The Frailty of Flesh (11 page)

“I was asleep on the couch.” She rubbed her forehead with her left hand. “I heard a crash and then a thud. Took me a moment to realize it wasn’t coming from the TV.” She nodded at the thirty-six-inch flat screen that dominated the small living room at the front of the house. A well-worn sofa, dim wallpaper, end tables that looked liked ’70s leftovers and shag carpet clashed with the sleek TV set, satellite receiver, DVD player and surround-sound speakers.

Ones considerably more expensive than the pricey set he’d had his eye on.

She was leading the way down the narrow hall, which had similar worn wallpaper. It was the kind of generic pattern the eye overlooked because it just faded into the background. All that mattered about it was that it was old, like the house. It was also poorly lit, so Craig had to move slowly to avoid stepping in the drops of blood she’d left on the lino.

“By the time I got back here whoever it was had gone.” Lisa nodded at the room at the back of the house, to the left. He guessed she’d call it a mud room, because it had a door beside the large window that had been broken. Lit by a single naked bulb, he could see the room held a washer and dryer, which both looked as though they predated the first human footprints on the moon, and an old table with a broken leg, propped up on that side by a stack of boxes that didn’t quite match the height of the table legs still functioning.

Contents of another box were strewn on the floor. As he knelt beside it Craig could see why Lisa had assumed the break-in had something to do with Donny’s case. Newspaper clippings covering the trial were mixed in with a diary, loose photos of Hope, a charm bracelet, teddy bear, things that clearly belonged to the girl, whose name was written in marker on the side of the box.

He stood up and moved to the window, careful not to disturb the items on the floor, or the glass scattered by the window. A pool of blood surrounded a large piece of glass. Craig found himself wishing for his flashlight, because all he could see looking out from the lit room was the darkness, but as he turned to ask Lisa if she had one he could borrow he saw what she was doing.

“Don’t touch that!”

She looked up as she dropped a handful of papers into the box, but didn’t say anything.

“Lisa, that’s evidence. We need to call the local police—”

“No!” She sprang to her feet, cheeks red, uninjured hand clenched. “I called you.”

“This is out of my jurisdiction, and without bringing out a team to search for evidence there’s no chance we’ll find out who broke in. If you want me to help you—”

“Just go.” Hollow words, lacking the energy of her outburst seconds before. Lisa crouched down, finished repacking the box, picked it up and set it on a shelf on the far side of the washing machine. Craig had a split second to decide, and reached for a tissue from the container on the desk and dabbed it in the blood. He slipped it into a plastic bag he’d pulled from his coat, and stuck his hand in his pocket just as Lisa turned around.

When Craig had entered he’d noticed the open shelves, followed by the washer, a sink, the dryer and then the outer wall. He hadn’t really picked up on the empty spot on the shelf. The upper shelves were filled with towels that matched the one she’d wrapped around her hand after cutting it, bedsheets, clothes, the usual things you’d find in a laundry room. A separate shelf above the sink had laundry detergent, bleach and stain removers. It was the lower three shelves of the original shelving unit that stored the boxes that weren’t stacked under the ailing desk.

Hope’s box had been taken from the middle of the second lowest shelf, with boxes on the shelves above and below appearing unmoved.

Craig stepped closer and what he saw confirmed that. The boxes were dusty, as though they hadn’t been touched in some time. Only the box that had been dumped on the floor had been disturbed, which again, supported Lisa’s suspicions that the break-in had something to do with Hope.

“I know you’re frightened and upset, and it’s understandable.”

She put her hand on her forehead, blocking her eyes as she looked down and shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“And I’m not going to if you don’t level with me about what’s going on.” She dropped her hand from her face and looked up at him, but he didn’t stop. “Did you know about the lawsuit before you came to see me today? Did you tell anyone you were going to talk to me?” He didn’t need to hear the answers to know the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me what was really going on?”

For a moment she stood staring at him. Then all the color drained from her face as she slumped back against the wall by the door. “How’m I s’posed to know I can trust you?”

Craig lifted his hands for a second before dropping them in frustration. “I guess you don’t, but you called me. You want my help, fine. But I’m not here to play games.”

She looked away as she fiddled absently with a locket around her neck and stared at the boxes on the shelves beside the washer. Then she drew a breath and said, “I-I think I know who broke in here.”

He stepped toward her and gently took her arm, prompting her to meet his gaze. “Then we call the police and tell them, and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Who was it?”

“I—” Lisa’s eyes widened as she slid along the wall until she reached the doorway, then turned, steadied herself and started walking down the hall. Craig followed, and she almost started to run. Like her earlier outburst the display of energy was short-lived. She collapsed against the wall in the living room, quivering. Craig reached out to touch her arm, and she whimpered as she slid down onto the sofa, wrapped her arms around her body.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

Craig knelt by her, careful to keep enough distance so that she wouldn’t feel threatened. “You’re upset and frightened and if someone broke into my house, I would be too. I want to help you if I can. But that’s up to you.”

It didn’t seem like anything would break the stalemate that followed. She stared at him silently, and he was beginning to wonder why she really came to talk to him the day before. If she already knew about the lawsuit and was so scared of the police, why talk to Craig?

A pack of cigarettes and a lighter sat on the coffee table. It wasn’t something Craig liked to encourage, but he picked them up and passed them to her, then stood and turned. She was already slipping a cigarette between her lips, the injury to her hand not even slowing her down.

“You have my number.” Craig covered the distance to the front door with a few quick steps and reached for the handle. “If you change your mind—”

“The guy who broke in, the reason I’m scared to tell you…he’s a cop.”

CHAPTER SIX

“Give me some good news.”

Part of him wanted to laugh. There was his partner, perky as ever—although she’d smack him if he said so—sitting on his desk, hair in a ponytail, color in her cheeks, simmering with energy.

The other part of him hated to be the one to bear the bad news.

She seemed to sense what he was thinking, because her smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

“The blood on the sweater was a match for Jeffrey Reimer, but…”

“But what?”

Tain passed her the report.

Ashlyn opened it and skimmed the contents. “And here I thought I might beat you in this morning.”

“I stopped by the lab on the way in, so technically you did get here first.”

That earned him one of her wide-eyed glares as she closed the folder. He knew she didn’t care about technicalities. She cared that he knew about the results before she did.

“What about the bat?”

“The report isn’t done, but the prelim says it’s most likely the murder weapon. They need more time because they’re processing fingerprints.” He nodded toward the door. Ashlyn put the folder on a tray on her desk, slid off the table, grabbed her coat and followed him. “Where are we going?”

“To talk to the neighbors, see what we can find out about the happy Reimer household.”

“Do I detect a note of cynicism in your voice? How unlike you.” She smiled as they stepped outside. “Seriously, you care to connect the dots, or are you going to keep me in the dark?”

They got in the car. “The lab found two types of blood on the bat, and both of them match blood found on the clothes. They’re doing some tests to confirm everything before we jump to conclusions.”

“But?”

“The blood was from someone related to Jeffrey. We’ve seen Christopher, Richard and Tracy Reimer, and none of them had any obvious injuries.” He backed out of the parking lot and headed for the road.

“Zidani’s going to love this.” Ashlyn shook her head, at first with the slow shake of disbelief, then with the more emphatic motions of someone who’s reached an unpleasant conclusion. “Do you think Christopher hurt Shannon?”

Tain glanced at her, but before he could say anything she continued, “Maybe he tried to stop her from hurting Jeffrey.”

“You think he feels guilty?”

She shrugged. “Assume he told us the truth yesterday and Shannon killed Jeffrey. Christopher doesn’t just see it happen, he’s there. He grabs the bat, he hits her and hurts her. But he’s not strong enough to stop her. She kills Jeffrey. He feels like a failure because he couldn’t protect his little brother.”

“And he knows he assaulted his sister, so he’s scared.” Tain thought about it for a moment. “It’s possible.”

“But?”

He almost smiled. “But it could be he lied to us. It wasn’t Shannon who killed Jeffrey, it was Christopher. He was found not far from where we recovered the bloodstained sweater. If that bat came from the Reimer house, then he had access to it.”

“And if he managed to get a hold of the bat long enough to injure Shannon, how did she get it back from him to kill Jeffrey?”

Tain paused. “Unless he hurt her after the murder.”

“But then why let his sister flee?” Ashlyn asked. “And why leave the bat in the woods, away from the crime scene?”

They were silent for a moment. Tain knew concealment was usually an indicator of guilt. What they lacked for both suspects was motive. Unless they could locate the witness, question Christopher or find Shannon, for now all they really had were theories.

“Nothing about that family felt… right yesterday, you know what I mean?”

Tain nodded. “I agree.”

They lapsed into silence again. Tain glanced at Ashlyn and saw the slight twist of her jaw, which meant she was turning things over in her mind. After a few moments she sighed.

“Now we can’t even be certain Shannon Reimer’s a suspect,” Ashlyn said. “She may be a second victim.”

“Perhaps you can sweet-talk Mr. Smythe into letting us chat with the family.”

“I’d have to conceal my loathing and contempt.”

“Can I ask you something?” He glanced at her, just to get a sense of whether it was safe to continue. “What is it about guys like him that pisses you off so much?”

“You mean you think I should drop to my knees and thank God there are sexist pigs like Parker and egotistical jerks like Byron Smythe taking up valuable space on the planet?”

He grinned. “You sound like me.”

She groaned. “I do, don’t I? And ‘unhealthy partner influence’ isn’t covered in the insurance plan.”

“And I’m the product of extensive therapy. If that’s your only hope, you’re screwed.”

That was met with silence. He doubted there was even a debate in her mind. Ashlyn wouldn’t ask. She never pried, not about his past.

She probably just assumed he was talking about the incident when they’d first worked together anyway.

“You want to know what it is about guys like that, Tain? I’m not about putting guys down. Sure, I’ll joke around with my friends, people who know I’m kidding, but I don’t need to take shots at men to feel better about myself. They remind me of peacocks, strutting their stuff, but the only way they seem important is by attacking others. Specifically, women. I figure anyone who’s so insecure they have to pull others down in order to feel good about themselves is pretty sad. They should save the pissing contests for the locker room. It’s a real turnoff.”

“You couldn’t stand me when you met me.”

“Who says anything’s changed?”

“Touché.”

“I know you were only joking about having me try to finesse the info out of Smythe, but I don’t think he’d give in. We didn’t even get to look through Shannon’s room yesterday.” She paused. “Let’s run wild with the theories for a second. If either Shannon or Christopher killed Jeffrey, don’t you think the parents would know which one did it?”

“There would probably be a history of violence, so yeah, I guess so.”

Ashlyn looked at him. “That means if Shannon isn’t a killer, but could be another victim, her parents probably know.”

“Which means either she’s guilty and they’re protecting her, or they know she’s innocent and they’re protecting Christopher.”

“Or this has something to do with Richard Reimer’s business dealings and someone else was in the park yesterday,” Ashlyn said.

“You know, Christopher’s statement never did sit right. Without any of the physical evidence to consider, something still seemed strange.”

That was what lingered on his mind as he parked the car. He knew that there was no one way people acted when they got shocking news, but everything about the Reimer family was wrong. Christopher had seemed nervous, agitated and been an unusual witness from the beginning. The physical altercation between Christopher and his father, the way Christopher just dumped the news about Jeffrey’s death on his parents…

Parents who then promptly called a lawyer. Was it because they knew more than they’d let on? Did they have reason to suspect that it wasn’t Shannon who’d murdered Jeffrey, but that she, too, was a victim? Is that why they’d never asked where their daughter was?

They followed the sidewalk to the door, and he rang the bell. When a woman answered he raised his ID.

“I’m Constable Tain, and this is my partner, Constable Hart. We were hoping you could answer a few questions for us.”

“Eleanor Pratt. Is this about the people next door?” She looked like a pragmatic type. Hair cut in a short and tidy fashion, the wisps of gray uncorrected, clothed in blue slacks and a red blouse, no makeup.

“We were wondering if you noticed anything unusual yesterday morning, maybe even the night before?” Ashlyn asked.

“The better question would be when didn’t I notice something unusual. The incident you witnessed yesterday morning between the older boy and his father, that is normal.” She gestured for them to come inside and shut the door behind them, but didn’t invite them past the landing. “The only thing odd about it was that the woman didn’t get involved.”

“You’ve witnessed regular physical confrontations between Christopher and his parents?” Tain asked.

The lines around her eyes deepened as she frowned. “Well, let’s put it this way. Both parents get physical with their children, but Christopher is the only one who fights back.” She paused. “He didn’t always. But one day, he got big enough. I used to see the parents…with Shannon. I was surprised you didn’t come asking questions yesterday.”

“Normally we would have,” Tain said. “Did you happen to see any of the family members leave the house yesterday before we arrived?”

She nodded. “They all left. It was still dark, and I was upstairs. I heard some shouting and looked out the window. Shannon was running down the driveway. Her father went after her and grabbed her arm. Christopher came out then and grabbed his dad. The little boy was crying and clinging to his sister. She ran down the road, with her little brother running after her, and Christopher ran after them.”

“What did Mr. Reimer do?” Ashlyn asked.

“He went back in the house.”

“And Mrs. Reimer?”

“If she was outside, I didn’t see her. It wasn’t until about ten minutes later that I heard the door slam and saw the parents leave. They were heading in the same direction their children had gone.”

“Could you tell if they were carrying anything?” Ashlyn asked.

Eleanor Pratt shook her head. “Not that I could see.”

“What about Shannon?”

“She had a bag with her.”

“Big? Small? Color?”

“I’m sorry. It was dark. I can’t be more specific. Blue or black would be my best guess. It was a large duffel bag.”

“Not a knapsack?”

“No.”

“Could you tell if anyone was wearing a dark hooded sweater?” Ashlyn asked.

The woman paused. “Now that I think about it, the parents looked like they’d just pulled on jogging pants and sweaters, but I think they had coats on. It’s hazy. All of them were wearing dark clothes. I wasn’t really paying attention to their clothing, just the fact that none of them looked like they were dressed for school or work.”

Tain glanced at Ashlyn, who was writing something on her notepad. “Is there any chance you could be more specific about the time you saw this?”

“Well, normally the alarm goes off at five thirty. My husband prefers to beat the rush-hour traffic. He left shortly after six
A.M.
I never went back to sleep yesterday. He’d brought me a mug of tea, and I was sitting by the window drinking it when Shannon ran out of the house. I confess, I watched them. I do know that when the parents left the house it was about six forty because I had my alarm set for that time, and it had just gone off.”

“Mrs. Pratt, did you ever call the police about the problems next door?” Tain suspected he knew the answer.

“I did. And I phoned social services.”

Ashlyn’s head snapped up then. “Any chance you remember who you spoke with, or if they ever followed up?”

A distant and thoughtful look crept into Eleanor Pratt’s eye and then she said, “Just one moment,” and disappeared down the hall. When she returned she handed Tain a card. “This woman came out to speak with me. I assumed it was all fairly straightforward, because they just had me cover what I’d said on the phone and thanked me for my time. As far as I could tell, nothing came of it.”

“When was this?” Tain asked.

“Thanksgiving. The shouting was so loud inside their house we could hear it from here.”

“And yesterday?” Ashlyn tapped her notepad with her pen. “Could you hear what they were saying?”

“I’m sorry. It was jumbled. ‘Let go.’ ‘Leave me alone.’ ‘Don’t touch her.’ What you’d expect, I guess.”

Ashlyn nodded. “Thank you very much for your time.” She paused as Tain passed Mrs. Pratt one of his business cards. “If you think of anything else, please let us know.”

Once Mrs. Pratt had closed the door behind them and they’d put some distance between themselves and the house, Ashlyn said, “It doesn’t exactly match up with what Mrs. Reimer said yesterday, does it?”

Tain shook his head. “But nothing about that family adds up.”

None of the other neighbors was as helpful. The Pratt house was closest to the Reimers, so it made sense that they would be more aware of any problems or incidents, but one resident farther down the road did add that they’d seen Shannon and Jeffrey Reimer running toward the paths the previous morning, before 6:30. That had been the time on the clock in their car when they’d left their house shortly afterward, but they hadn’t seen Christopher, or his parents.

“It’s something,” Ashlyn said as they returned to the car. Her cell phone rang, and she fished it out of her pocket. Tain didn’t have to ask who she was talking to; he was pretty sure he knew.

Her face clouded and she said nothing more than “We’re on our way” before hanging up.

“There’s no prize for guessing who that was.” She opened the passenger door and got in. “However, you get brownie points for good effort if you can guess why we’ve been called in now.”