Damien sat there, watching Frank watch him. He wondered if he should tell him that his ex-wife intended very much to sue him. That if Frank made another false move, things could get very nasty for him. Could Frank take it at this point?
Damien folded his hands together, placing his elbows on his knees. “I think she’s really on edge right now. I’m just saying, be careful. She was mad enough to come over to my house, possibly run into Kay. The woman is angry.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it.”
“You’re not, like, spying on her or something, are you?”
Frank’s face lit up. “Did that little zit of a rookie say something to you?”
“Your rookie? No. Why?”
“We’re doing some investigating on this Web site thing,” Frank said, looking irritated. “Seeing whether people’s places are bugged. That Web site has already caused enough trouble. We need to get to the bottom of it.”
“Okay.” Damien smiled and stood.
“What? You’re going already? I thought you came over to hang out.”
“Gotta get back. Busy day tomorrow.”
“All right, fine. I gotta get to bed myself.” Frank rose, put his food on the coffee table, and embraced Damien, giving him a hearty pat on the shoulders. “Thanks for always watching my back.”
“Sure thing. That’s what friends are for. Talk to you tomorrow.”
The cool air hit Damien as he left the house. He walked to his car in the drive, bypassing the sidewalk as he crossed the lawn. He got in his car, not bothering to let it warm up, and drove straight to the QT, where a huge stack of two liter Cokes was visible from the front window.
13
Kay watched her children gather their things for school, grabbing notebooks, jackets, backpacks. Years and years of hustling them out the door. Yelling at them to hurry up. Now she wanted them to linger.
Jenna stuffed her backpack and wrapped a scarf around her neck. Wasn’t it just yesterday that Kay knelt down and tied the scarf around her, pulled on her favorite fuzzy Strawberry Shortcake hat, and embraced her? At what point, exactly, did she stop hugging her children? It was like it was there one day and gone the next. Should she try now?
Hunter glanced at her and Kay grinned but maybe not fast enough. She didn’t think he saw it. He was struggling to zip his backpack.
“Here, let me help you with that.”
“I got it,” Hunter said, wiggling it until it suddenly zipped freely.
“Hunter, hurry up!” Jenna snapped from the front door. “If you want a ride from me, you have to come now. I can’t always be waiting for you.”
Hunter rushed toward Jenna as she swung open the door.
Kay hurried to follow them out.
Jenna groaned. “Hunter, you stink! What’d you do, use the entire bottle of Axe?”
“Shut up!” Hunter barked.
It was freezing but Kay continued going outside without a coat. “Hey!” she called.
They both stopped and turned. Kay waved. They stared.
“Hey, have a good day. I love—”
But they’d both already hopped into Jenna’s VW. Before Kay could wave again, Jenna had thrown it into reverse, backed out of the driveway, and they were gone.
The wind snapped, blowing her hair against her face and sending a chill through her sweater. She hurried inside. She had a showing in thirty minutes. Just enough time to go through Starbucks. Creamy, sugar-laden coffee never rejected her. She slid on her coat and grabbed her briefcase. She checked the oven and coffeepot and then headed to the front door, opening it so she could put out the trash before she left.
She gasped. “Jill?”
“I’m sorry. I was just about to knock. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Jill stared straight into Kay’s eyes, a stare so intense that Kay took a step backward, which Jill apparently assumed was an invitation in. She walked forward, backing Kay up a few more steps.
Usually very juvenilely coifed and dressed, this morning Jill wore stained sweats and a baggy T-shirt. Her hair was pulled into an unruly ponytail. Her skin, normally as clear as porcelain, looked weathered and flaky. She appeared self-aware, with a hand covering one splotchy cheek and the other combing through the hair at her scalp. “I’m sorry to drop by unexpectedly.”
“I was just on my way out.”
“Yes, I see that. Do you have a few minutes, though? I won’t take up much of your time.”
Kay found herself completely indecisive, unable to even answer. She was shaking her head one instant and nodding the next, giving plenty of mixed signals. She was only going to Starbucks, after all. But did she want this woman in her home?
“I know we don’t know each other well. But I don’t really . . . It’s just that I don’t have anyone to talk to. Some bad things are happening . . . and I . . .” Jill bit her lip and searched Kay’s eyes.
Kay’s fingers drummed against her thigh as she tried to figure out what to do. Did she really want to be in the middle of Jill’s drama? Plus, what would the other moms think?
Yet Jill seemed so desperate. For a woman with as much pride as Jill Toledo, she had to have a good reason for coming here looking like that. Was she drunk? This early?
Kay took a long look at her watch. “I’ve got a few minutes, I guess.”
“Okay.” Tears streamed down Jill’s face. “I know we only know each other from school, our girls knowing each other. This probably seems really odd.”
Kay gave a polite smile. “What’s on your mind?”
She took a tissue from the pocket of her coat. Tears now gushed down her face. She didn’t appear to be trying to get ahold of her emotions.
Kay gestured to one of the entryway chairs that was mostly used to throw coats on. “Maybe you should sit down.”
“That’s kind. Thank you.”
Kind? She was just trying to keep this woman from having a nervous breakdown in her entryway.
“My husband, Mike, is having an affair.”
The words hung in the air. Kay had to glance away. What was she supposed to say? And was it true? She’d observed Jill being the flirtatious one, wearing tight-fitting clothes. “How do you know?”
“I saw him. With her.”
“Aren’t you two getting a divorce?”
“How did you know that?”
Kay couldn’t even begin to backpedal on that one. “It’s just something that’s going around.”
“We’re trying to work through things,” Jill said, frustration lacing her tone. “We’ve been going to counseling. I thought there was a chance we could save the marriage. But he’s been acting very weird, very erratic. Sometimes he’s . . . I just don’t know what he’s capable of.”
Kay made an obvious glance at her watch. “I’m very sorry to hear that, but I don’t see how I can help.”
Jill, slouched in her chair and looking utterly pathetic, didn’t respond at first. Her bottom lip quivered. Through the front windows on either side of the door, the normal traffic sounds of the neighborhood filled in the silence. “I don’t guess anyone can,” she said, patting her face with the tissue. “It’s my problem, isn’t it?” Suddenly her tone took on an edge of defensiveness.
Kay tried a soft smile. She was probably coming off rude. She wasn’t trying to. Then again, she wasn’t really trying to help either. But what could she do? “Have you talked to your marriage counselor?”
“It’s three hundred dollars an hour. I’d sit there and spill my guts, and she’d just nod and tell me my feelings are normal. But honestly, this doesn’t seem normal. None of this seems normal. My whole life is falling apart. And Natalie . . .” Her words trailed off.
“Does she know?”
“She knows we’re having trouble. She’s very distant. Won’t talk to us much. I’m sure you can’t relate. Jenna is such a nice girl. I’m glad the girls are friends.”
Kay held back what seemed to be a natural response, that she could indeed relate to a daughter who had grown distant. But that mig
ht imply that she and Damien were having problems, and that was the last rumor she wanted to start.
“Kids are resilient” was all she could offer. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Another glance at her watch. Now Starbucks was out of the question. She loathed herself for even thinking it.
For the first time since she’d walked into the house, Jill seemed to be trying to compose herself. She avoided Kay’s gaze, stood, and feigned a smile as she stuffed the tissue back into her coat pocket. She turned and opened the front door, then walked out.
It caught Kay off guard. She stood at the doorway, watching the woman go, unsure why she suddenly left.
No, that wasn’t true. She knew.
She pulled her coat closed and rushed out the door. “Jill! Wait!”
Jill was unlocking her car door. She looked up.
“Please. Wait.” The cold air filled her lungs, and her breath froze in front of her. “I’m sorry. I . . . I sometimes don’t know what to say. You can ask my daughter.” She punctuated that statement with a sad smile. “How about some tea? I can fix us some tea.”
“Don’t you have some place to be?”
“I can make a quick phone call. Put it off for thirty minutes or so.”
For a moment, Jill looked indecisive, but then she walked toward the house. “I would appreciate it. Very much.”
* * *
The problem was that Damien didn’t have very many facts. The Web site provided no information about who was doing this. Besides what happened between the Caldwells and the Shaws, there was really nothing else there.
Edgar had twisted a paper clip—and his expression—out of form. “Underwood, you know what you do when you don’t have enough facts in a story? You go and get quotes from people who have strong opinions.”
Which was why Damien was now entering the police station at a little after ten in the morning. He checked in at the front desk and waited to see if the captain would come to the front.
Ten minutes passed, but finally Captain Grayson came through the door, looking irritated. He noticed Damien in the waiting room. “I thought that’s what the note said. Damien Underwood. Good to see you.” He held out a hand for Damien to shake, then gestured for him to follow. “I’m glad you’re here. Frank is out of control. Completely out of control. Can you talk some sense into him? Yeah, we all understood why the guy might’ve been crushed. High school’s hard enough and then you grow up and your wife leaves you for the principal. . . . What I’m trying to say is that we, and by we, I mean the department, have been extremely tolerant.”
“Well, the good news is he hasn’t done anything crazy like this in, what, three years?”
“I’ve had it up to here. Here.” He held a hand over his head as they rounded the corner into his bleak, white-walled office. “I’m assuming you heard he filed a missing person report on Angela?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes he disappears, Damien. Right in the middle of a shift. He’s probably a closet smoker. I don’t know. I’ve talked to him about it and sometimes it gets better, sometimes not.”
“What about lately? Has he been disappearing lately?”
“Lately he’s been making a rookie’s life miserable just for the fun of it. So you see what I’m dealing with here.” The captain plunged into his chair. “What can you do for me?” His expression filled with dread. “Or has Frank done something else? No, please. Please. Don’t tell me he’s done something else.”
Damien took a seat that wasn’t offered. The chair looked twenty years old, the vinyl ripped and repaired with duct tape. “I’m not here to talk about Frank.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Sorry.” Grayson gave a vague smile. “It’s just that last time you were in my office, what, four years ago or so, Frank was freaking out and you’d come to talk through some things with me. Get him grounded again.”
“Please tell me Frank doesn’t know about that.”
“I never mentioned a word to him.”
“Yes, well, I probably overreacted. You and I have known each other for a long time. Our sons played T-ball together. That first year after Frank’s divorce, when he showed up on her doorstep on their anniversary, it startled me. Luckily he hasn’t made that a yearly tradition.” Damien grinned.
“So it hasn’t struck you that he’s acting strangely? I’m sensing some anger issues lately.”
Damien tried not to pause. “When is Frank not strange?”
Captain Grayson snorted. “You got that right. Love the man, but could kill him too, you know?” He leaned forward, his elbows against a few folders spread across his desk. “So what’s on your mind?”
“I wanted to talk to you about this Web site Listen to Yourself.” Damien pulled out a pen and a notepad from his briefcase and set them on the desk, then froze as he noticed the captain’s demeanor had shifted in less than a second. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s that for?”
“Oh, I can’t figure out how to use the recorder on my phone.”
“Put that away. Now.”
Damien quickly slipped them back into his briefcase. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended, but I don’t talk to the press.” Grayson studied him. “You’re not the press, are you? I mean, I know you work at the paper, but you’re not an actual reporter, right?”
“Believe it or not, I do fall under that category. Usually I do the editorial and opinion pieces.”
“Usually?”
“I’m trying my hand at investigative reporting.”
“Oh, brother,” Grayson said, falling back in his chair, looking like the words put him into permanent exhaustion. “I would’ve never let you through had I known that.”
“I only want to get a few quotes—”
“That’s the problem. You reporters just want a few quotes, and then you take what I say totally out of context and use it against me, the department.”
“Please give me the benefit of the doubt.”
“My lieutenants handle these sorts of things. I can get you in touch with whoever is on call to talk to the media.”
Damien tried an easy smile. “I just have a few simple questions. This Web site, I think it has the potential to cause a lot of trouble, and I’m wondering what the department is doing to investigate it.”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“We’re off the record here, okay?”
Damien nodded.
“We don’t have enough resources to chase down something like this. We don’t have a cyber crime unit or anything of that nature here. It’s Marlo, for crying out loud. If we started with this Web site, who knows what else would happen. We’d have to start chasing down people who pirate movies.”
“But isn’t it illegal? I mean, it’s against the law to eavesdrop on people’s private conversations.”
“Yes, it is. Unless you’re doing a wiretap or something like that.”
“We’ve already seen what it’s done to neighbors.”
“That’s one instance.”
“I’ve heard of something else.”
The captain threw his hands up. “I don’t want to hear about it. Look, I think this is a perfect thing for you guys at the paper to go investigate. You like to stir up trouble and this is trouble. My preference would be to ignore it, and it’ll probably go away. But that’s just me. We’ve had no official complaints about the Web site, so I’m not pursuing any kind of investigation at this time.”
Damien blinked. The conversation he had with Frank the night before blazed through his mind, that the department was investigating. “You’re saying the department is not investigating it at all?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
He had just caught Frank in lie number two.
* * *
Gavin stood next to Frank on the front porch of the Shaws’ home, chewing a fingernail and staring at Frank.
“Stop loo
king at me,” Frank whispered. “Just play this cool. Do you even have that mode? Cool, collected, calm? Any of that ringing a bell with you? We’re the police. We’re not the ones who are supposed to be nervous.”
“We’re not supposed to be here,” Gavin said.
“Yes. Your expression is capturing that perfectly.” Frank pushed the doorbell again. “Don’t you have a pair of dark shades or something you can slide over those terrified eyeballs?”
“I don’t want to get caught.”
“Gavin, chill out. We’re not stealing secret documents here. We’re only doing some minor investigative work. It’s not sink or swim. It’s more like an arm floaties kind of situation.” Frank cut his gaze sideways to see if any of this was registering with the kid. Didn’t look like it. “And you can be thankful we’re not at Angela’s house.”
That seemed to bring fast relief. He smiled and nodded just as the door opened. Barely opened.
Peering through the tiny crack allowed by the chain lock, an eye blinked at them. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Shaw, Officer Merret here. I need to speak with you.”
“Why?”
“It’s about the incident.” That was vague enough.
The wide-eyed stare vanished into the darkness, and soon enough the door opened wider. She stood in what looked like pajamas, grasping the side of the door, unwilling to do much more than show her face. A dark purplish-green bruise peeked from beneath her bangs. “Yes? What is it?”
Frank carefully chose his words. He was crossing the line. Just barely. But crossing nevertheless. He had to be careful to not say he was representing the department. “This Web site that your conversation was posted on, how did it get there?”
“I told you, like I told my husband, I don’t know. I didn’t put it there. Is that what you think? That I put it there?” Her voice crawled with panic.
“No, no. I think someone else is doing it,” Frank said.
Gavin nodded.
Mrs. Shaw let go of the death grip she had on the doorframe. “I still don’t know if Tim believes me.”
“May we come in?”
She peered out a little and gave a long stare toward the Caldwells’ house across the street. “Okay, fine.”
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