by J. D. Martin
“I always thought he was just giving me support, but he was actually giving penance or dealing with his own guilt over what he did to me. I can’t believe this. I thought he loved me. We never talked about that night again after it happened. Was it because it was all his fault? I hope you nail him to the fucking wall. What do you need from me?”
Before I responded, my phone vibrated with a text from Pinick. ‘Peter Davidson not at work. Boss says he went home, but not here either. Get down here. Found another problem.’
Chapter 26
I entered Peter’s home knowing that we could have apprehended him already if we’d had the facts earlier in the investigation. Marcus was particularly upset about the situation because he had been the one to speak to him about Brett’s location. Knowing that we could have prevented this had him pacing with his arms crossed in frustration. The discovery of the USB with Trent’s confession came too late for us to react fast enough.
As a cop, I dealt with the guilt and regret of not getting someone off the streets when we could’ve, but it was the victims who paid the permanent price. I’m reminded of this first hand, as forensics worked around the congealed pool of blood that surrounded Peter’s wife like a moat. I didn’t need the medical examiner’s report to see that she’d been stabbed three times in the abdomen and her throat slit, but I listened to Amy anyway.
“Liver temp puts her TOD about an hour ago. We also found this under the body,” she said, handing me a small, handheld tape-recorder with a slip of paper taped to it with the words play me written in pen.
Moving to a circle with my fellow detectives, I pressed the button and the tape began with shuffling and static before we could hear a door open and close.
“Honey you home?” we heard a voice call out.
“I think that’s Peter,” said Delgado, but it was quickly confirmed via the playback.
“Yeah, Pete. I’m in the kitchen.” Said a distant voice that sounded like it was standing across the room. “What’re you doing home already?” My eyes met my partner’s and knew that he also recognized the voice of Peter’s wife Laura.
“Got off early. Can you stop what you’re for a minute? I need to talk to you about something.”
“Ok?” Sounds of footsteps on the linoleum got closer to the microphone until we could hear her as clearly as if she were standing next to us. “What is it, sweetie? Did the cops pick up your brother?”
“I believe so, but that means bad news for us.”
“What do you mean? I don’t see how that murdering brother of yours getting arrested is a bad thing.”
“They’ll connect the dots. I couldn’t find anything at Trent’s house, and I know he made something telling the truth.”
“What dots? And who is Trent?”
“It’s all his fault. If he’d kept his mouth shut, none of this would be happening,” said Peter.
“Baby you’re starting to scare me. What is all this about?”
“Brett never killed that girl in Arizona.”
“Yes, he did. You and her brother witnessed it…is that who Trent was? Was he that girl’s brother that saw Brett kill her?”
“It wasn’t him. I just blamed him for it. I killed Tara.”
A long moment of silence passed before she responded, “Peter that isn’t funny.”
“Do you hear me laughing,” he asked. “I’m not making jokes over here. I killed that girl because she disrespected me.”
“Disrespected you? What are you talking about?”
“She refused me because she wanted Brett. She was just like every other girl.”
“Peter, I don’t understand.”
“She threatened to call the cops on me,” he shouted. “The bitch got what she deserved, and I wasn’t going to prison over that snatch. There was only one person that knew the truth, and he was going to spill the beans. I couldn’t let that happen, so I tried to clean everything up. But he died before I could find where he put it.”
Frightened, Laura’s voice started to tremble. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
Clearing his throat, “Well…now that I know the heat will inevitably be coming down on me, I have a few last-minute loose ends to tie up. I can’t leave anything behind that could lead them to me.”
There was a burst of static as Peter shifted and the microphone rubbed against fabric. As the question arose, Laura’s reaction told us where the story was going. This recording would end with her dead body on the kitchen floor.
“Oh God, Peter, what are you doing?!?”
“I told you…loose ends.”
She screamed over crashes and shuffling of a struggle before a loud thud as the two wrestled as Peter attempted to kill her. From the body in the other room, we already knew who won that battle.
“NO; Please, God…NO!!” Her screams were muffled over by a loud gurgling like water running down the tub drain. Each of us visibly cringed as we listened to a man murder his wife. She choked and gagged until the sounds dissipated and all we could hear was loud gulps of air as Peter caught his breath. After a moment, his voice spoke.
“Did you like that, Mr. Saint? I didn’t realize we’d be in touch so soon after my visit to your luxurious apartment. In fact, I just assumed go back to my life since you never saw my face. Thanks for sending your partner to question me so I could have this chance to get away. A part of me will miss Laura, but she wasn’t good enough for me. She was overweight and kind of fugly. She was nothing like Tara, am I right? So, I guess this is goodbye. Happy hunting, detective.” The tape clicked and went silent as the recording ended.
“We need to find this asshole and now,” I told everyone. I knew they were all thinking the same thing. “Bronson, you and Pinick talk to the neighbors; see if they heard anything or know where Peter may have gone. Marcus and I will look for more here; report back in twenty.”
With everyone understanding their assigned tasks, we broke to perform them and find leads. I began by calling in an APB on Peter Davidson and requested Eric to see if he can ping the GPS on his cell phone. If luck was on our side, we’d pick him up quickly. Making calls, I peered in the kitchen and saw Amy finalizing her report so she could get Laura’s body transported downtown.
Twenty minutes passed with Delgado and I having nothing new to show for it. All we’d come up with was that Peter had packed up his clothes and personal items before he split. We already knew he was on the run, so that didn’t help anything. Our counterparts returned while I was on the phone checking the cell trace. Eric couldn’t find anything on the signal, but he’d keep monitoring in case it popped up. I hung up and hoped to get better news from Pinick and Bronson, but they were just as empty handed as we were.
Canvassing the area, they found a next-door neighbor that heard yelling earlier, but he just assumed they were arguing again. They were often fighting about things, so it was nothing out of the ordinary. While Bronson explained this, Pinick received a call and stepped aside to take it. Once the story was through, and we were up to speed, I heard him say “Great, thanks” before hanging up.
“Good news, we found the girlfriend.” Wondering what he was talking about, he continued “Trent Williams’ girlfriend saw the story on the news. She’s down at the station now; thought you might want to talk to her,” he said looking at me.
“Yes, we’ll head back there now. Can you guys wrap up here?”
“Sure thing, see you back in the bullpen.” Marcus followed me out so we could try connecting another piece of the puzzle; Trent’s recently discovered significant other.
Stepping off the elevator, the familiar smell of sweat, cheap cologne, and coffee greeted my nose. We were spotted by an officer who turned to intercept when we walked in. When he caught up, he informed us that Samantha Winchester was waiting for us in the break room. She was taken there to get something to drink instead of placed in interrogation like a suspect. It allowed us to speak to her in a more comfortable environment.
She sat on the couch, h
olding a coffee that looked untouched as her lips trembled to maintain her composure. The smudges in her eyeliner told me she’d been crying, but she was trying to keep the walls up long enough to talk to us. It was very brave of her to come forward considering what had happened to her boyfriend.
“Samantha Winchester?”
Looking up as if she hadn’t noticed us until that moment, “Yes?”
“My name is Alexander Saint, and this is my partner Marcus Delgado. We’re the detectives working Trent’s case. Ms. Winchester, we were hoping to ask you a few questions about him.”
“Absolutely,” she said scooting up on the couch and setting her coffee on the table. “But please call me Sam.”
“Very well,” I said as we both sat opposite her. “To start, could you tell us about your relationship with Trent?”
“He was my boyfriend.”
“My understanding is that you just found out about his death today, correct?” She nodded. “When was the last time you spoke to him? He died a few days ago, so I’m curious why you didn’t realize he was missing before you heard it on the news.”
“Yes, of course. He’d been acting strange lately, standoffish, you know? I figured he was second guessing our relationship, but he wouldn’t talk to me about it. I wanted to know what was going on, so we had a huge fight and I told him we needed to take a break. I said he could call me if he decided he actually wanted to be with me.”
Samantha grit her teeth together and put her balled fists up to her eyes as she fought to keep everything from collapsing. Her emotions were doing everything they could to burst past the dam she’d built up, but they were kept contained for the moment. Swallowing hard, she returned to the shaky composure she was retaining and continued.
“When he never called, I figured that was his way of breaking up with me. I never knew it was because he was…” She paused again, but the container she’d shoved everything down into was beyond capacity and the walls burst. The dam overflowed and the flood sprang free as her eyes glassed over with tears. “…that he was dead,” she choked out. Her body convulsed with each cry and I grabbed tissues for her.
“Ms. Winchester…Sam, there is no way you could have known what was going on.” Her makeup smeared as she wiped her face with a balled fist before taking the tissues I handed her. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. It’s Peter Davidson that’s at fault, and I promise he’ll pay for what he’s done.”
Giving her a moment, she calmed slightly and blew her nose. Taking more tissues, she wiped at her face before looking back at me. “Thank you, detective. I just wish I could bring him back.”
“I understand. I lost my parents when I was young, and I can say that it does get easier with time.” She smiled before looking back down at her hands as she fidgeted with the tissue. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“No, thank you. I just want to go home if I can.”
“Of course,” I told her. “I’ll have the officer outside escort you to your car.” She thanked me as she stood up and slowly walked out.
“Poor girl,” said Marcus. “It’s horrible that she has to go through this.” I agreed. “So, what now? We still need to find Peter. For all we know, he might go after his brother next.”
I suddenly had an idea. I flipped through the notepad I’d been using for notes when talking to each person of interest and found the phone number I wanted. Punching the numbers into my cell, I waited as the phone rang. Delgado’s curiosity got the better of him as he tilted his head at me. Holding up a finger to him, a voice came over the line. “Hello?”
“Yes, Mr. Davidson? This is Detective Saint, I was hoping you were still willing to help us locate your brother.” Brett was eager to assist and supplied a few places that he knew his brother frequented. The leads were thin, but it was the best we had. Before I let him go, Brett asked if I could let him know when we caught the ‘bastard.’ I assured him that I’d keep him on speed dial.
“Got a list of possible locations for Peter.” Ripping the list in half, I handed a piece to him. “How about we split up to cover ground faster?”
“Agreed.” He took the slip and we both headed for the elevator.
Chapter 27
It was after dinner by the time I’d finished my list of hotspots and none of them had any bites on Peter. Unlocking the door to my apartment, I had a surreal feeling of coming home and the deadbolt still being locked. It would take time to feel normal coming to a place that had been violated by uninvited guests. Inside, I dialed Delgado’s cell to see if he had anything, and if he wanted to grab a bite to discuss our next moves, but he sounded out of sorts when he answered.
Marcus answered completely winded and trying to catch his breath. “You ok?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said through depleted lungs. “I decided to go for a jog to clear my head.”
“Seriously? I didn’t take you for the jogging type.”
“I’ve got to make up for the extra donuts I had this morning. Rita will start asking questions if I’m still keeping up the weight when all the sweets were removed from the house.”
“Fair enough. Well, I was going to meet the guys at Flying Saucer in half an hour. Want to join?”
“Absolutely, I can meet you there.”
“You might want to take a shower first,” I joked before hanging up.
After thinking about it, I decided that I could use a shower as well after the day I’d had. A quick pass through the water and then I’d be off to the pub. Forty minutes later I was in a fresh suit as I exited my building to walk to the saucer. A great thing about the downtown KC was that practically everything I needed was within walking distance. The proximity of so many businesses and skyscrapers reminded me of Manhattan. It only lasted a few blocks, but the feeling was the same. With the similarities, New York was like Kansas City on steroids.
After only fifteen minutes, I was walking up the steps of the Flying Saucer Irish pub. The green doors opened to the hustle of one of the busiest bars in the Power & Light. Not catering to the club crowd, you would often see a variety of ages from all backgrounds in attendance. The walls were covered with plates that commemorated the frequent customers who’d reached milestones in beer consumption. Numbers were displayed proudly of the variety of beers consumed by each plate’s namesake.
I spied Bronson and Pinick at a booth in the corner and I crossed through the decently sized crowd to join them. “Where’s Marcus?” asked Bronson as I slid into the booth.
“He’ll be here soon, but let’s get a few drinks while we wait.”
“We’ve actually already ordered a round,” stated Pinick. “Wait until you see the waitress we’ve been blessed with. Richard and I are taking wagers that she’s up your alley,” he said with a smirk. Still smiling, his eyes darted over my head and his voice dropped to a whisper, “Here she comes.”
A gorgeous drink of water approached our table carrying a tray with four beers. Her blonde hair was streaked with dark strands that dipped down to her shoulders. My eyes followed up her body to her face as she arrived at the table, and that’s when I saw how striking she truly was.
“Wow,” I said as she arranged the bottles on the table for us. “It’s amazing how you light up the room.”
She passed a large smile impressing upon me the shape of her jaw line. Her round cheeks dimpled slightly as she thanked me for the compliment before asking if we needed anything else. “No, thanks,” said Pinick.
“Ally, huh?” I asked as I read the nametag on her black polo. Her matching shorts revealed runner’s legs that flexed as she shifted her weight.
“That’s what my boyfriend calls me.” Subtle.
“Well, your boyfriend is an extremely lucky man from where I sit.”
“Thanks, but if anybody’s lucky, it’s me. He’s a wonderful man.”
“I believe you. I apologize for how forward I may have been. It’s difficult to not seem like a Neanderthal when beauty like yours walks my way, b
ut should that be your fault? I’ll stop bothering you, but make sure your boyfriend knows how well off he is.”
“I will,” she said blushing. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can get for you?”
“Not just now, but thanks for the drinks.” She nodded and went back to work. As I turned back to my cohorts, I found them grinning at me.
“Shot down,” Pinick laughed as Bronson simulated a falling rocket followed by an explosion on the table.
I couldn’t help chuckle, “Well, you can’t win them all. At least she seems happy. I can’t really feel shot down in a situation like that.” Looking back one more time at the ravishing girl as she filled another drink order, I saw Marcus come through the front door.
Once Delgado had joined us, we began discussing the case and the dead end we were sitting at. I told them my leads didn’t amount to anything and theirs were just as pointless. Feeling a bit warm, I stood up and removed my jacket to hang from the booth hooks.
“Alex, is your arm bleeding again?” asked Bronson.
Looking down at my sleeve, I cursed as I realized that I must have popped my stitches. “Damn it; this was a good shirt too.” Grabbing one of the cloth napkins from the table, I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled down the sleeve. I did my best to tie a temporary tourniquet to the wound before re-buttoning the shirt and replacing the jacket to cover the stain. I decided to not worry about it for now since the shirt was clearly ruined. My wardrobe wasn’t having the best of weeks.
As I lifted a hand to call the waitress back for another round—I was in serious need of alcohol now—all our phones chirped simultaneously. We all received the same text from Captain Hawthorne with an address where Peter Davidson had been located.