by J A Whiting
Claire’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, but there is.”
Claire and Ian sat in patio chairs in the backyard of the townhouse sipping from glasses of wine. Bear and Lady had been chasing a ball that Ian threw for them and were now asleep in the grass under the tree. The half-moon was high in the sky surrounded by twinkling stars and the air was just warm enough that a sweater was all that was needed.
Claire had been telling Ian about the interview with Brandon Willis. “I didn’t like him. He was kind of arrogant and he was actually threatening at the end of the conversation. I couldn’t believe it.”
“The guy had a nerve threatening someone who was representing the police department.” Ian shook his head in disgust. “I’ll let Gagnon know.”
“Brandon Willis went out with Janice a couple of times. That surprised me. And Janice’s neighbor, Joe Bricklin, was dating Janice’s friend, Brittany Patterson. I feel like I need a chart showing the relationships and connections between people. Joe Bricklin never mentioned he was dating Janice’s friend. Why wouldn’t he tell us that?”
“Most likely, he wanted to distance himself from Janice thinking it would prevent him from being considered as a suspect.”
“Lying about his connections make me suspect him more.” Claire took a sip of her wine. “Does he have something to hide?”
“When Gagnon gets back from the conference, it might be a good idea for him to talk to Bricklin.” Ian reached for Claire’s hand. “You really have a gift for picking up things from people. You’re a natural investigator.”
Keeping her talent from Ian made Claire feel like a liar. She glanced over at Lady and the dog looked her in the eye and woofed.
Sucking in a long deep breath, Claire made the decision. Setting her glass down, she faced her boyfriend. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you this.”
Ian faced her, his dark brown eyes questioning. “What is it?”
“It’s hard to talk about … because I don’t quite understand it myself.”
Ian’s head tilted to the side. “You can tell me, Claire.”
“Can I?” Claire lifted her eyes to Ian’s. “Will you promise that what I tell you won’t make you change your mind about me?”
A little smile crept across Ian’s lips and when he saw that Claire wasn’t kidding with him, the smile dropped away and he said, “You’re serious.”
“I’m dead serious.”
Ian searched Claire’s face. “Nothing you tell me will change how I feel.” The man took both her hands in his and held tight. “I love you, Claire.”
Tears filled her eyes and she brushed them away and cleared her throat. “You haven’t heard anything like this before,” she warned.
Ian’s smile returned. “I’ve heard a lot of stuff.”
Claire repeated, “You’ve never heard anything like this before.”
“Then you’d better tell me so I can add it to the list of crazy things I’ve heard. The suspense is killing me.”
“I have more than one thing to tell you.”
“So much the better.”
Feeling sick with worry, Claire bit her lip and then began her tales starting with her growing up years in near poverty with a loving and devoted mother, her education and experience as a lawyer, and her two-year marriage to a man forty years older than herself.
“You’re amazing, do you know that?” Ian told her. “Your intelligence, your perseverance, your hard work, your belief in doing the thing that matters to you despite naysayers and convention. Teddy was lucky to have you, and so am I.”
When a glistening tear slipped from Claire’s eye and slid down her cheek, Ian reached over and wiped it away.
“I have one more thing to tell you,” Claire said.
Bear and Lady stood up, crossed the grass, and took positions on either side of their owner.
“I’m ready,” Ian told her.
“I have … um … I have sort of a special skill.”
“You have more than one,” Ian smiled.
“This is different.” Claire watched Ian’s face. “Tessa calls it a paranormal ability.”
Ian’s eyes widened as one eyebrow went up.
“But I think of it as a heightened ability to sense things, to feel things about people or situations, to pick up on things going on around me.” Claire paused for a moment. “I think everyone could probably do it, but for some reason it gets buried inside others and can’t come out, while I ... I….”
“You shine,” Ian said softly. “There’s something extra in you. I’m not surprised that you’re able to pick up on things the way you do. It makes so much sense.”
Bear and Lady jumped up and danced around Ian’s chair causing him to laugh out loud. Lady licked his hand before Ian scratched both dogs behind their ears. “I think they approve of my reaction.”
“We’ve been afraid to tell you.” Claire grinned at the sweet Corgis, and then she told Ian how the strength of her ability increased after losing Teddy and moving to Boston. She gave him details and examples of things she’d been able to perceive and figure out by using her skills.
“Sometimes, the messages aren’t clear at all and I struggle. This cold case is like that. It feels like the threads of information are all tied up in a huge knot. Other times, I feel things clearly as if the things I need to know are being whispered in my ear.”
Ian asked a million questions and Claire answered as best she could.
“Does it bother you,” she asked Ian, “this unusual thing I have that I can’t really explain?”
“Not one bit.” Ian smiled broadly. “Can you teach me how to do it?”
14
When the doorbell rang, Claire and Ian startled and the dogs barked. They went to the door and were surprised for a second time to see Janice’s daughter, Kelly Carter Cox, standing on the top step.
“Do you have a few minutes?” Kelly asked. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“Kelly, come in.” Claire, Ian, and the dogs led the young woman out to the patio.
“It’s so pretty out here,” Kelly said, as she took a seat in one of the chairs.
“How did you know where I lived?”
Kelly looked a little surprised by the question. “I did an internet search.”
“Have you talked to Detective Gagnon recently?” Ian asked.
“He’s at a conference and I wanted to show someone what I found.” Kelly shifted her eyes from Claire to Ian. “Is it okay? Should I wait for Detective Gagnon?”
“I don’t think there’s any reason to wait,” Ian said. “You can get in touch with Gagnon when he gets back.”
“Okay.” Kelly relaxed and reached into the bag to remove a manila envelope. “I’ve been thinking about my mother’s death. I’ve been reading everything I can get my hands on about the case. Some things I’m not sure if I actually remember or it’s just that I remember people taking about it.”
“You found something?” Claire’s heart was pounding.
“My grandfather loved to take photographs.” Kelly pulled some pictures from the envelope. “He photographed everything. This is the house we lived in.” She placed a photo on the patio table. “This is the house where my mother died.” For several seconds, Kelly’s eyes were pinned to the photo until she blinked fast a few times and took a deep breath. “I forgot I had these. I only remembered today that I had them. Have you been to the house?”
Claire and Ian both shook their heads.
“I don’t know if these will be of any help, but I wanted to show them to you.” Kelly placed a second photo on the table. “This is me standing on the front steps of the house. It was taken a couple of days after my mom died.”
Claire stared at the picture and her heart clenched.
“I don’t know why my granddad took these interior shots. Maybe for insurance purposes? It seems odd to me that he shot these photos.” Kelly placed three pictures on the table facing Claire and Ian. “This is the living room. This is where my mo
ther died.”
A chill raced over Claire’s skin and she had to keep herself from gasping.
The photo in the middle showed the sofa, a coffee table askew, the door to Kelly’s bedroom, and blood. Lots of blood. The body had been taken away, but the blood on the floor next to the sofa almost created an outline of where Janice’s body had fallen. Blood spray and spatter where evident and large pools of blood had gathered in two spots.
“The crime scene,” Claire whispered.
“Is it any help to see these photographs?” Kelly asked. “Have you found any photos the police took back then?”
“We haven’t seen any photos at all,” Ian told her as he leaned closer to the pictures.
“There’s a large pool of blood on the sofa,” Claire pointed out. “Janice must have been attacked while she was sitting on the sofa.”
“And then she fell to the floor either from fighting the attacker or from losing consciousness,” Ian said.
Something about the picture made Claire want to recoil, but at the same time, there was something about it that drew her to it. She lifted the photo and brought it close to her eyes. “There’s something here on the floor.”
“Where?” Ian squinted.
“See here? It almost looks like a letter.” Claire pointed without touching the picture.
Ian swallowed. “Written in the blood?”
“Can this be enhanced?” Claire questioned.
Ian asked Claire to scan the photo to her laptop and when that was done, he brought up a photo editing software package Claire had installed. Clicking away to manipulate the image in the photograph, Ian was able to enlarge and zero in on the spot Claire had pointed to.
“Right here.” Ian’s voice was excited. “Look at that.”
Claire was speechless. The photo showed the letters, BR, written in blood on the floor.
Ian looked up at Kelly. “Your mother had to have been alive when she hit the floor. She used her finger to write us a message … a partial message anyway.”
“BR,” Claire repeated.
Kelly said, “That’s what I thought I saw, the initials, BR.”
“Brandon?” Claire asked. “Brandon Willis, the guy who was questioned about abducting Sally Harrison when she was five-years-old.”
“How about Bricklin?” Ian asked. “The neighbor, Joe Bricklin.”
“BR,” Claire muttered. “If only Janice could have managed to write a couple of more letters.”
“Does it help? The letters?” Kelly asked.
“It’s great information,” Ian praised Janice’s daughter. “Would you mind if I take this photo to the crime lab for technical enhancement?”
“You can gold-plate it if it helps find my mother’s killer,” Kelly’s tone was serious.
“I’ll alert Detective Gagnon about the photo,” Ian told the woman.
“Do you think it will it help find the killer?” Kelly’s voice was like that of a child.
“I think it could,” Claire reassured her. “If the enhancement works, we might be able to see more.”
“Sometimes we lose clarity and quality when a picture is enhanced or enlarged,” Ian explained. “Let’s hope the enhancement won’t degrade the quality of the photo.”
The three of them looked through the other crime photos Kelly’s grandfather had taken of the house where Janice was murdered. The kitchen, a view of the living room taken from Kelly’s bedroom door, the hallway that led to Janice’s bedroom. None of the other pictures had the impact of the first one. Those markings written in blood … were they a message from Janice? Was she trying to name her attacker?
Claire looked up. “Since you’ve been focusing on the murder, have you recalled hearing anything that night? Angry words? The sounds of a scuffle?”
Kelly shook her head. “It’s like I wasn’t in the house that night. How could I have slept through someone attacking my mother? Did she not cry out? Was she afraid to wake me? Was she afraid if I got up, then the killer would have hurt me, too? There had to be noise. How did I not wake up?”
“Kids can sleep through anything,” Ian told her. “It’s not unusual.”
“If you did wake up, you may have been so frightened by what you heard that you hid under the blanket and ended up falling back to sleep,” Claire speculated.
Kelly sighed. “I just don’t know. My poor mother. Will the case ever be solved?”
“I promise we’ll do everything we can,” Claire assured her. “You mentioned Brittany Patterson being a friend of your mother. Do you remember her?”
“A little. She came to the house sometimes,” Kelly said.
“Did you like her?”
Kelly’s nose turned up a little. “Not so much. She didn’t seem to like kids.”
“Why do you say that?” Claire asked.
“Just a feeling I got. It seemed like she wanted me to go away, go in my room when she was visiting. She’d say hi to me and act sweet, but it seemed fake. I was only five, but I didn’t like the way she treated me.”
“What about the other neighbor?” Claire asked. “The man who lived across the street. Joe Bricklin. Do you remember him?”
“A little. He used to come over to talk to my mother whenever we were out in the front yard.”
“He was a friendly man?”
“He was to my mother. He ignored me.”
“Was your mother friendly to him?” Claire questioned.
“Not overly so,” Kelly said. “She seemed … polite. She really liked Mr. and Mrs. Adams, the couple who lived next to us. They were so nice. Once in a while, she invited them over for tea.”
“Did she ever invite Joe Bricklin inside?”
“Never. At least not that I know of.”
“Did your mother ever have a man over for dinner or drinks?”
Kelly’s forehead creased in thought. “Once in a while. Not often, as far as I can remember. Sometimes she went out and my grandmother would babysit me. Grandma was fun. We’d play games, she’d read to me, we’d watch a show together.” Kelly sighed. “She changed after my mother died. She was always so sad. I didn’t understand it back then. I didn’t connect her sadness to losing her only child. That killer didn’t just take my mother’s life, he ruined my grandparents’ lives, too. He stole from me and my grandparents. He ripped our hearts right out of our chests.”
Claire looked across the table at Ian and saw her own emotions, sorrow for Janice and her family and resolve to find the killer, mirrored in his eyes.
15
Claire and Nicole met Janice Carter’s friend, Lisa Wall, at a restaurant in Boston. Sixty-year-old Lisa was of medium height, fit-looking, with short blond hair and friendly, blue eyes.
“I’d known Janice since middle school. When Janice was killed, my husband and I lived two towns over from Chatham Village. I worked in Boston as an immigration attorney. I sold my practice a few years ago. Now I teach law at one of the universities.”
“Did you keep in touch with Janice back then? Were you still friendly with her at the time of her death?”
Lisa’s blue eyes seemed to cloud over. “I sure was. Janice was like the sister I never had. We were two peas in a pod. She had her daughter when she was twenty-five. Janice worked as a dental hygienist, but she wanted to be a nurse practitioner. I encouraged her to go back to school and do it.”
Nicole said, “We heard she was working and going to school. It couldn’t have been easy to do all of that with a little child to take care of.”
“Janice wanted to make something of herself,” Lisa said. “She wanted to be a good role model for her daughter. She worked darned hard.” The woman paused for a moment. “So many years have passed … and I still miss her.”
Claire nodded. “We’re trying to put the pieces together. Janice’s daughter, Kelly, asked that the case be re-opened. Evidence and the case notes were destroyed in a minor fire so all we have to go on is a report that summarized investigative research from the case. The details are
missing. We’re working with the police to interview people who knew Janice.”
“With the case notes and evidence gone, it will be an uphill battle to find anything helpful after so many years,” Lisa said.
“We’re giving it a try,” Claire told her. “For Janice’s daughter.”
“How can I help?” Lisa lifted her coffee mug to her lips.
“You saw Janice regularly back then?”
“We’d get together two or three times a month. Most of the time, I went to her house. That way, Kelly didn’t have to have a babysitter and Janice could be home to put her to bed. Kelly was a sweet kid. The three of us would eat dinner and then we’d play games or read together.”
Claire liked the way Lisa talked about Kelly and how she’d interacted so nicely with the little girl so many years ago. “Can you tell us how Janice was feeling around the time of the attack? Was she worried about anything? Did she talk about anyone bothering her?”
“Janice was pretty. She was friendly. People were drawn to her. She always had some guy barking up her tree, trying to date her, wanting to go out with her.” Lisa’s face became serious. “Some guys wouldn’t take no for an answer. They’d keep calling her. They’d show up at the door. They’d send her flowers. It sounds great, right? It wasn’t. It was a real bother. Janice was a busy person … she had a child, a day job, attended school at night. Occasionally, she enjoyed dinner or a drink with a guy. She always told them she couldn’t enter into a serious relationship at that point in her life.”
“Some didn’t listen?” Claire asked as a skitter of worry slipped over her skin.
“That’s right,” Lisa said. “They’d bother her until she wouldn’t answer their calls anymore. She would become angry at their unceasing pestering. She decided it was too much trouble to go out with male friends anymore so she stopped accepting invitations.”
“Had she gone on any dates around the time of the murder?” Claire asked.
“She’d been invited out, but she declined.”
“Do you know if someone was interested in her back then?”
