“He does love that dog,” Mia agreed. “And you’re right. I’d pity the wild animal that threatened Gypsy when Anthony’s around.”
“What’s your relationship with Anthony?” Liam asked.
Mia went to the desk and straightened the picture. “We dated for a short time.”
“Did you part ways recently?” Liam asked.
“No. It was months ago.” A hint of defiance crept into her tone, and she narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry, how is that any of your business?”
Liam pointed at the photograph. “I was just wondering. It seems unusual to keep pictures of an ex around.”
“Do you know how hard it is to get a picture of a teenage boy smiling?” Despite her irritation, Mia’s face softened. “That is a great picture of Greg. He was so happy that day. His grouping was damn near perfect, and he was bursting with pride every time Anthony complimented him.” She shrugged. “Besides, Anthony and I parted amicably. We’re still friends. And he and Greg are still close.”
“I understand,” I said. “Teenagers get very moody around this age, don’t they?”
Mia sighed. “That they do. Everyone talks about how bad teenage girls are, but I can’t imagine they’re worse than boys. I swear, as if having a human garbage disposal emptying my fridge isn’t bad enough, he’s just so…so…”
“Moody?”
“Yes. He’s trying so hard to be a man, to convince me he’s not a kid anymore. It’s an adjustment for both of us. And not having his dad around hasn’t made it any easier.”
“Where is his dad?” Liam asked.
A shadow fell over Mia’s face, and she raised her arms to hug herself. “He passed away five years ago. Complications from an undiagnosed head injury from playing football. Chronic traumatic encephalopathy, they called it.” She turned to the wall and another photograph hanging there. It was a family portrait, Mia and Greg and another man. Greg was much younger, maybe ten. He stood behind his mom and in front of his father, smiling in the way boys did when told to smile, but his posture was relaxed. It was a happy portrait.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.
Mia lowered herself onto the couch, one hand gripping the arm. “It took us too long to recognize the symptoms. Doctors talk about head injuries in sports, but twenty years ago, no one realized the damage those tackles really did. You didn’t expect the consequences to show up a decade later.”
“Did he play professionally?” Liam asked.
“No. Just high school, but he could have gotten an athletic scholarship to college if he wanted to.” Her jaw tightened. “He started at North Olmsted, but when his family moved, he played for his new high school, Olmsted Falls. They were North Olmsted’s big rivals, and I think his former teammates hit him harder than they had to. Bad feelings, like he’d deliberately betrayed them.”
North Olmsted. I glanced at Liam, and he met my eyes. Oliver Dale had played football for North Olmsted.
“High school sports are taken a lot more seriously than they should be, if you ask me,” Liam said. “At least now they’re being more careful with the kids. More so than when your husband played. What year was that?”
“He graduated in 2000.”
“He was young when he died, then,” I said sympathetically.
“Not even forty,” Mia whispered. She looked back at the photo. “It was hard enough for me, but for Greg… I guess there’s no way to prepare a boy for losing his father.”
For a second, I thought she would cry. Instead, she took a slow, deep breath, then looked up at Liam. “Listen, I’m not stupid. Greg’s been in trouble before. And Oliver was a grade-A bastard who made Anthony’s life a living hell. You want to interrogate Greg because you think he or Anthony had something to do with Oliver’s death.”
Liam lowered his shoulders, trying to look less intimidating. “I’m not here to accuse Greg of anything. I’m only trying to gain a better understanding of what happened last night. You’re right: Mr. Dale didn’t have a sterling reputation, and it’s easy to believe his death wasn’t an accident. Mr. Catello doesn’t exactly put his best foot forward, and he showed up last night armed, angry, and convinced Mr. Dale was hunting his dog.”
“He was right to worry that Oliver would hurt Gypsy,” Mia said. “That man never met an animal—or a person—that he didn’t consider an inconvenience at best. He was a bastard and everyone hated him. Hell, I can’t think of a person who won’t dance on his grave, including Anthony.” She pointed a finger at me. “But if there’s one thing stronger than Anthony’s hatred for Oliver, it’s his love for Gypsy. He wouldn’t have done anything until he found her, wouldn’t have taken so much as a second to rough Oliver up before he got her back safe and sound. Greg called him when he found Oliver’s body, and Anthony was already on his way to the animal hospital. I promise you, he wouldn’t have left her. Not even to kill Oliver.”
If she was right, then Anthony would have looked for Gypsy until Emma called him from the hospital, and then he would have gone straight there. That would mean he didn’t have time to kill Oliver.
I bit the inside of my cheek. But Mia could be wrong. Maybe Anthony found Oliver with Gypsy and killed him to keep him from hurting her. What if that mark on Oliver’s hand had been caused when Anthony ripped Gypsy’s leash away from him? Maybe they struggled and Anthony stabbed him or even shot him. The full autopsy report wasn’t finished yet. Gypsy could have run off again during the struggle, and Anthony chased her, but Emma found her first. We didn’t know for sure Anthony had left the park when she sent him home. He could have returned by a different route.
My head ached, and I took another sip of water. There were too many possibilities.
Mia picked up the picture of Anthony with her and Greg. “Anthony comes across as a brute, but he’s a good man. After we broke up, he maintained his relationship with Greg. Took him under his wing.” She smiled and brushed a finger over Greg’s face. “Greg is one of the only people Anthony will let walk Gypsy. Greg is so proud of that.” She tilted her head. “My mom used to tell me you can tell everything you need to know about a man by three things: how he treats his mother, how he treats customer service, and how he treats animals.”
Smart woman. I stopped with my lips on the edge of my glass, thinking over something else Mia had said. “Mrs. Tyler, Anthony’s neighbor told us that Gypsy gave Greg a hard time, that he struggled to control her. If you don’t mind my asking, why was Anthony so willing to entrust Gypsy to Greg when he wasn’t ready?”
I’d half expected Mia to be defensive, but she smiled. “Anthony told me Gypsy was helping Greg find himself. He said animals respond to confidence, and Gypsy would respect Greg when Greg learned to respect himself.”
Liam considered that, and I caught a hint of respect in his gaze. “Mr. Catello is smarter than he comes across on first meeting.”
Mia barked out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah.”
“If you like him so much, may I ask why you broke up?” Liam asked.
Mia shrugged and replaced the photo on the desk. “I like Anthony, but we had nothing in common. Shared hatred isn’t enough to build an entire relationship on.”
“Shared hatred?” I asked.
Mia hesitated. “Yeah. Shared hatred.” She squared her shoulders. “I work for Myers Insurance.”
“The same company Oliver Dale worked for,” Liam said. “So you knew Oliver Dale. Personally, not just through Mr. Catello.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“You say you hated him. Was that hatred professional or personal?” I asked.
Mia scowled. “I never dated Oliver. I don’t care what he told other people; I never gave him the time of day. We worked together, that’s all.”
“Did he tell other people you…dated?” I asked, trying to be tactful.
She clenched her hands into fists. “It was all part of his plan to discredit me at work. He liked to tell people I was coming onto him, using my ‘feminine wiles’ to sleep my
way up the corporate ladder. It was bullshit.”
“That’s approaching sexual harassment,” I told her. “Did you ever tell your boss?”
“I considered it, but it didn’t seem worth it. Sexual harassment can go one of two ways for a woman—either she has proof in the form of a witness or video and the man gets arrested, or it’s her word against his, and she ends up getting a reputation as an unprofessional slut. Oliver was careful not to do more than gossip, enough to ruin my reputation, but not enough to hold him accountable for it in any real way.” She stood, keeping one hand on the arm of the couch. “It’s messed up, but I admitted to myself he would always get away with it. I had a harder time swallowing the fact he cost me two promotions.”
“How did he do that?” Liam asked.
“Different ways.” Mia threw herself into furious pacing, as if she couldn’t bear to stand still anymore. “We use a shared team spreadsheet to track basic group information for the manager to follow. There’s a column for ‘ID Card Release.’ Oliver changed the values, put ‘Yes’ in some of my older groups so when I pulled the name from the filter, I thought they’d removed the suppression, and I stopped checking those groups. Which means those ID cards never went out. He made me look incompetent, and always when I was up for promotion, so it was worse—it looked like I cracked under pressure.” She jabbed a finger at Liam. “I earned a second shot at a promotion, despite his interference. Do you have any idea how hard I had to work to earn that second shot?”
I hadn’t understood a word of what she said, but I got the gist. “How did this shared hatred bring you together with Anthony?”
“I went to Oliver’s apartment building one day to talk to his neighbors, see if I could dig up some dirt, something I could use to make him leave me the hell alone. Return fire for gossip, if you will. That’s when I met Anthony.”
Her eyes glittered as if she were recalling a happy memory. “He understood. Understood what it was like to have Oliver trying to destroy my life. He talked about all the shit Oliver pulled with him, reporting sweet Gypsy to animal control, calling her a wolf when he knew damn well she’s a dog. Oliver claimed she was a threat and needed to register as a dangerous animal, when there wasn’t a child in that building who didn’t bring her treats and beg to play with her.”
She rolled her eyes. “That dog had the patience of a saint. She never snapped, even when the younger ones tugged on her tail or tried to sit on her head. If anyone needed to register as a hazard, it was Oliver, not Gypsy.” She shoved a hand through her short hair. “I talked to a lot of people in that building. Everyone hated him. E-v-e-r-y-o-n-e. I won’t pretend I’m sorry he’s dead. And neither is anyone else.”
“I understand, and I thank you for your candor, Mrs. Tyler,” Liam said. “For the record, can you tell me where you were between the hours of eleven o’ clock and three a.m. last night?”
Mia snorted. “Am I a suspect now?”
“It’s just—” Liam started.
“A routine question,” Mia finished. “Yes, I know. I was here, sleeping, until I got a call from the police around three thirty saying my son was on the reservation and I needed to come and pick him up.”
“Was anyone with you?” Liam asked.
She met his eyes. “No.”
So no alibi. “Did Greg often walk Gypsy so late at night?” I asked.
“Yes. Anthony owns his own body shop, and he works an odd schedule, so if he’s there too late, he’ll ask Greg to walk Gypsy and then stay the night, and he brings him home or to school in the morning.”
I raised my eyebrows. “He has Greg spend the night so he can stay late to walk his dog? Even on school nights?”
“As long as Greg gets to school on time, it’s all right with me. But that should give you some idea of how much Anthony loves that dog. I don’t think Gypsy’s been alone for more than an hour at a time her entire life.”
“Were you at all worried having Greg out alone at that hour?” I asked.
Mia shook her head. “Greg is sixteen, but he had to grow up fast after his father died. He never walked her very far from Anthony’s apartment, and the people there know him and look out for him.”
“Did Greg mention any details about that night, another neighbor joining the search for Gypsy, or anything unusual at the park?” Liam asked.
“No. I asked him what happened, and I’d imagine he told me the same thing he told you. He was walking Gypsy, and she slipped away from him. He saw Oliver go after her, and everyone knows Oliver hates Gypsy, so Greg called Anthony right away.”
“Did he continue following Gypsy?” Liam asked.
“Not right away. Anthony told him to go home—like I told you, he’s a good man. He wouldn’t put Greg in danger, even for Gypsy.”
“But Greg did go to the reservation,” I said.
Mia bit her lip. “I didn’t even hear him come home. When I asked Greg about it, he said he came home, but he couldn’t stand sitting here doing nothing, so he left again.”
“Mrs. Tyler, I noticed the three of you are at a shooting range in that picture. Does Greg have access to a gun?”
Mia’s jaw tightened. “No. I’m the only one with a gun, and I keep it locked up.”
“Where?”
She narrowed her eyes. “It’s in a locked drawer beside my bed, and no, you can’t see it. In fact, I have errands to run, so I if you’ll please leave…”
Liam tipped his hat to her. “Thank you for your time. And I’d appreciate it if you would ask your son call us the minute he gets home.”
I followed him out, then paused. “Teenagers can be intimidated by serious conversation,” I told Mia. “If you have trouble getting him to open up, try talking while doing something else. Dishes, or driving, or at the shooting range. It helps take the pressure off when they don’t need to think about eye contact, or keeping the conversation going. A little distraction can go a long way.”
Mia didn’t say anything, but after a minute, she nodded. I gave her a smile and followed Liam outside.
“Did you find a gun?” I asked Peasblossom.
“What makes you think I was looking?” Peasblossom asked, indignation pushing her voice higher. “You didn’t say to snoop, so maybe I didn’t snoop.”
I waited.
A tiny huff of breath tickled the back of my neck. “No, I didn’t find the gun. It’s not in the drawer she said it was in, though.”
“That doesn’t bode well.”
Peasblossom crawled between my shoulder blades to peer around my neck. “Neither does that.”
I looked up to find Liam standing on the passenger side of the SUV. As I came closer, he held up a set of keys, then tossed them to me.
“You drive,” he said.
I didn’t catch the keys. They clattered onto the driveway, and I bent to pick them up, still staring at Liam. “I’m driving?”
He nodded and opened the passenger door. “Back to the station, yes.”
I shared a look with Peasblossom. “Why is he having me drive his car?” I looked back at Liam, trying to read his expression through the windshield of the SUV. “No one has ever asked me to drive their car. Not outside of an emergency.” I frowned. “And never a man.”
“There’s a reason no one asks you to drive their car,” Peasblossom said. “You have an iron foot.”
Still confused, I edged around the SUV to the driver’s side. “It’s lead foot, not iron foot.”
“Whatever, your foot’s too heavy.”
Liam didn’t say anything when I got in the car. It took a minute for me to adjust the seat and the mirrors, since Liam and I were nowhere near the same height. He arched an eyebrow as I moved the seat forward.
“You shouldn’t sit so close to the steering wheel.”
“I have to reach the pedals, don’t I?” I responded testily. I didn’t like driving other people’s cars. When I had everything settled, I started the car and pulled out of the driveway. It wasn’t until I’d driven down
the block that it hit me why the werewolf had asked me to drive. I hit the brake harder than I needed to at a stop sign and twisted to stare at Liam. “You want me to drive because you think I’m going to try something on you when you’re distracted.”
Liam braced his forearm on the door’s armrest, but the tension vibrating the air in the SUV belied his casual pose. “It’s nothing personal. I have to be careful, that’s all.” He inclined his head forward. “You can go now.”
I scowled and shot past the stop sign. Peasblossom pinched the back of my neck and I hissed.
“Slow down,” she demanded.
“You still think I was leaning on you for some nefarious purpose,” I said tightly. “You think I’m trying to ‘siphon off your energy.’”
“I think you’re Baba Yaga’s apprentice, and you’re here against my wishes on a case that hasn’t even been declared a homicide.” Liam’s voice was calm, but firm. “I can’t afford to take any chances.”
I wanted to point out that I could cast a spell while driving, but that wouldn’t help matters. “So is this how it’s going to be for the duration of the investigation? You treating me like a dangerous suspect, always preparing for an attack that will never come?”
“I’m going to have a word with Vincent, and then I’ll let you know.”
He shifted in his seat, and I glimpsed his cell phone in his hand. He was sending a text, but I couldn’t make it out, not while simultaneously keeping my eye on the road.
“He just texted Mother Hazel,” Peasblossom whispered. “He asked her if she sent you.”
I tried not to be offended. I tried to look at it from Liam’s point of view. He didn’t know me, not really. And Baba Yaga did have a…grey reputation. One of his wolves, a man he treated like a son in need of direction, was lying to him, accused of something Liam didn’t think him capable of. He needed someone to blame, another possibility. And I’d turned up on his doorstep when he’d been expecting Mother Hazel.
Monster (Blood Trails Book 2) Page 10