by Blake Pierce
“Do you know why she quit working in DC?” Moulton asked.
“I think she got tired of all of the backstabbing and toxic environments. Some people…some are just too kind to cut it in Washington. I think Kim Wielding was one of those people.”
“Did you ever see her after she stopped working as your nanny?”
“Oh sure. We’d have lunch here and there. When things got really bad with Cecily, Kim was there to just listen to her, you know? She was a huge help.”
“So you remained friends for a while?” Moulton asked.
“That’s right.”
Chloe caught a flinch in his expression, as if Denning might be getting uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading.
“When was the last time you saw her, Mr. Denning?” Chloe asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe four months ago. She came by to visit. Stayed for lunch, if I recall.”
Moulton leaned forward in his seat and lowered his voice. “Forgive me for asking, Mr. Denning. But were you and Kim Wielding ever romantically involved?”
Denning smiled lazily and his eyes legitimately started to water. “Cecily doesn’t know, but we had dinner a few times and I admit I hoped something more would come of it, but it was evident that there was no connection there. I was thirteen years older than her and although she used to joke about having a thing for older men, I guess I was just never good enough.”
“So no sexual encounters with her?” Chloe asked.
“No.” Denning snapped the response. It came out almost like a defensive dog’s bark.
“Are you confident enough in that answer to provide evidence that could back that up?” Moulton asked.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Denning asked.
“Kim Wielding was a little over two months pregnant when she was murdered,” Chloe said. “We believe if we can find out who the father is, we could potentially start a trail towards motive.”
“You think someone killed Kim Wielding because she was pregnant?”
“I think if someone wanted to keep something a secret bad enough, they’d do just about anything,” Chloe said.
“Would you be willing to undergo a DNA test to ensure you have not been physically intimate with Kim Wielding anytime in the recent past?”
Chloe could practically see the gears turning in Denning’s head. She was pretty sure he had already lied about something and was now doing his best not to stumble over that lie.
“Absolutely not. This accusation is absolutely ridiculous.”
“One last opportunity here,” Moulton said. “Let’s face it. You aren’t some vast shining figure in DC. I can ask around and probably get someone to find out certain information if I really wanted to. So this is your last chance…honestly, did you and Kim ever have a sexual relationship?”
The sneer on Denning’s face was answer enough. And when he spoke, he did so with a tremble of anger in his voice. He leaned in very close, nearly falling from his chair so he could speak quietly to them, that anger pushing every single word.
“Early last year, after she had been working for the Carvers for about a year or so, she came to visit. Cecily was in Baltimore, visiting a specialist. She came over because she was scared of this guy she had been seeing, some lowlife piece of shit that was threatening her. I don’t know if you knew this about Kim or not…but she was into drugs for a while. I think she kicked the habit—coke, mostly, I believe—but found it hard to separate herself from this man. She came over asking for advice, of any legal ramifications to getting a restraining order. She was very emotional and one thing led to another.”
“So you did sleep with her?” Chloe asked.
“Yes.”
“Just the one time?”
“No. We made a thing of it for several months. Noting emotional, tough. Just sex. I think she was seeing other men, too. But, well, in the moment those sorts of things didn’t really matter to me. I think she was using sex as a way to kick the drug habit. I don’t know.” A tear escaped his eyes and he wiped it away so fast that, for a moment, Chloe thought he was slapping at himself in frustration.
“Mr. Denning?” Chloe said, concerned.
“Cecily can’t find out,” he said. “At the risk of sounding conceited, I just have no idea what this might do to her.”
“Is there any chance she already knows?” Chloe asked. “And maybe in order to keep it from making things worse for her, she’s keeping it to herself rather than confronting you with it?”
“No. She’d tell me.”
“When is the last time you slept with Kim Wielding?” Chloe asked.
“I don’t know. Four months? Maybe five?”
The words I don’t believe you were on Chloe’s lips but she kept them to herself. In the back of her mind, she had an idea. And if she got mouthy or really pushed at Denning, it might make things more difficult for them in the long run.
“Can you think of anyone else she might have been sleeping with?” Chloe asked.
“I don’t know. I always suspected maybe there was something with Bill Carver, but of course I never came out and asked her.”
“Do you know anything about her life that might help us find her potential killer?” Chloe asked. But really, this was all filler—ways to make Denning feel at ease while she continued to formulate her plan in the back of her head.
“Just that man that threatened her all the time.”
“We’ve looked into the man we believe you’re talking about,” Chloe said. “His alibi checks out. But we may have to revisit him and interrogate him further.”
“Thank you for your time,” Moulton said. “And we are indeed sorry to drop this on you with your wife here in the house.”
Denning nodded as he got to his feet. Chloe felt a little sick to her stomach when she saw that he was wiping another tear away. He said nothing else to them as he ushered them to the door. As he led them out, Chloe looked back through the large foyer and the extended hallway, where she saw the slim figure of Cecily Denning.
A woman on the verge of nervous breakdowns at any moment with a history of needing treatment for such a condition, Chloe thought. There’s no way she doesn’t at least suspect something between her husband and a younger, prettier woman who seems to show up at random times.
Even when Chloe was getting into the car and preparing to verbalize her plan to Moulton, she felt like she could still sense the presence of Cecily’s looming figure in the hallway. It was almost as if the woman were trying to follow her—to haunt her until this case was closed.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
“How well do you remember your physical exam prior to joining the academy?” Chloe asked.
She had driven the car just two blocks over, parked in front of a house that was for sale. It was a bit nicer than Denning’s and it hurt her head to try to figure out how much that house might sell for. She and Moulton sat in the car, watching a series of gray clouds scatter in from the east.
“All too well,” Moulton said. “It involved my first prostate exam.”
“Too much information. Anyway, they took blood samples, right?”
“Yeah. You, too, I assume?”
“That’s right. Which makes sense. They have to check for a myriad of things. I want to say there were two or three different tests where they had to take my blood.”
“Sounds about right,” Moulton said. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m pretty certain that anyone with a job within the federal government has to take those some kinds of tests. I might be wrong about this, but I don’t think I am.”
Moulton smiled and nodded at her. “And you’re thinking this means that somewhere in Washington, there’s a medical report with some of Gerald Denning’s information.”
“Yes. I am honestly not even sure if they’d still have him on file after what happened but I certainly think it’s worth a shot.”
“Agreed. I anxiously await being able to witness you calling Garci
a and requesting that information.”
“You saw Denning’s face when you kept pressing him on the issue. He’s hiding something.”
“I agree with that as well. All joking aside…do you want me to make the call?”
“No. I think I should.”
“And what about Bill Carver? Shouldn’t we verify his vasectomy? I’d say the chances are pretty good that he might be the father, too, if Sandra is lying about that.”
“If so, that still doesn’t make him capable of being in two places at once. Remember, he was out of town when Kim was killed. Several states away, in fact.”
“You’re right. So if Garcia allows this and nothing comes out it…we’re back to square one?”
He was right, but she wasn’t about to let that defeat her. After all, they now knew that Kim Wielding had a darker side than they had imagined. She had been sleeping with at least three different men in the course of six months or so and they had all likely overlapped.
Before Moulton could argue any further, she pulled out her phone and placed a call to Garcia.
He answered on the third ring and sounded hopeful. Chloe frowned when she realized that she was likely going to end up pissing him off yet again. She told him about her hunch, about how she suspected that the DNA test that had been conducted on Kim Wielding’s unborn baby might very well line up with DNA results in Gerald Denning’s medical records.
“Fine, are you fucking kidding me?” Garcia asked.
“No sir. In speaking with him this morning, both Agent Moulton and I believe it’s worth looking into. He admitted to a sexual relationship with Wielding that was active, according to him, up until about four months ago.”
“Director Johnson will have to sign off on this. And Fine…if nothing comes of it, it might mean your ass. This is dangerous territory. No one much likes Denning, sure. But this could be seen as antagonizing an already tiresome and dead situation.”
“I understand, sir. I’m willing to take the risk.”
“Have it your way. I’ll pass the request to Director Johnson. But don’t be surprised if he calls you right away to chew you out.”
Garcia ended the call there, leaving Chloe to grimace at the silence on the other end of the line.
“What did he say?” Moulton asked.
“He thought it was a grand idea. I should be getting a call from Director Johnson any moment now to congratulate me on my keen thinking.”
Moulton laughed out loud at this as Chloe cranked the car and pulled away from the gorgeous house. At the end of the block, she looked in the direction of Denning’s house but turned in the opposite direction instead, heading back out toward DC. She waited for her phone to ring, bringing with it the angry and demanding voice of Director Johnson.
But it did not ring. And with every second that passed, she thought more and more that her hunch might just be right.
***
She did not get a call from Johnson for the remainder of the day. Back at headquarters, she checked the records to make sure a DNA test had also been conducted on Mike Dillinger during his arrest. She was pleased to find that a swab test had indeed been done. Just to cover all of her bases, she sent those results to the coroner for comparison with Wielding’s baby—making sure to get Garcia’s permission first.
She was well aware that it might be tomorrow morning before she got results from her request to match Denning’s DNA with that of the Wielding baby. And still, every minute that passed without Johnson calling her seemed like a small victory.
When there was no movement by four o’clock that afternoon, she called it a day and headed home. She fully intended to head home without any convenient roadblocks this time; she was going to head back to her apartment. Maybe she’d even manage to unpack a few things before she went to sleep. She had no idea why, but being around so many upscale neighborhoods during the last few days had motivated her to finally get started on her own place. While she had no delusions that she would ever be able to live in a house quite as nice as the Carver residence (and surely not like the one Sandra’s sister or Gerald Denning lived in), it was still nice to know that she had a place that was hers—a place that, no matter how cluttered and unorganized—she could call home.
She thought about picking up Japanese takeout on the way home for an early dinner, but when she picked up her phone to call it in, another thought went through her head.
Her father’s voice: “Did Ruthanne tell you everything?”
And with that thought, she uttered a curse. Her heart hammered in her chest and no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, those words would not leave her head, nor would the image of her father starting to cry before she had last left him.
She cursed again, pulled a U-turn as soon as she was able, and headed northeast on the interstate toward Philadelphia.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
It was rather alarming how easy it was. She made the drive to Philadelphia, making a call to Riverside Correctional Facility to request some time with one of their inmates. After giving her name and badge number, she was told she could meet with the inmate within the next hour, but it had to be before lockdown.
And just like that, she was given a meeting with the woman who had killed her mother.
She arrived at the prison just after six. Because it was after business hours, there was not much activity within the prison. She was able to be checked in, scanned, and escorted back to the visiting area in less than ten minutes. It was very similar to the setup she had gone through while visiting her father: an escort, a guard at the door, and then the inmate. Only at Riverside, there were no glass partitions and old phones. She was led to a what looked to have perhaps once been a small conference room of sorts. When she stepped into the room and the guard closed the door behind her, she hesitated for a moment.
Ruthanne Carwile was sitting right there, directly in front of her. She sat at a small table, her hands folded on top of it, her eyes wandering toward Chloe.
The guard whispered through the door before closing it all the way. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Chloe only nodded. When the door was closed completely, an unexpected surge of rage flashed through her. She recalled the last time she had seen Ruthanne; it had been in an interrogation room and her first partner—Agent Greene—had to restrain her when she had rushed at Ruthanne.
“Chloe,” Ruthanne said.
Her voice sent a chill down Chloe’s spine. She slowly walked to the table. As she did, she subtly placed her hand into her jacket pocket and felt for her phone, as if to make sure it was there.
“Hi, Ruthanne.”
Ruthanne eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you here? I figured you’d stay as far away from me as possible.”
“I’m here because it occurred to me that even though we found out about what you did, I don’t know the whole story. My father won’t tell me everything because he’s afraid of disappointing me. Ironic, isn’t it? He worries about that now.”
“I can understand that. He was always crazy about the two of you. We talked about running away together—him leaving your mother and we’d just start a life together in a different state. But he never would. He was always worried about leaving the two of you. I daresay he loved you girls more than your mother.”
It wasn’t surprising to hear, given how he had treated her mother. Still, Chloe found herself clenching her fists and her jaw, doing everything she could to keep herself from leaping across the table to strike Ruthanne.
“You know that your admission to the murder shortened his sentence, right?”
“Yes, I heard that in court somewhere along the way.”
“How does it feel to have traded places with him? To know that you’re likely to spend the rest of your life in jail while he’s back out in the world?”
“Oh, I was angry as hell at first. Thought it was unfair. But your father took the fall for me. I figure it’s my turn to pay it forward, even if it means we won’t end up together. He loved
me so much that he sacrificed his time and his life so I wouldn’t have to go to jail.”
“Yet here you are,” Chloe said, unable to contain the evil smile that rose to her lips.
“Chloe, did you come here to just rub this all in my face—that you found out the truth and now I’m behind bars?”
“No. I came here because I want the truth that my father won’t give me.”
“I don’t know that I’m comfortable with that. The last time you saw me, you came barreling across the room for me.”
“That was stupid. I’m a federal agent. I lay a hand on you, it means my ass. What do you have to lose? The way I hear it, you’re in here for twenty-to-life, right? Have you told the whole truth to anyone in the court system? Judges, psychiatrists?”
“No. Because it wouldn’t matter. I’m here, probably for life. I can keep a few of my demons in. No point in making me out to sound worse than it already is.”
“I need to know. For my own sake, I need to know what really happened. I hate to go so low, but considering you killed my mother, I think you owe me that at least.”
Ruthanne seemed to consider it for a moment, looking at her still-folded hands. She then slowly began to talk. Not once through the entire thing did she look up at Chloe. Chloe didn’t know if it was because she was concentrating or if she found it impossible to look at the daughter of the woman she had murdered. She hoped it was the latter.
“That morning…your father and I had planned to meet up at the apartment—your home. Your mother was to be out most of the morning for work. You were going to a movie with a friend. Danielle was also with a friend, though I don’t remember what she was doing. I was supposed to meet your dad there at one in the afternoon. Only…I was tired of hiding it. We did it all the time and I wanted him for myself. I was done sharing. So I made a bold move—I called your mom. I told her I needed to talk to her and if she could meet me at her house at twelve thirty. I pretended to cry and that’s what did it. I was going to tell her about your father and I. And just in case she didn’t believe me, I wanted her to be there when he showed up, expecting only me in his bed.”