Pulling up in front of the Bloomfield residence, Cooper realized he didn’t know much about Sam Bloomfield. He also hadn’t had too much time to prepare for the interview. Luke filled him in on a few details before he left the police station. All Cooper really knew was Sam and his wife Sara had been married for four years, both in their thirties and had no kids. They just bought this house about a year ago.
Sam was high up in finance at a bank. Sara was a local real estate agent at one of the higher-end national real estate companies handling the Heights and Hillcrest. In the interviews the cops had already conducted, there was no reason to suspect that Sam Bloomfield had anything to do with his wife’s death. He was a distraught husband. Nothing in his background had come up to make anyone suspicious. He also had a rock-solid alibi. And other than the jewelry, there seemed to be no real connection to George.
Sam greeted Cooper at the door, and Cooper explained why he was there. Sam wasn’t alone he explained. By the number of cars in front of the house, Cooper hadn’t thought so. Purvis had yet to release Sara’s body so no funeral arrangements had been made yet. Cooper was pretty sure everyone there was eager to hear some news and find some justice.
“I don’t really have any updates,” Cooper said as he walked through the door. “I’m a private investigator that was hired to find Maime LaRue Brewer. Detective Morgan asked if I’d come to speak with you about any connection she might have to George Brewer.”
“There’s none that I know of. I already told the cops this,” Sam explained, guiding Cooper into the living room. Sam made introductions to some of the family and friends sitting around the living room. Their faces were red, eyes searching and tear-filled. Cooper was sure he wouldn’t remember their names. It was a blur but brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and parents were all there together, consoling one another and offering support to Sam.
Cooper took a seat on a low chair at the end of the living room. To no one in particular, he began asking a series of questions trying to assess what kind of life they led and where Sara might have come into contact with George. There really was nothing that anyone could pinpoint. By all accounts Sam and Sara had a normal and happy life. Sam played on neighborhood baseball and football leagues. Sara went to every game she could. They were looking forward to starting a family but were trying to get some travel out of the way first and save more money.
Both of them were great at their jobs and respected by their peers. Sam woke up on the last day he saw his wife alive, had breakfast with her, and kissed her goodbye as they both headed to their respective trips. That was the last he spoke to her or saw her again. There in his life one moment and gone the next. Cooper couldn’t wrap his head around how unfair life was at times.
Sitting between his mother and mother-in-law, Sam explained that in the days and months leading up to the day Sara disappeared, no one was bothering either of them. Sara was her usual upbeat self. There was nothing to indicate that the unthinkable was going to happen.
Cooper couldn’t even begin to imagine what Sam was going through. He had never lost someone he loved that much. If Cooper was going to be honest, he was pretty sure he had never loved someone to that extent.
Cooper asked the last of his questions. He gave his condolences and stood to leave when Sam said hopefully, “Sara worked from home a lot. I asked the detectives if they wanted to go through any of her work files before her boss came and picked them up. They said no. I can let you look if you have the time.”
Sam walked Cooper down a small hallway to Sara’s office. It was painted a soft yellow. Sara kept her office spotless. All her files were arranged in the filing cabinet and her desk was neatly arranged with everything in its place.
Sitting down at Sara’s desk, Cooper started a thorough search. He was pretty sure some of what he was looking at was confidential, but he wasn’t going to turn down the access.
Cooper had only been searching for about an hour when he came across a client file with George’s name in it. Sara and George may not have known each other personally, but she had definitely met him.
By the document Cooper held in his hands, it seemed George was one of Sara’s clients. She was helping him search for a new house.
Cooper took out his cellphone, snapped several pictures of the documents and returned the file to its place in the filing cabinet. Cooper spent a few minutes returning the office to the way he found it and thanked Sam on his way out. He promised Sam they’d be hearing from the police soon.
CHAPTER 56
BY THE TIME I LEFT THE POLICE STATION, it was already seven-thirty. I was hungry and tired and didn’t feel like doing much of anything. It had been an incredibly long day and even my bones were starting to ache. Not wanting to disappoint Luke, I dragged my tired self over to Channel 5 News to poke around for Janelle Brady. She had been the reporter who asked Luke about the drug.
Once inside the studio building, I didn’t get past the front desk. I was able to get into the front lobby, but no one was there. A phone on the desk directed me to place a call to be directed to the extension I needed. I went through the automated system until I reached Janelle’s extension. I left a message. There was a door that led farther into the studio. A quick tug told me it was locked. I didn’t seem to have much of an option. I didn’t know anyone else who worked there. I’d have to go home and do some research. I’d come back tomorrow.
I arrived home about twenty minutes later. As I was putting my key in the front door, Emma walked across the lawn towards me. She had a foil-wrapped pan in hand. Greeting me with a quick peck on the cheek, she thrust the pan into my hands. “I made lasagna for you. I figured you wouldn’t cook. You look tired.”
Leave it to your best friend to tell you the truth.
Emma followed me into the house. I put the pan and my things on the kitchen counter. Emma pulled a plate out of my cabinet and set it on my table along with a glass and silverware. I stood leaning against the sink, watching her. She set everything on the kitchen table, reminded me to eat and to get some sleep. Then she headed for the door.
As Emma walked out, she said, “That was a good press conference Luke gave. The reporters are making it seem like George is a serial killer. If he’s not guilty, his reputation is shot.”
About an hour and a half later, I was curled up on the couch, blanket over me and a half-eaten plate of lasagna on the coffee table in front of me. I cringed when I heard a knock on the front door. I thought it might be George. He had called me several times since I had been home. We’d already talked for over an hour. I didn’t update him on finding what I thought was Maime’s car or the drugs or the affair. I was saving that for morning. I was far too exhausted to go into it all this evening.
Instead of being focused on our investigation, George complained about the very thing Emma said. That no matter what happened from this point on, his reputation was destroyed. The one thing I couldn’t stand about George, and still couldn’t, was his ability to play the victim. He acted as if he had absolutely no part in what was happening to him. I couldn’t listen to the whining anymore.
I pulled open the front door prepared to be a real witch. I was pleasantly surprised to see Luke standing there. He had changed from his work clothes and had on jeans and a long sleeve tee-shirt. He stood there looking sheepish with a container of milk and a box of soft batch chocolate chip cookies in his hands.
I couldn’t help myself, I let him in. We bumped around the kitchen together as I heated a plate of lasagna for him. He sat at the kitchen table, watching me. I didn’t set the plate down in front of him though. I walked it into the living room and set it on the coffee table. He sat next to me on the couch. We arranged ourselves comfortably under my blanket, my toes tucked under his thighs.
I watched him eat deliberate bite after deliberate bite. That was one of the nicest things about being with Luke. We could do something as simple as sit on a couch together with no pressure to fill the silence.
After he ate and put
his plate down, I stretched my legs across his lap. Luke ran his hands softly over my legs, looked over at me and said with raised eyebrows, “Do we talk about us now or later?”
“Later,” I said definitively. “Right now, tell me how you’re doing with this case. It’s got to be awful on you. I can’t even imagine the stress you’re under.”
“I feel like it’s a make-or-break my career kind of case. I know it’s not, but Little Rock has never had something like this happen at least not as far back as I can remember. I just don’t know which way to turn. Nothing makes any sense. We’ve got all circumstantial evidence to work with and now this weird drug. Not to mention, one of my detectives is meeting up with the main suspect’s best friend. With the strange tips to the media, I feel like I’m missing something right under my nose.”
He sounded as exhausted as I felt.
“There will be a break. There always is. It just seems bad right now because it’s happened all so suddenly. A week ago, there was no case and now there have been six victims. You’re behind the curve, anyone would be,” I said, hoping to comfort him and really hoping he saw the reality of what he was dealing with. Luke had always been a perfectionist. I knew how much pressure he was putting on himself.
“Laura’s parents came to the station after the press conference. They want me to arrest George. Maime’s parents want me to arrest George. I want to arrest George. I don’t have enough. I talked to the prosecutor’s office tonight. We just don’t have a case on him,” Luke explained with resignation in his voice.
“What do you have on him?” I asked.
Luke eyed me.
“I promise this will stay between us.”
With only a slight hesitation, Luke explained, “No real physical evidence other than the jewelry connecting him to the victims. Cooper called me on my way over here. He said he found documents in some of Sara Bloomfield’s work files with George’s signature. George hired her to help him buy a house. It was dated two months ago. George knew her, and obviously, he was connected to Maime, Laura and Shannon. But a connection just isn’t enough. We can’t even say he was the last one with the deceased victims. The thing that bothers me the most is why would George search for a new house if he planned to kill his wife?”
“I have no idea. That doesn’t make sense. Are you doing any surveillance on him?”
“Some and we’re also going to put a GPS tracker on his truck. We’re just waiting for clearance on that. Maybe he’ll lead us to them. At least if we’re watching him and more bodies are dumped in the river, we might be able to rule him out. We’ve got guys watching the river now, too. I don’t know what else we can do. We are running down every lead, trying to identify the unknown victims. I’m just at a loss of what else we could be doing. Everything we do have is connected to George. Just not enough yet to arrest him.”
I knew there were no words I could say to make it better. Instead, I sat up, turned his face to mine and kissed him. Luke kissed me back and ran his fingers through my hair. All at once we found our old rhythm, like no time had passed at all. This was all I could offer him right now. I hoped it was enough. He waited on the couch while I put his dishes in the kitchen and walked through the house, shutting off lights and locking doors.
When I returned to him in the living room, he stood waiting. I sunk into his body, my arms around him tight and kissed him again. We broke apart long enough for me to lead him by the hand up the stairs and into my bed.
CHAPTER 57
“WE NEED TO TALK,” I DEMANDED, brushing past George and stepping into his house. It was clear he was surprised to see me so early on a Saturday morning. Luke had to be back into the station by six that morning so I woke up with him and decided to start my day. It was now just after nine.
I smiled as I thought back to last night with Luke. Turns out, we were too tired to make love. Instead, we crawled into my bed, snuggled against one another, and fell fast asleep.
This morning, Luke was in a rush. We shared a hug and quick goodbye kiss with the promise of finishing what we started the night before. Before he left, he asked me to go through all of the victim’s cellphone bills to see if there were any numbers that matched. I walked him out. He pulled the files from his SUV, handed them to me, and then was gone.
George’s house looked like he hadn’t picked up in days. Several newspapers were spread around the living room and a broadcast from CNN blared on the television. It was deafening. Coffee mugs and dirty plates littered the end tables. Clothes were thrown on the floor. George didn’t look much better. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was sticking up all over the place.
“Go shower and pull yourself together. I’ll clean up in here,” I ordered. I knew what I had to tell him was going to be difficult to hear. I wanted him in a better frame of mind. He stood for a moment in the middle of the living room just watching me.
I didn’t wait for him. I started picking up and moving the dirty dishes to the kitchen and into the dishwasher. The kitchen was even messier. I think George realized I was serious and he went to shower. I moved through the house picking up and cleaning as if it were my own. I’m a lot like my mother in this regard. I clean when I’m stressed. A total neat freak anyway so it’s hard for me to focus in cluttered environments.
By the time George showered and changed, the house had been thoroughly straightened and was back in order. The dishwasher and the washing machine both were going through their wash cycles. I was sitting on the couch waiting for George and watching Luke’s interview being played again and again on CNN.
“They think I’m a serial killer,” George said as he walked into the living room and took a seat next to me.
“You keep saying that. Nobody said you were a serial killer. They asked the question because a lot has been happening around you. Whether you like it or not, you’ve become the eye of the storm.” I wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. It all had become too serious for that.
“I’m not a serial killer, Riley,” George stressed again, his eyes level with mine. He folded his arms over his chest and looked to the ceiling.
“Obviously,” I reassured. “I found out some things you need to know, and you need to tell me what you know.”
George didn’t say anything. He turned to look at me.
“Why were you looking for a new house?” I asked directly. No point beating around the bush. If I asked him if he knew Sara, he’d deny it. I didn’t feel like playing games.
“I only saw a few houses. Things were really bad with Maime. If I divorced, I lost everything. This is her house. She owned it before we married. She’d fight me for it and win in a divorce. I didn’t know if I could do it, but I was at least looking for another place to live if I needed it. Maime threatened a couple of times to kick me out.”
“Were you involved with Sara Bloomfield?”
George vigorously shook his head no. “Never. Not once. I had only met her a few times. I swear to you.”
I believed him. Not that I trusted George not to try, but by all accounts, Sara’s marriage was happy and stable.
“Did you know Maime was taking drugs?” I asked
George let out a sigh. “Yes, but I only realized it maybe a month ago. I tried to talk to her about it. She wouldn’t listen. I never did find out what she was taking. I never found the drugs in the house or in her purse or anything. The more I asked her about it, the more she hid it from me.”
I waited to see if he had more. I wasn’t going to tell him about the Land Rover I found. Luke hadn’t confirmed it was Maime’s yet.
George looked at me, eyebrows raised. “What did you find out?”
“She was getting drugs from a drug dealer named Orlando Knight in the southeast part of the city. I’m still not really clear on what drugs specifically, but it was pills, the prescription kind. But George, she didn’t buy them directly. A guy bought them for her.”
George looked at me like I was crazy. “Who, who would buy her drugs? What guy?”
&
nbsp; “Do you know if Maime was having an affair?”
George pulled the remote control off the coffee table and shut off the TV. He turned to me and explained, “I never knew for sure, but yes, I suspected. But so was I, so I couldn’t really say anything to her.”
“I know this is going to be hard to hear. I have reason to believe it was with Dean. Knight said…”
I didn’t get out the rest of my sentence. George forcefully threw the television remote across the room, smashing it into the wall. It shattered, breaking into pieces.
He turned to me, his face contorted in anger in a way I’ve never seen. He grabbed me by my shoulders shaking me. His fingers dug into my skin hurting me. His eyes were unfocused.
“Stop! Let me go,” I yelled, grabbing at his hands and trying to pry them off of me.
He stopped but didn’t let me go. His face was red, his pupils dilated.
He shouted in my face, “Why, why would you lie like this? What is wrong with you? Isn’t my life enough of a mess? Is this your way of getting me back? How could you believe some drug dealer?”
I finally shook him off me and stood, “Get yourself together. I have no reason to lie to you. I didn’t do this to you, but you have to face the truth. This could be relevant. How do we really know what Dean is up to?”
George got up, grabbed his keys from coffee table, and stormed out of the house. He was out the door before I could even catch up. I raced after him and barely got out of the way as he pulled out of the driveway. I ran to my car hoping I could catch him.
CHAPTER 58
I SQUEALED MY SUV TO A STOP in front of Dean’s house in just enough time to see Dean open the front door. George grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him backwards into the house. The door closed. Then it bounced back open. I called Luke and told him that he needed to get to Dean’s house or get a squad car there immediately. I rattled off the address.
Deadly Sins Page 18
