by Blake Pierce
There were several other notes jotted down in Chloe’s handwriting, but those two were the most powerful. Danielle figured in a court of law, it would be more than enough to cast a suspicious eye on their father. Even as she looked over the notes, Danielle could remember both of those instances—her mother wearing sunglasses when she dropped her and Chloe off for their first day of third grade (or had it been fourth?); the sheets with bloody splotch marks on them that her father got enraged over for some reason while their mother was holed up like a prisoner in the bedroom.
She remembered all of it. And now, apparently, so did Chloe. And Chloe was making connections now…seeing the real face of their father.
So why was she not doing anything about it yet?
At the bottom of Chloe’s notes there was a small box with another alarming set of information. It was titled Threats of Violence or Death. Chloe had given page numbers of each instance. There were eight in all.
Danielle noticed that Chloe had not marked her mother’s diary up in any way, though. She apparently did not want to taint it—whether for sentiment’s sake or for some future lawful use, Danielle could not be sure.
The longer Danielle stared at Chloe’s notes, the more another feeling started to settle in around her heart. She could not name it at first but as she thought about the last year and everything that had to happen to get Chloe to see her father for what he truly was, the feelings became easier to identify.
Betrayal.
There was enough evidence in the journal itself as well as within Chloe’s notes to nail the bastard again. Of course, she knew the slightest bit about the law and wondered if this would fall under double jeopardy—the term that stated a person could not be convicted of the same exact crime twice.
She didn’t know the ins and outs of all of it. But Chloe probably did…and she was choosing to do absolutely nothing about it.
The hell of it was that Danielle couldn’t call the police anyway. After all, it had been her that had broken into Chloe’s apartment to steal the book. She’d worn gloves and, just to be safe, had taped up the bottoms of her shoes. She was fairly certain she would never be discovered, so going to the police with the diary and having to explain how she had come across it would certainly cause problems.
She wanted to storm out right then and there to confront her sister. But she was too angry and that would only lead to a very messy confrontation …and anyway, she wasn’t quite ready to admit to breaking in. She’d much prefer to take that little secret to the grave with her.
And if she could find some way to get around it, that was exactly what she would do.
She picked the diary back up again and started to read, wondering if there was something Chloe had found that she had missed—something that would make her sister sit on such damning evidence rather than using it to finally do away with their father.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When Chloe rolled out of bed the following day, the first thing she did was finish cleaning up. Her father had left one hell of a mess and the longer she left it all scattered around the apartment, the longer she’d have to face the fact of what he had done. She spent a few minutes cleaning, taking in the morning’s first cup of coffee as she sorted out her thoughts.
As she cleaned, she did her best to switch her mindset. She had to push her father and the diary to the back of her mind and focus solely on the Jessie Fairchild case. It was easier to do when Rhodes called to let her know she was heading back to Falls Church, having to return the loaner car she’d had to borrow from the PD after Chloe had left suddenly.
Chloe tidied up a few more things and then headed for the door shortly after 7:30. She looked back into the mostly cleaned apartment and tried to imagine her father rummaging through it all. More than that, she tried to think of what he might look like raising up his leg and kicking her door down.
For the slightest of moments, she could not see it. Age and prison had not been kind to him. It would take a lot of force for him to knock the door in hard enough to break it free from the chain lock.
But she could not let that occupy her mind…not right now.
She headed out of the apartment, doing everything she could to slip back into the role of talented field agent and out of the role of dejected daughter.
***
After meeting back up at the Falls Church Police Department, Chloe and Rhodes wasted no time in heading out to the residence of Gwen and Bill Ingram. It was, unsurprisingly, located in the same high-scale subdivision the Fairchilds lived in. The Ingram house was tucked away in a cul-de-sac on the other side of the subdivision from the Fairchild house. It was, in Chloe’s estimation, the nicest house in the neighborhood—and that was saying something.
They’d called ahead to ensure Gwen would be there to speak with them, but there was a very long pause after Rhodes knocked on the door. Chloe found herself almost wishing for the warm (albeit fake) response she had received from Candace Derringer yesterday, with her fresh coffee and bagels.
When the door was answered, it was by a tired and disheveled woman. With some makeup, she might look like all of the other housewives in the neighborhood, but Gwen Ingram currently looked like she had gone several rounds with sleepless nights and depression. The only thing made up about her was her hair. It looked like it had been recently colored and styled. The shade of red in her hair was almost unnatural but was also quite striking on her.
Despite her somewhat haggard appearance, Gwen managed a thin smile as she regarded Chloe and Rhodes.
“Mrs. Ingram?” Chloe asked.
“Yeah, that’s me. You the agents?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chloe said, showing her badge. “Agents Fine and Rhodes. Can we come in?”
“Yes, please…”
Gwen led them through a large foyer with high ceilings. She did not engage them at all, simply walking forward with hunched shoulders as she led them into what Chloe assumed served as some sort of parlor or sitting room. Gwen sat down in a beautiful ornate chair, leaving Chloe and Rhodes to sit in a large plush sofa against the far wall.
“You wanted to talk about Jessie Fairchild, right?” Gwen asked.
“That’s correct,” Chloe said. “Would that be okay with you?”
“Oh, I don’t care. But honestly, there’s not much to tell. I made an ass out of myself one Saturday afternoon right there on the street outside of my house and it was all because of her.”
Rhodes nodded. “We have someone within the neighborhood that told me about the altercation. But do you think you could tell us about it in your own words?”
Gwen shrugged, as if it really wasn’t a big deal at all. “Look…I’m sort of the gossip of the neighborhood…probably this entire corner of town, really. Did your source tell you about all the trouble my husband has been in?”
“No,” Rhodes said. “They were very respectful of your privacy.”
“Hmm. Then why are you here at all?” Gwen then let out a sigh and relaxed against the back of the chair. “Bill was always a good husband. He worked hard but not hard enough so that we never saw one another. It’s not a secret that he was making very good money as the leading attorney with the biggest law firm in the city—the fifth biggest in the state. But Bill has always had something of a troubled side…I think it came from the way he was raised, honestly. But he’s always had a drinking problem. Not bad enough that I ever gave him a hard time about it, but bad enough to make me worry. Not until last year, that is. Something happened to him—I don’t know what…probably something at work that he never told me about—and the drinking got worse. I’d watch him fill his flask with bourbon in the morning, putting it in his briefcase and heading out to work like it was nothing.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Chloe said, “but does your husband have anything to do with Jessie Fairchild?”
“In a roundabout way. Now, would you please let me finish this?”
Chloe nodded respectfully and said nothing else.
“Bil
l had been working on this major case for a nuclear decommissioning agency for about two years and he was this close to bringing it to the finish line. Over the last three months or so, he started to tell me that this could be big for him—for us. He was set to make nearly eleven million dollars off of his end of it and that the win would change the face of the firm. But then he botched one meeting. And then another and another. I still don’t know all of the details, but they lost the case. Bill drove off the day after they lost and ran his car into the back of a bus. He was fine but the cops on the scene saw that he was drunk. Apparently, his bosses knew he had been drinking but let it slide. But then, after botching the case so badly and losing it for them—as well as the reckless driving—they fired him.
“That was two months ago. Ever since then, Bill comes and goes as he pleases. His family has a cabin up at Niagara Falls and his sister keeps calling me to tell me that’s where he’s at. He’s drinking himself stupid, but quite frankly, I don’t care. Let him get it out of his system. He loves me…he’ll come back home to me. But we would have to leave this neighborhood. We have a lot of money saved up, but living here, we’d go through it quicker than we’d like.
“Anyway…where Jessie Fairchild comes into play is that she somehow heard this entire story. It got around the neighborhood quickly, as stories like that tend to. I had spoken to Jessie a few times. She seemed nice enough…maybe a little snobby. But not the sort of stuck up snobby you’d expect; I don’t think she even knew she was coming off that way. But she came over two weeks ago. Said she had heard about what happened and told me that her father had a drinking problem that he eventually overcame. That pissed me off, her thinking she could relate or sympathize, but I kept quiet. But then she said she would be willing to lend me some money if Bill was making things hard. And…well, I lost it. I snapped.”
“How so?” Chloe asked.
“Well, we were on the porch drinking tea when we had the talk. And when I snapped, I tossed the entire table over and asked her to leave. To her credit, she walked down the stairs and did as I asked, but I kept going. All of the pent up frustration and anger I had felt over Bill and the drinking and the situation at his work…I let it out on her. And honestly…I wish I could tell you I felt bad about it, but I didn’t.”
“How bad did it get?” Rhodes asked.
“I chased her down the steps, screaming at her. Called her a bitch and a…well, another word I never thought I’d use and won’t repeat here or ever again—it begins with a C. I raised my hand back to slap her but thank God I somehow restrained myself.”
“And why all the hate for her? Did you feel some beforehand?”
“A little. I’d seen how she’d all but unseated Rachel Dobbs from her little socialite perch at the silent auction. If I’m being real with you….it’s just because she was new. Here she was, this beautiful and wealthy woman, new to the neighborhood and basically forcing herself into the social circles. And meanwhile, I’m essentially on my way out…with my alcoholic husband.”
“Mrs. Ingram…if you don’t mind my asking, where were you last Friday morning between eight and noon?”
“I had a hair appointment at nine,” she said, tugging at her red hair. “Got a color, a cut, the whole nine yards. For most women, shopping or vegging out cheers them up. For me, it’s getting my hair done.”
Chloe again looked at her hair. It did look very pretty, though a bit in-your-face. It made her wonder what her natural hair color was.
“How long were you there?” Rhodes asked.
“I don’t know. The whole process took about an hour and a half. But after that, I went out and had lunch with a friend of mine. I know where you’re trying to go with this…and I can give you the names and number of people that I interacted with that morning.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary just now,” Chloe said. “I do appreciate your honesty, and I think we’ll get out of your hair for now.”
Gwen smiled, not sure if the out of your hair comment was a joke or not. “Let me show you out, then,” she said.
Chloe and Rhodes followed after her, Chloe walking a little closer than was necessary. When they got to the door, Gwen followed them out onto the porch.
“I was very sorry to hear what happened to her,” Gwen said. “While I was infuriated that she had offered to loan me some money—even though I barely knew her—I had no doubt she would have done it. Rich and oblivious or not, I think she was a good soul when you got right down to it.”
Chloe stepped out of her comfort zone and reached out. She placed a reassuring hand on Gwen’s shoulder and said, “Again, thanks for sharing all of that. It couldn’t be easy.”
“It is what it is.”
“Let us know if you can think of anything else that might help with our investigation,” Chloe said as she and Rhodes walked down the stairs to their car.
Inside the car, as she cranked it to life, Rhodes looked over at Chloe with a weird smile. “Okay…what did you find?”
Chloe showed Rhodes her right hand…the same hand she’d used to reassure Gwen with. It currently held two distinct hairs.
“Are those Gwen’s?” Rhodes asked.
“They were on the shoulder of her shirt.”
Rhodes leaned closer and squinted at them. “Looks red to me.”
“Look here, though,” Chloe said, pinching the hair near the end—near the root.
“Blonde,” Rhodes said.
“And the stray hair found at the Fairchild residence was…”
“Blonde,” Rhodes finished.
“Not a smoking gun by any means,” Chloe said. “But given that Gwen’s hair had been so recently colored, it’s worth looking into. I think we should get this hair to forensics.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Rhodes said as she pulled back out into the street.
Chloe looked into the rearview and was a little unnerved to see that Gwen Ingram was standing at the top of her stairs, watching them leave.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Chloe’s phone rang on the way back to the station. She answered it and discovered Nolan on the other end.
“Agent Fine, where are you at the moment?”
“Leaving Gwen Ingram’s house. Why? What do you need?”
“Well, the sister is on the way here…Jessie’s sister, Bev Givens.”
“Great. Any idea why it took so long for her to respond to calls?”
“Yeah. Apparently, she went camping with her family somewhere in Gloucester. Cut their phones off and everything, just her, her daughter, and her husband. So she just now got a shitload of messages about what happened.”
“Oh my God. Has she spoken with Mark yet?”
“Yes. Mark is planning to meet with them later today.”
“But the sister—Bev—she’s on the way to the station?”
“She is. Maybe twenty minutes out at this point. I don’t think they even went home; they’re coming straight here from the campsite.”
“We’re on the way. And hey, go ahead and make a call to forensics. We have some hair samples for them.”
“Will do.”
“Who is Bev?” Rhodes asked when Chloe ended the call.
“Bev Givens…Jessie Fairchild’s sister. Apparently, she had been camping with her family and their cell phones were turned off.”
“Sounds miserable.”
“The camping or coming back home to such terrible news?”
Rhodes smirked a little and said: “Can I say both?”
***
When they got back to the station, Nolan was waiting for them with an evidence bag for the hair. He was quick and efficient, bagging it up and already having filled out the necessary forms for forensics when they came by. He did this all while also directing them to the back of the building where Bev Givens had been taken less than a minute ago.
Nolan left the bag for forensics with the station receptionist and followed Chloe and Rhodes to the back of the building. Bev had been taken to the
same room they had used to speak with Mark Fairchild, as if they were trying to keep the mystery and sorrow away from the rest of the station.
“Before we go in, you should know something,” Nolan said. “She clearly hasn’t truly processed it yet. She’s trying to remain logical, trying to help find answers. But you can see her breaking. She could snap at any moment…and I don’t think it’s going to be pretty.”
With a solemn look, Nolan opened the door to the little conference room and ushered the agents in. Chloe saw a thin middle-aged woman sitting at a table. She looked very much like Jessie Fairchild. Bev was a bit leaner and slightly taller. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown but other than that, Bev and Jessie could have easily passed for twins back in their younger days.
A man sat beside her, his arm protectively around her. He regarded Chloe and Rhodes with the sort of hope that usually broke Chloe’s heart a little. This, Chloe assumed, was Bev’s husband.
“Mrs. Givens, we’re Agents Fine and Rhodes,” Chloe said. “Thanks for coming in to speak with us so quickly.”
“Of course. I understand there aren’t really many answers to be had. I want to help however I can.”
“I’m her husband,” the man next to her confirmed. “Roger Givens. I’m also eager to help any way I can. But I’d prefer to stay by Bev’s side.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Chloe said. “And Mrs. Givens, you’re right. We don’t have many answers and each day that passes makes the case a little harder to solve. So please keep that in mind if these questions seem quick or even harsh.”
She nodded her understanding and when she did, Chloe saw what Nolan had mentioned. There was a vacantness to her stare. It was like watching someone stare contemplatively out of a rainy window, thinking deep about something that troubled them. But it was only in her eyes; the rest of her expression seemed a little unsure of how she should be reacting.
