But Alana shook her head, eyes bloodshot as she lifted them to look up at me. “No. We should be there for them.”
I was glad to hear that. Our first case together, Reilly and I had to tell a woman that her son was dead, and there had been no one around to comfort her but us strangers. It had broken her. She’d never recovered. I could only hope it would go another way this time.
I didn’t want to tell Fletcher about O’Neil’s findings with Alana and Rayla listening in because that would only add to their trauma, so that would have to wait until after we spoke with Em.
Their house was only a few streets away from Jacob’s, but I made sure we didn’t drive down his actual street so Alana and Rayla wouldn’t have to look at the spot where he died. It added a few minutes to the trip, and the women definitely noticed the detour, but neither of them said anything about it.
Em lived in a small brick building at the end of a row with two housemates. A couple of bright flower boxes hung in the windows, and a windmill spun gently in the breeze. I could see movement through the curtains as I turned the car off and stepped out into the sunshine. Of all the days for the rain to finally break, this was not the one I would have chosen.
I grew more and more nervous as I approached the front door. The dark wood loomed like the dark mouth of a cave, ready to swallow us whole, and I had to take a deep, steadying breath as I reached out and rang the bell.
A minute later, the door swung open, revealing the person from all of Jacob’s photos. They were still dressed in pyjamas, the too-large t-shirt drooping over one shoulder, and their dyed-blue hair was rumpled and unkempt.
Em saw Fletcher and me first since we were at the front of the group, and confusion scrawled across their face, growing as they spotted Alana and Rayla just behind us. “Alana, what’s going on?” they asked.
Alana’s face broke, and she couldn’t speak. She just shook her head, face trembling.
“Let’s step inside, shall we?” I suggested. This wasn’t a conversation to have on the front steps.
Em nodded, but they still couldn’t figure out what was going on as they stepped back to let us into the house. There were so many coats on the rack by the door that the top ones looked ready to slip off, and there were shoes jumbled on a plastic tray.
“Can we sit down somewhere?” I asked.
“Living room’s this way,” Em said, and we followed them down the short hall and around the corner. It was clear from the eclectic decorations that three people lived in the house. The cushions on the sofa and armchairs were mismatched, and half the pictures on the walls were actually photographs while others were pop culture posters or abstract splatter paint art.
Alana, Rayla, and Em sat down together on the sofa, the two women making sure that Em sat between them, while Fletcher and I took the two armchairs. One was leather while the other was a lightly patterned canvas.
“What’s going on?” Em asked again. They were beginning to panic, eyes darting from person to person as they chewed on their bottom lip. Alana and Rayla each took one of their hands, but that only made matters worse because Em immediately picked up on their dark emotions.
“I’m Callum MacBain,” I said. “This is my partner Tara Fletcher. We work with the Inverness Police.”
I saw the moment Em’s heart dropped. Their eyes went blank with fear as their shoulders hunched, their whole body drawing in on itself.
I took a deep breath. This sort of thing was never easy, and I’d only done it a couple of times before, but Reilly had been the senior officer, so it was his job to deliver the news while I sat nearby and looked sympathetic. Reilly was always as direct as possible, truthful without being overly detailed. I decided to try it his way.
“I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but Jacob Greene was killed on Wednesday night.”
For a long time, Em didn’t register what I’d said. They blinked at me a couple of times as tears leaked out of Rayla’s eyes, and Alana leaned over and tucked her head against Em’s shoulder. “I don’t understand,” Em said slowly.
“Jacob was killed,” I repeated as gently as I could.
“How?” Em retreated in on themself rather falling apart, and it was as if they had turned into a petrified tree, their voice bland like stagnant water beneath a layer of dead leaves.
I glanced at Fletcher, hoping she could telepathically tell me how specific I should get, but she was at a loss. Alana and Rayla tried to squeeze Em’s fingers, but Em’s didn’t respond, their eyes locked on me.
“Stabbed,” I said, and Fletcher winced at my honesty.
“By who?” Em asked.
“We don’t know yet,” I admitted. “We’ve just begun our investigation.”
A smidge of emotion flashed through Em’s eyes. It was gone again before I could fully get a read on it, but I thought it was anger. “Why was he killed? Because of who he was?”
Alana lifted her head from Em’s shoulder and looked at the side of their face, but Em had yet to acknowledge her or Rayla. Instead, their gaze was locked on me in a way that sent shivers down my spine.
“It does look like that,” I said. “But we’re still investigating all angles.”
Em stood abruptly, hands dragging free of their friends’. Their fists trembled at their sides, and then they were stalking from the room, disappearing into the house.
“We’ll go,” Alana said quietly. “Just… give us a couple of minutes.”
I nodded, and the two of them went after Em, leaving Fletcher and I slumped in the armchairs. “That…” I began.
“Went as well as it could have,” Fletcher finished. “It was never going to actually go well.”
I smiled at her in thanks, utterly exhausted. I didn’t think I even had the energy to get out of my chair.
“What did O’Neil tell you?” Fletcher asked.
“The stroke that killed Jacob was… professional.” I spoke quietly, not wanting Jacob’s friends to overhear us. I pointed to the spot just over my own heart. “It was the first blow to his chest.”
“Like all the others were trying to hide the first?” Fletcher suggested, brow folding as she thought about the various implications.
“Or our killer got lucky.” But I didn’t believe that even as I said it. It was just too unlikely. “O’Neil said the wound on his back was probably from a thrown knife.”
“That takes skill,” Fletcher said, and I nodded in agreement. “Are you thinking it’s something other than a hate crime?”
“But what?” I pointed out. I was sort of thinking that, it was my prime theory of many at the moment.
Rayla returned before Fletcher could offer up any ideas. Her eyes looked red and raw, and her mascara ran down her cheeks, her blue scarf crumpled into a ball in her hands. “Alana is with Em,” she said, her voice scratchy. “They’re having a hard time. Obviously.” I nodded. Rayla held up an unlocked phone. “I’ve got their phone. It’s got Jacob’s number and his parents’ information as well. They live in Glasgow.”
Fletcher flipped open her notebook and wrote everything down. Once she was done, I passed Rayla my business card so she would be able to contact us if she needed to. She walked us to the door and hesitated as Fletcher and I stepped outside, looking like there was something else she wanted to say. Instead, she stepped forward and hugged me, hiding her face in my chest. I was startled, but I wrapped my arms around her in turn, gently rubbing her back. She needed comfort from someone who wasn’t also grieving. Her hair smelled faintly of cinnamon, and her entire frame trembled beneath my hands.
Rayla sniffled and stepped back, wiping tears away from her eyes. She looked a little embarrassed, giving me an awkward smile before she stepped back inside and shut the door, sealing the grief inside.
Six
New Wave Industries was a sleek, glass building just on the edge of the city centre. It looked completely jarring against the old stone and weathered edges of the rest of the city’s architecture. A wide grass and white pave
ment campus separated the structure from the rest of the suburb, but there was no one lounging on the lawn like there usually was in every other city park.
Fletcher and I were alone as we walked up the long stretch of pavement towards the main entrance. Our mood was dark and sombre after leaving Em’s house, and we hadn’t been able to shake it during the car ride.
I shoved the door open, and we stepped into the foyer. There were two receptionists at the main desk, surrounded by the mostly empty waiting area. The entire space was silent but for the click of our footsteps across the tiled floor. I flashed my ID at one of the receptionists.
“We’re here to speak with Dexter Flynn,” I said. Rayla had also given us the name of Jacob’s boss at New Wave Industries.
The man’s eyes widened at the sight of my warrant card and quickly dialled up to Flynn’s office. I drummed my fingers against the glass top of the desk as he spoke into the phone, darting my eyes around the room. I didn’t like this place very much. It felt too cold and detached from the rest of the city as if it thought itself above Inverness.
“Mr Flynn’s assistant will be right down to escort you to his office,” the receptionist informed us. “If you would like to take a seat?” He waved his hand at the row of empty chairs nearby.
Fletcher and I sat down, and my arse instantly began to ache against the barely padded plastic seat. Of course, Flynn kept us waiting. Fletcher bounced her leg for the entire twenty minutes, playing some inane game on her phone, as I grew more and more frustrated with the game Flynn was playing.
A woman with a sleek blonde ponytail and a sharply tailored pencil skirt and blazer stepped out of the lift and click-clacked her way towards us. I slapped Fletcher’s leg to catch her attention, and we straightened, snapping to attention.
“Detective Inspector MacBain?” she asked. She had a Bluetooth headset in one ear and a tablet held to her chest.
“Yes,” I said as I stood.
“If you would follow me, Mr Flynn will see you now.”
I held back my snarky retort. It hadn’t been her idea to make us wait. She was just following her boss’s instructions. So I nodded instead and walked with her towards the lift. Soft music filled the box as the doors slid shut behind us.
We got off on the second to last floor, stepping out into a wide-open room separated by rows and rows of cubicles. The coders almost looked like clones, each dressed in beige trousers and a light blue polo. Flynn’s assistant led us through the even rows to the glass-walled office on the far side.
She knocked, and Flynn waved us inside without looking up from his computer. His assistant opened the door for us. Flynn was dressed in an immaculate pinstripe suit, a silver clip glinting against his maroon tie. He finally looked up as I scraped a chair loudly across the floor and sat down. He stared back at me when I smiled sharply at him, a hint of five o’clock shadow on his cheeks as he cocked one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
“What can I do for you, Inspector?” he asked, clasping his hands in front of him on the desk.
“Jacob Greene is an employee of yours, correct?” I asked.
It clearly took Flynn a moment to place the name, but he nodded. “Yes. I believe he started with us as an intern.” He frowned, tapping a few keys on his laptop. “Looks like he hasn’t clocked in for a few days. I’ll have to speak to him about that.”
“That’s going to be a little difficult,” I said, and his eyebrow arched a little higher. “Unfortunately, he’s been murdered.”
I never quite knew how to phrase that declaration. Murdered was a bit harsh, but passed away implied something softer, sleepier, and not at all correct.
I watched his reaction to my words. Flynn didn’t know what to say. His mouth had gone slack, his eyebrows twitching as he struggled to process the information. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said finally.
“We’ve got a few questions for you, and then we were hoping to get access to his desk and computer,” I said.
“Of course.” Flynn nodded and smoothed his tie. “Anything I can do to help.”
“What kind of employee was Jacob?” I asked, starting off easy.
“Model, as far as I know,” Flynn answered. “I’m not his direct supervisor. That would be Maya. She’s over there.” He nodded out the glass door at a short-haired woman currently leaning on a cubicle wall to talk with the coder within.
“What was Jacob working on?” I didn’t know much about coding or the nitty-gritty details of technology beyond what I needed to use it in my day-to-day life.
“All our coders are working on the same project, actually. It’s an upgrade to the facial recognition software on your phones.” Flynn smiled tightly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more than that. Non-disclosure agreements and patents and all that.”
That was fine. I probably wouldn’t really understand him even if he did.
“Was he close to anyone in the office? Or on the other hand, anyone he really didn’t get along with?” Fletcher asked. She had her little notebook out and was twirling her pen around and around in her fingers.
“You’d have to ask Maya. I wouldn’t know.”
I crossed one foot over the other knee, leaning back in my chair. “Is there anything you can tell us?”
But Flynn shrugged. He was obviously one of those bosses who had absolutely nothing to do with his employees. “Feel free to go through his desk and computer. Perhaps there’s something there that will help you.”
Neither of us offered the other a hand to shake as I stood, Fletcher flipping her notebook shut before she followed me up and out of the office. Flynn immediately turned his attention back to his work, fingers clacking away at his keyboard as he forgot that we had even been there.
Fletcher and I went to speak with Maya next. She spotted us as we walked over and straightened from her other conversation to face us more fully, a welcoming smile on her face. Her short hair was fluffy, a patterned red and gold headband contrasting against the blonde strands. She’d dressed the office uniform up with a series of bracelets and leather bands around one wrist and a teardrop-shaped pendant hanging from her neck.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Fletcher and I introduced ourselves, and I briefly explained why we were there, watching the way Maya’s face folded at the news of Jacob’s death.
“That’s horrible,” she said, hand fluttering over her mouth. “Have you spoken with his partner yet? How are they?”
“We were just there,” I replied. “They’re, well, not great.”
“Jacob brought them to our office Christmas party this year. The two of them were very sweet together.” Maya took a deep breath to steady herself, reigning her emotions in. “Sorry. I liked Jacob a lot. I just…” She paused, shaking her head. “Can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Can you show us his desk?” Fletcher asked, and Maya nodded, wiping her eyes.
She waved for us to follow, and we wound our way through the sharp corners of the cubicle rows until we reached one on the very end. A picture of Em and Jacob sat by the desktop, and there was a small, potted succulent with a red flower on top as well. Fletcher sat down in the rolling chair and spun it to face the computer, tapping the spacebar to wake it up.
“How did Jacob seem this past week?” I asked as Maya leaned over Fletcher’s shoulder to put in her administrative password and allow Fletcher access to everything on the desktop.
Maya sat down on the desk and crossed her ankles, thinking about my question. “When he came back on Monday, he seemed very nervous. Usually, we chat for a while when he comes in, but he just went right to his desk and put his head down. And he wasn’t here on Tuesday, which I thought was odd. He almost never misses a day.”
I watched Fletcher click through the folders and documents on the desktop, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of the numbers and letters scrawled across the screen. She opened up his email only to find that it had been wiped, and I frowned at that. Even the deleted messages folder wa
s empty. Why would he need to clear his email so completely? I was fairly sure Martin could retrieve the lost information if we brought him the hard drive.
“Have you seen a blonde man with a limp around?” I asked. “Or maybe this chap?” I showed her our picture of Connor Harrigan.
She leaned in to look at my phone and shook her head. “I don’t recognize him, but a blonde man with a limp… Maybe. I was in my car when Jacob came into the underground car park, and I saw him spook when he saw this blonde man coming in from the street. I wasn’t paying that close attention because I was talking to my mum on the phone. I didn’t see what happened after Jacob got in his car.”
That was almost promising. That made this blonde man one of the last people to see Jacob the day he died and made him a suspect.
“Oh!” Maya snapped her fingers as she thought of something else. “We do have a security camera in our parking. You might be able to see something in the footage.”
“That would be great,” I said, heart jumping at the prospect. “We’ll need to take his hard drive, too.”
“I don’t see why not,” Maya agreed. “Let me go get the CCTV footage for you.”
She hurried off, and I took her place on the desk, pulling the drawers open so I could look through them. They were mostly full of manuals for things I didn’t understand, scattered memory sticks, and CDs labelled in permanent pen. I handed a couple of them to Fletcher to look through on the computer, but each one she opened was just as blank as Jacob’s email.
“What the hell?” I said. I passed her a couple more, just in case, but they were all the same.
“If he was trying to run from a harasser, why would he also need to wipe all his work stuff?” Fletcher wondered. She leaned back in her chair, the base rocking, fingernails drumming against one armrest.
I shrugged. I didn’t know.
Maya returned with a disc in hand which she passed to Fletcher to slide into the disc drive. Fletcher then let Maya take over the mouse so she could scrub through the video to the correct date and time. She hit play, and the three of us crowded in close to watch, our ears practically touching.
The Hidden Eye Page 7
