Shaye looked at the pump. “Nope. Almost done. You have a good evening and enjoy that bike ride home.”
Thomas gave her a shy smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Shaye finished up with the fuel and climbed back into her SUV. If Brett had stolen something before why had George waited until now to come after him? The owner hadn’t been inside the store when Brett was there, and given his aversion to technology, Shaye would bet he didn’t have the security cameras streaming to his phone. Which meant George had no way of knowing if Brett stole anything unless the other employee had called and told him as much. On the flip side, though, that meant the other clerk would be sticking his neck out telling George about the theft. From what Shaye could see, the other clerk wasn’t a big guy. Someone like Brett could probably overpower him with ease. More likely, the clerk kept his mouth shut as Thomas did.
So if the argument wasn’t about shoplifting, then what was it about?
And then a thought occurred to her. What if the killer wasn’t one man but two?
It would be far easier for two people to have pulled off the abductions than one person. Unconscious people were dead weight and were gangly to cart around. Brenda had been hauled into an abandoned house. Ross St. Claire had been found some distance into the swamp on a hiking trail. A single person could have accomplished both, especially with a cart of some sort, but it would have taken longer, which would have increased the risk of being seen. Two people would allow for an increase in speed and a lookout or even a decoy if needed.
Shaye started her SUV and pulled out of the parking lot. Brett Frazier and George Moss needed more looking into, and Shaye knew just where to start.
He clenched his fists and cursed as he stared across the campus. The drugs he’d given Ethan should have kept him incapacitated for longer. Ethan shouldn’t have had time to break out of the shed and he shouldn’t have had the strength to dig the hole or run away. He must have made a mistake in his calculations. Either that or Ethan had a strange metabolism and had burned off the drugs more quickly than normal.
He thought he’d hit him with that first pistol shot and had been surprised when he rushed up to the bank and saw Ethan pop up down the bayou. The student had looked straight back at him before he’d gone back under. He’d been standing in overhanging branches of a cypress tree, but there was still a chance Ethan had gotten a look at his face.
He shook his head, wiping that thought from his mind. He’d reached the opposite bank just in time to see the alligator grab Ethan and pull him under. Then he’d heard a boat approaching and took off before anyone caught sight of him. The gator was huge, at least twelve feet. There was no way Ethan could have survived the attack. And if he’d hit him somewhere with that first shot, then Ethan was good and dead.
It annoyed him that he hadn’t gotten to suffocate Ethan as he had the rest.
Any chance at a decent life had been slowly suffocated out of him. It was only fair that the others paid as well.
At least he still had the nosy girl to look forward to.
He pulled out Ethan’s cell phone and started a text.
Shaye gripped the steering wheel as she rounded the corner to her mother’s home. She could see the spillover from the madhouse a block away. Vans with camera crews lined the side street and reporters rushed to her vehicle as soon as they spotted her. Her windows were heavily tinted so they couldn’t get a good shot of her from the side, but the cameras in front of her vehicle would have no trouble getting footage for the evening news. She’d known when Corrine had called her in a panic earlier that the reprieve was over, but she hadn’t expected this level of crazy.
When they crowded around the front of her vehicle, she put her foot on the brake and pressed her accelerator down, causing her engine to roar. She immediately began to
move forward and the crews scrambled to get out of the way. She could hear shouting but didn’t bother to register any of the words. They didn’t matter. She wasn’t ready to talk to the press. Not today. She wasn’t even going to think about it until after the case. A case that she would have a hard time working now that every media source in New Orleans would be hounding her.
She waved to the security guard at the gate and parked up front in the circular drive. She practically ran into the house, careful not to look back so they couldn’t get a shot of her face with a telephoto lens. As soon as she entered the house, she headed for the kitchen, willing to bet money that Corrine was baking.
Her mother looked up at her from the kitchen counter, patches of flour on her face and her hands covered in it. “Raspberry Danish,” Corrine said when Shaye walked into the kitchen. “Eleonore made an emergency run for the ingredients before her yoga class.”
Shaye slid onto a stool with a sigh.
“We knew it couldn’t last,” Corrine said.
“I know, but that whole day of peace lulled me into believing we might not matter any longer.”
“You know better. News hasn’t been real in forever. Investigative journalism is dead. They’re reporting the most sensational thing they can find to keep ratings.”
“Wow. You sound even more cynical than me.”
Corrine shrugged. “I just sound honest.”
“So what are you going to do about that three-ring circus?”
“I’m not sure what I can do. They can park out on that street as long as they’d like and won’t be breaking the law. If we leave, they can follow us to any public place.”
“Which makes either of us doing our jobs rather difficult.”
“I don’t think I’ll be returning to my job,” Corrine said quietly.
Shaye stared at her mother in surprise. Of all the things Corrine had said since all the horror happened, this was the one thing that she hadn’t seen coming.
