Silent Neighbor Read online

  “And what was that amount?” Chloe asked.

  “Twenty thousand.”

  “When was the last time she asked to go over that amount?” Rhodes asked.

  “It’s been a while. Two months, maybe?”

  “Did it ever cause arguments between the two of you?”

  “No, nothing serious. It’s…well, it all seems stupid now, but I never minded her spending money. I was always about keeping her happy. And after a while, you become dependent on the money. I think we made each other happy emotionally and physically but at the end of the day, we both got very used to having all of the money, you know? But now that she’s gone, the money really doesn’t amount to much as far as I’m concerned.”

  “It sounds like she might have been more frivolous with the money than you were,” Chloe pointed out.

  “Oh, she was at times. And that’s not me talking about her while she’s not here to defend herself. If she was still here, she’d tell you the same thing.”

  “All of the things we discovered this morning…well, it led us to some conclusions that we aren’t really professionally trained to make. Care you weigh in?”

  “You’re trained enough, it seems,” Mark said with a frown. “Yeah, we were bleeding money. I wouldn’t quite say we were going broke, but if things didn’t change soon, I might have had to consider filing for bankruptcy.”

  “Where was all of the money going?”

  “I don’t know how to answer those questions without boring you. It’s all in investments. If you need me to, I can have someone at the office dig into the accounts and provide printouts for you.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary just yet, but we may need to come back to it eventually.”

  Mark seemed relieved about this, but it was clear that it was still hard for him to talk about it. “Some of it was invested in a club that a friend of mine was opening up in New York. He ended up owing money to some other people and went under. I never saw the money back and I don’t even know where he disappeared to. Some of the other money I sort of pissed away on a gambling problem that Jessie never even knew about. I hit one big win at the races last year and got hooked.”

  “Anything else?” Chloe asked. She had a decent sense for when someone was withholding something from her and while she knew it was hard for Mark to share the things he had told them so far, she felt like there might be something else.

  “I can’t…it’s too hard,” he said, essentially confirming this.

  “This is private information, Mr. Fairchild. If it has nothing to do with your wife’s murder, it doesn’t have to leave this room.”

  “It’s…well, it’s not my proudest moment. There was…a day two years ago when I left for a trip overseas. I went to Tokyo for three weeks. I had too much to drink one night and ended up going home with an escort. A very pricey escort. And I just…I hate to say it, but I got hooked. I hired her two more times the following year—flying her out over here both times. And then she moved to New York last year and asked me if I would be interested in her and a friend at once. Of course, the price was higher…”

  “How much money are we talking?” Chloe asked, fully aware once the question was out of her mouth that she really had no business asking.

  “I’d rather not say,” he said, quickly glancing to the printouts in front of him. “It’s…deplorable. Embarrassing.”

  “Dumb question here,” Rhodes said. “But did your wife ever know about this?”

  “No.”

  With that, he hung his head and let out a massive sob.

  Chloe and Rhodes shared a look across the table. There was guilt in that glance but there was also an unspoken discovery: Mark Fairchild was fully capable of keeping secrets.

  And if he had been able to keep these secrets from his wife, what other secrets might he be capable of keeping so closely guarded?

  ***

  Mark Fairchild left the police station fifteen minutes later, assuring Chloe and Rhodes that he held no ill feelings toward them. These were his own stupid sins after all, he had said, and he had to deal with them in a whole new light now that Jessie was no longer with him. He left the agents alone in the small conference room once again, now with a new round of questions hovering between them.

  “What do you think?” Rhodes asked. It was a simple question, but was also a very heavy one, loaded with all sorts of possibilities.

  “I think he’s torn up about the escorts—that it hurt more than he realized to actually admit it. But I also know that a man that lies about one thing is very prone to lie about much more. How about you?”

  “I think we need to look deeper into him. He’s losing money on these dumb decisions he’s made and he needed more money. By killing her, I think he eliminates an unnecessary money suck while also cashing in on her considerable life insurance policy.”

  “That’s where I was initially headed, too. But his alibi is too tight. Five people have been interviewed and can voice for his whereabout the entire time.”

  “I know. But you seem to be forgetting the man is loaded. If he can blow ungodly amounts of money on expensive foreign prostitutes, he can likely hire someone to kill his wife.”

  “That’s a big assumption to make without any evidence to support it.”

  “I agree,” Rhodes said. There was a tone of defensiveness to her voice as she reached onto the table and fanned out the printouts. “But we have several large transactions in this financial history that are unaccounted for. I think if we really dig into them, we might find some answers.”

  Chloe considered it for a moment but then shook her head. It simply didn’t feel right. “If he did indeed pay someone to kill his wife—which I find highly unlikely, by the way—you’re not going to find the transaction in his bank records. No one would be that stupid…especially not someone that keeps a tight eye on his finances.”

  “Yeah, but any of these transactions that are simple withdrawals of cash…there’s no telling what he could have done with the money.”

  “Exactly. He admitted he has a gambling issue and it isn’t anything out of the ordinary for him to hire prostitutes. So just assuming any cash withdrawals were used to pay someone to kill his wife is a stretch.”

  A frown worked its way across Rhodes’s face. “I mean this with the utmost respect,” she said, “but I find it weird that you aren’t at least considering this. It’s not like we’re drowning in answers.”

  “That’s true. But I’m not about to accuse a man who just lost his wife of said wife’s murder without sufficient reason to do so.”

  “I just gave you the reasons, Chloe.”

  “And it’s my opinion that they aren’t nearly strong enough to warrant us openly investigating Mark Fairchild.”

  Something a bit more sinister than a frown crossed Rhodes’s face in that moment. She shook her head, shrugged indignantly, and got up from the table. She made no effort to hide the fact that she was pissed off when she exited the room.

  Chloe took the moment of silence to lean back in her chair and truly wonder why she was so opposed to putting poor Mark Fairchild through the investigation. She was well aware that there were a few curious marks against him, though not enough, in her opinion, to point to him as a likely suspect.

  It was more than a gut instinct. It was something else she couldn’t quite pinpoint—something she was pretty sure was directly linked to her own life. It occurred to her that Mark Fairchild was essentially in the same position her father had been in almost ten years ago: with a recently killed wife, with the authorities starting to suspect him as the killer.

  Maybe that’s why I’m so insistent that Mark isn’t the killer, she thought. Maybe it feels too personal.

  Another thought followed this one, this thought coming to her in Danielle’s voice. Yeah, she said. And you were wrong about that one at the start…

  As she mulled this over, there was a knock at the door. Nolan poked his head in. The look on his face made it quite
clear that he was not delivering the best news.

  “Any news?” Chloe asked.

  “Yeah, but it’s all eliminating your leads. The officers I had check over Evelyn Marshall’s security tapes found that she was telling the truth. She never left her house on the morning Jessie Fairchild was killed. She went out to water her rosebushes around nine thirty and that’s it. Also…the hair sample…we just got the call from forensics. It’s not Evelyn’s. In fact, they think it’s pretty likely that it was from a male. They have to run more tests to be certain, but that seems to be the case.”

  “Evelyn has been released, then?”

  “Yeah. And still screaming about suing us.”

  “I doubt she will. Her type is all bark and no bite. Being involved in anything legal would smear her reputation.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Thanks for the update.”

  “Sure. Hey…is everything okay? I saw Rhodes out in the hallway a few minutes ago and she looked like she was fuming about something.”

  Yeah, Chloe thought. And that’s likely my fault. Instead, she said: “She’s fine. No answers, no real leads…it’s getting to us.”

  Nolan nodded his understanding and said, “Let me know what I can do to help,” as he headed back out of the room.

  Chloe got to her feet and headed out as well. She had no clear destination in mind, but she needed to feel like she was moving, like she was making some kind of progress. Second by second, she started to feel that she was in the wrong with Rhodes. Of course they needed to dig into Mark a bit deeper. The trick was making sure she could get out of her own way—to set her own demons aside and focus on the ones that mattered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Chloe had never been the best when it came to asking for help. It had been true when she’d been a child, had gotten worse as she’d evolved into a teen, and had become something of a defining trait when she had entered adulthood. From needing help with courses in college to breaking down on the side of the road when her first car had called it quits, she had always hesitated to ask for help.

  That’s why it felt so strange for her to sit alone in the bureau car she had shared with Rhodes over the last few days, take out her cell phone, and stare at the phone number that she had called only once. She had been so certain she would never call it again that she had not bothered saving it as a contact.

  She’d gotten the number of Dr. Fischer immediately after she had booked Ruthanne Carwile for her part in her mother’s murder. She wasn’t even quite sure who had given it to her—it had probably been Johnson—and she honestly hadn’t thought of Fischer in over two months.

  Dr. Robin Fischer specialized as a behavioral therapist but was also tied to the bureau in that she helped agents who had recently been through traumatic experiences and were having trouble processing. The two sessions Chloe had participated in had been forced and awkward, but, as much as she hated to admit it, they had helped her process through a lot of unidentified grief and anger she had pent up ever since finding her mother’s dead body at the age of ten.

  And now here she was again, finding herself bogged down by her past—by her father and her inability to let go of the man he had once been and the crimes that had been committed by the man he truly was.

  Approaching thirty, it was time to face the fact that it was not something she was going to be able to release on her own. With a deep sigh, she called the number on the screen. Her heart seemed to cringe at the two rings on the other end before it was answered.

  “Dr. Fischer’s office,” a soft friendly voice said.

  “Hi. This is Agent Chloe Fine, with the FBI. I was wondering if Dr. Fischer had any availability today for a quick phone conversation.”

  “Let me see,” the friendly voice said. She then made a series of cute humming noises as the clicking of a mouse could also be heard. Chloe assumed she was looking through Fischer’s calendar.

  “I’m not sure, actually,” the receptionist voice responded. “The only thing she has is at the end of the day. Would that work for you?”

  Chloe felt a little relieved. Fischer would call back at the end of the day and by then, Chloe would be over the need to speak to someone. Bullet effectively dodged.

  “No, that’s okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Chloe said, hanging up before the receptionist could press further.

  She peered into the rearview, looking at the Falls Church police department. Rhodes was still in there somewhere, probably thinking that she, Chloe, was being a stubborn bitch. And honestly, Chloe figured she was being a stubborn bitch. Now she had to explain herself and apologize. Both of which would be just as hard as having a conversation with Dr. Fischer.

  Apparently, she had not dodged that bullet after all.

  She reached for the door handle to head back inside to look for Rhodes but was stopped by the ringing of her phone. When she saw that it was the very number she had just called, she almost didn’t answer it.

  Wow, I really didn’t dodge that bullet, she thought.

  Resigned to the conversation ahead, she answered. “This is Agent Fine.”

  “Agent Fine, this is Dr. Fischer. I’m told you just called looking for some time to speak. I have about ten minutes right now. Would that work? Of course, if you need something more extensive, we can schedule an in-office visit.”

  “Ten minutes is fine. Maybe too long.”

  “Well, typically, I would have just let a call go. But when I was told it was you who called, I wanted to reach out. I heard about your father getting released, after all. Can I assume that’s what this is about?”

  “In a roundabout way, yes. He’s moved to DC, less than three miles from my apartment. And I’ve recently discovered some things about him…about his past. I can’t get the bastard out of my thoughts and I fear it’s beginning to affect my work.”

  “In what ways?” Fischer asked.

  “It’s hard to explain. I’m unconsciously applying my prior feelings towards him to this current case I’m working on.”

  “Well, the fact that you’re aware of it means that it’s not totally unconscious. I think you’re very aware it’s what you’re doing but are failing to face it.”

  It was a harsh comment, quite hard to hear but Chloe knew it was the truth. “Is that normal?”

  “It depends on what you consider normal,” Fischer said.

  “I don’t even know how to answer that.”

  “Answer this then: do you want to face it? Deep down, in your heart of hearts, are you afraid of facing the idea of doing away with your father? You said you have discovered some things about him recently, so I assume they’re quite bad things. Does this new knowledge carry as much weight as all of those years you spent adoring him and trying to defend him?”

  “Not at first,” she said, not even realizing the truth of it until it was out of her mouth. She almost came out and revealed some of the things she had discovered—about her mother’s journal and the secrets it revealed. But in the end, she kept it to herself, not wanting to get into the implications of telling her therapist about such a potential bomb blast. Instead, she simplified things by adding: “But it’s starting to take over.”

  “So it’s safe to say there’s something of a war going on inside your mind and your heart. Would you agree?”

  A bit cheesy, Chloe thought but yes, she did agree. “I suppose,” she answered.

  “Well, the good news with that is that you get to decide which side wins.”

  “I figured it should be easier than this, though.”

  “Regrettably, it never is with family. Especially in a situation like you’re looking at. Look, I hate to push you off, but I do have an appointment that starts in three minutes. Do you want me to book you some time next week to come in?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think so.”

  “I’m going to reserve a block for you next Monday,” Fischer said. “I’ll just pencil
it in. If you don’t show up, no big deal. How does that sound?”

  “That’s fine,” Chloe said, even though the thought of sitting in that office and spilling her guts again terrified her.

  “Take care, Agent Fine. And don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything else.”

  They ended the call and this time, Chloe was able to get out of the car uninterrupted. As she did, she was able to rest a bit easier thanks to one single comment Dr. Fischer had made: The good news with that is that you get to decide which side wins.

  She headed back to the building, fully aware that she needed to find Rhodes and let her know that she was likely right—that they needed to dig deeper into Mark Fairchild.

  Because the closer she got to the door, she started to slowly understand one very strange set of circumstances that she had either totally missed or conveniently overlooked.

  Mark had all but admitted that yes, they had slowly been going broke. He had been fully aware of this. Yet, at the same time, he was still planning to retire in the next few years. How would he do that much planning unless he knew something might change?

  It was so obvious that it was almost jarring.

  And it had Chloe increasing her speed as she neared the front door, now rather anxious to let Rhodes know she might have been right all along.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Chloe found Rhodes in Nolan’s office. She was looking over several printouts, scanning them meticulously. Chloe wasn’t surprised to see that they were the same financial documents they had been looking over earlier. Rhodes looked up from the paper, gave a curt little nod, and then turned her attention back to the paper.