by Jordan Dane
Whatever I would do, I’d do it for Avery.
Chapter 7
Big Bear Lake
North Shore Drive
Morning
Ryker Townsend
Next of kin notifications were rare occurrences for me. Lucinda drove the Tahoe while I wallowed in my thoughts, dreading what would come.
“Are notifications hard for you…after your dreams, that is?” Lucinda asked as she turned into the gated enclave of private residences off North Shore Drive where Mark and Sandra Hubbard lived, the father and mother of Lily Rae Hubbard, their only child.
We were to meet Deputy Zander Lovell with the Sheriff’s office. His police cruiser was parked outside the sprawling home, with him sitting inside. He’d waited for us to arrive. Another car was parked alongside Lovell’s vehicle without an occupant—a black Ford F-150 truck.
“Notifications are no harder than they are for you, or anyone.” I lied.
After Lily found me while I slept three nights ago—and allowed me to witness the intimacy of her degradation and death—I’d have a difficult time staring into the eyes of her family and pretending I didn’t know her. I had seen her at the worst moment of her life and I would have to fight not to show it on my face.
Lucinda parked the Tahoe and turned to me.
“You ready for this?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I stepped out of the SUV and caught movement in the windows on the second floor. The family must’ve seen us pull up.
“They know we’re here,” Lucinda said. She’d seen the drapes move, as I had.
“I want time in Lily’s bedroom,” I said. “Let’s hope they allow it.”
“You’ll get the time, one way or another,” Crowley promised.
Many people believed death to be a solitary act. That human beings come into life alone as a baby and die in isolation, but if Lily had reached out to me, who else could she have tried connecting with at the time of her death? Perhaps the dead reach out all the time—and their survivors don’t hear or feel them leave—but I do. I hear them.
It’s my calling to bear witness to their passing—the ones taken in violence—but I have come to believe their screams are not the only echoes they leave behind. When the dead crossover, their love radiates from them like a sweet ripple on still water. The wake of their existence and their link to humanity touches each of us, enough to say, ‘Do not forget me.’
On the day my parents died, I sensed their love wash over me and through me. The love they left behind—the endless bounty of a lifetime—helped me get over the pain of losing them. I could only hope the Hubbard family would remember Lily as she had lived, not by the grotesque way she had been taken from them.
“Let’s do this,” I said to Crowley.
I took strength in my mother’s love and braced for meeting Lily’s parents. As we approached the deputy’s patrol car, he stepped out, sporting a toothpick in his mouth.
“You must be Special Agent Crowley.” Sheriff’s Deputy Zander Lovell extended his hand and Lucinda took it.
“Deputy Lovell.” Crowley turned toward me and said, “This is Supervisory Special Agent Ryker Townsend. Thanks for arranging this. It’s important we speak to the family as soon as possible.”
“I’ll do the notification. This is my show.” Deputy Lovell pulled up his duty belt with a grimace. He looked constipated.
“Do you recognize the F-150, Deputy?” I asked. “Does it belong to the Hubbard family?”
The officer glanced toward the truck and answered.
“No, that there belongs to Elias Fenton. He’s a reverend at True Light Ministry. The Hubbards are part of his church.”
“I thought you would be the one to tell the family about their daughter,” Crowley said.
“Oh, I’ll be the one to tell them, alright,” Lovell said. “Don’t you worry about that, little lady.”
“That’s Special Agent Crowley, Deputy,” she said. “Don’t make me shoot you.”
“Hey, no sense gettin’ your panties in a wad.” The man smirked and twitched his toothpick.
“Misogyny should not be a vocation, Deputy. Especially around a woman with a gun,” I said. “Tell me. When you count your balls, are you capable of getting the same answer twice?”
“Miss who? What?”
The math problem had stumped him. I knew Crowley didn’t need my help to defend her gender, but why should she have all the fun?
“I didn’t mean no offense,” Lovell said.
I feared I would have to arrest him for murdering the English language.
“When Lily didn’t come home that first night, Sandra called Elias,” the deputy said. “That’s why he’s here. He’s been a comfort to the family. After today, they’ll need him even more.”
I nodded and followed the deputy to the front door, wondering how he knew about the comings and goings at the Hubbard house, especially with him being on a first name basis with the family. Small town gossip moved faster than lice in grade school.
Crowley rang the door bell.
A tall man dressed in khaki slacks, a white polo shirt, and navy sport coat answered the door. He wore his blond hair long, to the shoulder, and had ice blue eyes. His face had deep furrows into his skin, but the wrinkles only gave more character to his handsome face. If I had to guess his age, I’d place him in his late forties or early fifties.
“Elias. This here is the FBI.” Deputy Lovell made the introductions. “Reverend Elias Fenton.”
“Are the Hubbards at home?” Crowley asked.
“Yes, they are. Follow me.” Fenton led us through the foyer and into a library off the entry.
A wall of books dominated the high-ceiling room with oil paintings of landscapes adorning the walls. The tasteful décor looked fit for a magazine. Without a thing out of place, the room did not appear to be lived in. When I didn’t see any family portraits, I thought that was odd. I got the sense Lily had not stepped foot into the room much. Out of respect for her, I stood and would not sit.
As promised, Deputy Lovell took control and made introductions to the family. Mark Hubbard had graying hair with tanned skin earned on the golf course. He wore dark slacks and a red polo with a country club emblem. Sandra Hubbard had not combed her dark hair and her red-rimmed eyes gave insight into a mother’s pain. She wore a freshly-pressed beige pantsuit. If I had to guess, I would’ve bet money that Mrs. Hubbard wouldn’t have dressed for our visit. She would’ve preferred staying in bed.
“Afraid I have some bad news,” Deputy Zander Lovell shot a smug glance toward Crowley as if sharing such horrific news would be a perk of the job. “Lily is dead. Hikers found her body in the national park, by a trail.”
“What?” The skin of Mark Hubbard’s face flushed with blood and turned a deep shade of crimson. “How was she…killed? Was it an accident?”
“No accident.” The deputy shook his head and yanked up his duty belt. “Someone gutted her like a fish.”
“Oh, God.” Sandra Hubbard doubled over and grabbed her stomach. “Not my Lily.”
Crowley glared at the deputy as Sandra cried and gasped for air. Normally I would’ve watched the family’s reaction more closely, to see if their emotions were genuine. This time, I couldn’t take my eyes off the deputy. Lovell had no sympathy. If I hadn’t been focused on him, I would’ve missed his subtle smile.
“No, please no. This can’t be happening.” Tears streaked Sandra Hubbard’s blotchy red face as she rocked where she sat. “Not my little girl.”
From records Sinead had gathered, Lily Rae Hubbard was the only child to Sandra, from a previous marriage. Mark Hubbard had adopted the girl, but from the body language I witnessed, the man had issues. He made no effort to comfort his wife.
“Lily got herself into trouble. Real trouble, this time. She’d become a willful, disrespectful child because you were too soft on her. You have no one else to blame,” Mr. Hubbard glared at his wife as if no one else were in the room.
“No
w isn’t the time for accusations, Mark,” Reverend Fenton said. “You’re both grieving over Lily.”
Mark clenched his jaw.
“We’re very sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Hubbard,” I said. “Lily has left her mark on this world…in you. A girl like your Lily touched the people she met. She will be missed.”
When Sandra looked up at me in sorrowful gratitude, her eyes brimming with tears, I spotted a box of tissues on a nearby table and handed it to her.
“Can you think of anyone who might’ve wanted to harm your daughter?” I asked.
“No, everyone loved her. Who would kill my baby?” Sandra cried.
“The truth is, Lily had been spending more time away from home,” Mr. Hubbard said. “She didn’t like my rules, but that kid needed discipline.”
“Was Lily seeing anyone?” Crowley asked. “A boy from school, maybe?”
Mark rolled his eyes and turned away from his wife. Sandra shed fresh tears and wiped her nose with a tissue.
“Grayson Barbour. He goes to Lakeside High School, like Lily does.” She sobbed. “Like she did, I mean.”
“Ask anyone. That Barbour kid was trouble for her.” Hubbard shifted his gaze toward Sandra. “I tried to warn you.”
“How so?” Crowley asked. “What kind of trouble?”
“He called and sent text messages to her all the time,” Sandra said. “It’s like he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Grayson was jealous over the least little thing.”
“I think Lily had a physical relationship with that boy,” Hubbard said.
“You don’t know that.” Sandra glared at her husband, but when he returned her stare, she backed down, hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“You always had blinders on when it came to that girl.” He grimaced before he turned his attention toward the deputy. “Where is she? Lily.”
“Her body is at the coroner’s office, but the FBI brought their own medical examiner and two other CSI types to help process the evidence. That’s what they’re doing now. There will be an autopsy,” Deputy Lovell said. “I’ll contact you when you can make arrangements. I’m sure you’ll want to have her cremated.”
Sandra Hubbard gasped and lost it again.
“You’ve said enough, Deputy.” I gritted my teeth and glared at the man, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. “I would like to see your daughter’s room. Would that be possible?”
“It’s just the way she left it, after she—” Lily’s mother stopped and shot a fleeting glance to her husband. When her fingers shook, she clutched at her tissue to stop her trembles.
Mr. Hubbard heaved a burdened sigh.
“She took off last week. Friday night,” he said. “We don’t know where she went or who she stayed with.” After a long moment of silence, he finally added, “I kicked her out.”
“You never reported this?” I asked.
Hubbard only shook his head ‘no.’
“She didn’t take a car?” Crowley asked.
“No. I locked the door on her. I don’t know what happened,” he said. “She had her purse and a small bag. That’s all I know.”
Whatever motive Lily’s father had to delay reporting her missing, he had made it easy for the UNSUB to cover his tracks. Hubbard’s pride or shame or guilt had lost precious time for authorities to find her—and Mrs. Hubbard hadn’t intervened, not even for the sake of her daughter.
“Do you remember what she wore?” Crowley pulled out a notepad and a pen.
Mrs. Hubbard described her daughter’s clothes from jeans to a distinctive black T-shirt with the words ‘Golden State of Mind’ across the front, and a pair of red twill Vans on her feet.
When I got the attention of Deputy Lovell, I said, “Canvass the neighbors. See if anyone remembers Lily leaving Friday night. Someone might’ve picked her up. A vehicle description would be helpful.”
“Will do,” the deputy said.
A strained hush fell over the room. A clock on the wall ticked for what felt like an eternity before Mrs. Hubbard broke the tension. She rose off the sofa and spoke.
“I’ll show you to her room, Agent Townsend.”
Lily’s mother kept her head down and didn’t look for approval from her husband. She couldn’t leave the room fast enough.
Chapter 8
Big Bear Lake
North Shore Drive
Morning
Ryker Townsend
“This is it. My baby’s room.”
Sandra Hubbard opened the door to her daughter’s bedroom and walked in before me. Lily’s room looked distinctly feminine with its four-poster queen bed and white, lacy comforter with pale pink linens and pillows. The room smelled of pine and had streaks on the carpet where a vacuum cleaner had been used.
The room appeared too pristine for a seventeen-year-old.
A cushioned window seat looked out onto the grounds and the pool, framed by frilly draperies in a plaid pattern of pastels. Lily had antique white book shelves with a matching desk. Handwritten notes and pictures of friends hung on a corkboard over the desk, faces frozen in time. A guitar had been placed in a corner, but a light covering of dust meant she hadn’t played it in awhile.
“Do you know if Lily kept a diary?” I asked.
“If she did, I didn’t know about it.”
“I don’t see a computer in her room. Did she have a laptop or tablet?”
“Mark wouldn’t allow her to have anything like that. If she needed to work online for school, she had to do it in the living room. Mark thought we could watch her online activity better if she didn’t have any privacy.”
If kids wanted to be online, to do the things that required privacy and anonymity, they would find a way. Sinead could help me search for any trace of Lily online.
“Lily’s room is very…sterile. Nothing looks out of place,” I said. “Most kids her age, their room smells like feet and their clothes look as if there’s been an explosion. Their bathrooms are cluttered with nail polish, cosmetics, and hair products, but not Lily. Is she normally this fastidious?”
“Mark likes a clean and orderly house.”
I pulled open drawers and looked into her closet and bathroom, trying to understand Lily and get a sense of who she’d become. If her father had rules, perhaps she didn’t bother rebelling against him by keeping a messy room or hiding anything personal if she didn’t have privacy. Even though I hadn’t found much in her bedroom to further Lily’s case, I had a better picture of the family dynamics and it concerned me.
“Mr. Hubbard admitted to throwing Lily out of the house last Friday. Do you have any idea where she went? Did she stay with a friend?”
Sandra Hubbard shrugged and shook her head.
“I have no idea. I never heard from her…again.” She sobbed. “I should’ve done something, but I thought she’d call me, that we’d figure something out. I thought we’d have…time.”
I shut my eyes and flashed on images of my father and mother when they were alive. I would’ve given anything for more time with them. Fifteen-year-old Sam Reed and his sweet little sister Avery thought they would always have tomorrow. They found out they were wrong in the cruelest of ways. Mrs. Hubbard would learn the many facets of that harsh lesson with the death of her only child.
Violence ricocheted off victims like an infinite echo. Its path of destruction careened through countless lives—even touching the people whose job it was to investigate. No one was immune.
“I’d like to get a list of phone numbers or addresses for her friends, anyone she might’ve contacted. It’ll help to piece together a timeline of her whereabouts after she left here.”
“You’ll have it before you leave.”
After Friday and the family argument, Lily had crossed the path of the UNSUB. Had she known her killer? Had she trusted him? She must’ve felt lost after getting thrown out of her home, angry and confused and hurting.
“Do you think it’s possible Lily went to find Grayson Barbour?” I asked
. “Could he have taken her in?”
“She was scared of him. I can’t imagine he would’ve been her first choice, but he could sweet talk her into anything.”
I pictured a girl with low self-esteem after years of abuse from a father who didn’t think she’d ever be good enough. A boy claiming to love her would’ve been the drug she needed, even if the boy wasn’t good for her.
“I have one more question for you. Please don’t take offense.”
I knew my next question would be difficult for her to hear, but I had to ask it.
“Would your husband have any reason to harm your daughter?”
Sandra Hubbard didn’t look up. She stared at the worn tissue in her hand and remained silent far too long. I had expected resistance, but when I saw her pondering my question, I knew Mark Hubbard couldn’t be eliminated as a suspect.
“He’s struck her before. It’s his temper. The night she left, he slapped her when she talked back to him.” Tears glistened on her cheeks as she sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed. “He’s never been a father, not really. He adopted Lily, but they were never close. He had too many rules for a teenage girl.”
I wondered why Mrs. Hubbard hadn’t left her husband, if for no other reason than for the sake of her daughter, but it wasn’t my place. The woman would carry far too much guilt after today.
“I’ve seen enough here, Mrs. Hubbard.” I reached into my wallet and pulled out my card. “Call me if you think of anything. Nothing is too small.”
She held out her trembling hand and took my card.
“Yes, I will.” She wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“I know words don’t mean much, not when you’re hurting over the loss of your child, but we will find the person who did this to her.”
She nodded.
“I know you care and you’ll do your best, Agent Townsend,” she said. “But nothing will bring her back. She’s gone and I didn’t get to tell her how much I loved her.”