“And when you let Harry outside, did you happen to notice if Vince was home in his apartment?”
“Of course. His red Chevy pickup was sitting in its normal spot, and his light was on in the living room area. I can always see the light through the blinds in that front window. He’s just like me. We laugh about it all the time, how he has his own routines. He’s a big fan of that Jimmy Fallon.”
Interesting to hear her corroborate part of his story so quickly.
Terri jumped back in. “You watched your show, Scandal, then you let Harry out again.”
“Well, not until after I watched the news. Lots going on in this crazy world. You’ve got to stay up on things; otherwise, you’ll wake up and a real nut job will be in charge, and you won’t know what happened.”
“Yes ma’am. I understand.”
I could see Terri slowly reach up and rub her temple. She wasn’t a fan of waiting for the game to come to her. In fact, she was so high-strung and hard-charging they might have to create a new personality description, maybe Type AA.
I tried to pull Miss Lucille back on track. “I’m sure you checked out the weather.”
“Yes, had to do that; otherwise, I can’t sleep at night. Storms scare the crap out of me. If I know precisely when they’re supposed to hit, then I can prepare for them. Well, me and Harry.”
She smiled as she raked her fingers across his back. He yawned until his jaw popped and then rolled his eyes and fell back into his slumber.
I could sense Terri rolling her eyes.
“So the news ended and then you let Harry outside?”
“Let me think through this now. Wasn’t that Monday? Yes, it was. I always have to watch Chip Moody to get the latest scoop on the Patriots.”
Terri fidgeted in her seat a bit. She was like a bottle of champagne, and if Miss Lucille didn’t stop screwing around, she might get a cork in the eye.
“And so then, the news finally—”
“That Bill Belichick is an absolute genius. Year in and year out, they just figure out a way to win. He is kind of an ass though.” She leaned closer, as if she were about to break some big news. “Speaking of asses, do they get any finer than Tom Brady’s? I know I’m old and decrepit, but Lordy, I’m still a woman.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that comment, and Terri followed suit.
“But enough of that,” Miss Lucille said, waving her hand. “You’re here to learn about Vince.” She exhaled and looked toward the corner, then she nodded and looked at both of us. “You know what? After finally walking through the events of that night, I recall letting Harry out that second time more vividly now. I remember it because he found a squirrel and chased it over to a tree and started barking. He wouldn’t come in, that little rascal.”
“What did you do?”
“I used every four-letter word I know, but he still paid me no attention. He only had squirrel on his mind. I had to run outside in my nightgown. The wind was howling, and there was chill in the air. I was stressed out, I tell you. Harry wouldn’t stop barking, and I’m trying to wrangle him inside, then the wind catches my gown and blows it up in my face.”
She was on a roll until suddenly she stopped, and her lips pressed together.
“What?” I asked, my arms splayed.
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was so embarrassed.”
“About your gown flying up?”
She nodded. “Worse than that.”
“What?” Terri asked, an edge to her voice.
“I had forgotten to put on my panties after my evening bath. So I was going commando when I went outside. Then my gown flew up. I’m pretty sure I turned so red that I was glowing in the darkness of the backyard.”
“Was there someone back there? Was Vince outside?”
“Oh, no he wasn’t. In fact, when I finally grabbed Mr. Troublemaker here, I glanced up at his apartment, and his light was off. I assumed he’d just gone to bed early.”
I shut my eyes and recounted what I’d just heard.
Terri chimed in. “Wait, you’re saying that during the time Jimmy Fallon was on, Vince wasn’t there?”
She nodded.
“But what about his red pickup? Did you see it?”
Narrowing her eyes, she seemed to be replaying the scene in her mind. “I was walking back with Harry in my arms, rebuking him for his sassy behavior. My free hand was trying to make sure I didn’t moon the free world again. I glanced over at the garage, didn’t see the light in the living room. But then I looked down, and…wait, the spotlight under the garage was out. I didn’t see the truck, because I couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black. He could have been parked there, or perhaps he wasn’t.”
While Miss Lucille was a sweet woman, Terri and I knew when to cut and run. We had the data we came for, even if it wasn’t completely clear. We walked out the front door two minutes later.
11
I’d only seen luggage push through the dirty rubber curtains on the other side of the wall, where the public usually stood and waited after a long flight. Terri and I stood next to a conveyer belt that angled upward at a forty-five-degree angle, one of several ramps that cut across the expansive area in the bowels of Boston’s Logan International Airport. It looked more like a maze of intersecting highways with bumper-to-bumper bags on some type of predestined journey, similar to drive-time traffic. The procession of bags, even with such variations—a clean, black Louis Vuitton bag climbed upward just in front of a bag sealed with duct tape—was a bit hypnotic, along with the drone of the machines that propelled the bags. The air smelled of rubber and oil, with a hint of exhaust.
It actually felt good to stand still for a moment. We’d been moving fast and furious ever since our early morning meeting at the office with Nick and Gretchen. The repetitive motion of the conveyor belts allowed my mind to process the data that we’d learned about Vince and Emma’s altercation, more on Emma’s background, and then at least the possibility that Vince wasn’t at home at the time Emma was killed.
We were waiting to have a brief discussion with Kurt Miller, the father of the girl who had put Vince in jail for statutory rape eight years earlier. Gretchen had searched everywhere for Susan Miller, but the only address that came up was that of her parents. Her mom had answered the first call and cordially deferred all questions to her husband. Although Terri was in a full-on press about every aspect of the investigation, I wasn’t sure how much could be gained by interviewing Kurt Miller. But Terri had insisted. He was a baggage handler at the airport, and so there we were.
She turned her bracelet watch, then started tapping her heel on the concrete. “Where is this guy? After Miss Lucille held us hostage for over an hour, we don’t have time to sit around and play the waiting game. This isn’t a surveillance operation where we have the luxury of drinking bad coffee and eating worse food while a suspect takes a piss in a gas station.”
Type AA Terri had resurfaced. Or was it more like she had descended from the skies again, like a tornado? I tried to rein her in a bit, gently of course. I didn’t want to get too much in the middle of the shit storm. “I don’t know about you, but this kind of feels like speed dating. I love your commitment to urgency, but I don’t want us to overlook a detail or a different angle just because we’re trying to check all the boxes.”
She nodded and forced out a breath. “You’re right. I know as much as anyone that cracking a case can often come down to a piece of evidence or data point that wasn’t thought through well enough early in the investigation.”
I nodded, and then she cracked a smile as she looped a lock of hair around her ear.
“What?”
“Speed dating.” Her eyes went from watching a bag on the conveyor belt to me. “I was actually desperate enough to do that once.”
If she’d told me she actually played for the Patriots, I wouldn’t have been more surprised.
“You can close your jaw now,” she said.
“Was it that obvious?”
“It’s not something I brag about, but I figured since we’re basically partners on this investigation, and we’re both girls, then, you know…”
Another piece of luggage caught her attention, and she followed its path.
I thought about my scrutiny of guys who’d shown interest in me since Mark died. I could also recall a few lookers before he died, not that Mark had ever noticed. His nose was apparently stuck so far up—
I blocked that thought, not wanting to retain any visuals of that nature. “How is it that you couldn’t get a date?” I asked.
“It’s not how I couldn’t get a date, but rather how I couldn’t get a date with the right guy.”
“That part I get.”
“I guess it all became clearer when I dated someone in the Patriots organization.”
Now she really had my curiosity.
“And no, it wasn’t number twelve.”
Damn.
“Well, in my opinion you do have the looks to compete against Giselle. Just sayin’.” I smiled, but her response was less jovial.
“It was someone in the front office. He wined and dined me. Treated me well, or so I thought. Turned out, I was just his little toy that he occasionally wanted to take for a ride and show off. He had another girlfriend who was a lawyer at one of the top firms in New York City.”
“What is it with lawyers?”
“What is it with front-office assholes?” she shot back.
I arched an eyebrow.
“I found out by hearing her leave a voicemail on his home phone one evening. I put him on the spot, and after a few minutes, he finally cracked. Then he showed me what kind of person he really was. He talked about how smart and cultured she was with her law degree from Harvard, and how they had plans to marry, have kids, and start their own little dynasty.”
“Must have been tough.”
“It ripped out my heart, made me feel like the ugliest, most undesirable girl in New England.”
I wasn’t really in the mood to open up all of my old wounds. The scars were still present, but they blended in rather nicely with my skin tone. I did say, “There probably isn’t a woman in the country who hasn’t been belittled to some degree. But out of that, we create thicker skin, which allows us to survive in the world.”
“Makes us stronger,” she said.
She looked away for a second, possibly trying to spot Mr. Miller. A number of men in brown uniforms were hauling luggage on and off the conveyor belts at different points, but no one was approaching us.
“Look, I read all the blogs and articles and social media gossip, so I’m aware of what you went through with your, uh…his name was Mark, right?”
A tiny ball of anxiety sprouted deep in my gut. I did everything I could to keep it from growing. “I try not to dwell on the past. I’ve got two kids who are the center of my world, and they keep me on my toes.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Just wanted you to know that you’ve had a secret supporter out there. And I’m sure I’m not the only one.”
“Thanks. Appreciate that.”
An engine groaned in the distance, and we both moved a couple of steps from the nearby conveyor belt. Still no sign of Mr. Miller.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, have you gotten back in the game…you know, dated any?”
I pondered the question for a moment, but that only gave me time to feel heat at the edge of my collar. I wasn’t used to being interrogated, certainly not about my private life. She was no Dr. Strickler. But what was stopping me from sharing what made me happy? When would I get over this age obsession I had?
“I’m kind of seeing someone.”
She smiled. “Kind of?”
“I guess we are.”
“Is he as committed as you are?”
“I hear you. It’s really not him. It’s me. It came out of nowhere, and then it hit me like someone dropped a brick on my head. When I’m around him, or even think about him, I get butterflies in my stomach and essentially feel like I’m floating in midair. But then I have my moments when I, uh—”
“Think it’s all a mirage.”
I snapped my fingers. “Exactly. It’s like I’m waiting for someone to open up the curtain that exposes everything that’s bad about him, and us. But when it comes down to it, I’m probably just a chickenshit at heart. Maybe I’ll grow up some day.”
We both laughed as a man with grease spots on his face walked up.
“I’m told you’re with the FBI and want to talk to me.”
I flipped a mental switch and turned serious. Pulling out my creds, I introduced myself. Terri followed suit.
“The Feds and the local police department working on the same case. Amazing. Eight years ago, I couldn’t get any of you guys to even make a phone call.” He wiped his brow with the edge of his shirt, his face contorted with a combination of fatigue and stress.
It appeared he wasn’t aware of the nature of our visit.
Terri got the ball rolling. “Mr. Miller, we just have a few questions about the incident you and your family endured eight years ago.”
He ceased movement, and I could see a wave of red invade his neck and cheeks. “What do you want to bring that up for?” he asked with narrowed eyes.
“The man convicted of hurting your daughter is a suspect in a crime we’re investigating.”
“What did he do?”
“We’re not at liberty to share that information. No offense.”
With his hands planted at his waist, he glanced away for a second, his jaw twitching every few seconds.
He turned back to us. “You really know how to ruin a guy’s day, you know? But okay, I’m here. What do you want to know about that maggot?”
“Are you sure you’re comfortable talking about this topic out here, or do you want to find an office—”
“I got nothing to hide. Everyone knows my story.”
“I’d like to verify the facts with you,” Terri said.
“Facts? You should know the facts. We told the police everything. And I’m sure you have the transcript from the trial.”
Terri nodded, but she seemed a bit flustered, so I jumped in.
“We reviewed that information, thank you. To get right to it, Tripuka said that…well, that it was consensual between him and your daughter.”
“He’s full of shit.”
I waited a tick to see if he was going to offer a more detailed answer. It didn’t come.
“He actually said that he and Susan were in love,” I said. “And that the only reason she pressed charges was because you threatened to cut her off from her inheritance.”
It just hit me that I was looking at a baggage handler—not typically a career that would make for a huge inheritance. Something didn’t add up.
With eyes that welled with tears, Mr. Miller stared me down. I tried not to take it personally, since I knew this was like having open-heart surgery without anesthesia.
“Do you remember what it’s like to be sixteen years old?” he asked.
“I understand teenagers, if that’s what you’re asking. Depending on a lot of factors, it can be a very tumultuous time.”
“I’m not naïve, Agent Troutt. I know what teens do, what they want to do anyway.” He paused, scratching gray whiskers on his leathery skin. “Susan was an adventurous type, never really satisfied with the regular things other kids her own age did. She was one of those gifted and talented kids. I think she got bored by her peers. It was rather obvious to her mother and me that she was seeking someone she could relate to intellectually, which just wasn’t possible with her teenage friends.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Terri subtly glance my way. I guessed that we were both thinking the same thing. How well had Mr. Miller really known his daughter when she was a teen? Intellectual stimulation might have been part of the equation, but I would be shocked if she didn’t have some type of thing for older guys. Or random adventure. Whatever
.
“Did your daughter date another man before Tripuka…an older man?”
He crossed his arms, and I noticed a pair of dirty, blue work gloves in one of his hands. “To be honest, we didn’t know about it until after everything blew up. It was almost too much to handle.”
“Not to press you on this, but did you threaten to cut your daughter off from her inheritance?”
He huffed out a breath. “Vince Tripuka is a child predator; I’m convinced of it. He—”
“They met at a Star Wars convention, correct?” Terri asked.
“Yes.”
“Where high school kids would not normally attend without a parent or maybe an older sibling.”
“I suppose that’s right.”
“And I understand your daughter had a nice figure.”
“What are you implying?”
“Is it possible that Tripuka thought your daughter was older than her actual age?”
“For starters, if you were to look into her face, there would be no way you could think she had been a day older than sixteen.”
That sounded like a dad talking, but at least he was talking.
He added, “Okay, even if he did make that assumption initially, eventually he had to know. He knew where we lived, that she didn’t have a car or a job.”
Terri nodded, which allowed me a chance to get us back to what was most important.
“So, back to what you discussed with your daughter. Did you threaten to cut her off?”
Another twitch in his jaw as his eyes settled on mine. “Not in those exact words, but…yes.”
“Mr. Miller, I know it’s none of my business, but I have to ask…how much money are we talking about?”
“Why do you ask?”
“People are motivated by money, but they can be extra motivated to say or do certain things by the sum of money.”
“Ha!” His chuckle echoed off the cavernous ceiling. “You think because I haul luggage all day I wouldn’t have any type of nest egg?”
“It’s my job to ask questions. I don’t mean to offend you.”
“We owned some farmland out in western Pennsylvania. Me and the wife expected to retire there some day. But some big company came in and wanted to build a plant. So we sold it. They agreed to pay us fifty thousand dollars.”
The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 4-6 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set Book 2) Page 32