by Cole Baxter
"Yes," she said. "Yes, of course, I’m aware of it. I still can't believe it some days. How can it be real?"
"And are you aware that an incendiary device was found near the fuel tank?"
"I'm sorry, what?" She looked at me in shock. "When?"
"Just a few days ago," I said. "It took investigators a while to clean it up, but it looks like a trigger mechanism was used to start the fire near the fuel tanks your husband kept in the garage."
"How could that just be found now?" she asked in confusion. "How could they not have found something so obvious the minute it happened? This seems sloppy. This seems—"
"Laurie," I said quietly. She met my eyes. "I'm sorry that this comes as a shock to you. However, I assure you that we would have told you if it had been found any sooner."
"Well, then it seems like you're not doing your job," she replied.
She was angry, and I found it interesting. Either she was angry that we weren't doing our jobs or she was angry because she was guilty. I was surprised to see such anger from her when most of the interviews that I had watched with her had shown a very timid, soft-spoken young woman. But then, people were different in public than they were in private I certainly knew I was.
"I can show you some pictures," I said.
Sam handed them over.
I noticed that Sam and Anna were both not saying a word, which frustrated me. They could at least help. Yes, I was the contractor and I was technically the one being paid to look into this, but they were the cops. They were taking notes, at least, and I could tell that Laurie probably felt more comfortable with a woman in the room. Still, they could at least add a sentence or two.
I pulled the photos out of the folder and flipped them over so she could have a look. The device was still covered in ash when we took the pictures, but it was there.
Laurie looked at each picture carefully and I watched her face. I did see a flicker of recognition on her face as she flipped them upside down and then right side up.
So, one of two things could be happening right now. She either had no idea what it was because she didn't do it, or she had no idea what it was because she had someone else do it for her.
"So, this is what started the fire?" she asked at last.
I nodded. "Yes. Without a doubt."
"How would you get something like this?" she asked.
I shrugged. "They're actually pretty easy to find," I said. "Amazon even carries them."
"I knew it wasn't an accident," she said softly.
I raised an eyebrow. "Why did you know?" I replied. "Did Devon have any enemies?"
"No, not that I know of," she said. "He was just too controlling to let something like that happen, especially when it was in the realm of his job. There was no way he accidentally left a candle burning near a fuel tank or something."
“Okay," I said. "So, was he always very controlling?"
"Yes," she said. "Devon liked things a certain way. And everything had a place, and if you didn't put things in that place, then you certainly heard from him. He was so particular about things being put in the right order. Like all of our books were alphabetized, and all the spines were faced out. Those sorts of things drove him nuts if you didn't do them properly."
"Do you think there is anyone he could have ticked off by doing things like that?"
"I don't know, maybe the guys at the firehouse?" she asked. "But honestly, it wouldn't be enough for them to come to the house and kill him. And even if it were, they would have done a much better job than something you could buy on Amazon."
"That makes sense," I said as I took notes.
"Laurie," Anna finally spoke up. "Was Devon faithful to you?"
"I don't know," Laurie answered truthfully. "Sometimes, I was sure that he was and sometimes, I was sure he wasn't. He would disappear, but then there would always be a really easy answer to where he was and what he was doing. And he certainty had sex enough with me to not need it anywhere else."
"But you didn't always want to have sex, did you?" Anna asked.
Laurie shook her head. "No," she said. "I mean, I'm sure that you have all read my books and watched my speeches on the news. You know that I didn't want those things."
"That makes sense," Anna replied. "It must have been terrifying, to live with someone like that."
"Yes," Laurie said. "The night . . . the night he strangled me, I wished that I had died."
"You do?" I asked. "Would you say that you were suicidal? Are you suicidal now?"
"I wasn't actively suicidal," she said. "I didn't have a plan or anything. But if someone had come up to me with a gun, I can tell you that I certainly wouldn't have fought that much."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.
She met my eyes. "Why?" she asked.
I shrugged. "It's just . . . sad when you hear people in those situations," I said.
"Well, I survived," she answered. "Not everyone is lucky enough to survive, though. That's why I'm doing the work I’m doing now."
"Yes, it sounds like it is . . . good work," I said and looked at Sam. He was shifting in his chair, and I could tell that he really wanted to ask something, but I wasn't sure what it was.
"Do you think that whoever did this was planning this?" Sam said. "Or rather, did Devon give you any indication that he knew it was coming?"
"No," Laurie said. "He never said anything like that. Mind you, we didn't . . . talk too much near the end."
She still hadn't figured out that she was a suspect, although I could tell she was scared. She was shifting in her seat, but it wasn't with guilt. It was nerves, or fear, and I almost felt bad that she had to sit there and have three police officers staring at her.
At least, I almost felt bad until I remembered that she might have risen up and murdered her husband.
"I'm sorry that you had to go through all that," Anna said to her. I was so glad that she finally contributed at last. "Why don't we take a little break? I could use a bathroom break. Laurie, do you want to come with me?"
"Yes, please," Laurie said. "Sorry, I drank so much water at the gym. Gotta stay hydrated while working out."
"What kind of workouts do you do?" I asked her as she and Anna got up.
"Self-defense," she replied. "I want to be strong and I want to make sure nothing ever happens to me again."
"That's really inspiring," I said as she disappeared with Anna. As soon as she was gone, I turned to Sam.
"Why do chicks always go to the bathroom in groups?" I asked him.
He smiled. "I actually asked Anna about that once. She said it's because they need to gossip."
"Do you think that's what she’s doing?" he asked. "Having the notorious chick gossip session?"
"Maybe," Sam said. "I mean, it's a good tactic."
"It could be a good tactic," I said and looked back at my notes. "What do you think?"
"About what?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes. "About her? Do you think she's guilty?"
"I think she has something that she isn't telling us," Sam said. "Whether it's that she murdered Devon or not is a completely different story."
"What else would she be hiding?" I asked. "I mean . . . there is the question about where she was for months."
"Yeah, I was thinking we should ask her that," he said. "The thing is, she seemed very smart. The second she figures out that she doesn't need to be here and she can get a lawyer, we're going to have to move a lot faster."
"I don't think she's going to do that," I replied. "She hasn't figured out that she’s a suspect."
"Well, let's keep it that way, hmm?" Sam asked. "I think she'll continue to cooperate as long as she doesn't get suspicious."
"Yeah," I replied and looked back down at my notes.
"Blake?" Sam said to me after a long minute.
"What?" I asked.
"She's pretty, up close, isn't she?"
"Go away," I said.
"I'm just saying . . ."
"Jesus, Sam, ar
e you so desperate for me to date that you would like me to date a potential murderer?" I said, perhaps a little too loudly.
Sam hushed me. "No," he said. "No, that's not what I'm saying. Jesus, Blake."
"Well, then, just don't," I said. "I told you, I'm not going to do that anymore, anyway."
"You can't ever look at a woman again?" he responded. "I'm not telling you to marry her. I just want you to use your eyes."
"Can't," I said.
He gave me a suspicious look.
"You can't be so heartbroken over Lola that you don't even want to date," he said. "Were you and she . . ."
"Sam, I said I don't want to talk about it." I tried not to scream it at him, but my temper was flaring. Sam finally got the message and backed off just as the women returned to the room.
I knew that he knew then. I knew that he just wanted me to say it so he could put his suspicious mind to rest. But I wasn't going to say it. I wasn't even going to think about it.
I needed to focus on this investigation because the sooner it was done, the sooner I could get home and crack a beer. And after this, I really wasn't going to take any more police cases again. Everything needed to be private clients. I couldn't do this.
Chapter Sixteen
Laurie
It bothered me that the police officer was so handsome. He said his name was Blake, but he didn't give me his last name, which I found odd. Why wouldn't he tell me who he was? Was he even a police officer at all? Or did he work for another section of the investigation? He wasn't in uniform, but that didn't bother me because I knew that there were plain clothes officers.
I had not been attracted to another man since I was nineteen years old. First, there was Devon and only Devon. For years, I was happy with him. But then, when I started to fall out of love with him, I was far too traumatized by everything else to be worried about falling in love with another man. So, I didn't even so much as raise an eyebrow during movies when one of those handsome hunks took his shirt off.
I thought that it was ridiculous that my body was having such a strong response to him. Perhaps it was the fact that I still had brain damage, or perhaps my brain was finally healing and I was learning what it meant to be a normal human being who was attracted to others.
Either way, I had to work to keep my eyes off him, and I knew that I would have to take a cold shower when I got home.
I couldn't wait to tell my therapist about this. She'd probably say that it was completely normal and then ask to see a picture of him.
When we got back into the conference room after going to the bathroom, I felt much better. I had probably guzzled like a gallon and a half of water at the gym, or so it felt, so I was glad that Anna had suggested a short break.
Anna was a lovely person. She had dropped her police officer persona as soon as we got into the bathroom and complimented me on my hair color and then asked me what shade of lipstick I thought she should wear from the three in her purse. I thought she was really nice, and I was glad there was another female in the room.
That was one of the things that I spoke about when I talked about healing from sexual trauma. I suggested that the victim or survivor be a little old-fashioned and not be alone in rooms with the gender that abused them. I wasn't suggesting it because I thought that men couldn't be trusted. I was suggesting it so that victims had more time to heal without being reminded of the trauma of their experience. No matter how much I trusted people, or tried to trust them, it didn't mean I wouldn't be triggered by being alone in a room with a man.
"Sorry about that," I said as we sat back down. "I'm happy to continue answering as many questions as you like now."
"No problem," Blake said.
He and Sam had been talking, and I briefly wondered what they had been talking about. I mean, they clearly had been talking about me because they stopped as soon as I got into the room. I just wondered whether they were saying good things or bad things.
They were probably saying good things. I realized I wasn't a suspect, I wasn't under arrest, and I was being cooperative.
At least, I hoped they were saying good things.
"So, Laurie, can you tell me about your convalescence?" Blake asked. "I know you were quite wounded, and you took quite a while to heal."
"Well, if you look at my medical reports, you'll see that I was quite hurt," I said.
Blake nodded. "Yes, of course," he said. "No one is doubting why you took so long. But who did you stay with?"
"Friends," I said. "I'm sorry, I don't want to drag them into this. I don't want them to be involved in something so terrible when they were so kind to me. But you have to understand, I couldn't even drive myself anywhere because of the head trauma. I was so dizzy at times. And I had hand tremors, so that made doing anything rather hard."
"That makes sense," Blake said. "And then . . . I wanted to ask you again about the guys at the firehouse. Were they all friends with Devon? You said that even if he ticked them off . . ."
I took a deep breath.
"I told you that Devon had a very particular way of doing things, right?" I said, and Blake nodded. "I think that actually pissed some people off, especially because the people at a firehouse are like family. They're there for twenty-four-hour shifts, so you know, they spend a lot of time together."
"Is that why he changed jobs? Because he didn't like being gone for so many hours at a time? Or because he didn't get along with his co-workers?" Blake asked.
I shrugged. "He . . . I mean, he would rather have been a fire safety advisor, I think, all along. He didn't mind being a firefighter, all the heroics and rushing into people's houses at a moment's notice to save them. But if he were an advisor, he could tell people what to do and where to put things, which was pretty much his dream come true."
Blake actually smiled at that. I was annoyed at myself for thinking that he had a beautiful smile. His eyes lit up when he smiled, and I actually saw Sam, who seemed serious, chuckle as well.
"I mean, we're all like that sometimes," Blake said. "I guess if you make it your job, it works out for you. So, you think that he could have pissed people off?"
"Yes," I said. "Genuinely, I do. But like I said, I'm not sure it was enough for someone to go as far as to kill him."
"Did he ever come home from work in a bad mood? And would that affect you?"
"Well, yes," I said. "He'd come home in a bad mood and drink and then he'd want sex . . ."
"Right," Blake said. "And did that only happen when he was drunk or angry? Or both?"
"At first, yes," I replied. "But then it got more intense and it became our regular sexual routine."
"I see," Blake said. "I'm really sorry to hear that. It sounds like a tough spot to be in."
"Yeah, it was," I said. I could feel the emotion bubbling up in me and it seemed like the rest of the room could too. Anna leaned forward and pushed a tissue box across the table to me, and I took one out gratefully. I really didn't want to cry when I had been doing so well, but it was nice to know that I had the option if I needed to.
"Do you think there was anyone else who could have done this?"
"I don't think there was anyone at all," I cried.
Blake changed his question slightly. “Okay," he said. "I mean . . . is there anyone else who might have . . . been at odds with him?"
I had to think about that one for a moment.
"Devon almost never let me out of the house," I said. "Especially near the end. He wanted to know where I was and what I was doing at all times. So, it was hard to gauge what was going on with him in the outside world. Maybe . . . I don't know." I shrugged and then I recalled him arguing with his dad. "He didn't get along very well with his father."
"His father?" Blake said in surprise. "Tell me more about that."
"I think it was a clash in personality," I said with another shrug. I was trying to be casual about it, but the tears were coming back quickly. I balled up the tissue in my hand after I used it. "They were so similar, Ell
is and Devon. I think Ellis taught Devon everything he knew, and then when Devon grew up . . . they realized they were two dominant people trying to have it their way in every conversation, at every outing, and it just didn't work."
"I see," Blake said. "His father did seem distraught that he was gone."
"I'm sure he would be," I said. "It's so complicated. I obviously had an awfully hard time with him, and even I felt upset when I saw the news. It's not black and white."
"Do you think his father . . . is capable of something like this?" Blake asked me.
I shrugged again, frowning. "I mean, I want to say no," I said. "But sometimes, you don't really know people. If I'm honest with you, I didn't spend a lot of time with Ellis, so I can't say for certain what he is capable of. I know he has a history of mental illness."
"Yes," Blake replied. "I saw that. Did you have any experience with it, up close and personal?""
"Uh . . ." I paused. "I don't think so. I mean . . . he was always a little bit off, but like I said, we didn't spend a lot of time together."
"So, you wouldn't consider yourself allied with him?"
I thought that was a strange use of the word, but I let it go. The police had to be careful what terminology they used in case they implied something that would set someone off. I understood what he was saying, and I shook my head.
"No," I said. "I didn't consider him an ally at all."
"What about his mother, Shannon?" he asked.
"Shannon and I didn't get a chance to talk much," I said. I figured that I should tell them everything now. "I think . . . Ellis isn't too kind to Shannon in private."
"The way Devon wasn't too kind to you?" Blake asked.
I nodded. "I don't have any evidence," I said. "But I know that look in someone's eye."
"I see," Blake replied.
"And you see, that's just it," I said. "It's people like Shannon that I am hoping to help, people who might be in situations like this and have been silent for years. I want to show them that even in the worst-case scenario, survival is possible and they can escape."
"Well, that's very kind of you," Blake said. "And I'm sure there are many people who are going to benefit from what you’re doing. I think that’s all the questions I have for you right now."