by Blake Pierce
For some reason, saying this out loud brought a sting of tears to her eyes. It also brought back the memory of coming one second away from blowing her own brains out before being interrupted by Howard Randall’s package.
“Well, just keep in mind for the future,” Kellaway said, doing her best to play down the heroics. “I’m sure if we work together after this, you’ll have the chance to repay the favor.”
Avery gave a lazy nod of her head, still trying to figure out why she was so struck by the realization that her life could have easily ended two minutes ago. It hadn’t been the first close call in her career—not by a long shot.
She thought of Ramirez’s grave, of seeing Jack’s body on his living room floor, and of Rose, lying in a hospital bed half an hour away.
These things were all testaments to the fact that death was much more tangible than she had thought. Life had dealt her a harsh hand over the last few months—so harsh that perhaps she had been blinded by how precious life truly was.
She got behind the wheel and sped toward A1, anxious to get Dan Hudson in an interrogation room. And while that was prominent on her mind, it was not the most important thing.
She wanted him tucked away in a room so she could go visit her daughter a quickly as she could. Just thinking about her made tears spill down her face. She wiped them away quickly, before Kellaway could see them, while the man who had nearly killed her still wept in the back seat.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Avery quickly came to realize that Dan Hudson was indeed guilty of something, in addition to having just fired at an officer: he was guilty of being an asshole.
He was still clearly terrified when he sat in the interrogation room. Avery had just come out from questioning him and had gotten little more than the same things he had offered up at his house. Connelly, Kellaway, and O’Malley watched him in the monitor. He was mewling like a scaredy cat and shifting uncomfortably in the seat.
“The guy seems like a certifiable nut job,” Connelly said.
“That not exactly the PC way to put it,” Avery said. “But you’re not too far off. The counselor at the support group described his condition as phobophobia. He’s literally scared of being scared.”
“Well, that seems to be plenty of motive for going after people because of their fears,” Connelly said. “It’s also damning that he’s willingly admitting to knowing all of the victims in some capacity.”
Avery nodded. It was damning. And on paper, Dan Hudson would surely seem like a likely suspect. The fact that he had fired a gun at her less than an hour ago made it an even more appealing case. The more she watched him squirm in the monitor, the more she wondered if he was the killer. But there were a few things that stalled that notion.
For starters, while Delores Moon was not the most pleasant lady, she knew her stuff. Based on Moon’s background and the trust the people in the group had in her, Avery felt safe in knowing that if she had suspected Dan Hudson as the killer, she would have said so from the start.
“I want another crack at him before anyone books him for the murders,” Avery said.
Connelly smiled. “Good to see the perfectionist in you didn’t go wandering away during your time off,” he said.
Avery slowly walked back into the interrogation room, coming up with a line of questions that would either nail Dan to the wall or clearly show that he was innocent. She also knew, though, that she tended to do better with interrogations on the fly. As she walked into the room, she could almost feel the eyes on her in the monitor within the viewing room. She walked into the interrogation room, quickly looked up to the camera in the corner, and then took the seat across from the small table Dan Hudson currently sat behind.
“Listen, Mr. Hudson,” she said. “I know you’re scared and don’t want to be here. And the sooner we can clear you of these murders, the sooner we can release you. You understand that, right?”
Dan’s face went through a wide range of emotions, as if he couldn’t decide which emotion to settle on. He finally decided on what looked like fearful content. “Don’t you get it?” he said in a shaky voice. “How the hell would I murder someone? I have a legitimate and diagnosed phobia that keeps me scared of just about anything. The thought of even handling a knife scares me. All the knives in my home are butter knives because anything with sharp points has the potential to scare me. Even meeting new people is scary for me because I never know their intentions.”
“Is that why you insist on insulting the people in Delores Moon’s support group?” Avery asked. “Is that why you taunted one member with a lighter?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just….seeing other people scared makes me think my problem isn’t so bad. Sometimes I go online and watch reaction videos on YouTube…when people react to horror movies in real time. I’ll watch those scare pranks, too. Seeing people scared makes me feel…normal, I guess.”
“So am I supposed to just believe that you keep your bullying of people to immature acts like flicking a lighter in a woman’s face? How do I know you don’t set up elaborate pranks yourself just so you can watch people get scared? You just admitted that seeing other terrified makes you feel better.”
“You’re not listening!” Dan said. “Everything—every fucking thing—has the potential to scare me. The handcuffs you put me in, this bland room, the evil way everyone has looked at me since you got me here. My mind plays out these scenarios…about how you’ll beat the shit out of me to get some sort of confession or how I’ll end up in jail and get raped daily. Just t-t-talking about it makes m-me…makes me go there.”
Avery was pretty sure he was being genuine. No matter how good of an actor Dan might be, there was no way he was good enough to convey the sheer terror that was slowly creeping into his features.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Avery said. “I’m going to take you at your word. And in a few moments, someone else will come in and work with you to come up with alibis—to see where you were and what you were doing around the time these murders were committed. If all of that checks out, you won’t be charged with any murders. However…I have to be honest with you: you fired at a cop and that’s bad news. I’m telling you this not to scare you, but to let you start to process it. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Dan’s bottom lip started quivering and for a moment, he looked like a scared little kid sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for his parents to check the closet for monsters. He nodded and started to let out more of this whining noises. He started to tremble and there was a noticeable hitching to his breath.
“Dan? Are you okay? Do you need help?”
“Water,” he managed to say through what Avery felt was certain to be a vicious bout of sobbing on the way.
She got up quickly and left the room, hurrying back into the viewing room where O’Malley, Connelly, and Kellaway were still watching.
“He faking it?” O’Malley asked.
“No. He’s in bad shape.” She looked directly to Connelly and said, “I don’t think he did it. I know the motive is there and it looks neat and wrapped up, but he doesn’t have it in him to kill anyone.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure, yeah. Can you get someone to line up his alibis, just to make sure? And maybe get Delores Moon on the phone. He’s terrified, Connelly. He’s going to need someone to talk this through when it’s all said and done.”
“He shot at you,” Connelly said. “This won’t be over for him for a long time.”
Kellaway headed for the door, sensing the urgency of the situation on the screen. “I’ll take him his water. I’ll call Moon, too.”
Avery nodded her thanks. She felt responsible for pushing him too hard, for making him resort to the reaction that she could still see on the monitor in front of her.
“If he’s not the killer,” Connelly said, “are there any more leads?”
She almost said no, but she felt like there might be something else to look into. She was
n’t sure that she had missed anything per se, but maybe there were certain avenues that had not been explored yet. She thought back to the support group, all of those hopeful and needy eyes looking toward Delores Moon.
And then, strangely enough, she thought of Howard Randall’s letter.
Who are you, Avery?
“Avery?” O’Malley said. “What is it?”
Apparently, she’d been deep in thought and it had been plastered all over her face. “Nothing,” she said. “I’ll be I touch and readily available, but I need to go back to the hospital. I need to check on Rose.”
Connelly sighed and looked back to the monitor, then to Avery once again. “Avery…thanks for coming on for this. You’ve already helped immensely. But maybe you should step away. Be with your daughter and get things right there…”
“No. Just…keep me posted on anything.”
“Are you sure?”
But she didn’t bother with a response. She was already to the doorway with her thoughts on Rose in a hospital bed and that itching sort of feeling that came over her when she thought of Howard’s letter. She then saw the woman from the group that was afraid of fire and the man that was afraid of death. What other phobias had been in that room? And how were they all connected other than through fear?
There’s something there…something to that, she thought.
She pried at the thought as she headed to her car, feeling that maybe she had missed something after all. But with the need to see Rose so strong on her heart, she wasn’t able to figure it out.
Avery was well aware that she had relied on Howard as something of a crutch in the past, visiting him whenever a case got too far away from her. He’d sometimes provide insight and other times make her feel foolish. But now that he was gone (apparently living somewhere else while keeping a close eye on her), she felt almost empty.
Who are you, Avery?
She’d thought she’d always known the answer to that. But leave it to Howard Randall to make her doubt it.
And in his absence, Avery thought the answer might be in a hospital bed within the heart and mind of her daughter.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
She arrived at the hospital just after eight o’clock. She found Rose in much better spirits, watching television and snacking on cafeteria Jell-O. The smile she gave Avery when she walked in was bright and unexpected.
“Hey,” Rose said. “Back so soon? Did you close that case?”
Avery sat down in the visitor’s chair and shook her head. “No, not yet. I’m trying to sort things out right now.”
“Here?” Rose asked. “I’d think it would be easier to think and sort things out in a warm tub of water with a tall glass of wine.”
“That does sound nice,” Avery said. “How about you? How are you doing?”
“Good. The doctor checked in on me for the last time a few hours ago before clocking out for the day. He said everything looks good. They’re going to release me in the morning so long as all of my bloodwork comes back normal. They want to make sure all of the meds have been flushed out of my system.”
Avery cringed at how light-hearted Rose seemed when talking about it. She knew this was an opening to have a lengthier conversation but she wasn’t sure how to start it. It was just as tricky as the interrogation she had just left.
“Rose…I understand the animosity you must have felt. But I want to know what I can do to make sure that you can come to me if you ever feel that way again. I’ll be honest with you…I blamed myself. And maybe that was for the best. Maybe it was true.”
“No, it wasn’t all on you. But…not to make light of it, that really long sleep I was in was cathartic. I woke up and saw you here and something struck me.”
“What’s that?”
Rose was tearing up. She looked away from her mother and to the television where some terrible reality show was on. “I’m tired of being angry at you. The whole teenage angst thing should have stopped years ago. I need to stop blaming you for everything and start looking at the world through a hate-free lens. Sounds deep, sure, but that’s how I feel.”
“That sounds good,” Avery said.
“So…I know I’m not Ramirez but do you want to tell me about this case? Why haven’t you cracked it yet?”
“Cracked it?”
Rose shrugged. “I only know the lingo from what I see on TV. And let’s be honest, it’s all very badly written.”
“I brought a suspect in this afternoon but I’m ninety percent sure he’s not the guy.”
“The spider guy?”
Avery chuckled, a noise that turned into a yawn. She had gone three months without these high-stress days. Today had taken its toll on her. In fact, it was all running together for her. Kneeling by Abby Costello’s body by Jamaica Pond and walking into Janice Saunders’s house filled with clowns…it all blurred together in one big chunk of time.
“It’s more than spiders now,” she said. “It’s getting really bad.”
“A serial killer?” Rose asked, sounding a little too interested.
“I think I liked it better when you were quiet,” Avery said.
“So…a serial killer,” Rose said, grinning at her mother’s irritation. “One of those bad TV shows would stall and stall until the end and then come up with these profound ideas. That or some serious deus ex machina—a clue coming out of nowhere to save the day.”
“Yeah, it rarely works that way in real life,” Avery said. “In real life, it’s honestly more like a game of Clue or Guess Who. It’s sometimes less about clues and more about digging deeper into people’s lives and their connections to suspected killers or other victims.”
“Did your time off slow you down?” Rose asked.
“Maybe. I do feel a little off. And damn, I’m tired.”
“I say we have a sleepover. Not to brag, but I can hook us up with some pretty righteous Jell-O.”
“The sleepover sounds good,” Avery said. “The Jello-O does not.”
“Awesome. Pull your chair up and watch some TV with me.”
“What are we watching?”
“Twenty women get catty with each other and cry about everything because some guy doesn’t have enough roses for them.”
And like that, something felt natural and almost repaired about their relationship. It was more than sweeping the past under the rug and pretending nothing had happened. It felt more like something had been renewed. And with renewal came the reality that they’d need to work on things but, as they worked together, they could learn to trust one another again.
Despite this, Avery drifted off to sleep fifteen minutes after moving her chair closer to Rose’s bed so she could watch television. She went to sleep with her own comments drifting around in her head like flotsam and jetsam.
It’s sometimes less about clues and more about digging deeper into people’s lives and their connections to suspected killers or other victims…
Avery didn’t realize she had drifted off until her cell phone buzzed. It was in her pants pocket, so when it vibrated it woke her up with a start. Startled, Avery checked the phone. The first thing she saw was that it was 3:05 in the morning. The second thing she saw was that the buzzing had been an incoming text from Kellaway.
All of Dan Hudson’s alibis check out. The one for Abby Costello isn’t rock solid but it’s enough to be considered verifiable given that he’s been ruled out for killing Lawnbrook and Saunders. He meets with a lawyer tomorrow to represent him in the case that’s currently being process in regards to him shooting you.
Avery then checked through her emails but found no new information on the case. She tried to drift back off to sleep but couldn’t. She went to the bathroom and splashed some water in her face. When she came back out, Rose was awake.
“I heard your phone buzz. Are you off to save the city?”
“Not quite,” Avery said. “But if you don’t mind, I am going to go home and grab a shower before heading back to the precinct. Will you have some
one call me when they release you? I’ll come by and pick you up.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. I want to. You’ve made a promise to yourself to stop hating me. The least I can do is make a promise to you that you’ll be my top priority.”
“I appreciate that, Mom,” Rose said. “But can you start that after you bring this guy in? Seeing you struggle between me and a case is heartbreaking. And I know how you can get when you’re knee-deep in a case. Go be a badass.”
“If you say so,” Avery said. “But I mean it…call me. I want to pick you up and take you home.”
“Maybe I can come see your creepy little cabin in the woods when this is all over.”
“I’d actually love that.”
Avery gave Rose a kiss on the forehead and then headed back out. She again found herself thinking of connections and the members of the support group. There was something there, maybe something she needed to dig deeper into. She figured when morning arrived, she’d call Delores Moon and try to sort it all out.
She left the streetlights and buildings of the city and ventured out toward her new home. Things with Rose seemed to be better than ever and she also felt that she had something in her mind that she was on the verge of cracking into in regards to the case. The sun had another hour or so before it made its presence known but as for Avery, she already felt like today was going to be a good one.
***
Maybe it was having spent the last two days dealing with people and their fears, but Avery found it hard to be alone in the cabin when she arrived home. She felt like a foolish child, but she turned on just about every light in the house and turned the television on to a news channel just to have some active noise in the background. Hearing the murmur of the newscasters’ voices made her feel oddly safe as she stripped down and took a shower.
She thought about what she’d said at Rose’s bedside, about how there had to be some connection to the victims. But so far, the support group and Dan Hudson was the only link. Sure, fear itself was a link but their phobias had been so vastly different. So where was the connection? If she went deeper than just the support group itself, there was Delores Moon, but no red flags had gone off when Avery had met her. She wondered who else might have worked with the group in the past: other counselors, guest speakers, or anyone of that nature.