by Sarah Sutton
“Sir, don’t put your hands on me.” Warren’s voice was threatening and stern.
But Warren’s words only fueled him further, and his fist flung through the air, heading right to Warren’s jaw. Warren ducked and ran into Terry’s stomach, causing him to lose balance. He fell flat on his back in the doorway. His beer flew from his hand. Glass shattered across his living room, liquid leaking all over the floor.
He groaned in anguish as he tried to force Warren off him, but he was too drunk. Warren forced him up as Tara came behind and cuffed him.
“You all right?” she asked.
Warren nodded as he pushed Terry forward. But at about halfway down the hall, Mr. Brennan suddenly keeled over. Vomit spilled out of his mouth. Warren shook his head as he waited for Terry to gain his composure and then continued to push him forward. Tara curled her lip in disgust as she followed Warren out to the car. Once he was in the back seat, Tara and Warren agreed to take a look inside the apartment, and they made their way back in.
“What are you thinking so far?” Tara asked as they opened the apartment door. Warren had been mostly quiet, deep in thought.
Warren shrugged. “He clearly has an anger issue,” he replied. “Let’s see what else we can find,” he added as he stepped into the apartment.
The shattered beer bottle still lay in pieces across the living room, soaking into a rug underneath the coffee table, between the TV and pleather couch. Empty beer bottles sat on every space of every surface. It was a small apartment. The kitchen was to the right of the living room, and then there was the bedroom and bathroom at the end of a short hallway.
Tara and Warren looked in every corner for traces of anything that would link him to the crime scene—shovels, tarps, anything to tie someone up—but they were unable to find a single such object. They moved throughout the living room, and then the kitchen, until they moved down the hallway. Tara opened a coat closet. She searched behind jackets. She looked at the bottoms of shoes for traces of sand. But nothing had a touch of suspicion.
They both entered the bedroom. It was dark, with thick curtains covering the windows, shutting out any flicker of the sun. They turned on an overhead light, revealing the mess. The extent of beer bottles had flowed into the bedroom as well. They sat atop the nightstands and dresser and atop a computer desk and filing cabinet in the corner.
Tara moved to the filing cabinet while Warren searched the closet. She flipped through each folder inside. Each were labeled correctly with what they held inside—tax information, birth certificate, social security. Tara sighed as she continued to dig through each one.
One labeled Family Pictures struck her amongst the others, and she pulled it out of the bunch. Inside were pictures of him, his daughter, and his wife. Some were Christmas cards, while others looked like photos taken on vacation. Some were them skiing, others were in the tropics with palm trees standing tall in the background. In each one, Mr. Brennan’s smile was wide, but his daughter and wife’s looked forced. Tara knew that look too well. Unhappiness reflected on their faces at the hands of abuse. Exhaustion could be seen in their eyes, most likely from the endless push-and-pull of control. Tara could only hope that they were happier now, away from their abuser.
Tara put the folder of the images back into the filing cabinet. There was only one more folder left. It was placed at the very back and was the only one that was unlabeled. Tara pulled it out, and dozens of pictures fell out onto the floor. Tara picked one up. It was Mr. Brennan’s daughter, walking with some teens on a road late at night. Their backs were turned to the camera, as if someone had snuck up behind them to take the picture. Tara flipped through the rest. Each one was of his daughter, with friends on a beach, or in a park, or entering a house that had the looks of a party going on. Each one was taken late at night from far away, and it was clear that she had no clue a picture was being taken.
Tara already knew that Mrs. Brennan and her daughter had a restraining order against her ex-husband, but it now seemed that it didn’t keep him too far at bay. Tara assumed Mr. Brennan’s daughter had no idea he was still keeping tabs on her. It was clear he was overprotective and abusive. It was probably driving him insane that he now had no control over who his daughter was hanging out with or what she was doing. Could following her be a way for him to feel some sense of control? Tara let that thought roll around in her mind as she looked at each image more intently.
Reese was in almost every picture , standing close to Mr. Brennan’s daughter amongst a group. In some, it was just the two of them. They had to have been good friends, Tara assumed. They both had strict parents. Tara wondered if that was a commonality they had bonded over, and as a result, tested boundaries together. It was evident that they had been sneaking out of their houses together. On the back of each picture was a time and date. Each taken late at night, after or around midnight. Tara knew their parents never would’ve allowed them to leave the house at that time.
“What did you find?” Warren finally asked, noticing how intently Tara was looking at them. He moved closer before kneeling on the floor next to her. He picked up a picture as he knitted his eyebrows in suspicion.
But Tara didn’t answer. She had found another recognizable face amongst the images: Sofia. It seemed that Sofia knew Mr. Brennan’s daughter a bit more than Sofia’s close friend had even known. She passed it to Warren.
“Look who it is,” she said as she pointed at the girl in the picture. He had already seen Reese. Tara could tell by the way he had gathered each image of her in front of him. He took the photo in his hand.
“Sofia.” The name rolled off his tongue. He turned the picture over, looking at the date and time it was taken. He showed it to Tara. It was a few weeks before she went missing. They looked at the dates of all the others of Reese, each taken within months leading up to her disappearance as well. The most recent was taken a week prior.
Could Mr. Brennan had been so insanely controlling that he had sought out his daughter’s friends who he thought were influencing her? Tara ran the thought by Warren.
“It’s certainly possible,” he replied. “I mean, what kind of creep stalks their own daughter?” His eyes washed over the images once more. “The only one missing is Alyssa.”
He was right. Alyssa wasn’t in any of the images, but it could still be possible that Mr. Brennan’s daughter knew her, or maybe he had even mistaken her for someone else. But right now, their biggest priority was finding Sofia.
Warren gathered the pictures back into the envelope. “Grab his car keys. I saw them hanging in the kitchen,” he said. Tara knew his intention was to search the car. It would be the only way he’d be able to transfer Sofia, and it could possibly hold evidence, or her.
Tara did as Warren asked, and they were soon headed back out of the building. Tara could see Mr. Brennan in the police vehicle, parked out front. His head was resting against the window. They made their way to the parking lot in the back of the building, and Tara pressed the lock button of Mr. Brennan’s car. They followed the beeping noise until they stood in front of a Toyota Camry.
They searched in every corner of the car, in every crevice. They searched the dashboard, the middle console. They searched the trunk. When they finally realized there was nothing more to search, Tara sighed. If he had taken her, he had covered his tracks in the car too. But Tara also knew that there might be evidence they couldn’t see. “We’ll bring the keys to forensics, have them take a closer look.”
Warren nodded, but Tara could see a frustration boiling within him, sadness and anger dancing in his eyes. Something about the case, about Terry, shook him.
“You have to really be scum to abuse your daughter,” he said through gritted teeth.
As someone who had lost his teenage daughter, Tara knew this case was striking a delicate chord in him.
He slammed the door of the car as he spun around, making his way to the front of the building. Tara locked it and then quickly followed behind. His eyes locked on th
e police car as he turned the corner. They narrowed as he saw Terry’s head resting on the window.
Just when he was close enough, he swung the backseat door open. Mr. Brennan looked startled as he quickly sat up straight, trying to regain his balance and not fall out of the car.
“Where’s Sofia?” Warren barked at him.
Mr. Brennan stared up at him in drunk confusion. “Who?” he muttered.
Warren grabbed her picture from the envelope that was found in the filing cabinet and forced it in front of his face. “Her,” Warren said brusquely.
A look of shock crossed his face. His eyes opened wide with fear. He hadn’t expected them to find those pictures. At first he didn’t answer, swaying slightly back and forth, still trying to hold himself upright. Warren asked him again. He hesitated, but his mouth opened. He was about to say something, but before the words could form, his face turned a shade paler. Tara could see sweat had broken out on his forehead. He continued to sway. He was about to be sick. Warren sensed it too and stepped back just in time as Mr. Brennan hurled all over the ground where Warren just stood.
Warren rolled his eyes as he turned to Tara. “He’s going to need to sober up before we ask him anything.”
Tara agreed. “I say we talk to his daughter in the meantime,” she suggested. They both knew it was likely she held answers. Warren nodded as he made his way to driver’s side of the car.
As he opened the door, he looked over the hood. “Let’s drop him off, and then we’ll go pay his family a visit.”
Chapter Eighteen
A row of condos came into view as Warren neared the end of the road. They had already dropped Terry off at the station. The cops there were helping them by trying to get him to sober up. They had also handed his keys off to forensics, and Tara assumed they were now over at his apartment complex, combing through his vehicle for anything of substance.
Now, Tara and Warren were nearing the home of Mrs. Brennan and her daughter. Unlike Terry’s complex, this one was on a nice side of town, sitting on a dead-end street, facing the beach. They pulled into the parking lot. A glare reflected into Tara’s eyes, and she turned to see two young children riding their bikes around in circles as a father helped one of them gain their balance. Light reflected on the metal rims each time they turned into the sun. Tara smiled. It was refreshing to see a positive parental relationship, when she knew very well she was about to speak of a troubling one.
Warren parked, and they were soon standing two doors down from the father and children. Tara could feel his eyes on them as Warren pressed hard on the doorbell and they waited. A moment later the door swung open. A middle-aged woman with short, curly blonde hair and a toothy smile was in mid-laugh as she opened it. But her face fell upon Tara and Warren standing before her. The smile simmered, replaced with a questionable glare.
“Can I help you?”
A girl moved briefly to the door, as if to check who it was, and then disappeared into the kitchen. Tara assumed it was Terry Brennan’s daughter.
“Are you Mrs. Brennan?”
The woman nodded questioningly. She wore an apron covered in white powder, and she wiped a smidge from her cheek. She had clearly been baking.
Tara flashed her badge. “We were wondering if we could speak to you and your daughter,” she started. “We know your daughter was friends with Reese Tanner. We were hoping she might be able to help us.”
The woman raised her brows in surprise. “Oh,” she said, startled. She sighed, shaking her head briefly. “It’s a shame. That poor girl. She was a sweetheart.” Her mind drifted a moment at her words, and then she abruptly looked back at Tara. “Come in,” she added as she stepped aside, opening the door wider.
The condo had a cozy feel, with family pictures neatly placed on surfaces and in frames on the walls. Tara looked at them briefly as she took a seat on the couch. They were of Mrs. Brennan, her daughter, and others, which Tara assumed were extended family. Not one picture had Mr. Brennan in it. A wooden sign hung over the frames with the words Home, Sweet Home etched into it.
Mrs. Brennan took off her apron as she walked into the dining room and placed it over a chair.
“I’m sorry, my daughter and I were just baking. My niece’s birthday is tomorrow.” She was talking to Tara and Warren, but she was now in the dining room, facing the kitchen. “Julie,” she called as she waved her hand for her daughter to come near. A shy-looking teenager moved to the doorframe. She locked eyes with Tara from across the room. She suddenly blushed and her eyes fell to her feet. She wore an apron too. She took it off, laying it over her mother’s before pushing her pin straight hair behind her ear and sitting on a loveseat across from them. Her mother sat next to her.
“Reese used to come over quite often, actually,” Mrs. Brennan said as she looked from Julie to Tara and Warren.
Julie was staring at the floor. She bit her lip at her mother’s words, trying to control her emotion. It was clear just from her sitting there that Reese’s death had really shook her up.
“You two were close?” Tara asked.
Julie’s eyes moved to Tara, and then they closed as they began to well up. She sighed and nodded. “We were.” Her voice shook slightly. Mrs. Brennan grabbed her hand.
“Do you have idea who would’ve wanted to harm her?” Tara asked. She and Warren already had their theory, but she wanted to see what Julie would say. Julie thought for a moment before sharing a brief look with her mother, but then she looked back at her feet and shook her head. In only confirmed that Julie didn’t instinctively suspect her father of murder, even though she knew he was violent. But it was something Tara understood personally. As a child, witnessing abuse, she never would’ve thought her father was a murderer until he was charged as such. Tara’s stomach began to churn with sadness at what this girl could soon learn.
Tara reached into her pocket and pulled out a picture of Sofia. She slid it across the coffee table. “Do you know her too?”
Julie let go of her mother’s hand and picked up the picture. Familiarity washed over her face and then concern, and she abruptly looked up.
“I do, why?”
It was clear that neither she nor her mother had watched the news that day.
“She went missing last night,” Tara said. “She was riding her bike home from a friend’s house.”
Julie’s hand instinctively covered her mouth. Her mother looked at her with sheer concern.
“You knew her too?” her mother asked. It was obvious that she was unaware of the friendship.
Julie nodded, still in shock. “I didn’t know her that well, but I’ve hung out with her a couple of times. Just at...” She paused, her eyes moving to her mother, as if afraid to say what she needed to in her presence. But then she took a deep breath. “At parties,” she finished. “We had some mutual friends.”
Her mother stared at her, confused. She had clearly no knowledge that her daughter had been sneaking out, going to parties some nights. It was a topic Tara didn’t feel the need to address outright, but she also knew that what she and Warren were about to show them would reveal it.
“Do you still talk to your father?” Tara asked Julie.
She and her mother both jerked their heads back. “What does that have to do with anything?” Mrs. Brennan interjected.
Tara looked to Warren, who opened an envelope on his lap. He pulled out the pictures they found in Mr. Brennan’s apartment and placed them on the coffee table. It took Julie and her mother a moment for it to register what they were, but then Julie’s eyes opened wide. She gasped with a look of total devastation. Mrs. Brennan was quiet as she reached for the pictures. She knitted her brows and squinted.
“I don’t understand,” she said as she turned to her daughter. “Julie, what are these?”
Julie blushed. It was inevitable now that her mother would know she was sneaking out of the house. “They’re pictures of me and my friends, hanging out at night.”
Mrs. Brennan continued to
stare at them, taking each one in her hand, looking at them intently until moving to the next. She turned each one over, seeing the time and date. She looked at her daughter, not with anger, but with sadness. She sighed.
“I thought you were going to stop with the lying,” she said under breath, but her words were met with no response, and then her eyes focused yet again on the pictures. “Who took these?” she asked as it all began to come together.
Warren leaned forward. “We found these in your ex-husband’s apartment.”
Mrs. Brennan stared at him a moment, trying to make sense of what he was saying, and then she placed a hand over her mouth.
Julie stiffened as terror flooded her eyes.
“But…” Mrs. Brennan started. She picked up the pictures again, one by one, almost frantically. “We have a restraining order.” The words fell out of her mouth as she placed another photo down in disbelief. She then looked up at Tara and Warren. “He was a very angry, abusive man. We have no ties with him anymore. He’s not supposed to be anywhere within a hundred yards of me or my daughter.” She looked at her daughter. “Did you know he was watching you?” she asked, but Julie only shook her head as she too stared down at the pictures in disbelief.
Mrs. Brennan looked back and forth between Tara and Warren as a thought struck her.
“What does this have to do with Reese? Or that other girl?” she asked. You don’t think—” She placed her hand over her mouth again, stopping herself before she spoke the words. But it was already clear she understood why they were there.
Julie was still quietly in shock. Tara shared a quick glance with Warren before she spoke. “Did your father ever mention Reese to you? Did he ever talk about her? Or Sofia?”
Julie looked off into the distance and took in a sudden emotional gasp of air. She then looked back at Tara. “My father never liked me hanging out with anyone. He made my mother homeschool me. He didn’t want me to have any social influence. That was partially the reason why my mother left him.” She glanced at her mother briefly.