by Blake Pierce
Bannerman’s seat. Kate simply relaxed a bit into the chair while DeMarco
started tapping notes into her Notes app on her phone.
“At least we’re starting to see some similarities in the victims,” Kate said.
“Yeah,” DeMarco agreed. “At first, I thought it was that they were in
rocky marriages. But I think now, in both cases, it’s safe to say they simply had disinterested husbands. Husbands that put them second below work.”
“Seems like a pretty defined trait for a killer to pinpoint. But I’d take it
one step further. Yes, they were both essentially afterthoughts to their
husbands, and I think that could be boiled down to one single, more relatable
trait.”
“Which is?”
“They were lonely.”
DeMarco considered this for a moment, nodding. “And a lonely middle-
aged wife might be a little more prone to having a visitor…someone they
might invite inside.”
“But it still gets tripped up when we consider the Hixes’ little doorbell
monitor.”
“Yes, and I’m sure there are ways around that monitor.”
“But why would you need a way around it if you weren’t hiding
something?”
“You think Marjorie Hix was having an affair?” Kate asked.
“I don’t know. But…at the risk of sounding stereotypical, aren’t affairs a
dime a dozen in neighborhoods like these?”
Kate shrugged. It was stereotypical but only because, as far as she had
seen in the course of her career, it was backed by some pretty jarring facts
and statistics.
In the middle of their brainstorming, Bannerman came walking into the
room. DeMarco got up quickly, but Kate remained in her seat—not out of
being impolite but because she thought she had Bannerman pegged pretty
well. He’d appreciate that they were kicked back so comfortably in his office.
It built camaraderie; it let him know that Kate was at ease in his presence. It
tended to mean quite a lot to men of the law in their later years.
“Did I break up a meeting?” he asked with a smile. He sat down behind
his desk as if he were programmed to do so. There were many years of
experience in just that motion alone.
“Not a very productive one,” Kate said.
“No luck today, I take it?”
“Not really. Hey…did you speak to a guy named Andrew Bauer, at the
strong suggestion of Joseph Hix?”
“I did,” he said, frowning. “Shit. I didn’t even bother putting it into the
reports. I didn’t think there was anything to it.”
“I don’t think there is,” Kate said. “I think Hix was just looking for
something easy to pin the murder on. He needs closure to move in from this.”
“And from more than a bottle of whiskey,” DeMarco added.
“Sheriff, maybe you can help us…three heads are often better than two.
The only real trait we have from the two victims that match up is the fact that
they had marriages that left them feeling lonely. But there is no strong
evidence of an affair. Who would these women so willingly allow into their
homes? In the case of the Hix residence, someone who would be allowed in
and bypassing their security measures at the front door?”
“That’s where I got hung up,” he admitted. “And I’ll admit…I’ve got a
police force that’s about ninety percent male. So assuming there was adultery
involved could have made us look…”
“Like jerks?” DeMarco said, though with a bit of a smile.
“Pretty much.”
“But if there was some sort of fooling around or even just hiding a man for
the pure conversation and proximity,” Kate said, “it was not Andrew Bauer.
I’m pretty sure of that.”
Bannerman nodded his agreement. “Yeah, when we talked to Gerald
Hopkins, he was not at all familiar with the name Andrew Bauer. That’s why
I dismissed him so easily.”
“When we spoke with Bauer, he indicated that he felt that Marjorie Hix
might have had a crush or something similar,” Kate said. “He said he felt she
just wanted someone to talk to at first and it was like she was purposefully
waiting for him some days. It makes me wonder, if it’s true, if there were
more men in her life like that.”
“Like what?” Bannerman asked.
“Men she used simply for the conversation. For a man that would speak to
her and maybe look at her in the way her husband wasn’t any longer. Like an
emotional affair rather than a physical one.”
“It’s a big neighborhood,” Bannerman said. “I’m sure there could be
numerous men that would fit that description.”
“We only singled out Bauer because of Hix’s anger and the fact that he
was single,” DeMarco said. “And let’s face it…being married doesn’t always
stop people from getting involved with other people that aren’t their
spouses.”
It was an interesting thought—one that Kate focused on and tried to pick apart as she sat in Bannerman’s chair. But try as she might, there was one
other thing that kept creeping back to the center of her mind.
The missed call from Melissa.
The voicemail that was surely waiting.
Until she checked it, she would not be able to give this case her full
attention.
She got to her feet and excused herself for the restroom. Even before she
was completely out of Bannerman’s office, she was reaching for her phone.
***
The message from Melissa had not been nearly as bad as Kate had been
expecting. It had stung a bit, sure. It had made her feel about three inches tall, yes. But at the end of the day, Kate was glad that she’d checked the message
and saw—for the first time in a long time—that her daughter still had some
grit to her.
Kate could still hear fragments of it in her head as she sat at the Frankfield
Inn’s little bar area. DeMarco was beside her, chatting up the bartender, while
Kate sipped on a beer and thought about Melissa and Michelle. Kate tried to
distract herself with trying to determine if DeMarco and the rather pretty
short-haired female bartender were flirting, but it wasn’t working. There was
just too much going on in her head.
“I don’t know how you could be so irresponsible, Mom. Yes, Alan is a
great guy and Michelle loves him. But I asked you to do this one thing for
me…this one fucking thing…and you dropped it the moment a call came from
DC. I don’t know why I’m so surprised… not really. It’s always been this
way. Work before me. Work before Dad. So why the hell should I expect any
different when it comes to your granddaughter?”
She was torn about how to feel because the truth of the matter was that in
one sense, Melissa was right: she had always put career first. But to say that Melissa had never asked much of her was a little out of line. Of course, life
had dealt her a shitty hand when her father had died and Kate had caught a lot
of the burden of a grieving college student, already pissed at the world and
scared about her future. But still…it was unfair for Melissa to claim she’d
never done anything for her…
… I asked you to do this one thing for me…this one fucking thing…
It was amazing to find that her daughter could both enrage and sadden her
at the same time. It was almost like she was reliving the teenage years all
over again.
It also made her think of the two dead women, Karen Hopkins and
Marjorie Hix. Women who had been overlooked and underappreciated by
those who loved them. While on the surface it might make her appear to be
spoiled, Kate could identify. In many ways, Melissa underappreciated her.
She took her for granted and only came around or called when she needed
something.
“Spill it, Wise.”
Kate snapped out of her thoughts and looked over at DeMarco. She was no
longer speaking with the bartender, though the bartender seemed to be
keeping an eye on DeMarco. She was quite pretty, in a plain sort of way, with
a thin tattoo of some sort of vine trailing down her arm.
“Spill what?”
“I’d hoped you would have realized by now that I’m pretty good at my
job. And sometimes I notice a thing or two. You got a call this morning that
you ignored right away. You’ve been somewhat distracted today. In
Bannerman’s office, you left very quickly and were grabbing for your phone
right away. Everything okay at home? With Melissa? With Alan?”
“You are good. And I’m mostly fine. Just realizing that this case is sort of paralleling some of my personal life. Not in the murders, of course, but…I
don’t know. These women weren’t appreciated.”
“And you don’t feel like you are either?”
“Only when it comes to Melissa. Which sounds stupid, because really,
why would I expect her to show her appreciation all the time?”
“Um, because you’re her mother.”
Kate shrugged and sipped from her beer. “It’s just another one of those
things that makes me think this was a mistake—that I should have just stayed
retired.”
“Kate…I think a great deal of you. If we were just a little bit closer, I’d go
so far as to say I love you. But do you realize that this is a complaint that
you’ve had on the last few cases we’ve worked together?”
“Yeah, I know…”
“My own mother was okay and I’m mostly fine speaking to her these
days,” DeMarco said. “Moms and daughters don’t always jive, you know? So I say you either just face the shit head on or make the decision that you’re
still your own woman—a bad-ass one, I might add—and you want to give
your all to this job for the next few years. Then you can finally actually retire and be a grandmother.” She chuckled here and added: “But damn, I hate to
even think of you as being a grandma.”
“Yeah…but age gets us all in the end.”
When DeMarco gave her a sympathetic little frown and then turned away,
Kate appreciated it. As a good partner, she could tell when Kate did not want
to talk about something. And feeling that level of appreciation made Kate
then think about Alan and the subtle little ultimatum he had given her. Kate
had never been the type of woman to take ultimatums from anyone. So why
had she so willingly listened to and accepted Alan’s?
I’m just going to have to start setting better boundaries, she thought. Not just for me and the job, but for my loved ones and my job, too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Meredith’s husband had left for work an hour and a half ago, and she
knew she had a long day of doing nothing but waiting for him to come back
home. She was also excited that he’d be coming home early. Every now and
then he’d get a day where there was nothing to do around his office. On those
days, David would leave for work late and come home early, just heading in
to make sure there were no immediate fires he had to put out. He usually left
for work around 6:30 in the morning, but he’d stayed until 7:45 this morning.
It had given them time for a quick morning-time romp in the bedroom and
then a shower for him while she brewed coffee.
She was enjoying her second cup of coffee when she started to think about
the day ahead. She and David were going to her favorite Italian restaurant and
then they would go into the city for an art exhibit David was excited about.
She sometimes joked with him about how he preferred to live just outside of
Chicago rather than in the city, as most of the things he was interested in
were there and not in their tired little home of Frankfield. David’s plan was to
start their life here, quietly, and have a few kids before moving into the city.
They were both aware that most couples did it the other way—starting off a
marriage in the city and the moving to the outskirts to raise their kids. But
David had never been one for convention, and it was one of the many reasons
she loved him.
They’d been married for just a little over a year, managing to land the
respectable little home thanks to David finally landing his dream job as a
copy editor with a growing publishing house. She was well aware that most
twenty-four-year-old women with only a community college associate’s
degree were not as lucky to have the life she had, and she cherished it.
She also knew that David, nearly twenty years her senior, got a lot of grief
about having robbed the cradle. But they were both fine with it; they had
nestled out a pleasant little life for themselves. Yes, Meredith had her secrets
that she kept from him, but she was pretty sure he had a few of his own as
well.
She finished up her coffee and had started tidying up the kitchen when the
doorbell rang. She was expecting company, so it did not take her by surprise.
She went to the door and answered it, smiling politely at the man on the other side.
“Hey there,” she said. “Come on in.”
He was dressed in a basic black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He had a small
backpack slung over his right shoulder presumably to hold his tools and
gadgets. “Sorry I’m late,” he said.
“Oh, no worries at all.”
“Based on the conversation we had, I don’t see it taking too long.”
“Great.”
She led him down the main hallway, toward the den. As they walked, she
spoke up—mainly because she had never been one to tolerate awkward
silences.
“You know, I found it odd that you weren’t listed online anywhere. I only
knew about you because of the business card I saw on one of those business
bulletin boards at the gym.”
“I just prefer it this way,” he said. “I don’t trust much of anything online.
And I hate answering emails. It’s just easier this way.”
“Yeah? You stay pretty busy?”
“As busy as I need.”
“Good,” she said, starting to wonder if maybe she should have done some
more research before hiring him. He wasn’t creeping her out by any means,
but he was a little off-putting. She wasn’t sure why; it was no specific thing
she could put her finger on.
They came to the den, where she stood to the side and gestured inside.
“Well, there you go. If you need anything, let me know.”
“Will do. Thanks again.”
“Thank you!”
She walked back into the kitchen, opening up the fridge and compiling a
grocery list in her head. She worked
from home as a freelance virtual
assistant, but she was between clients right now and was having a hard time
finding more work. Until she found more clients, she figured she’d do her
best to assume the role of stay-at-home wife—something she never thought
she would be but, in all reality, was sort of starting to enjoy.
She typed her grocery list down into the cute little app she used for daily
tasks. Done with that, she set it down on the counter and started digging
through the small recipe box she kept by the stove, planning to come up with
a menu for the remainder of the week after tonight’s date. As she was nearing the end of it, she heard something behind her. She turned and was startled to
see the man she had let inside five minutes ago standing there.
“Did you need something else?” she asked.
“No. I was just wondering…where does your husband work?”
“Um…no offense, but I don’t think that’s your concern.”
“Oh, no…nothing like that. I guess that did sound creepy. No, I saw a
picture of him on the mantel in the den. He’s standing by someone that
looked very familiar in an office setting and I couldn’t figure out who it is.
It’s driving me crazy.”
“Oh!” Relief flooded through her; for a moment there, she had started to
get freaked out. “He’s a copy editor with Ember and Hudson Books. The
other guy in that picture you’re talking about is James Franco. They ran into
one another a few months back at some meeting.”
“Oh, that’s so cool. Sorry…didn’t meant to startle you.”
“Oh, it’s okay.”
She turned her attention back to the grocery list, but apparently her guest
was not done.
“Any kids?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Yeah, I thought you looked rather young. Early twenties?”
The relief she’d felt moments ago disappeared completely and was
replaced with something very much like dread.
“Yeah,” she said. She glanced over to the phone on the counter. It was
about ten feet away from her.
“This is a nice house,” he said. “A lovely den, too. How long have you
lived here?”
She reached out for the phone, not really caring if it seemed rude. She
noted that his eyes followed her closely as she picked it up.
