I Know Everything

by Matthew Farrell

  “You keep saying that,” Tommy said. “How do you know he had nothing to do with what happened to his wife?”

  “Because I knew him before Amanda and after, and I can tell you that he was a changed man. Changed for the better. Amanda brought a light into his life that I’d never seen before. She made him whole. She filled his heart. He would never hurt her. You’ll have to trust me on that.”

  Susan handed him her card. “Thank you for your time. If you think of anything or discover anything we should be made aware of, call me.”

  Peter took the card and opened the office door. “I can tell you one thing,” he said quietly.

  Susan stopped. “What’s that?”

  “I think someone’s been bothering Randall. He mentioned it to me a couple of days ago. You might want to ask him about it.”

  “Who?”

  “Pete! You coming?” a female voice called from the other end of the house.

  “Some guy who calls himself Sam. Just mention it to him. See what he says.”

  “Pete!”

  “I’m coming!” Peter held up his hands. “That’s all I know. I have to see what my wife needs.”

  “We’ll let ourselves out,” Susan said.

  Peter jogged down the hall without saying anything further. He turned the corner and was out of sight. Susan and Tommy walked down the opposite corridor toward the main foyer.

  “Who the hell is Sam?” Tommy asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  They reached the front door, and Tommy opened it. “Maybe it’s Hooper.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  27

  The holiday celebration had gone off without a hitch. The twins, unfazed that their mother couldn’t attend their first event, FaceTimed Susan as she and Tommy rode back from Peter’s house. They told her all about the songs they’d sung and performed one of their dances for her while Beatrice held the phone. She laughed and clapped, but it killed her that she’d missed it. She wanted to apologize and hug them and promise them she’d be there next time, but she swallowed her guilt and pretended everything was okay. Beatrice had captured it all on video, and she told her it would be waiting when she got home. Susan had no idea when that might be.

  Cortlandt SP was pretty much empty. The evening shift had changed over hours earlier, and everyone was out on patrol. A few troopers milled about the dispatch area making calls and writing out reports, but the general buzz of the barracks was gone.

  Tommy dropped his jacket on the back of his chair and eased himself into it, elbows on his desk, head in hands. “That was a long day.”

  Susan sat across from him and turned on her laptop. “It’s not over yet. We still have to log these interviews into the system. You take Hooper Landsky, and I’ll tackle Bernie Hayman and Dr. Reems.”

  “Deal.”

  Crosby walked out of his office and sat on the edge of Susan’s desk, arms folded. “Nice to see you today,” he said sarcastically. “I appreciate the progress reports throughout your shift.”

  “Sorry. The day kinda got away from us.”

  “Tell me what you found.”

  Susan pushed her laptop to the side. Tommy sat back, watching, as she ran through the day’s interviews.

  “Interesting,” Crosby said. “So maybe Hooper thinks Amanda is going to leave her husband, take all her money with her, and the two of them can run away. Then Hooper finds out Amanda changed her mind, and the money is no longer his. He loses the girl and the millions. That’s motive to kill her right there. We’ve seen people killed for less.”

  Susan nodded. “And what you just said also gives the husband the exact same motive. Losing thirty million dollars is a serious thing. What if Randall found out Amanda was going to leave him and take her money with her? What if he discovered why she wanted to leave him? Maybe he found out about Hooper and the will, and he figured he had to stop it before she left him with next to nothing. No wife, no money. The life he thought he knew would be gone. So he killed her to keep everything else the way it should be. Made the homicide look like an accident so he could be a grieving husband.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t like the husband for this.”

  “I don’t. Not the way he’s acting. I can see his hurt. It’s real. If he’s lying and he killed her, he’s the best I’ve ever seen. But the motive Hooper has to kill Amanda is the same motive Randall would have. We have to keep an eye on Randall and find Hooper Landsky.”

  “Anything else?”

  “After the lawyer, we went to see his colleague, Dr. Peter Reems. Reems is a buddy from college and is very close with Randall. He can’t imagine Randall harming Amanda either, but he did mention some guy who was harassing him. Didn’t have any details but said the guy’s name was Sam.”

  “Okay, so what now?” Crosby asked.

  Tommy chimed in. “We’re pulling everything we can from Amanda’s phone account to see what we can find there. We have a BOLO out for Hooper’s car. Maroon Subaru Legacy. New York plates. We’ll be checking on associates and friends who might’ve seen him. We’d also like to get street-cam footage from whatever feed the NYPD can give us around Hooper’s office or lot where he parks. Maybe we can get a bead on where he’s heading when he leaves.”

  “And I’d like to run a background check on Randall Brock,” Susan said. “See if anything pops out at us. The family attorney did a cursory check before the marriage, but I’d like to dive a little deeper. Maybe he’s got some debts or owes money or something.”

  Crosby got up from the corner of the desk. “Okay. Get on it. And keep me posted.”

  28

  He could hear the waves crashing down on the shore through the open windows in their deluxe suite. Randall got up from the bed and walked to the french doors, pulling them open and taking in the brilliant sky full of stars. A full moon was suspended over the tranquil ocean, and he could feel the salt air cool against his skin. He took a deep breath, smelling the very essence of the Amalfi Coast.

  “What’re you doing all the way over there?”

  Randall glanced over his shoulder to find Amanda sitting up in bed. The silk sheet had fallen, and he could see her bare breasts in the moonlight. They’d been in Italy for six days, so far a different city each day. He was planning to ask her to marry him at the end of the trip. The ring was in his luggage.

  “I’m just taking in the sights. It’s so beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as you.”

  “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be saying?”

  Amanda slipped out from beneath the sheets and joined him at the doorway. Her naked body pressed up against his, and they kissed slowly, deliberately. He loved her. There was no question about that. She made him feel like a complete person. He’d missed that since the Gary Anderson incident. He’d missed feeling like a human being.

  She ran her fingers down his back and stopped when she hit the cluster of scars that filled the middle of his spine and spread down to the edge of his butt. Her other hand touched the scars on his stomach. “Who did this to you?” she asked.

  Randall looked out at the ocean. “You know I can’t talk about that.”

  “But you can. You can tell me anything.”

  “No, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  She leaned in and kissed up his arm, from his elbow to his shoulder. “I need to know everything about you if we’re going to love each other unconditionally. We take the good and the bad. I’m ready. Whatever happened, you can tell me.”

  “No.”

  “I love you, Randall. And you love me. Tell me what happened.”

  Randall gently took her hands in his, pulling them away from his back and stomach. For a moment, he thought about telling her everything, but he couldn’t. As soon as she learned the truth, she’d leave him, repulsed and ashamed that she’d let herself get this close to a monster. This was his chance to start over. He wasn’t going to ruin it.

  Amanda kissed the middle of his chest. “If you l
ove me, you’ll tell me who hurt you.”

  “One day,” he lied. “Not yet.”

  He pulled her into him, their bodies warm against the chill of the night air outside. He stopped and took her head in his hands, spinning her toward the moonlight, the waves crashing outside. The light coming off the water hit her in just the right way, and suddenly he was holding Amanda’s dead body. Her skin was blue. Her left eye was swollen, her nose broken. He tried to back away, but her joints had stiffened, and she wouldn’t let go. No matter how hard he tried to run, she was with him. He couldn’t let her go. She was part of him. She always would be.

  Dead Amanda suddenly opened her eyes and looked at him. She parted her lips and let a single word slip through.

  Why?

  Randall sat up in bed, screaming as he tumbled onto the cold floor. He scrambled into the corner and curled up in a ball, searching the room for any sign of movement. The house was dark. There was no moonlight coming in the windows or waves crashing on the shore. Amanda wasn’t there. It was a dream. A nightmare.

  He picked himself up off the floor and took a steady breath, rubbing his eyes, discovering he’d been crying in his sleep. He stumbled out of the master bedroom to get a drink of water.

  They’d been living together for about a year when they’d taken that trip to Italy. And he had asked her to marry him at the end of it, in Rome, right outside the Vatican. The woman he’d met by chance in a bar had turned out to be an angel who’d been sent to reconstruct his life and make him whole again. Would he disintegrate without her? Could he move on?

  The clock on the nightstand read 2:37. Randall stood in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He reached behind him and rubbed the scars that littered his back like a brand. He lifted his shirt and felt his stomach. No matter how many things he changed around him, the scars would always be a reminder. There would never be an escape from his past. They would haunt him to his dying day.

  In the stillness of the night, the garage door opened one floor below.

  Randall turned away from the mirror, listening for the mudroom door, but there was no other sound. He ran back into his bedroom and snatched his phone from the nightstand before creeping downstairs and into the kitchen. With one finger on the emergency call button, he quietly grabbed a knife from the butcher block that was on the counter and tiptoed through the mudroom, stopping when he got to the door that led into the garage.

  “Who’s there?” he called out.

  No one answered.

  “I’ve called the police, and I’m armed.”

  Still no reply. No sound.

  Randall gripped the knob and turned it, opening the door slowly and flipping on the light. The garage door was closed, which meant the noise he’d heard had been the door shutting. That also meant he’d left it open when he’d come home from the funeral. He couldn’t remember. He walked down the three steps into the garage, knife poised, hand shaking slightly. No one was there. He was alone.

  It had been placed on the hood of his BMW. A small metal box. At first he had no idea what it could be. He picked it up off the car and examined it, turning it over in his hand, finding the hinges and a latch to open it. He pulled off the top and peered inside. It was a set of keys. Keys to a Subaru.

  Hooper drove a Subaru Legacy. Randall had seen it in some of the pictures he’d texted Amanda.

  Sam had come and left the keys for him. He wasn’t sure how he knew this, but he did. Unequivocally. He heard Amanda’s voice in his head again.

  Why?

  29

  Susan went downstairs, where her mother was already busy making breakfast for Casey and Tim. The twins sat in their booster seats, empty plates in front of them, a small pile of dry Cheerios to hold them at bay until the eggs were ready. Tim was paging through a book about trucks while Casey was staring out the window, watching the chickens as they walked around the yard aimlessly picking at things on the ground.

  The night had gone by in a blur, and Susan had slept like the dead. She’d gotten home a little past midnight after she and Tommy had finished the reports. Beatrice had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for her, but Susan hadn’t wanted to wake her. Instead, she’d shut off the television, put the extra-thick blanket over her mother, and headed upstairs. She’d taken a quick shower to wash the day off, watched the video of the twins in the holiday celebration, and gone to bed. Next thing she knew, her alarm was sounding, and a new day had begun.

  “Hey, honey,” Beatrice said as she fumbled with a pan. “I’m making eggs. We got a good haul this morning. You want some?”

  “Sure.”

  “Late night last night.”

  “Nothing exciting. Lots of paperwork.”

  “Thanks for the blanket.”

  “Thanks for staying.”

  “Coffee’s in the pot.”

  Susan poured herself a cup of coffee and looked out at the chickens. They appeared to be content, as far as she could tell, walking around the yard, pecking in the thin layer of snow that had accumulated on the grass overnight.

  “Hey, guys, I saw your video last night. You were amazing. You sang so well. I’m sorry I missed it.”

  “Mommy,” Casey said, clearly not sensing the guilt her mother was carrying about the holiday celebration. “We need a Christmas tree.”

  Susan turned to find her daughter staring intently back at her. There was no compromise in her little eyes.

  “We’ll get one, honey.”

  “But it’s almost Christmas, and if we don’t have a tree, Santa might skip our house, and if he skips our house, we won’t get any presents! He’s already mad that we only have the lights around the door. Santa needs to know where he’s going.”

  “I want presents,” Tim suddenly chimed in, his attention diverted from his book. “What if Santa can’t find us?”

  Casey was right. Susan hadn’t thought about a tree or decorations since the plans with Eric had changed. She’d put up a single string of multicolored lights around the door just after Thanksgiving but hadn’t done anything since.

  “Mommy? A tree? Please?”

  “We’ll go this weekend. I promise. Should we bring Grandma?”

  “Yes!” Tim shouted.

  “Yes!” Casey agreed.

  Susan looked over her shoulder toward her mother. “Mom?”

  Beatrice was scrambling her eggs with the skill of a short-order cook. “I wouldn’t miss it. Not with my two angels. Let’s get that tree!”

  The twins cheered, which made Susan giggle. She needed a morning like this. Sun shining outside, fresh snow lightly covering her world, her children and her mother close by, the smell of a healthy breakfast floating through the house. It was just about perfect.

  Susan’s cell phone rang. She walked into the foyer and snatched it from the small table where she also kept her keys and shield.

  “This is Adler.”

  “Hey, it’s Tommy.”

  “What’s up? Where are you?”

  “I’m at HQ. Got in early. Listen, we found Hooper Landsky.”

  She hopped over toys and tiny shoes scattered across the floor as she made her way into the living room to hear better. “That’s great. Where was he?”

  “I mean on the NYPD traffic footage.”

  “You got that already?”

  “I know a few guys there from when my dad was on. Pulled a favor. We got him exiting his office building just before six o’clock three nights ago. Picked him up again entering the parking garage across the street from where we parked.”

  “We need to see if the garage has cams.”

  “Already called,” Tommy replied. “No cameras on the inside. But get this. Right after Hooper walks down into the garage, we see Randall Brock pass by the entrance and turn the corner toward the rear of the place.”

  Susan stopped pacing. “You’re joking.”

  “No joke. Next thing we see is Hooper’s maroon Subaru Legacy leaving the garage and turning north on Madison Avenue. That’
s the last time we see him. No additional sightings of Randall either.”

  “Other cams?”

  “Nothing yet. They’re still looking.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “You think this is enough to bring Randall in?”

  “It better well be. Can’t get any charges filed, but we can at least have a talk with the guy. He’s in the same vicinity as a missing person the day he goes missing while they’re both potential suspects. We can bring him in.”

  “Good, then while you’re doing that, I’ll have a look around his property. Just a walk-around. Nothing on the inside since we have no warrant. I want to check out those woods behind his house.”

  “Okay, sounds good.”

  “I’ll see you in a few.”

  Susan hung up the phone and walked back into the kitchen. Her mother was just dumping the eggs onto her plate. The twins were already eating.

  “Was that work?” her mother asked.

  Susan nodded. “Yeah. I hate to do this, but it looks like I’m going to have to get that to go. I think we might’ve caught a break.”

  30

  Randall sat in the interrogation room alone. There was no clock on the wall, so he wasn’t exactly sure how long he’d been in there. If he had to guess, he’d say a little more than an hour. The troopers who’d brought him in had told him Investigator Adler needed to go over a few things, but she was stuck in traffic, trying to get to the barracks. They’d sat him in the tiny windowless room, and that was the last time he’d had contact with anyone. He was, however, quite certain they were watching him through the camera that was mounted in the corner of the wall.

  There was no two-way mirror like you saw in the movies. Randall tried his hardest not to look at the camera. He could imagine a group of detectives in a back room somewhere, watching him, coffees in their hands, anticipation in the air. He felt like an exhibit at a zoo. Well, let them watch. He was happy to answer any questions they had for him.