“I’ve not seen him for years.” The corner of her mouth twitched upward into a half-smile. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re sure.” Despite his desire to send her home, Rodney didn’t have the rank nor clout to do so. He knew to argue further with her would get him nowhere.
“Sir!”
The interruption came from behind him. When he turned, the forensics investigator waved frantically, beckoning him over. He nudged Julie with his elbow. “Come on, he’s found something.”
As they approached, the tech held a folded sheet of paper between his gloved fingers. The edges of the fold were stained crimson. “I found this on the floor, by the accelerator,” the tech said. “It might’ve fallen from his hand or lap.”
Rodney pulled on a pair of gloves, and took the paper, turning it over and over. Several smudges of blood marred the otherwise white sheet. As he unfolded the paper, he swallowed hard. His stomach quaked with queasiness. It was just as he’d expected. Another escalation. He hated being right.
The words on the paper were, like the other letters, clippings from magazines. The message, however, was shorter than the others. Concise and to the point. As his eyes read, and then reread, the missive, the grief weighed heavy on his heart.
Compliments of the Shallows
20
Kaitlyn was in the living room, hunched over on the same sofa she’d been sitting on when Rodney had first met her. Her auburn hair had fallen forward to conceal her face from view. Apart from the presence of a box of tissue between her feet, it seemed as if he was looking back in time. It’d been what? Two weeks, almost to the day, since he’d first met Kaitlyn Ashe and heard of the mysterious Shallows. Despite the time that had passed, he knew little more than a scattering of details about her with nothing to tie any of it back to the letters.
The middle-aged woman sitting next to Kaitlyn looked up as they entered. She wore an off-white bathrobe. Must have rushed straight from bed at the first scream. She rubbed Kaitlyn’s back with a gentle, reassuring touch. Shrugging her shoulders, the woman turned her gaze back to Kaitlyn, who sobbed softly.
Rodney and Julie remained in the doorway for a few moments, waiting for Kaitlyn to acknowledge their presence. When it was obvious that she hadn’t heard them enter, he politely cleared his throat. Kaitlyn looked up, eyes inflamed and cheeks damp from a recent onslaught of tears. He was reminded of the day Carol was arrested. She’d been in his living room, crying much the same way. Her hair had been disheveled and her eyes just as red. Why hadn’t he protected her?
He crossed the room and took a seat on the sofa across from Kaitlyn. The moment eerily paralleled his first visit to this house. He sat in the same place, staring across at the same young woman. The only difference being that, last time, Brad had been seated next to his girlfriend. This time, he was dead.
Rodney always found this to be the most difficult part of the job. “Ms. Ashe. First, let me express my deepest condolences. I’m sure I speak for Detective Lewis as well when I say that we’re sorry for your loss.” Rodney took a quick breath and then leaned forward. “I know this is a difficult time, but we need to ask you some questions. Do you feel up to it?”
Kaitlyn reached for a tissue, and gave a brief nod. She dabbed her eyes with the tissue. The woman next to her looked at him with a questioning glance. “Would you like me to leave?” she asked.
“You are?” Julie said.
“Betsy Wilson. I live next door. I rushed over when I heard her screaming.” The woman shook her head slowly. “Such a horrible thing.”
Kaitlyn grasped the woman’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Betsy, thanks. I really appreciate you being here, but you can go. I’ll be okay.”
Betsy looked at Rodney. Her gaze held the same dilemma that he’d seen in a thousand eyes before—the desire to provide comfort to someone who was in need, while wishing to be as far from a horrible situation as possible. No one wanted to be involved in a murder. Not the victims. Not the witnesses. Not the families, and certainly not the neighbors. People wanted to watch from afar without getting involved. He tried to give her a reassuring smile but wasn’t certain how successful he’d been. “We’ll probably want to speak to you in the near future, but you can go if you’d like.”
The woman glanced once more at Kaitlyn, who gave a brief nod. Betsy rose from the sofa, placing a hand on Kaitlyn’s shoulder. “If you need anything . . .”
Kaitlyn’s eyes lingered on the living room doorway once the woman had departed. She was lost in thought. Rodney remained silent, not wanting to add further to her already traumatized state. He’d wait until she was ready to talk.
“Ms. Ashe, we’ve got those questions to ask,” Julie said, “if you wouldn’t mind giving us your attention.”
Rodney’s head jerked abruptly to the right. He glared up at Julie, who stood beside him, notebook in hand. His face grew warm with irritation at her lack of empathy. He tried to mark it up as a result of her own recent loss, but it still didn’t excuse the behavior. He needed Kaitlyn to give concise and accurate answers, not be overwhelmed with grief and antagonism. “When you’re ready,” he said.
She turned her head toward him. Her faint smile looked forced. “How can I help?”
Rodney returned her smile. “I know this will be difficult, but can you tell us what happened?”
He listened as Kaitlyn detailed the events leading up to Brad’s death. She explained how they’d planned to leave from the radio station for a long weekend in the Poconos immediately after her shift had ended. Not wanting to leave her Prius in the parking garage all weekend, she’d taken an Uber to work earlier in the day with the expectation that Brad would pick her up that night.
“I should’ve taken my bag with me, but I’d forgotten that I had a lot of production work to get done before my shift,” she said. “I ended up rushing out of the house before I’d finished packing.”
Brad had been waiting for her as planned in front of the building. He wasn’t bothered at all by the need for a quick detour. Kaitlyn went on to talk about their arrival at her house, and how Brad had remained in the BMW while she went in to pack. She stopped her narrative to regain control of her emotions, which seemed on the verge of erupting at any moment. Rodney did what he could to reassure her. “Take your time. If you need a break . . .”
She gave him a brief shake of her head. “I’m fine. Just need a second.” She grabbed another tissue, wiped her moist eyes, and blew her nose. Wadding up the tissue, she allowed it to fall to the floor between her feet. “Where was I?”
“You’d just arrived at the house,” Julie said.
Kaitlyn nodded, and then continued to tell them how she’d gone upstairs to finish packing. Her bag had been on the bed, right where she’d left it. It hadn’t been that long, Kaitlyn explained, before she’d heard the horn from outside. By the time she’d made it to the bedroom window, the horn had stopped.
“Were you irritated by the honking horn?” Julie asked.
“Of course. It was the middle of the night,” Kaitlyn said. “The neighbors were asleep. I didn’t want to upset them.”
Rodney heard Julie scribble a brief note in her notebook. “Upset them? Have you had issues in the past?”
Kaitlyn brushed aside a stray hair that had fallen into her face. “When I first moved in, there were some . . . complaints about my motorcycle. I don’t exactly keep normal work hours.”
“What kind of complaints? Calls to the police?”
Kaitlyn shook her head. “No. Just a couple letters from the homeowners association.”
Julie gestured toward the front door with her pen. “Betsy seemed nice. Have you resolved your issues with your neighbors?”
Rodney rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He didn’t want things to drift too far astray, which is what he feared would happen if he didn’t step in. “What happened after you looked out the bedroom window?”
Kaitlyn seemed startled for a moment by the sudden change in c
onversation, but quickly recovered. She explained how she’d finished packing and headed out to the car. She hesitated for a moment, then added, “The horn honked again.”
“Was this before you left the house?” Rodney asked.
Kaitlyn shook her head. “Yes. I was still in the bedroom.” She appeared to be on the brink of sobbing.
Rodney rose from his seat. “Let’s take a break. Give you a couple minutes to compose yourself.”
Kaitlyn, however, seemed to have other ideas. “No. We need to get through this.” She waited for Rodney to be seated again before she continued. “I felt like something was wrong. I don’t know why. Just intuition. I should’ve gone back in the house . . . I wanted to go back in the house. But . . .” Her words dropped off for a moment. “I think a part of me knew what I’d find. When I opened to the car door, I saw . . .” She waved her hand toward the window, as if she couldn’t bear to say that she’d found her fiancé dead with a knife through his throat.
The questioning continued for another hour, and by the time Rodney had stepped out of the house, the sun was beginning to rise. The medical examiner had long since removed the body, and the crime scene technician was busy arranging to have the BMW removed to the lab for further examination. The small crowd that had gathered earlier across the street was still there, apparently not wanting to leave until the show was over.
He folded his arms, breathing in the crisp morning air. His eyes felt heavy, a reminder that he’d not gotten much sleep the night before. He turned the past couple hours over in his mind. Kaitlyn’s story fit the facts as he saw them. Someone had approached the BMW, killing her fiancé while she was in the house. But why? Less than a week ago, someone had tried to run the woman off the road. He would’ve expected another attack on Kaitlyn, not on Brad. Why the change from attacking her to killing her fiancé? Perhaps to hurt Kaitlyn? That seemed like the only answer that made sense.
He returned to the front of the garage, pausing to tell the tech to take the ladder as possible evidence. Then Rodney stood beneath the garage light, his back to the garage door. He hadn’t planned to tell Kaitlyn about the letter found on Brad’s body, at least not this morning. He wanted to give her time to get over the initial shock, but Julie had other plans. She’d broached the subject within the first ten minutes of the conversation.
“Ms. Ashe, we found something on your fiancé’s body,” Julie said.
Kaitlyn looked up at the detective, eyes red and tear-stained. “What?”
“A letter, similar to the ones that you’ve been receiving.”
Rodney saw Kaitlyn’s shoulders give a violent shudder and heard her take a quick breath. He wasn’t happy that Julie brought up the letter, but he decided not to interrupt. Instead, he peered at Kaitlyn, studying her face and her reaction to what was coming next.
“The message was brief,” said Julie. “It just said ‘Compliments of the Shallows.’”
For a moment, he thought Kaitlyn was going to burst into tears. Her bottom lip quivered, but, in the end, she was stronger than he thought. Her eyes drifted from his partner to him, and then out through the window behind him. He wasn’t sure if she was looking at anything in particular, and he fought the urge to turn and look himself.
“Don’t you think it’s about time you told us about the Shallows?” Julie’s voice was stern, far more than necessary. Rodney gave her a disapproving look.
Kaitlyn continued to gaze out the window as if she hadn’t heard the detective. Then, she looked at each of them in turn, and then down at the floor. “I’ve told you before. I have no idea. Why do you keep asking me?” Her voice wavered for a moment. She turned back to the window. “I don’t have any answers for you. I don’t know anything.”
When he heard the front door open, he moved back up the sidewalk, meeting Kaitlyn as she stepped out of the house. A black duffel bag was slung over her shoulder.
“Julie will run you over to the hotel and get you settled,” he said. “The house will have to remain sealed for a few days while we process the crime scene. Okay?”
Kaitlyn nodded, her eyes taking discreet glances toward the empty car in the driveway. He could tell that she didn’t want to look but couldn’t help herself.
“You’ll be safe there. I’ll call later to check up on you,” he said.
Julie led Kaitlyn toward a waiting police car. He watched them slide into the back seat. A uniformed officer climbed in behind the wheel, pulled the car away from the curb, and drove off up Belmont Avenue.
21
The dark and murky water surrounded Kaitlyn. Her eyes were fixed on the faint glow above her. Holding her breath, she flailed her arms. Gotta swim upward toward the light. She couldn’t be too far from the surface. It was the Shallows after all. The water pressed against her hands, propelling her forward with each stroke. It was icy cold. She shivered. The light above grew brighter as she drew close. She just had to break the surface.
Suddenly, the fingers wrapped around her naked ankle. She wanted to scream. But, to open her mouth meant she’d drown. She drew back for another stroke. More ferocity behind it this time. But she was no longer moving forward.
She gazed down at her feet. The gangly fingers of the pale hand reached out from the depths. Held her in a tenacious grip. Kaitlyn kicked at the hand with her free foot. Have to break free. The grasp only tightened. She flailed with all of her might. Break the surface. She had to break the surface.
Another hand grabbed at her free ankle, and a third clamped onto her calf. Her strokes became deranged, a chaotic struggle to extricate herself from her ghostly restraints. She gazed down and saw a fourth and fifth hand stretch out from the depths. The downward pull was overwhelming. The light above her faded. When two more hands grabbed at her hips, she stopped trying to swim. She focused on freeing herself. Pried at the fingers. To no avail. She squirmed against their iron hold in a frenzied panic. Unable to control it any longer, she opened her mouth and screamed.
Kaitlyn shot up in bed, soaked in sweat. She kicked at the sheets, which had tangled around her ankles. Struggling free from the cloth, she scrambled to the head of the bed and drew her knees up against her chest. Her arms wrapped around her legs, clinging to them tightly. She rocked back and forth; her back banged lightly on the wall behind her.
The room was still dark, but a line of light shone in from between the drawn curtains. She wanted to switch on the light, but Kaitlyn didn’t want to leave the relative comfort of the bed. Her eyes traced the shadows in the far corners, looking for movement that wasn’t there. The cotton of her pink T-shirt—drenched in sweat—clung to her body. She shivered, not sure if it was because of chilled fabric touching her or the twinge of fear that lingered from the nightmare.
As her racing heart began to slacken, Kaitlyn unfurled her legs and reached for the bedside light. The incandescence swallowed the shadows, bathing the room in harsh white light. She slid from the bed and crossed to the window. She thrust the drapes apart, allowing the sun to flood into the room. She squinted against the bright light and gazed out at the parking lot that served as the room’s view. A glance back at the clock on the bedside table told her it was 8:37.
She’d been in bed for over twelve hours, but it had been a fitful sleep, waking and sleeping in short bursts throughout the night. She scanned the hotel room, reflecting on the generic bleakness of the furnishings. Framed featureless prints adorned the walls, adding to the nondescript nature of the room. It felt bland, lifeless, and uninspired. She drew in a deep breath, and then allowed it to escape in the form of a long sigh.
After Detective Lewis had left, Kaitlyn sat on the edge of the bed for what seemed like an eternity. Loud, violent bawling had alternated with stoic silence. A glance at the ring on her finger induced uncontrollable sobbing. When the stiff mattress springs had become too intolerable to ignore any longer, she’d moved to the maroon armchair across the room. The cushion sank beneath her weight, reminding her that she was in a mediocre hotel and not at h
ome. There she resumed her plummet into grief and anguish. At some point, she must have fallen asleep, for she awoke sometime in the middle of the night to slip between the sheets of the bed.
She’d only grieved like this once before—the night Jesse died. Kaitlyn could still feel Jesse’s arms pulling her close. His lips pressed hard against hers. His hands tearing at her shirt. Damn it, she didn’t want these memories. Not now. Not ever. All she wanted to do was forget.
She moved into the small bathroom. The beige-on-white decor was characterless and reminded her further that she was far from the comforts of home. After what had happened, she doubted that home would ever be truly comforting again.
She splashed a handful of cold water onto her face. It didn’t help. She could almost feel the cold car door handle between her fingers as she pulled it open. She’d leaned into the car, but it’d taken a moment for everything to register. Brad’s head leaning forward against the steering wheel, his hands limp in his lap. The blood in all its crimson horror. She remembered few details after that, just hazy, unconnected images.
And then, a vague sense of someone placing their arms around her shoulders and a faint voice saying, “Let go, sweetie. Let go.” Did they have to pry her fingers off the car door? Yes, she remembered being forcibly drawn away from the BMW. Kaitlyn had screamed for Brad again and again and struggled to return to the car. Her biceps were still sore from her neighbors’ grip. She couldn’t believe he was dead. Kaitlyn wanted to grab Brad’s shoulders and shake him, in case he’d just fallen asleep. As she howled with grief, she clung to the hope that it was all nothing more than a horrifying nightmare.
Somehow, she’d ended up in her living room, Betsy Wilson beside her trying to assuage the unassuageable. Her neighbor’s comforting hand had done little to stop her weeping. By the time Detectives Shapiro and Lewis arrived to question her, she’d almost come to terms with the catastrophic reality. Their appearance in her living room drove home the finality of Brad’s death.
Dead Air Page 12