Blake Pierce - Kate Wise - 5 - If She Fled Page 7

  Bannerman’s seat. Kate simply relaxed a bit into the chair while DeMarco

  started tapping notes into her Notes app on her phone.

  “At least we’re starting to see some similarities in the victims,” Kate said.

  “Yeah,” DeMarco agreed. “At first, I thought it was that they were in

  rocky marriages. But I think now, in both cases, it’s safe to say they simply had disinterested husbands. Husbands that put them second below work.”

  “Seems like a pretty defined trait for a killer to pinpoint. But I’d take it

  one step further. Yes, they were both essentially afterthoughts to their

  husbands, and I think that could be boiled down to one single, more relatable

  trait.”

  “Which is?”

  “They were lonely.”

  DeMarco considered this for a moment, nodding. “And a lonely middle-

  aged wife might be a little more prone to having a visitor…someone they

  might invite inside.”

  “But it still gets tripped up when we consider the Hixes’ little doorbell

  monitor.”

  “Yes, and I’m sure there are ways around that monitor.”

  “But why would you need a way around it if you weren’t hiding

  something?”

  “You think Marjorie Hix was having an affair?” Kate asked.

  “I don’t know. But…at the risk of sounding stereotypical, aren’t affairs a

  dime a dozen in neighborhoods like these?”

  Kate shrugged. It was stereotypical but only because, as far as she had

  seen in the course of her career, it was backed by some pretty jarring facts

  and statistics.

  In the middle of their brainstorming, Bannerman came walking into the

  room. DeMarco got up quickly, but Kate remained in her seat—not out of

  being impolite but because she thought she had Bannerman pegged pretty

  well. He’d appreciate that they were kicked back so comfortably in his office.

  It built camaraderie; it let him know that Kate was at ease in his presence. It

  tended to mean quite a lot to men of the law in their later years.

  “Did I break up a meeting?” he asked with a smile. He sat down behind

  his desk as if he were programmed to do so. There were many years of

  experience in just that motion alone.

  “Not a very productive one,” Kate said.

  “No luck today, I take it?”

  “Not really. Hey…did you speak to a guy named Andrew Bauer, at the

  strong suggestion of Joseph Hix?”

  “I did,” he said, frowning. “Shit. I didn’t even bother putting it into the

  reports. I didn’t think there was anything to it.”

  “I don’t think there is,” Kate said. “I think Hix was just looking for

  something easy to pin the murder on. He needs closure to move in from this.”

  “And from more than a bottle of whiskey,” DeMarco added.

  “Sheriff, maybe you can help us…three heads are often better than two.

  The only real trait we have from the two victims that match up is the fact that

  they had marriages that left them feeling lonely. But there is no strong

  evidence of an affair. Who would these women so willingly allow into their

  homes? In the case of the Hix residence, someone who would be allowed in

  and bypassing their security measures at the front door?”

  “That’s where I got hung up,” he admitted. “And I’ll admit…I’ve got a

  police force that’s about ninety percent male. So assuming there was adultery

  involved could have made us look…”

  “Like jerks?” DeMarco said, though with a bit of a smile.

  “Pretty much.”

  “But if there was some sort of fooling around or even just hiding a man for

  the pure conversation and proximity,” Kate said, “it was not Andrew Bauer.

  I’m pretty sure of that.”

  Bannerman nodded his agreement. “Yeah, when we talked to Gerald

  Hopkins, he was not at all familiar with the name Andrew Bauer. That’s why

  I dismissed him so easily.”

  “When we spoke with Bauer, he indicated that he felt that Marjorie Hix

  might have had a crush or something similar,” Kate said. “He said he felt she

  just wanted someone to talk to at first and it was like she was purposefully

  waiting for him some days. It makes me wonder, if it’s true, if there were

  more men in her life like that.”

  “Like what?” Bannerman asked.

  “Men she used simply for the conversation. For a man that would speak to

  her and maybe look at her in the way her husband wasn’t any longer. Like an

  emotional affair rather than a physical one.”

  “It’s a big neighborhood,” Bannerman said. “I’m sure there could be

  numerous men that would fit that description.”

  “We only singled out Bauer because of Hix’s anger and the fact that he

  was single,” DeMarco said. “And let’s face it…being married doesn’t always

  stop people from getting involved with other people that aren’t their

  spouses.”

  It was an interesting thought—one that Kate focused on and tried to pick apart as she sat in Bannerman’s chair. But try as she might, there was one

  other thing that kept creeping back to the center of her mind.

  The missed call from Melissa.

  The voicemail that was surely waiting.

  Until she checked it, she would not be able to give this case her full

  attention.

  She got to her feet and excused herself for the restroom. Even before she

  was completely out of Bannerman’s office, she was reaching for her phone.

  ***

  The message from Melissa had not been nearly as bad as Kate had been

  expecting. It had stung a bit, sure. It had made her feel about three inches tall, yes. But at the end of the day, Kate was glad that she’d checked the message

  and saw—for the first time in a long time—that her daughter still had some

  grit to her.

  Kate could still hear fragments of it in her head as she sat at the Frankfield

  Inn’s little bar area. DeMarco was beside her, chatting up the bartender, while

  Kate sipped on a beer and thought about Melissa and Michelle. Kate tried to

  distract herself with trying to determine if DeMarco and the rather pretty

  short-haired female bartender were flirting, but it wasn’t working. There was

  just too much going on in her head.

  “I don’t know how you could be so irresponsible, Mom. Yes, Alan is a

  great guy and Michelle loves him. But I asked you to do this one thing for

  me…this one fucking thing…and you dropped it the moment a call came from

  DC. I don’t know why I’m so surprised… not really. It’s always been this

  way. Work before me. Work before Dad. So why the hell should I expect any

  different when it comes to your granddaughter?”

  She was torn about how to feel because the truth of the matter was that in

  one sense, Melissa was right: she had always put career first. But to say that Melissa had never asked much of her was a little out of line. Of course, life

  had dealt her a shitty hand when her father had died and Kate had caught a lot

  of the burden of a grieving college student, already pissed at the world and

  scared about her future. But still…it was unfair for Melissa to claim she’d

  never done anything for her…

  … I asked you to do this one thing for me…this one fucking thing…

 
It was amazing to find that her daughter could both enrage and sadden her

  at the same time. It was almost like she was reliving the teenage years all

  over again.

  It also made her think of the two dead women, Karen Hopkins and

  Marjorie Hix. Women who had been overlooked and underappreciated by

  those who loved them. While on the surface it might make her appear to be

  spoiled, Kate could identify. In many ways, Melissa underappreciated her.

  She took her for granted and only came around or called when she needed

  something.

  “Spill it, Wise.”

  Kate snapped out of her thoughts and looked over at DeMarco. She was no

  longer speaking with the bartender, though the bartender seemed to be

  keeping an eye on DeMarco. She was quite pretty, in a plain sort of way, with

  a thin tattoo of some sort of vine trailing down her arm.

  “Spill what?”

  “I’d hoped you would have realized by now that I’m pretty good at my

  job. And sometimes I notice a thing or two. You got a call this morning that

  you ignored right away. You’ve been somewhat distracted today. In

  Bannerman’s office, you left very quickly and were grabbing for your phone

  right away. Everything okay at home? With Melissa? With Alan?”

  “You are good. And I’m mostly fine. Just realizing that this case is sort of paralleling some of my personal life. Not in the murders, of course, but…I

  don’t know. These women weren’t appreciated.”

  “And you don’t feel like you are either?”

  “Only when it comes to Melissa. Which sounds stupid, because really,

  why would I expect her to show her appreciation all the time?”

  “Um, because you’re her mother.”

  Kate shrugged and sipped from her beer. “It’s just another one of those

  things that makes me think this was a mistake—that I should have just stayed

  retired.”

  “Kate…I think a great deal of you. If we were just a little bit closer, I’d go

  so far as to say I love you. But do you realize that this is a complaint that

  you’ve had on the last few cases we’ve worked together?”

  “Yeah, I know…”

  “My own mother was okay and I’m mostly fine speaking to her these

  days,” DeMarco said. “Moms and daughters don’t always jive, you know? So I say you either just face the shit head on or make the decision that you’re

  still your own woman—a bad-ass one, I might add—and you want to give

  your all to this job for the next few years. Then you can finally actually retire and be a grandmother.” She chuckled here and added: “But damn, I hate to

  even think of you as being a grandma.”

  “Yeah…but age gets us all in the end.”

  When DeMarco gave her a sympathetic little frown and then turned away,

  Kate appreciated it. As a good partner, she could tell when Kate did not want

  to talk about something. And feeling that level of appreciation made Kate

  then think about Alan and the subtle little ultimatum he had given her. Kate

  had never been the type of woman to take ultimatums from anyone. So why

  had she so willingly listened to and accepted Alan’s?

  I’m just going to have to start setting better boundaries, she thought. Not just for me and the job, but for my loved ones and my job, too.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Meredith’s husband had left for work an hour and a half ago, and she

  knew she had a long day of doing nothing but waiting for him to come back

  home. She was also excited that he’d be coming home early. Every now and

  then he’d get a day where there was nothing to do around his office. On those

  days, David would leave for work late and come home early, just heading in

  to make sure there were no immediate fires he had to put out. He usually left

  for work around 6:30 in the morning, but he’d stayed until 7:45 this morning.

  It had given them time for a quick morning-time romp in the bedroom and

  then a shower for him while she brewed coffee.

  She was enjoying her second cup of coffee when she started to think about

  the day ahead. She and David were going to her favorite Italian restaurant and

  then they would go into the city for an art exhibit David was excited about.

  She sometimes joked with him about how he preferred to live just outside of

  Chicago rather than in the city, as most of the things he was interested in

  were there and not in their tired little home of Frankfield. David’s plan was to

  start their life here, quietly, and have a few kids before moving into the city.

  They were both aware that most couples did it the other way—starting off a

  marriage in the city and the moving to the outskirts to raise their kids. But

  David had never been one for convention, and it was one of the many reasons

  she loved him.

  They’d been married for just a little over a year, managing to land the

  respectable little home thanks to David finally landing his dream job as a

  copy editor with a growing publishing house. She was well aware that most

  twenty-four-year-old women with only a community college associate’s

  degree were not as lucky to have the life she had, and she cherished it.

  She also knew that David, nearly twenty years her senior, got a lot of grief

  about having robbed the cradle. But they were both fine with it; they had

  nestled out a pleasant little life for themselves. Yes, Meredith had her secrets

  that she kept from him, but she was pretty sure he had a few of his own as

  well.

  She finished up her coffee and had started tidying up the kitchen when the

  doorbell rang. She was expecting company, so it did not take her by surprise.

  She went to the door and answered it, smiling politely at the man on the other side.

  “Hey there,” she said. “Come on in.”

  He was dressed in a basic black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He had a small

  backpack slung over his right shoulder presumably to hold his tools and

  gadgets. “Sorry I’m late,” he said.

  “Oh, no worries at all.”

  “Based on the conversation we had, I don’t see it taking too long.”

  “Great.”

  She led him down the main hallway, toward the den. As they walked, she

  spoke up—mainly because she had never been one to tolerate awkward

  silences.

  “You know, I found it odd that you weren’t listed online anywhere. I only

  knew about you because of the business card I saw on one of those business

  bulletin boards at the gym.”

  “I just prefer it this way,” he said. “I don’t trust much of anything online.

  And I hate answering emails. It’s just easier this way.”

  “Yeah? You stay pretty busy?”

  “As busy as I need.”

  “Good,” she said, starting to wonder if maybe she should have done some

  more research before hiring him. He wasn’t creeping her out by any means,

  but he was a little off-putting. She wasn’t sure why; it was no specific thing

  she could put her finger on.

  They came to the den, where she stood to the side and gestured inside.

  “Well, there you go. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Will do. Thanks again.”

  “Thank you!”

  She walked back into the kitchen, opening up the fridge and compiling a

  grocery list in her head. She worked
from home as a freelance virtual

  assistant, but she was between clients right now and was having a hard time

  finding more work. Until she found more clients, she figured she’d do her

  best to assume the role of stay-at-home wife—something she never thought

  she would be but, in all reality, was sort of starting to enjoy.

  She typed her grocery list down into the cute little app she used for daily

  tasks. Done with that, she set it down on the counter and started digging

  through the small recipe box she kept by the stove, planning to come up with

  a menu for the remainder of the week after tonight’s date. As she was nearing the end of it, she heard something behind her. She turned and was startled to

  see the man she had let inside five minutes ago standing there.

  “Did you need something else?” she asked.

  “No. I was just wondering…where does your husband work?”

  “Um…no offense, but I don’t think that’s your concern.”

  “Oh, no…nothing like that. I guess that did sound creepy. No, I saw a

  picture of him on the mantel in the den. He’s standing by someone that

  looked very familiar in an office setting and I couldn’t figure out who it is.

  It’s driving me crazy.”

  “Oh!” Relief flooded through her; for a moment there, she had started to

  get freaked out. “He’s a copy editor with Ember and Hudson Books. The

  other guy in that picture you’re talking about is James Franco. They ran into

  one another a few months back at some meeting.”

  “Oh, that’s so cool. Sorry…didn’t meant to startle you.”

  “Oh, it’s okay.”

  She turned her attention back to the grocery list, but apparently her guest

  was not done.

  “Any kids?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Yeah, I thought you looked rather young. Early twenties?”

  The relief she’d felt moments ago disappeared completely and was

  replaced with something very much like dread.

  “Yeah,” she said. She glanced over to the phone on the counter. It was

  about ten feet away from her.

  “This is a nice house,” he said. “A lovely den, too. How long have you

  lived here?”

  She reached out for the phone, not really caring if it seemed rude. She

  noted that his eyes followed her closely as she picked it up.