“I see.”
“I’m not judging Detective Newcomb, but from these notes, I don’t think anyone was questioned enough about what happened that night, or the college security in general. He didn’t mention how she got on the roof, and I didn’t find it in the police reports, either. I’d have thought access was limited, and if only certain people had access, it would narrow down the possibilities here. If it were just left open as these reports would lead me to assume, I wonder if they were frequented by students or staff. Security would know the answer to that, too. Maybe there was a witness.”
“I guess it’s worth a shot. Are you sure you’re not…delaying the inevitable?”
“Which is?”
“The fact that Tyler Gibbon’s death could remain unsolved.”
“There’s still DNA to test and people to question.”
“Yes, but there is no physical proof that the brakes were tampered with. It wouldn’t hold up in court with the auto forensics expert who investigated it.”
“I’m not thinking about the possibility of an unsolved case here, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either.”
“Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a work-free zone when we were together. I don’t want to fight.”
“Me either, but I’m about to declare this an official work zone because it’s time to call Edgar Cull. The security guard.” She grabbed her cell phone and tapped in one of two numbers beside his name, pressing the phone to her ear as it rang.
“The number you dialed is not in service,” the machine said before a beep.
“Okay.” Grace tapped in the next number, and as it rang, Mac peered under the table. “What?” Grace mouthed.
“Waffles is sleeping on your foot,” Mac whispered with a smile.
“Yeah…”
“He’s sticking around, even though I’m here—"
“Hello?” a woman answered.
“Hello, may I please speak to Edgar Cull?”
A silence lingered on the line.
“Do I have the right number?” Grace asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry. Edgar passed away. May I ask who’s speaking?”
“This is Detective Grace Sheppard of Deerhorn County. I’m calling in regard to an investigation Edgar was questioned in. Is this his wife I’m speaking to?”
“Widow,” she said coolly.
“Could I trouble you with a visit, ma’am?” Grace asked. “This morning if possible? It won’t take long and could help with a current investigation.”
“Okay, but I don’t know anything about whatever he was involved in. What are you investigating?”
“This is in regard to his time as a security officer at Tall Pines College.”
“Oh. Well, okay then.”
Grace confirmed her address in Amherst and ended the call.
“So?” Mac whispered.
“So Edgar Cull is dead.” Grace shoved the cell phone in her pocket. “I don’t know the circumstances, but I need to get over there right now. She lives in Amherst.”
“I’ll come.”
“You sure you don’t have anything in Tall Pines today?”
“No, I spoke to Banning, and I’m set with you.” He reached his hand out to her, and she took it. He pulled her to her feet, sending Waffles racing across the floor, behind the couch.
“Aw, what’d you let me do that for?” Mac slid his chair out with a squeak of wood across the ceramic tiles. “I really think he’s getting used to me being around.”
“Oh yeah?” Grace asked, walking through the hall to the bedroom. “That makes two of us.”
A short man in a suit pushed through the doors, exiting the tech building with a tall man following close behind.
That’s him.
The two men laughed as they crossed the intersection and separated as the short one crossed the street and Paul stayed on course.
Madigan crossed at the same crosswalk, following further behind for another city block until he turned left ahead, into a brick building. As Madigan approached, she read the café sign and peered through the glass window, keeping up with the pace of the crowd on the sidewalk. Paul stood at the counter, staring at the food on the display rack.
She stopped on the other side of the window and doubled back, balancing along the edge of the curb and leaning against a telephone pole as Paul paid for his lunch. He took his sandwich and coffee to a two-seat table in the middle of the café and sat. He stared at his sandwich before taking a large bite, watching the people around him as he chewed.
I have to follow him back to work and find out what floor he’s on. Then I can follow him home.
Paul scrunched his napkin into a ball and wiped at the corners of his mouth before beginning to eat the other half of his sandwich.
Late to work. Eats lunch on his own. Prefers sandwiches to wraps?
I need to find out more.
After finishing his sandwich, he took a few gulps of coffee and stood, leaving his cup on the table. He walked by a trash can and tossed his napkin in, continuing to walk the opposite way of the front door.
Madigan scurried to the door he had entered and caught a glimpse of him walking down the hall toward the bathrooms.
This man seems ordinary, but if he’s leaving gifts for Raven and pretending to go on about his life, he’s not normal.
If he’s doing it. If he’s doing it, maybe he should get a taste of his own medicine.
She rushed to his table where his coffee cup sat, pulled the red rose from her bag and set it beside the cup. She strode back to the door, looking over her shoulder before she pushed the door open, but the hallway stood empty.
She hurried back to her phone post with a view of the seat as Paul walked into frame again and reached for his cup before letting his hand drop, staring at the rose.
He’s not frowning. He doesn’t look worried either.
He turned to a woman at the table next to his and pointed to the flower. She shrugged and continued talking to the woman she was with. He turned back and stared at the rose once more as he reached for his cup.
Will he pick it up? Does he understand more than one can play at his game?
His arm fell again, and instead of picking up the rose or the cup, he walked straight out of the café, turned right, and marched down the street with purpose, back toward the office building.
Madigan crossed the street and walked ahead of him, keeping him in her peripheral every minute or two, and waited at the crosswalk before his intersection as he crossed it and walked toward the building.
As the walk sign lit up, she raced across the street, and again between cars, jogging to the building until she reached the doors and paused for a breath before opening them. Paul stood at the elevator again waiting, and the security guard stood as she approached.
“Rachel from the seventh floor has a pick-up for me,” she said, slowing down as she reached him, maintaining eye contact.
He scratched his chin. “Whoever you work for needs to call ahead next time and let me know if they’re a delivery provider here.”
“Will do,” Madigan called and strode to the elevators, tipping her ball cap down as the doors opened and Paul followed another woman in.
She shuffled in after as Paul spoke, “Which floor?”
She kept her head down and waited, but the other woman hadn’t spoken and one button had lit up.
Ten.
“Twelfth,” Madigan muttered and tucked herself in the back corner, opposite where Paul stood.
He pushed the highest number button, and the doors closed.
“You okay?” the woman asked.
“Oh, yeah, fine,” Paul said.
She thinks he seems different. I think the rose must have rattled him, but that’s not confirmation he’s the one doing this.
As they rode up, the woman spoke, “Thought you went to lunch with Tanner?”
“He wanted pizza. I’m watching what I eat.”
The doors opened on the tenth floor, and P
aul followed the woman out.
Madigan rode to the next floor, waited for a few seconds and pressed the ground floor button again. As she passed the security desk, she nodded to the man, and he nodded back. “Have a nice day, Madigan.”
It’s getting better.
I need to keep close when he leaves so I can find out where he lives. If nothing else, I need to have eyes on him the whole time so that if anything else happens with Raven, I can rule him out.
Twenty-One
Mac followed behind Grace as Edgar Cull’s widow led them into a bright white kitchen and gestured to the stools by the breakfast bar.
“I’m just making something to eat because I have to start my shift soon.”
“What do you do?” Grace asked.
“I’m a phone operator for a pizza delivery place. Customer service.”
“And, I’m sorry, I don’t have your name.”
“Alaina Bridge. Just call me Laina.”
So, she didn’t share his last name, or she changed hers after he passed away? I don’t have time for that question.
“Laina, Edgar worked security at the college during a time that an investigation into a student death on school property took place. He was working that night, and in the weeks that followed, he answered some questions about it.”
“Okay.” She pressed the button down on the toaster, and the slices of bread popped down. “Well, I remember hearing about a girl who killed herself. He told me he was questioned about it, and I remember he was having a tough time, trying to remember when a student left, maybe? I forget exactly what it was.”
“Do you know if he ever remembered?” Grace asked.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“When did Edgar pass away?”
“Almost two weeks ago.”
Why did I think this happened a while ago? Maybe because she’s acting normal? Maybe she’s in shock, just trying to hold it together?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was so recent.”
Alaina kept her back to her. “It’s alright.”
She’s so composed.
“Could you tell me how he died?” Grace asked.
“Suicide.” The word lingered in the air as Grace exchanged a knowing look with Mac. This can’t be a coincidence. “In the garage. In the car.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sorry for anything this visit might bring up, too, but I had to ask about that night, just in case you knew anything. Did Edgar ever mention it again?”
“No.”
“Did he ever mention the young woman who passed away again, Donelle Gaines, or anything else from that night? Is the name Tyler Gibbons familiar to you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure there is nothing else he might have known about that night? Would he have shared any misgivings with you?”
“Misgivings?” She turned around and clenched her jaw. “No. Let’s just say Edgar kept things from me. Our marriage wasn’t as close as I thought, so maybe he had thoughts about it, but he never shared them with me after that.”
The toast sprang up behind Alaina, and she jumped, clutching her chest. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Ugh, I’m sorry.” She shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand.
“No, please.” Grace kept eye contact with her. “It must be so difficult for you right now.”
Alaina’s hand fell away from her mouth, and she rubbed her hand over her neck, up and down. “I found him in the car like that.” Each word took a bite out of Grace’s heart as she spoke. “I found him in the car, and the detective… He found other things in the car when he was looking. Women’s things.”
Grace’s brows rose as a lump formed in her throat.
“Yup,” Alaina spat. “The detective gave them to me in a baggie, as if they were mine. Like he was making sure I got them back, but they weren’t mine, and he—he couldn’t have known that…” She shook her head, wiped the tears and turned around, grabbing the butter knife and applying jam to both pieces of toast.
Betrayed and heartbroken. I can only imagine how she’s feeling.
“I’m sorry, Laina.”
“It is what it is.” She sniffed before dropping the knife on the counter and turning back to them. “I’m sorry, I have to start work.”
“Of course.” Grace stood, letting her lead them to the front door. “Thank you for your time.”
She grabbed the door handle and turned back to her. “You know, you might think it makes things easier. That I’d be so mad at him for betraying me that it’d make what he did easier to get past. Like I’m some woman, forged in flames by his affair so nothing else burns quite as hot, not even knowing he killed himself, but it’s not true.” Her chest heaved, and she bit her lip, letting out a whisper, “It makes everything harder. I hurt even more.”
Grace squeezed her arm as Mac nodded to her and stepped outside.
As Grace let go, Alaina whispered, “Edgar would have wanted to help you. He felt like he didn’t do his job that night. Like he should have made sure it couldn’t happen.”
“How?”
“He didn’t check whether the roof access was locked or not. He’d never been trained to do that, so he never did on any of his shifts.”
And that’s why it’s not in the notes. He couldn’t say either way.
“Thank you, Laina. I hope you find some peace.” Grace stepped outside and walked to her car where Mac stood waiting.
“Another suicide,” Grace muttered. “And he didn’t know if the roof access was locked or not. I don’t think anyone knew.”
“This pattern surrounds the names involved in that investigation.”
“I need to know what exactly happened with Edgar.”
And the only way to find out is to venture into the last place on earth I want to be right now.
“You think it’s another case that was shut too quickly?” Mac asked. “It wouldn’t have been by the same detective. It’d be one in Amherst.”
Grace nodded, pressing her lips together and exhaling through her nose.
“Ah.” Mac took a step toward her. “You ready to go back there?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? I need to know if these cases are connected.” She opened her car door and turned back to Mac.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
Twenty-Two
Crowds of business people flooded out the front doors of Paul Rothman’s office building onto the sidewalks and streets, and Madigan spotted Paul in the crowd.
I think he knows about that café because it’s on his way to work. I have to bet he’ll go back that way.
He crossed the same street, proving her theory thus far, and she hopped on her bike as he crossed the street at the next intersection.
Do you use public transportation, or do you drive home, Paul? Or are you so close, you can walk?
As she pushed off, riding the bike down the street after him, a long line of traffic formed ahead, and the car in front of her stopped abruptly as Paul dodged in and out of the crowds, walking ahead of their pace down the street.
Don’t lose him.
The traffic rolled ahead by one car’s length, and her bike rolled with it.
I’m going to lose him.
A gap opened in the opposite lane. She turned down the adjacent street, turning right at the next lights.
I hope we’re still parallel right now, and he’s on that street.
She pulled off to the side of the road just ahead of the café and waited.
He’ll walk right past here, and when he does, maybe I should follow on foot?
No. If he has a car, I’ll lose him.
Crowds crossed the street ahead, and on the other side of a group of men, Paul scooted past them.
She turned left down the street, ahead of traffic at the lights, and rode after him until her speed prevented her from following, and she passed him, stopping at the next intersection behind another row of cars. She turned over her shoulder and spotted him walking past her and a
head, approaching the intersection as the stop hand flashed to the pedestrians.
Come on. Walk faster. Are you crossing? Turning?
The light ahead turned green, and she followed the slow row of cars, still faster than Paul, and made the decision to continue straight. In her rearview mirror, she watched as he turned left.
I made the wrong choice.
She continued straight for what seemed like forever until the next intersection, turning left, following the car in front of her and looping around the block in a circle, back to the street he turned onto. She drove down slowly, and a few lone pedestrians walked in the same direction Paul had been, down the sidewalk, but he wasn’t among them.
Where could he have gone? He wasn’t that fast.
She pulled off to the side of the road and took in her surroundings. A brick law office sat on the other side of the road, and on Paul’s side, a parking garage.
Bingo.
Well, not really, but I don’t know where else he could have gone.
She sat on the bike, waiting yet again.
Hurry up and wait. The life of a P.I.
A car emerged from the exit, a woman behind the wheel, followed by another car, and another, each turning different ways.
Not him. Where are you, Paul?
A black car emerged with a couple in the front seats, and a dark gray car with Paul behind the wheel followed.
She started after him, keeping tight behind so no vehicles could merge between them, despite how some tried.
I’d be safer in a van right now. Yet another scenario where a van would be helpful.
He stopped at another light, and Madigan stopped close behind, staring at the back of his head until they started out again. He took a quick right turn onto another side road, and Madigan followed.
One more turn and they remained on the long road leading further from the heart of the city for twenty minutes, making a few more turns before entering a subdivision almost half an hour later.
Long rows of tall townhouses stood on both sides of the street. He parallel-parked between two cars as Madigan turned onto the road and passed him, parking at the far end of the street.
The One Who Watches Page 13