The Night in Question

by Nic Joseph

  • • •

  When she was gone, Greg walked with Claire back to their desks.

  “Are you sure that was a good idea?” he asked. “Letting her go like that?”

  “Yes,” Claire said. “I don’t think she’s a flight risk. She seemed genuinely scared about this break-in, and that part can be corroborated pretty easily. For now, I need you to find out what you can about Paula Wilson.”

  Greg nodded and started to walk out. “Oh, by the way,” he said, pausing to turn back. “I’m pretty sure she said ‘Wileson’ when she first walked in. Not ‘Wilson.’ I kept wondering if she was going to correct you.”

  Claire raised an eyebrow and then smiled slightly, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think she was,” she said softly. “Okay, Paula Wileson. I want to know absolutely everything.”

  Chapter 28

  Paula

  Three days after

  As I took a cab away from the police station Tuesday night, I wondered if it was my imagination or if the two cops really had been incredibly suspicious of me.

  Maybe that was just the way detectives acted?

  Maybe I was overthinking it?

  I tried to shake it off, but deep down, I knew going there had been a terrible idea.

  For what felt like the tenth time that week, I vowed to lay off the alcohol.

  Instead of going home, I had the cab drop me off at Emma’s apartment building. I needed to talk to her, to get her to admit that Hooks had been at the apartment the other night, and to tell her about the break-in. I didn’t know how much I would tell her about what I’d done, but I needed somebody to tell me I wasn’t crazy.

  I rang her doorbell several times. She wasn’t answering, and it took all the willpower I had not to bang on the door or start to throw rocks at her window. I began to walk away slowly, aimlessly, when I came up to the dog park, and on a whim, I pushed the gate open and stepped inside.

  I don’t know why I was there; maybe I was too scared to go home and be by myself, too worried to call Keith to bother him with this. He’d wanted to cut his trip short after he found out about the break-in, but I told him not to, that this trip was a big deal for him, and there was no reason to come home early when I was perfectly fine.

  But I wasn’t fine. Not even close.

  So I stalled. I walked farther into the park, the warm breeze tickling my face. As I stepped through the gates, I had the same thought I’d had the first time I’d visited the park: if I were coming here at another time, under other circumstances, maybe, just maybe, it could have been a place that Shelby and I frequented. I wondered what it would be like to be able to afford one of the luxury homes on the block, to spend my afternoons with Shelby tucked away in this perfect, manufactured space.

  I sat down on the bench where I’d first met Emma and Andrew and listened to the leaves being pushed around by the wind.

  As I sat there, I saw a flash of light out of the corner of my eye, and I blinked.

  I brushed it off as nothing, but then it happened again, and I squinted, looking around the park. I looked up as it happened again, and I saw a small light coming from an apartment on the second floor of the building across the park. I squinted, standing up, and looked up at it in the dark.

  The events of the past few nights had me on edge, and I felt my stomach flop over in fear. I should have been carrying a weapon with me, at least my bottle of bug spray. More than that, I shouldn’t have been sitting out here alone. I was turning to head back to the street when I saw a figure in the window, and I realized that someone was standing there, holding the object that was being shone into my face.

  A flashlight.

  Again.

  “What the hell?” I said out loud. The figure moved away, and I stood there for a few moments, looking up at the window. With the light gone, I could see that I was looking into a shadowy room that might have been a bedroom? A den?

  I frowned and finally turned to leave. As I stepped through the gate, I saw a figure walking down the sidewalk toward me from the direction of the building I’d just been examining.

  Sure enough, it was Reg, the man I’d met the first time I’d come to the park. He was walking toward me with the flashlight in one hand and something else in the other.

  A flowerpot?

  “Hello,” I said as he walked up to me, but when he got close, I could see that his face was covered in a scowl, much like it had been the other time I met him.

  “What are you doing out here so late?” he demanded.

  “How is that any of your business?” I asked. “And what’s with you pointing flashlights in people’s eyes?”

  “It’s my business because I’m a resident of this neighborhood, and this is our park. Someone has been letting their dog leave a lot of mess out here every night, and I think it’s you!”

  “It’s not,” I said. “I wouldn’t do that. Besides, do you see a dog?” I waved a hand around me.

  He frowned, but the scowl didn’t go away. “Where did you say you live again anyway?” he asked.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “I live around the corner,” I said.

  “Where, exactly?” He peered at me suspiciously.

  I swallowed. “It’s none of your business,” I said.

  “Yeah, right,” he said. “I know my neighborhood, and I know the people in it. I also know the people who couldn’t afford to live around here if they sold everything they had.”

  I balled my fists up at my side but turned to walk away. I didn’t have time for this.

  “Maybe you didn’t leave dog crap tonight, but I know you have been,” he said. “And I have proof.”

  I stopped. “What?” I asked, turning back. “What are you talking about? You can’t have proof, because it didn’t happen.”

  “I’ve seen you driving around here,” he said. “If you live around the corner, why do you always drive? It makes no sense. You should stop lying. Since I have it all on video.”

  I froze and watched the smug expression on his face as his words sunk in.

  “What do you mean?”

  He held up the flowerpot and spun it around so I could see a small, black square embedded in the side. It took me a moment to realize that it was a camera.

  “This sits on my windowsill all day and night and feeds the stream to my laptop,” he said. “I haven’t gone through it, but I know I’m going to find you on it, walking your dog and leaving crap everywhere. You might as well just admit it.”

  I stared at the flowerpot, and an idea crossed my mind.

  “Let me see that,” I said, grabbing it from his hands.

  I scrolled through the small screen and saw a list of four recordings, all exactly four hours long, and each one stamped with a different date and time.

  “How long have you been doing this?” I asked.

  “A couple weeks,” Bolton said, narrowing his eyes. “Long enough to have captured you.”

  “What about the old ones?”

  “I’ve saved everything from the past few weeks on my computer,” he said.

  “What time do you record?”

  “Eleven o’clock to three o’clock.”

  “Can I come up and see them?”

  “What?” he asked, and he looked at me as if I were a leper. “No!”

  • • •

  I rang Emma’s buzzer once, and then again and then one more time.

  I’d run all the way there from the park, leaving Reg standing there with his flowerpot, flashlight, and attitude in hand.

  I could see that there was a light on in her apartment. After I pushed the buzzer a few times, I stepped back and saw that the light had been turned off.

  Damn it.

  I pushed it again, repeatedly now, and finally, I heard static over the intercom.

  “Who is it?”
she demanded, anger and exhaustion in her voice.

  “It’s Chris.”

  There was silence for a few moments, and then she spoke again.

  “Go away, Chris, please. It’s not a good time.”

  “I need to talk to you,” I said.

  I didn’t hear anything for a moment, and then I laid on the buzzer again.

  “Damn it, Chris!” I heard her say, and then she buzzed the door open. I pushed it and stepped inside.

  As I walked in, the memories of the last time I’d been there came back to me, and I put a hand on the wall to steady myself.

  I had a sudden image of myself walking down the stairs, Hooks on one side of me and Emma holding my elbow on the other side. I could only see his face; hers was just out of sight the entire time.

  I walked up the stairs, and when I reached the second floor, I turned and headed toward her door. It was open, and Emma was standing there with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her face covered in frustration.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “How can you keep avoiding me?” I asked. “You carried me down those steps with him.”

  She blinked and then shook her head. “What?” she asked.

  I could see she was nervous. I could tell she was thinking hard, and I wondered what kinds of lies she was thinking about shelling out to keep me from knowing that I was right.

  “You carried me downstairs—those stairs right there—with Ryan Hooks on the night Beverly was killed.”

  She stared at me for a moment with her eyes wide.

  “What?” she said again, but I saw recognition dawning on her face. She looked around and then ushered me into her apartment. “What is wrong with you?”

  “I know you were here with Ryan Hooks that night and that I fell asleep behind the couch. You don’t have to protect him. I know how violent he is.”

  She still didn’t say anything and just continued to watch me.

  So I kept going. “He broke into my apartment and attacked me, Emma. He broke into my car the other day, too, to threaten me.” The words were coming out in a rush now, and I just needed her to listen, to understand. “And if he’s violent with me, he’s probably violent with you too.”

  She swallowed and then spun around, her back to me. She was leaning forward with her head in her hands, and finally, she turned back around.

  “What exactly is it that you want me to do?” she asked quietly.

  “I want you to tell the police. I don’t think they will believe me.”

  “Tell them what, exactly?”

  I sighed. “About the affair, Emma. I know all about it. About the fact that he was in the building. And that he could’ve done this. Don’t you think they should know?”

  She spread her hands. “I don’t know anything,” she said, and she paused for a moment as if she was thinking about how much she should say. “Yes, we carried you out. You were so drunk, I honestly didn’t think you would remember. But then he went home.”

  She shook her head, turned, and walked farther into the living room. I followed her, swallowing as I was transported quickly back to the night of the party. I looked at the floor where I’d lain, and it was pristine.

  “Look,” she said. “I will admit that we have been having an affair, since you seem to know that part already. But I can’t do what you want me to do. I can’t come with you to the police.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she stepped back away from me.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “For all the reasons you just told me,” she said. “He is violent. Very. And we don’t have any proof that he did anything to Beverly. Right? So we have to just let it go. I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but you have to remember that this is Ryan Hooks you’re talking about. He has all the money in the world and twice as many connections. Unless you have some kind of proof…?”

  I took a deep breath. “That’s actually why I came here in the first place,” I said. “I actually think I might have some, but I’m going to need your help to get it.”

  She frowned but looked curious. Before she could say anything, I turned and walked toward her front door.

  “Come with me.”

  Chapter 29

  She followed me out into the hallway, grabbing her keys from the hook by the door.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  I hesitated at the top of the stairs, torn between wanting to drag her down the block with me and knowing that I needed to take some time to explain. “We need to go next door,” I said. “To see your neighbor, Mr. Bolton.”

  I was heading down the stairs but realized she hadn’t moved. Turning back, I could see the confusion all over her face.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked. “Why would we go see Mr. Bolton?”

  I took a deep breath as a million thoughts rushed through my head.

  We’re running out of time!

  We have to go now!

  He has the proof if we could just get there!

  “I just saw him, next to the dog park,” I said. “You know how he’s been worried that there’s someone who’s walking their dog and not picking up after it?”

  “Yeah,” she said slowly, and she still watched me as if she wasn’t sure I wasn’t crazy. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Did you know that his apartment actually overlooks the dog park?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “I mean, I know he lives nearby, but I didn’t know he actually lived next door.”

  “Well, I was out there earlier, and I thought I saw something in the window. A moment later, he came outside and started yelling at me.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because he thought I was out there letting my dog crap in the park and not cleaning it up.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment, and then she shook her head. “Chris, what the hell are you talking about?”

  I sighed again. “The thing is, he’s really serious about it. So serious that he has been taping the park at night. Using a nanny cam in a flowerpot he leaves on the sill every night.”

  Emma blinked, and then her expression changed. She tilted her head to one side. “What do you mean he’s been taping it?”

  “He set up a camera,” I said, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice. “He’s had it up and running for the last couple of weeks. Long story short—”

  “You think he might have proof that Ryan was here on the night Bev was killed.” She said each word slowly, as if she was processing them while she spoke.

  “I think it’s worth a try,” I said quietly. “I think it’s our only chance. When he told me about it, I asked him if I could come up and see it. Let’s just say he’s not my biggest fan. Then I thought about you; he likes you. He’ll let you up. Please, we have to get over there now.”

  Emma was on my heels as we walked out of her building. “You think that if Ryan left the apartment that night, it’ll be on his video?”

  “It’s worth looking, don’t you think?” I asked. She still looked hesitant, and I stopped. “We have to try. There has to be some way to prove that he was here, other than your word and mine.”

  She nodded, and we continued on, hurrying down the block and past the dog park. I looked at her and saw that she looked scared. I felt bad for her. She’d told me how much she was in love with Hooks, and I knew this couldn’t be easy for her.

  When we got to Bolton’s apartment, I reached out and pushed his buzzer.

  “Yeah?” he said. “Who is it?”

  I looked over at Emma and nodded.

  “Mr. Bolton,” she said. “It’s Emma Brighton from next door.”

  There was silence for a moment, and then he spoke again. “What do you want?”

  She blinked and poi
nted at the intercom, but I shook my head.

  “I was hoping I could come up for a minute to talk to you.”

  There was another moment of silence, and then he buzzed the door open.

  We walked inside and took the elevator to the second floor. When we stepped out of the elevator, he was standing in a doorway on the right side of the hallway. He cursed when he saw us walking toward him.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Not her again.”

  “We need to talk to you,” Emma said.

  But he shook his head. “She can’t come into my home.”

  “I’ll wait here,” I said to Emma as we got closer to his door. “Just take a look at the videos.”

  She stared at me for a moment, then nodded. As she was walking inside, I had a moment of fear that she might see the evidence against Hooks and decide to delete it.

  “Emma,” I said, and she turned around. “Please, don’t do anything…”

  “Stupid?” she asked. She turned and walked inside.

  Bolton slammed the door with a snarl in my direction. I paced in the hallway a few moments, and there was a part of me that considered checking to see if he’d locked the door.

  You can’t just barge in.

  But a minute turned into five, and five turned into ten. I was seriously considering knocking on the door when it opened and Emma walked out.

  “Well?” I said, stepping forward. “Did you see it?”

  Her eyes were sad and tired, and she nodded.

  “He’s on the video,” she said.

  “I knew it!” I said. “Do you have it?”

  “No,” she said, spreading her hands. “Mr. Bolton is going to email it to me.”

  “He is?” I asked, frowning. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Chris,” she said. “We’ve imposed on him enough. If we push any harder, he might not send it.”

  I was silent as we walked into the elevator and then exited the building a few moments later.

  “Are you sure—” I started, but she put up a hand.

  “We have to trust him,” she said. “And you have to trust me. He said he would send me the video tonight, and I promise, I’ll give it to you.”