Читать книгу Person of Interest - Debby Giusti - Страница 10
ОглавлениеNatalie ran back to the Joneses’ quarters, unable to take in more of the death scene. The horrendous sight stuck in her mind, and she couldn’t erase the image of the woman lying at the bottom on the stairs.
Seeing who clutched the woman’s bloodied body was even more unsettling. She hadn’t expected Mason Yates to be the neighbor next door. Her stomach rolled, recalling his steely eyes and accusing glare that brought back memories she wanted to forget.
Locking the door behind her, Natalie raced to the downstairs half bath and ran water in the sink. Pumping a large dollop of liquid soap into her palm, she lathered her hands and tried to wash off the blood she kept seeing.
Although she hadn’t entered the Yateses’ quarters, she felt soiled and defiled. Scrubbing with soap and rinsing her hands in the hot tap water did little to change the feeling.
Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror. Black hair, still damp with rain, tumbled around her shoulders in disarray, and her eyes, puffy from her earlier sleep, appeared as anxious as she felt.
Worried about the baby, she dried her hands and raced upstairs, trying to keep her footfalls light. She felt vulnerable, knowing the men on the opposite side of the wall would hear her as she climbed the stairs.
Relieved to find Sofia still asleep, Natalie rubbed the back of her hand over the baby’s soft cheek, needing contact with goodness and purity after what she’d seen.
She shook her head and tried to calm her racing heart, but all she could think of was the woman who had died. Her mouth gaped open as if the scream Natalie had heard had carried down the stairs with her. Death was supposed to be peaceful, but the neighbor’s death had been anything but.
Blood was smeared along the wall and down the stairs, pooling under her head. The sights had brought back too many memories of another woman who had died in Germany. The similarity was frightening.
Hurrying downstairs, Natalie stopped in the foyer and shivered, realizing she was standing in the exact spot where the victim’s body lay in Quarters B. Sirens sounded in the distance, and flashing lights filtered through the gauze curtains.
She glanced out the window. Two military police squad cars pulled to the curb. An ambulance followed. The medical personnel were too late to save the woman and would, instead, transport her body to the morgue.
A knock sounded at the door.
Swallowing the lump that filled her throat, Natalie peered through the peephole. The CID special agent she’d spoken with earlier stood on the porch.
Needing to control her emotions, she ran her fingers through her hair and sighed, thinking of the tangled web into which she’d stepped.
If only she could turn to God, but He’d never taken an interest in her. Not in Detroit growing up, not with a mother whose care bordered on abuse, not with a father who liked the bottle more than he liked his only child. God hadn’t helped her then. He wouldn’t help her now.
Her breath hitched when she opened the door. Earlier, she hadn’t realized how broad the special agent’s shoulders were or the deep brown of his eyes. Even through the screen door, they appeared rimmed with concern. She couldn’t let down her guard, no matter how sympathetic the agent seemed.
She had to be strong and take care of herself.
She’d done it before. She could do it again.
At least, she hoped she could.
Plus, she couldn’t let anything or anyone harm Sofia. The baby’s needs came before her own, and Sofia’s safety was Natalie’s main concern for the next two weeks.
* * *
Despite the tragic crime scene Everett had just left, he couldn’t help but be taken in by the woman who answered his knock at Quarters 324-A. She was pretty, with dark brows and pensive eyes, a slender nose and full cheeks now pale and drawn, like her mouth. Even her shoulders seemed weighted down, no doubt from what she’d seen. Death was never pretty, and Mrs. Yates’s life had come to a traumatic end.
While the ME tended to the body and the crime-scene team looked for evidence, Everett needed to question the neighbor.
Frank was continuing to quiz Mason. He had been running in the training area when his wife had fallen to her death.
In shock and visibly grieving, Mason had been forthcoming about the evening he and Mrs. Yates had spent together. She had prepared a light meal, they had watched a favorite TV show, and soon thereafter, he had left, as he often did, for a nighttime jog. From the many photos displayed in the home, they appeared to have been a loving couple, but things weren’t always as they seemed.
Case in point, the attractive woman staring at Everett through the screen door. She appeared totally confused and upset. Had she seen or heard more than raised voices and thumps against the wall?
Although he had introduced himself earlier, he doubted the woman had focused on his name when she was worried about her neighbor. Again, he held up his badge. Following protocol was always good, especially tonight when a woman had died so tragically.
“Everett Kohl, Criminal Investigation Division. I’d like to ask you some questions.”
She pushed open the screen door. “Come in.”
The house was tidy and nicely furnished with a leather couch and two chairs covered in a flowered pattern.
A number of side tables held pretty knickknacks and photos of a baby. “Your child?”
She shook her head. “Sofia’s the daughter of Lieutenant Terrance Jones and his wife, Wanda. She’s also a lieutenant.”
“You’re visiting the Joneses?”
“I’m the nanny, at least for the next two weeks. Wanda’s TDY at Fort Hood.”
“What about her husband?”
“He’s deployed to Afghanistan.” She pointed him toward the living area. “Shall we sit down? I have a feeling this might take time.”
“Hopefully not too long.” He lowered himself onto the couch. The leather was cool to his touch. He drew a tablet and pen from the pocket of his jacket. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take a few notes.”
“Of course.”
“Let’s start with your name.”
“Natalie Frazier. I’m prior military, served for six years and now live in Freemont.”
“Marital status?”
“I’m single.”
She seemed willing to provide information. A good sign. “You said you were caring for the Joneses’ daughter.”
“That’s right.”
“You work as a nanny?”
“I started this morning as a favor to Wanda. She’s taking an army training class at Fort Hood that begins in a few days and didn’t have anyone to care for her child. I’m finishing the last course for my teaching degree and hope to find a job in the local schools. The nanny position came at the right time.”
He noticed the textbook on the coffee table. “How did you meet Lieutenant Jones?”
“We knew each other in Germany. That was my last duty station. Wanda and I were both taking night classes for our degrees. I transferred back to Fort Rickman, liked the area and decided not to reenlist.”
“And home is?”
She stared at him as if she didn’t understand. “Freemont is currently my home. I live at 2010 Pinegate Circle. You probably want my phone number.”
He nodded, made note of the cell number she provided and then rephrased his earlier question.
“Where was home before the military?
“Where did I grow up?” She hesitated. “I was raised in Detroit.”
The inner city had crumbled over the past decade into a no-man’s land. The suburbs still held on to hope of regeneration, but the downtown looked worse than some of the bombed-out areas in Afghanistan.
As if reading his mind, her voice took on a defensive edge. “I joined the army to make a life for myself, Special Agent Kohl, and I hardly see how where I grew up has bearing on what happened tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked down at his notebook. “Let’s go back to this evening. Could you tell me what you heard?”
“Pounding against the wall. A woman screamed twice, followed by a thumping sound.” She crossed her arms and hugged herself as if to find comfort. “It sounded like someone was falling down the stairs.”
“There was a storm,” he prompted. “Lightning, thunder, heavy rain. Could you have mistaken the rumble of thunder for sounds you thought came from the adjoining quarters?”
She bristled. “I know what thunder sounds like.”
“Of course you do.”
Her shoulders sagged and her assuredness ebbed. “I was studying for an exam and had evidently fallen asleep.”
“Here in the living room?”
“That’s right. Something woke me. Maybe the storm. Maybe something else. Like raised voices or a crash against the wall.”
Natalie continued to chronicle what had provoked her call. “I heard voices that escalated into a heated argument, although I couldn’t make out what was being said.”
“Could you determine if the voices were male or female?”
“Not really, although one of them sounded far more aggressive and seemingly male.”
“Seemingly?”
“It was deeper, raised and more insistent. The argument kept escalating. When something crashed against the wall, I immediately thought of domestic abuse.”
“How many times did something crash against the wall?”
“Two times, maybe three.”
He pursed his lips. “You’re not sure?”
“Two hits. Both followed by a scream. I knew something bad was happening.”
“Did you pound on the wall or call out to see if anyone needed help?”
“Not at that point.” She raised her brow as if worried she hadn’t reacted appropriately. “Do you think I should have?”
“Ma’am, I can’t tell you what you should have done.”
She sighed. “I doubt they would have heard me.”
“Then what happened?”
“A series of thumps sounded down the stairs. I knew someone had fallen or had been pushed.”
“Is that when you called the police?”
“First I went outside and banged on their door.”
“Did anyone respond to your knock?”
“Regrettably, no.” She let out a breath. “Common sense took over when I realized how vulnerable I was, especially since I had Sofia and her safety to think about. And I needed to get back here as soon as possible.”
“Did you feel threatened at any time?”
“Not personally, just upset that something tragic had happened.”
“What did you think had happened, ma’am?”
“That the woman had been pushed down the stairs, which seems to be what did happen.”
“That’s one possibility.”
“Surely you don’t think she slipped and fell?”
“Nothing has been ruled out at this point.”
Natalie sat up straighter and squared her slender shoulders. “You work with him, don’t you?”
“Him?”
“Mason Yates. The husband. Isn’t the husband usually the most likely suspect?”
Everett tensed. “There will be an investigation before anyone is charged, if this even was a crime. We’re not sure Special Agent Yates was in the house at the time Mrs. Yates fell.”
“I heard him.”
“You heard a voice—” he glanced at his notes “—a seemingly male voice—through an insulated wall.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t disbelieve you. I’m just getting information. What happened after you knocked on the Yateses’ door?”
“I ran back here and called the military police, and then I waited for someone to arrive, which you did.”
“Did you hear any other noise from the house?”
“No.
“Did you look out the window?”
“I glanced at the street. I had checked the doors to insure they were locked earlier and then relocked the front door when I came back inside.”
“Did you hear a door close anywhere in the area? What about a car engine or a car door slamming?”
“I heard nothing. The storm had passed, and even the rain had stopped by the time you arrived.”
“Did Wanda Jones provide information about her neighbors?”
“Only Mrs. Yates’s first name and phone number. But I recognized Special Agent Yates.”
“How so?”
“I worked for him in Germany for the last six months of my assignment there.”
Everett bit down on his jaw to hold himself in check. He hadn’t expected the connection. Willing his voice to remain calm, he asked, “At CID Headquarters in Vilseck?”
She nodded. “They were short staffed. I worked as a personnel clerk and was brought in to handle paperwork.”
“What was your relationship with Mason Yates in Germany?”
“We didn’t have a relationship. He was a CID agent. I was an E-5 personnel clerk.”
“Did you meet socially?”
“Of course not.”
“Did you work long hours or work together on the weekends?”
She cocked her brow. “I’m not sure where this is headed.”
“I’m just interested in how well you knew Agent Yates.”
“I knew him only as a CID agent, not socially. We hardly talked unless he needed paperwork dealing with personnel.”
“Did you know Mrs. Yates?”
“She came to the office once, as I recall. I was introduced to her.”
“Agent Yates introduced you?’
“I believe so, although I can’t say for sure.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I met a lot of people in Germany. I don’t remember every situation.”
“Did you realize the Yateses lived next door to the Joneses when you accepted the babysitting position?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t even know they had transferred to Fort Rickman.”
“No one notified you from Germany when Special Agent Yates was reassigned?”
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me.” She lifted her chin. “I wasn’t aware the Yateses had left Europe.”
“I understand.” He checked his notes. “You mentioned that you couldn’t determine specifically if the voices were male or female. Is that correct?”
“It is.” She hesitated and raised her brow. “Although one of the voices sounded male. It could have been Mason Yates.”
“Could have been or was?”
“I... I’m not sure.”
Everett closed his notebook. He didn’t know what to think about the nanny. She had called in a domestic violence dispute when she talked to the military police, yet according to Mason’s own account, he had been running on a track in the training area. Somewhat unusual to do PT at night, but physical training was important to the military. If Mason liked to run at night, so be it. The track was lit, and a number of soldiers took advantage of the cool evenings to exercise. Video cameras were posted in the area, which would confirm his alibi.
Everett had checked Mason’s cell phone log and found a call from his wife, just as the distraught husband had claimed when he’d leaped from his car and raced toward his house. The wife’s cell log also confirmed that a call had been made, a call that Mason said had spurred him to hurry home.
The husband seemed to be telling the truth, not that Natalie Frazier wasn’t. More than likely, she had heard bickering. If Mason wasn’t at home, then the more aggressive voice she presumed was male had to have belonged to someone else. Someone who had argued with Mrs. Yates and perhaps caused her death.
“Thank you, Ms. Frazier.” Everett stood to leave. “I’ll be in touch.”
“You know where to find me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He dug in his pocket and handed her his business card. “Be sure to call me if you think of anything else.”
He needed to check on the nanny’s tour of duty in Germany and find out how well she knew both Mason and his wife. Her sudden arrival on post the day of Mrs. Yates’s death seemed questionable, especially since she’d worked with Mason.
The air was heavy with humidity as he walked outside. Overhead, a sliver of moon peered through the clouds. Cicadas and tree frogs croaked in the night.
A man hurried across the street. Tall, slender, early thirties. “Mind telling me what’s going on?” he asked, his face drawn with concern.
Everett flashed his CID identification. “Could I have your name, sir?”
“Lieutenant Bobby Slade.” He pointed over his shoulder to the duplex where Everett had seen the light come on earlier. “I live in 325-B. Something bad must have happened.”
“Did you notice anything unusual this evening?”
The guy raked his hand over his short hair and let out a stiff breath. “Unusual.” He thought for a long moment. “No, not really. I noticed a different car parked in the alleyway behind the Yateses’ quarters earlier. Probably a friend.”
“Can you remember the make and model of car?”
He shook his head. “’Fraid not. I didn’t know it would be important. Did someone get hurt?”
“Mrs. Yates fell.”
“Oh, man, I’m sorry. If there’s anything my wife or I can do...”
“Why don’t you go back inside, sir. Someone from the military police will want to talk to you later about that car.”
“You mean, the fall wasn’t accidental?”
“We’ll contact you, sir.”
The guy nodded and hurried back to his quarters. An inquisitive neighbor who saw a car in the area. Not much, but Everett made note of the information on his tablet. Sometimes the smallest detail could have bearing on a case.
He raised his cell and called Frank, who answered on the second ring.
“Yeah, Rett. What’s up?”
“We’ve got an inquisitive neighbor across the street. Lieutenant Bobby Slade. Quarters 325-B. The guy saw a car parked behind the Yateses’ home today. You might want the MPs to question him when they do their door-to-door.”
“Is that the reason you called?”
“Negative. I talked to the nanny. Interesting development that I don’t want Mason to overhear.”
“Where are you?”
“On the sidewalk outside.”
Frank chuckled. “Not to worry. Mason’s in the latrine, and I’m in the kitchen out of earshot. What’d you find out?”
“Natalie Frazier is prior service. You’ll never guess her last duty station.”
“Vilseck, Germany,” Frank said. “She worked as a personnel specialist in the CID office.”
“Mason told you?”
“That’s right. He said she was a loner, kind of aloof.”
Which is exactly how Everett would describe Mason.
“He’s grieving, having a hard time putting his thoughts together,” Frank continued. “Seeing Ms. Frazier was a complete surprise. Mason didn’t know she was in the area.”
Everett glanced at the sky. Dark clouds rolled past the moon, blocking its light. “Strange coincidence that she’d show up on post the night Tammy Yates dies.”
“You think she’s involved?”
He sighed. At this point, he didn’t know what to think. “Just wondering how this investigation will play out.”
“Do you still plan to go on leave in the morning?”
“I’ll stick around and give you a hand.”
“Appreciate the help.”
“You stood by me,” Everett said, remembering Frank being there when he’d needed a friend. “I’ll always be grateful.”
“Don’t blame yourself.”
“I should have kept the investigation open, Frank.”
“You were following orders.”
“That doesn’t help me sleep at night.”
Everett disconnected and glanced again at Quarters 324-A. Maybe he was being overly cautious, but he would keep his eye on the attractive nanny. Natalie could be an innocent bystander, or she could play an important role in a murder investigation.
