I Know Everything

by Matthew Farrell

  “Tell him the doc said no more visitors or that I was sleeping. I don’t want to see him.”

  “Why?”

  “I just don’t. No more visitors.”

  “You two okay?”

  “Yeah,” Susan lied. “I just can’t handle all the questions right now.”

  Crosby nodded. “All right. I’ll come get you when the doctor gives the all clear. We still have the unit at your house. Like I said, he stays there until this is over.”

  “Thanks, boss.”

  She watched Crosby slip back under the curtain and disappear. She tried to move her shoulder, then winced as the pain slipped through the numbness for just a second. She pushed her magic red button and waited for it to do its thing.

  50

  Beatrice’s Versa was parked on Ringgold Street in Peekskill, across the road and half a block down from the house Tommy was renting three blocks up from the Hudson. The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky, and there wasn’t a cloud to be found. Tommy’s black Accord was parked in the one-car driveway, but there were lights on inside the house, which meant he was awake and getting ready for work.

  By the time Susan had walked out of the ER, there’d been only a handful of officers still lingering in the lobby. Crosby had driven her home. She’d gotten in around three in the morning, her adrenaline still pumping from finding Hooper and her run-in with the Subaru. There was no use resting with only a few hours left before she’d have to get up again. Crosby had ordered her to take a few days and recover, but she’d had other plans. She’d checked on the twins and peeked in on her mother, who was snoring on the couch, before slipping into the shower. As she’d watered the tree they’d put up, she’d noticed the protective unit out front. Seeing it made her feel more vulnerable than protected.

  She was gone before anyone had a chance to wake up and took her mother’s car to try and disguise herself. She left a note letting Beatrice know where she was and that she had her phone if anyone needed her. The sky-blue Nissan Versa was quite the departure from the Taurus she’d grown used to. This was like driving a four-door go-kart.

  The front door opened, and Tommy emerged a few minutes before seven o’clock. Susan straightened up in her seat when she saw him, ignoring the throbbing in her shoulder. She knew she couldn’t take the Percocet they’d given her and drive, so she’d have to fight through the pain until she got home. Even with her arm in the sling, the pain was worse than she’d been expecting. It was going to be a long day.

  Tommy hopped down the steps and turned in the opposite direction from where his car was parked. She watched him walk down the street and round the corner onto Hudson Avenue. From where she was parked, she could see him heading away from the river. But if he turned down another street, she’d lose him and would have to drive over in that direction.

  He walked two blocks, then popped into a corner deli. After a few minutes, he came out with two paper bags full of groceries, then disappeared inside his house again. Susan relaxed. Just a quick deli run. No biggie.

  There was a part of her that felt foolish for tailing a colleague, but the coincidences in the case were too many to ignore. She just wanted to see what a typical day in Tommy’s life looked like, and with her supposedly sidelined for the time being, this was his opportunity to make a move if he was, indeed, involved in Amanda’s murder.

  Tommy had called her two more times while she was at the ER. She’d let them both roll to voice mail, not sure what she was going to say or how she was going to broach things, and figuring ignoring him was the best plan for now.

  He came out of his house about an hour after his trip to the deli. Again, he hopped down his stairs, but this time he turned toward his car and climbed in. The engine came to life, and steam billowed from the exhaust. Susan put the Versa in gear and waited as he reversed out of the driveway and began to drive farther down Ringgold. When he took a right on Frost Avenue, she sped up and arrived at the corner just in time to see him make a left onto Washington Street. She kept a close enough distance to track him but stayed far enough back to blend in with the traffic that had picked up for rush hour.

  He merged onto Welcher Avenue, made a left on Post Road, then pulled onto the ramp for Route 9. Susan was four cars behind when he eventually merged onto the Taconic State Parkway, then onto Interstate 287 East. Her stomach began to rumble when they picked up the Hutchinson River Parkway South, and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything since the night before. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, and she found herself both hungry and tired, the pain in her shoulder a constant thudding.

  Tommy drove over the Whitestone Bridge and got onto the Long Island Expressway. At that point Susan had a pretty good idea about where he was going. Interesting that only a day after she’d visited Martin Corolla, Tommy was heading to see his father. Another piece that either didn’t quite fit or fit too easily.

  She parked a block before Martin’s house. From where she sat, she could see father greet son with a hug and usher him inside. She pulled her phone out and dialed the barracks.

  “New York State Police, Troop K. Trooper Barton speaking.”

  “Bart, it’s Susan. I need to talk to Corolla.”

  “Hey, Susan. How you feeling?”

  “I’m good. I’ll be back in a few days.”

  “Good to hear it. Tommy’s out, though. You try his cell?”

  “Yeah,” she lied. “Went to voice mail. Thought he might be at his desk.”

  “Nope. Checked in at roll call, then went on patrol. If I hear from him, I’ll have him call you.”

  She hung up and leaned back in her seat, watching the house, heavy eyes scanning the perimeter of the property for Randall Brock, a maroon Subaru Legacy, or anything else that might look suspicious. She opened her mother’s glove compartment and found a half-eaten pack of M&M’s. It would have to do.

  51

  She was back from Long Island and lying on the couch, flipping through channels as shadows cast by the setting sun danced across the living room walls. Beatrice was playing in the backyard with the twins, trying to take their minds off the fact that Mommy had come home with a pretty significant boo-boo. They’d decorated the tree, and Beatrice had made Christmas cookies, hoping to distract the twins and keep them occupied. Tim seemed okay with his mother in a sling, but Casey’s questions came one after the other. Susan did her best to answer, but it was hard to explain everything to someone so young. She could tell, as Beatrice looked on, that her little girl was worried and anxious and furious and scared, but she also knew Beatrice would never admit just how worried or anxious or furious or scared she was. So after everything else was done, her mother got Tim and Casey dressed in their winter gear and took them out to the swings while Susan remained relegated to the couch, half watching the television and, despite the painkillers that tried to lull her to sleep, thinking about what details of the case she could be missing.

  The doorbell rang.

  She sat up and looked out the window. Someone standing at the door, but their identity was hidden by the way the foyer wall jutted out and blocked the porch. She checked to ensure the police unit was still parked at the end of the driveway. It was. That could only mean whoever had come calling was safe as far as the trooper protecting her was concerned. She climbed off the couch and fought dizziness on her way to the door.

  Tommy stood on the porch, his hands in his pockets, an expression of uneasiness about him. The sun was setting on the horizon in the distance.

  “Hey, Tommy.”

  “Hey.”

  “What’s up?”

  He took his hands out of his pockets and offered them up in surrender. “How about my fellow investigator got attacked and wounded in the line of duty on a case we’re both working, but she won’t call me or see me, won’t pick up the phone when I call, and is doing her best to avoid me? What the hell, Susan? We’re supposed to be in this together.”

  Susan shook her head. The drugs were making her woozy, and she didn�
��t want to have this discussion while impaired. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t talk right now.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m here, so we’re talking.”

  “Come back tomorrow.”

  “Why were you following me this morning?”

  She felt the muscles in her neck tighten. He’d seen her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Tommy turned and pointed to her mother’s car. “Light-blue Versa. I’m not an idiot, Susan. I know when I’m being tailed. Why were you following me?”

  Susan started to close the door, but Tommy stuck his arm inside at the last minute.

  “You think I’m dirty?”

  “Let go of the door, Tommy.”

  “Answer me.”

  “Why would I think that?”

  “Because you went to see my father. And he told you everything.”

  She stopped struggling and allowed the door to swing back open. She looked at her partner through a lens of blurred vision, unsure of what to say.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you went to see him?”

  “I didn’t get a chance. I went to Gary Anderson’s house after your father’s, and then everything went down.”

  “What made you go to him in the first place?”

  “You know what.”

  Tommy nodded and looked toward the ground. “I couldn’t say anything about knowing our suspect and dating Lily and all the Gary Anderson stuff. I wanted to, but I had to play it close to the vest and be professional. You and I both know that if Crosby found out I had an inside track on this family, he’d take me off the case, and I couldn’t have that. Not on my first case. I was just trying to come onto the troop smooth. I had no idea Randall Brock was really William Feder until we got those prints back. You would’ve done the same thing.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Susan leaned against the edge of the door. She felt weak on her feet. “Just tell me the truth,” she said. “No more bullshit. You asked Crosby to let you partner with me as soon as the call came in about the Brock case. You knew who he really was, and you wanted a firsthand look at the man who was forced to torture and beat your girlfriend. You wanted to look him in the eye and see what made him tick. You wanted to see if you could tell if he’d enjoyed it.”

  Tommy shook his head. “How would I know Randall was William? Hell, I didn’t even know there was an investigation until I met you at the scene, and when I met you at the scene, we hadn’t ID’d the driver yet. Think about it. But I will admit one thing. Once we found out who Randall was, I wanted nothing more than to get a firsthand look into that bastard’s eyes to see if I could find guilt or pleasure or something in there that would tell me if he liked what he did to Lily and Rose. So on that point, yeah, you’re right.”

  “Gary made him do what he did.”

  Tommy snorted. “I was up in Oswego when all that went down, but I started doing research on my own. I called my dad a few times to find out what happened, but he just kept trying to protect me from the truth. He was my father, and he didn’t want me knowing what my girlfriend went through. I ended up placing a few calls to the others who were on scene or part of the investigation unit. Professional courtesy. They let me in on the facts that weren’t being disclosed to the public. Some of the things they left out of the official file.”

  “What’d you find?”

  “I found out Dr. Feder was the one who butchered Rose and Lily. The police told the media that it was Gary who killed them, but it was Feder.” Tommy’s eyes began to tear. “Rose was found with her head detached. Lily had been set on fire. Burned her alive, right there in the basement. Dumped gasoline all over her and lit a match. The NYPD said Feder had been tortured himself, forced into committing the acts. That Gary kept cutting him up with a blade. Beating him. The whole nine. But it was Feder who killed Gary’s family, and they just let him walk free. Said he’d suffered enough. I always wondered if there was a part of him that enjoyed what he was doing.”

  He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand. “I always wanted a chance to find that out, but then he disappeared. When we ID’d him, I thought it was a dream. He’d fallen right into my lap. Just like that. It was unreal. So no, I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. But I still needed to look into his eyes and see, for myself, if there was pleasure in the acts he’d committed. Including what he did to Amanda.”

  “But you never did.”

  “What?”

  “Look into his eyes. You’ve never met him. Even when we were interviewing him. Every time he’s around, you’re not.”

  Tommy was silent.

  “You were the one who found the hole that was dug in Randall’s yard.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You said you wanted to go up there and look around the woods.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How did you know there were woods surrounding his property? You’d never been up there before.”

  A breeze blew fallen leaves end over end down the street and across the porch. Tommy looked at her. “Ever hear of Google Maps? I surveyed the property to see what it looked like. That’s what gave me the idea in the first place. You can check my workstation if you want.”

  Susan stared at him. “Are you part of this?” she asked, her words slurring just a bit. “Are you Sam?”

  Tommy’s eyes widened. “Susan . . . what the . . . of course not. How could I be?”

  “You said it yourself. In our line of work there are no such things as coincidences. Amanda Brock gets killed, and you show up. Sam jumps in the creek behind the field at the Christmas tree lot to throw off the scent, and you arrive on scene wet. You’ve never actually talked to or met Randall Brock, despite you telling me how desperately you’ve wanted to since you learned his real identity. You found the hole in his yard that hid the evidence to Amanda’s murder. I was alone at Gary Anderson’s house last night when I found Hooper. You weren’t there.”

  “You wouldn’t return my calls! I didn’t know where you were!”

  “You know the route I take to my house from the barracks. The night I was run off the road and blew a tire. How would Randall know that would be the road I was taking?”

  Tommy laughed. “Susan, the drugs they have you on are messing with your head. Seriously. You said this guy in the hood was already in the parking lot at the barracks when you came out that night. He just followed behind you. He didn’t know in advance where you were going. And I wasn’t there. I’d left hours earlier. I didn’t even know Brock was Feder then.”

  “You have motive. Revenge for Dr. Feder killing your girlfriend. You’ve been trying to pin this on him since day one. You said, ‘It’s always the husband.’ Remember that?”

  “I can’t listen to any more of this garbage.”

  “Are you Sam?”

  “Of course not! You and I both know Randall killed Amanda, and we both know this Sam guy is a made-up story. He killed his wife, and he’s trying to get away with it. Makes me wonder if playing the victim a few years ago helped him get away with what he did to Rose and Lily.”

  Susan waved her hands at the trooper who was parked at the bottom of the driveway, signaling that she needed him. “I don’t believe you,” she said.

  “I didn’t know who Randall was until the prints came back,” Tommy insisted. “Maybe I would’ve recognized him if you took me to Amanda’s wake. And I have a ticket from the goddamned tube sledding if you want to see it! This is crazy!”

  The trooper rushed toward the house. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Susan wouldn’t take her eyes off Tommy. “I’d like Investigator Corolla to leave my property, and I don’t want him back anytime soon.”

  “You got it.”

  “Susan, please,” Tommy said as he began to back away from the door. “Think about what you’re saying.”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she said. Her head was spinning, and she needed to lie down. “I suggest you g
et back to the barracks and disclose all of this to Crosby. Don’t make me tell him. Do the honorable thing here. The sooner we get everything on the table, the faster we can figure out how to get past it.”

  Tommy was about to say something else but stopped. He nodded and turned to walk with the trooper toward his car, which was parked across the street. Susan watched them leave, then closed the door, fell against the wall in the foyer, and began to cry quietly so her mother and the twins wouldn’t hear if they came back in.

  Everything was careening out of her control.

  What was happening?

  52

  Randall knew exactly where he was. The walls were the same rough cinder block. The floor was still hard and cold. The smell of standing water, rotten with decay and rust, was enough to make him want to vomit. But most of all it was the aroma of blood and death that flooded his senses. He would never forget that smell for as long as he lived. He was in Gary Anderson’s basement. Of that he had no doubt.

  The room was so dark Randall couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He tried to stand up, but a chain on his right wrist pulled him back down. He listened for the sound of Lily or Rose crying, but there was only the drone of silence. His head ached, and he tried to remember how he’d gotten there. The last thing he could remember was . . .

  “Hello! Is anyone there? I need help! Please, I can’t stay here! Help me!”

  A rustling came from the other side of the basement.

  Randall’s stomach tightened as he backed himself up against the wall. His heels slipped on the ground, and he suddenly realized how cold it was in the basement. He was still in his T-shirt and underwear. His body was shaking. He began tugging on the chain.

  “Please! Help me! Somebody, help me!”

  Footsteps crossed the room. Visions of Gary and his punishments flashed through his mind. The razor. The hot poker. The whip. The hammer. His mind began to cave in on itself as he sobbed and cried out for help. It was too much. It was all too much.