by Blake Pierce
Chloe had to bite back the words that came to mind, instead leaving them as nothing more than a thought. Keeping your watchful eye over the gay couple, I see.
“Would you say that the Carvers seemed like a happy family?” Chloe asked.
“From a distance, sure. They have some really good-looking kids. Polite, too. Just like any other family in this neighborhood, they seemed well put-together. Like they had the world right there at their fingertips. But again, I didn’t know them well. They could have been hiding things, you know. Most people do.”
Chloe and Moulton nodded. Moulton then gestured to Schwartz’s coffee and Bible. “We’ll let you get back to your quiet time,” he said. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Schwartz.”
“No problem,” he said, resuming his seat in the rocking chair. “God bless.”
Chloe and Moulton returned to their car. When Chloe was back behind the wheel, she looked back up at Mr. Schwartz, already back to his Bible.
“You look like you don’t trust him,” Moulton said.
“Oh, I think he’s telling us the truth. I don’t doubt anything he said. But the way he had to force the word gay seemed a little off-putting.”
“Well, you saw the Bible, right?”
“I did. But I was trying not to assume one thing equated to the other.”
“I grew up in rural North Carolina,” Moulton said. “Trust me…the majority of the time, those two things do go hand in hand. Now…let’s go visit Mr. Schwartz’s gay friends.”
They smirked at one another, the tension now gone, as Chloe headed to the end of the street and took a right onto Hyde Street.
***
Andrew and Collin Dorsett did indeed both work from home. When Chloe knocked on the front door of their home, it was answered within ten seconds by a tall handsome man carrying a small laptop in his opened palm. Somewhere in the house behind him, another man was speaking to someone else, an empty space here and there indicating that he was on a phone call.
“Hello?” the man with the laptop said as he stood in the doorway.
“Are you Andrew or Collin Dorsett?” Chloe asked.
“I’m Collin. Can I ask who you might be?”
“We’re Agents Fine and Moulton with the FBI,” Chloe said. “We’re looking into the death of Kim Wielding and are trying to talk to anyone that night have spoken with her in the past few weeks or so.”
Collin frowned as he stepped to the side to allow them inside. “God, that was terrible what happened to her.”
“So you knew her well?” Moulton asked.
“Pretty well, sure.”
“She ever talk about any ex-boyfriends?” Chloe asked.
Collin led them into the kitchen. He set down his laptop and poured himself a cup of coffee from a very expensive-looking coffeemaker.
“Not that I can remember. Coffee?”
Moulton shook his head, but Chloe accepted a cup. As Collin poured it, Andrew entered the kitchen. He was shorter than Collin but just as equally handsome. He was in a T-shirt and joggers, looking inquisitively at their visitors.
“These are FBI agents,” Collin explained as he handed Chloe her coffee. “They’re asking about Kim. You don’t ever remember her talking about boyfriends, do you?”
“I don’t think so. She was fairly talkative but I don’t ever recall her talking about men.”
“Do you know what her relationship with the Carvers was like?” Chloe asked.
“She talked highly of them,” Andrew said.
“And she loved those kids,” Collin said. “She was crazy protective over them. So I guess that means she liked Bill and Sandra well enough, too.”
“Did either of you pick up on any vibes that there might have been something going on between Kim and Bill?”
“It’s funny that you say that,” Andrew said. “I said it as a sort of dirty joke one day…about how it had to be tempting for a married man to have someone as pretty as Kim around. And she got pretty uncomfortable.”
“Did she ever reveal anything at all personal to either one of you?” Moulton asked.
“Not much. She told us some old stories about her time in DC. About how she once had dreams of being a speech writer or something like that.”
“Did she ever provide any names of the people she worked with?” Chloe asked.
“If she did, I didn’t pay attention,” Andrew said.
“Same here.”
Chloe was growing frustrated with the lack of progress. She hated to ask vague or directionless questions, but she was quickly running out of ideas. “The last few times you spoke with her, was there anything that stuck out to you?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” Andrew said.
“I don’t know how specific you’re going for,” Collin said, “but I do remember her saying she didn’t feel too well the last time we spoke with her. It was just in passing, like it usually was.”
“Oh yes, I remember that,” Collin said. “She said she was feeling very tired. She had made a doctor’s appointment because of it.”
“She was pretty sure she had a urinary tract infection or something, too,” Andrew said. “She said she had woken up several times the night before to go to the bathroom.”
“She didn’t elaborate on that?” Moulton asked.
“No. I suppose it’s not the sort of thing that makes for great casual conversation.”
“Let me ask you something,” Chloe said. “A gay couple in a neighborhood like this. You guys ever get any hostility from anyone?”
The two men looked at one another and shrugged, almost perfectly in sync. “I wouldn’t say we’ve ever experienced anything hostile,” Collin said. “But we do get the occasional looks of muted disgust when we’re out walking and holding hands.”
“And we did find a flier on the windshield of our car about how homosexuality is a sin,” Andrew added. “But we found that funny, not threatening.”
“How about the Carvers? Did you know them well?” Moulton asked.
“Not very well,” Andrew said. “There was one day where we were walking by their house and one of their kids asked us to toss the football around for a bit. We did and when Sandra came out, we had the talk with her—that yes, we were a gay couple and not just roommates. She was cool with it. A really nice lady, actually.”
“One more question,” Moulton asked. “And it might sound a little obscene, but we’re just trying to narrow our focus. If there was anyone in the neighborhood that you could see Kim being involved with—maybe a secret affair or just a friendship she might want to keep hidden—who would you single out?”
Collin smiled as a thought came to him. “I’d probably say CJ Jackowski. He lives back on Whitehurst Street. A thirty-something bachelor. I think he’s been married before. He’s a doctor at one of those doc-in-a-box places in town. But he also volunteers as a soccer coach for two youth leagues. And I don’t mind saying in front of my beloved husband that the man is extremely hot. And he knows it.”
“No offense taken,” Andrew said, nudging Collin. “I’d consider leaving you for him.”
Chloe remembered that Courtney Vedas had mentioned a hottie soccer coach but had never elaborated on it.
“Does he have a reputation in the neighborhood or something?” Moulton asked.
“No. It’s just that damn near every woman—married or not—can’t help but do a second-take whenever they pass by him. Kim mentioned once or twice that she thought he was good-looking in this shy sort of flirty way.”
“One of the Carver boys was on one of his teams, right?” Chloe asked.
“I think so,” Collin said.
“Thanks, guys,” she said, taking a long gulp of her coffee. “For the info and the coffee.”
“No leads, huh?” Andrew said.
“Nothing strong, no,” Moulton said. “So if you think of anything else,” he said, handing out one of his business cards, “please call us.”
“Sure thing,” Andrew said. “And I hope
you find the bastard that did this. Kim was a sweetie. This is something I don’t think anyone in the neighborhood saw coming.”
“And honestly, I can pretty much tell you she didn’t have any sort of connection to CJ Jackowski. But he knows everyone in this little subdivision. Mainly because everyone wants to know him. He’s probably be your best source of information.”
“Thanks,” Chloe said as she and Moulton headed for the door. “I don’t suppose you know whether or not Jackowski is working today, do you?”
“He is,” Collin said. “He did his morning run early this morning. We passed by one another. He only does his run early on the days he works.”
“Stalker,” Andrew said.
Collin only shrugged. “Clinic Express,” he said. “Out on Hightower Road.”
“See?” Andrew said. “Stalker.”
The two laughed at one another as Chloe and Moulton walked out to their car. And it was then, as Chloe looked out to the right, at the rows and rows of houses with green lawns and cute porches, that she realized just how like a maze it all was. It all looked the same, broken up by roads and turns, as if it had all been set up to trap you, to make you wonder if you had made the right turn in an effort to get out.
***
Chloe sat in the waiting room at Clinic Express, looking at the posters urging patients to get their flu shot right away. Moulton sat next to her, looking a bit uncomfortable. The receptionist had seen them and told them that she would send Dr. Jackowski out to see them as soon as he was free. That had been five minutes ago and Moulton had looked uneasy ever since.
“Don’t like doctors?” she asked.
“I don’t mind doctors. I just hate being in hospitals and doctors’ offices when I don’t have to be. Doctors are fine. It’s the germs I hate.”
“You’re the type that has like three bottles of hand sanitizer in your glove compartment, aren’t you?”
“No. Just one.”
“Do you want me to see if I can get one of those masks for you before we speak to Dr. Jackowski?” Chloe joked. “Or maybe some sterile gloves?”
“Is that supposed to funny?” Moulton asked, though he himself was smiling.
About a minute later, the room leading back to the exam rooms opened up. A nurse poked her head out and said, as quietly as she could without drawing attention: “Agents?” And then she waved them toward the door.
She led them down a small hallway where three offices were located. She led them into the last one, where a man was jotting down notes into a pad. Chloe knew this was Dr. CJ Jackowski not only because the nurse had led them to him but because Andrew and Collin Dorsett had been right; the man was gorgeous. His face was perfectly chiseled and his hair was simple yet well kept. His blue eyes were like gentle pools staring up at them, his lips made for kissing.
He looked up from his notepad and shoved it to the side of the desk. There were no chairs in the office so Chloe and Moulton were forced to stand. Jackowski stood as well, leaning back against the edge of the desk.
“I’ve got to say,” he said, “I’ve never had FBI agents come in here. My receptionist said you had some questions about a case?”
“Somewhat,” Moulton said. “We’re looking into the murder of Kim Wielding and were hoping you might be able to tell us something about her.”
“She worked for the Carvers,” Jackowski asked. “A nice woman from what I could tell.”
“Yes,” Chloe said.
“I didn’t really know her. I only spoke to her a few times and it was always in passing. The longest conversation I had with her was at a party out at the yacht club and that wasn’t very long at all.”
“You were the soccer coach for at least one of the Carver kids, right?” Moulton asked.
“Yes. Declan. A pretty good soccer player, as a matter of fact.”
“Did ever speak to Kim during practices?”
“No. She was always in a hurry to leave. It was sort of sad, really. She was the one that always brought him to practice. I don’t know that Declan’s dad ever made it to a single practice. Games, either. I would see Sandra—the mom—at a few games, but never the father. But Kim was always there with him.”
“We were told by some people in your neighborhood that you’d be the person to come to if there was anything to be learned about anyone else in the neighborhood,” Chloe said.
Jackowski sighed and shook his head. “I’m not sure how I ever got labeled as such. There was this thing a year or so ago where a woman in the neighborhood showed up drunk at my house. Sort of hit on me. I called the police on her when she wouldn’t leave my porch. She’s a single mom, so there was no angry husband or anything, but I guess she just labeled me as a gossip when word got out. But I never told anyone. When I learned that people thought I made it my business to know everyone else’s business, I never really struck out to prove them wrong. No sense in starting more unnecessary drama, you know? Especially not in a small little subdivision like ours.”
“The few times you did speak with Kim, did she share anything that might indicate that she was in some sort of trouble?”
“No. It was mostly just in-passing sort of things. Hi, how are you. Some weather we’re having. That sort of thing.” His mind seemed to wander for a moment and then he added: “But there was this one time…”
“What time?” Moulton asked.
Jackowski took a moment to draw up a memory. As it came to him, it seemed to alarm him a bit. “There was this one morning when I was out for a run…probably around seven or seven thirty. I passed by the Carvers’ house and saw Kim sitting in her car, parked in front of the Carvers’ house. She was speaking really animatedly to someone on the phone. Not yelling or screaming but clearly upset about something. I didn’t want to seem nosy, so I just ran on by instead of waving or stopping to say hello like I usually would have. I do remember thinking that it was hard to picture Kim being upset about anything.”
“I take it she had something of a good reputation around the neighborhood?” Chloe asked.
“For sure. She was so good with those kids. And everyone seemed to like her. Which is why I was so shocked when I heard that she had been killed.”
“And because you didn’t know her all that well,” Moulton said, “can we assume you wouldn’t have any idea who might have killed her?”
“Sorry, but no.”
“Did she ever visit you here, as a doctor?” Chloe asked.
“No. I can check the records to see if she ever came in and saw someone else. But I’d assume she probably saw some other doctor. Most patients that come into a place like this have little to no insurance.”
“Well, thank you for your time,” Chloe said.
“Sure. Let me know if there is anything else I can do to help.”
When they exited his office, she felt like they were closing a door behind them. They had come across no solid leads, no clues, nothing that was bringing them even remotely close to finding Kim Wielding’s killer.
Not the result I want on my first case, Chloe thought. There has to be something we’re not seeing. Something we’re missing.
It made her think of her father and how they’d thought that case had been so simple from the beginning but then, years later, they’d found that her father had not been guilty of murder—that there had been another woman involved all along. It had felt like there had been some added part to the story, years later.
So what part of Kim Wielding’s story isn’t being told?
It was a good question, and she thought the answers they were looking for could be found there. The trick, of course, was knowing where to look.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
With no clear leads and no avenues to pursue, Chloe and Moulton headed back to FBI headquarters. They arrived shortly after lunch and when they went their separate ways—each to their own office—Chloe found that she did not want to work solo for the rest of the day. Sure, maybe it was the crush working on her, but she found that her mind tended
to be sharper when she was with Moulton. Also, the back and forth—which was, on occasion, a bit flirtatious—helped to stir conversation.
Instead, she found herself at her desk, pulling up every file the bureau had on the Kim Wielding case, most of which had come directly from the Maryland PD. There was nothing new, all details she had already read and started to commit to memory. Even when she viewed it through this new lens of trying to find nooks and crannies that might lead them to other parts of Kim’s life that weren’t apparent and obvious, Chloe could find nothing.
She was beginning to understand that Kim Wielding wasn’t as prim and proper as she seemed on paper. What sort of connection did she have to Washington? Presumably, she’d been important enough to someone to warrant an investigation into the sort of murder case the bureau would usually not waste their time on.
She did somehow end up with a man like Mike Dillinger, she thought. She can’t be as squeaky clean as she seems.
But no matter how much she pored over the files and her own case notes, she could not seem to become unstuck on the case. Just as she started to feel useless, she remembered something she had learned from one of her instructors while she had been attending the academy: If you feel stuck on a case, start to dive into another one—even if it is one that has already been solved. You’d be surprised how well this works to push your lines of logic forward to anything else your mind might be occupied with.
And as it just so happened, there was another case on her mind.
She pulled up the recent documents she had submitted in regards to her father’s case. While the original files concerning her mother’s death and her father’s arrest had not yet gotten the digital treatment, she did have easy access to all of the notes she had gathered in finding that Ruthanne Carwile had had more to do with her mother’s death than her father. But now, even with these notes painting a clear picture, there was the newest revelation that her father had provided—that there was a piece of evidence somewhere out there that could potentially free him of everything. A piece of evidence that could get him out of prison after all of these years.