Читать книгу The Good Neighbor - Sharon Mignerey - Страница 9

Megan’s statement echoed in Wade’s head as he looked at her. She had a girl-next-door wholesomeness about her that he knew from experience was usually only skin-deep. For some reason, he wanted Megan to be what she seemed. Of course, he had hoped to spend the next fifteen years of his career without investigating another murder.

Clearly that wasn’t going to happen.

Her dark blond hair was sun-streaked as though she spent a lot of time outside. At the moment, though, she was pale, the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks clearly visible. Her hands were clasped, probably to keep them from trembling. All the classic and expected things of a witness in this circumstance. But, her own words took her from witness to suspect.

She held his gaze steadily without saying anything further, which intrigued him. Most people couldn’t stand the silence and were eager to fill it up. Not this woman, though. She didn’t look away, but there was nothing defiant in her gaze. All Wade heard was the murmur of voices beyond them and the chirp of a bird in a nearby tree.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that it was one of those things you say in jest when you’re mildly annoyed.” He never spoke first. It was a cardinal rule of his, one he was acutely aware of breaking.

Then, she did look away, her gaze moving toward the backyard, a shimmer appearing in her eyes. “No,” she whispered. “I’ve never—I don’t say things like that.”

She never what? He wondered even as he acknowledged that she was telling him she’d been serious about the threat. He’d given her a way out, and she hadn’t taken it.

“Maybe you should just tell me how it happened. Give me some context to work with.”

Those vivid eyes fastened on him once more, and he realized her lashes were the longest he had ever seen. She really did have beautiful eyes. If he were to trust the old saying that eyes are a window to the soul, then this woman was innocent. Tempting, but he knew better.

He looked away from her face, studying the blood on her clothes. Though it would take a forensic examination to know for sure, his study now matched his first impression—there was no blood spatter from a live wound, but instead smears that might have come from touching someone you hoped would still be alive.

“Where do you work?” he asked, looking at a vaguely familiar emblem embroidered on the pocket of her shirt—a pair of hands cupped beneath a loaf of bread.

“Our Daily Bread,” she answered, giving him the name of a local home-health-care agency and making him wonder what she did there, since he’d already met several of the nurses and the PA. She touched her forehead with her palm. “I’ve got to call in. I was due at my first patient’s house a long time ago.”

“You’re a nurse?”

“A physical therapist. I work with patients who can’t get to the rehab center at the nursing home.” She reached for the clip on her belt that held her cell phone.

“Why is that body still lying out here?” The sonorous voice of Wade’s boss, Chief Carl Egan suddenly carried toward them.

Wade looked up to see the chief coming toward him, his eyes shadowed by the brim of the black baseball cap he always wore.

“There you are, Prescott. What do we have so far?”

“Maybe now is a good time to make that call,” Wade said to Megan. “I’ll be back.” Standing, he headed for the driveway, leading the chief away from his witness. “The body is still here because I haven’t examined it yet,” he said.

“And why not?”

“It’s not going anywhere. Not like other evidence and witnesses.”

“Uh-huh. Continue.” Though Egan’s tone was curt, he relaxed a little, folding his arms over his chest and rocking back on his heels the way he did when he was concentrating.

“At the moment, we’re taking witness statements and doing the initial neighborhood canvas. As soon as we’re done, we’ll begin processing the crime scene.”

The chief lifted his hat, scratching his nearly bald head. “You can’t just leave a corpse lying out here in the driveway. This is a small town, Prescott. People aren’t used—”

“The body was like that when I got here,” Wade said. “So I don’t have any context for the crime scene.” He nodded toward Megan. “She’s the one who found him, and in a minute, I’m going to get her to show me exactly where and how.”

“Well, get to it, Prescott. You’re my expert, but I can tell you, you’ve already ruffled a few feathers. Doc Wagner called me up while I was on my way over here and bent my ear about the way you’ve run roughshod over everyone.”

Wade didn’t bother correcting that, but said, “Maybe he should have thought of that before he moved the body.”

The chief’s head came up and he looked back toward Wagner. “He did that?”

“He did.”

“Well. That does color things a little different now, doesn’t it?”

“We’ve got a mess,” Wade added. “Since the body was moved, I don’t yet know whether the victim died here or somewhere else. I don’t even know for sure that it was a murder, though at least one person evidently made a threat against him. But there were so many people moving through the area and contaminating the scene that this investigation is going to be a problem.”

“Hang on a minute. You’ve already talked to a suspect?”

“Witness,” Wade corrected.

“Well, bring him down to the station. Who is it?” Egan asked, remaining fixed on the idea of a suspect and a quick resolution to the case. Wade understood the agenda since it was the same with police chiefs everywhere. The quicker a case was solved, the less fallout there would be.

“A witness,” Wade repeated, nodding toward Megan. “Mrs. Russell’s neighbor.”

“The gal who found him?” The chief looked in her direction. “I’ll take her down to the station and put her in holding. You want to be there for the interrogation?”

“I’d like to get her statement before we accuse her of anything that, at this point, is pure conjecture,” Wade said. “And, since she’s the one who called this in, I want her to tell me how she found the body. Then you can take her.” He glanced back at Megan. “We’ll need her clothes, too.” Wade paused, waiting for Chief Egan to look back at him. “You know that witnesses to this kind of crime sometimes have post-traumatic stress symptoms that makes them look like they have things to hide when they don’t.”

“I’ve done my share of interrogations, Detective,” the chief said stiffly.

“All I’m saying is maybe we want to take it easy with her. See where it leads us.”

Chief Egan nodded. “Smart. Get her to convict herself with her own words.” He glanced back toward Doc Wagner. “You talk to your suspect and I’ll get Doc Wagner settled down. The sooner you can release the body to him, the better.”

“The body needs to go to Grand Junction for an autopsy by the medical examiner, in case this goes to court. We’ll need this done by a certified professional.”

Egan stared into space a moment. “That’s spreading resources pretty thin, since we’ll need to send an officer along to keep the chain of evidence intact.”

“That’s right.” Wade looked toward Doc Wagner, who was still talking on his cell phone. “Like the man told me, the body is his by state statute. As coroner, he can accompany it.”

Chief Egan laughed. “Nothing like getting even for messing with your crime scene, is there? Okay.” He slapped Wade on the back. “I’ll talk to him.”

By the time Wade headed back toward her, Megan had finished her call. Her boss, Sarah Moran, had told her not to worry about a thing, saying that she’d notify all the patients on Megan’s schedule for the day.

Detective Prescott’s posture was all tense again, she noted, deliberately thinking of him by his title. Finding that her hands were once more trembling, she clasped them on top of the table. She remembered this from before, and it seemed to her that she’d spent a long time shaking, especially when she had tried to go to sleep.

Stop it, she mentally scolded herself. She was no longer a child, and she’d be able to handle this.

“Are you up to showing me how you found the body?” he asked, pulling out a notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket and coming to a stop a few feet away from her.

She stood and came toward him, determined to get everything out in the open. Better he hear it from her than someone else. “I helped Doc Wagner put him—Robby—in the body bag.”

He looked at her steadily as though she’d simply told him something banal, like it was a nice day. “Is that when you got the blood all over you?”

She looked down at herself. “I don’t honestly remember.” How could she have not noticed the blood before now? “I remember touching Robby’s neck to see if there was a pulse. There wasn’t.”

Over the next few minutes she explained to Wade how she had found Robby while he drew a sketch, adjusting the lines on the drawing as she struggled to remember as many details of those awful minutes as she could.

When they were finished, he thanked her, then said, “We need to get a formal statement from you, and for that, Chief Egan is going to take you down to the station.” He paused. “And, we’re going to need your clothes as possible evidence, so he’s going to go inside your house with you while you get something to change into after you get to the station.”

Megan felt her lips go numb. This was more than a witness statement. “Am I a suspect?”

He seemed to weigh his words before answering without anything close to a reassuring smile to ease his somber expression. “Let’s take this one step at a time, Megan.” He said her name the way a friend might, only she knew he wasn’t, couldn’t be, her friend. “The sooner we get your statement and process the crime scene, the sooner we’ll have an idea of who did this.”

With that, he introduced her to Chief Egan, whom she had seen at quite a few different civic functions over the last three years. If he recognized her, he didn’t indicate it at all. He was silent as they went inside her house and she retrieved clothes to change into.

As stern as Detective Wade Prescott had seemed to her, Chief Egan was even more so, his gaze avoiding hers as she climbed into the back seat of his cruiser. When he closed the door, she looked across the street to the shocked faces of her neighbors. Was it her own rampant imagination, or had their eyes narrowed in suspicion? She wanted to bow her head and cry, but instead she lifted her chin, managed what she hoped would pass for a reassuring smile and waved at them. Only Angie Williams, her youngest child riding on her hip, waved back.

On the short drive to the police station, Chief Egan was quiet, his gaze meeting hers in the rearview mirror only once. When they arrived, he barked an order to Caroline York, the dispatcher, to accompany her to the restroom where she was to collect Megan’s clothes.

“Hi, Caroline,” Megan said as the woman came around her desk.

“I’m so sorry for what happened this morning,” Caroline responded. “Are you okay?”

“Wait,” Chief Egan said. “You two know each other?”

“Sure,” Caroline said. “We go to the same church.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You’re the only female on duty today, so you’re stuck with collecting the evidence whether she’s a friend or not. Understood?”

“Yes,” she replied evenly, leading Megan down the hall and rolling her eyes when they were out of sight of Chief Egan. “My gosh, he’s acting as if you’re a suspect, instead of the person who reported the crime.”

Megan didn’t say anything about the chief. Instead, she asked Caroline, “How’s your grandfather?” He had been a patient last winter when he’d suffered a mild stroke.

“Testy as ever,” Caroline replied in her cheerful tone. “He likes making me think that he doesn’t want Billy and me living with him. And I’d almost believe him if he didn’t light up like Christmas when Billy gets home from school. Billy can’t wait to show his great-grandpa his papers, and Gramps can’t wait to see them.”

Caroline’s description of a family that took care of one another, even as they meddled and interfered in one another’s lives, made Megan envious. She thought of the void in her own life. Helen Russell was the closest thing she had to a mother, a bond that was sure to be tested when the old woman found out how much Megan had disliked and distrusted her grandson—a man who was no longer here to tell his side of the story.

“You’re awfully quiet back there,” Caroline added as Megan passed her bloodied shirt and pants over the bathroom stall. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Megan said.

“Is there anyone I can call for you?” Caroline asked.

“I’m worried about my neighbor, Helen Russell. If you could call Reverend Ford and ask him to check on her, that would be great.”

“Consider it done.” She paused, then asked, “What about you? Anyone I can call for you?”

“No, but thanks, Caroline.” Megan emerged from the stall as Caroline carefully labeled the paper bags she had put Megan’s clothes in. “What’s going to happen with my clothes?”

“You’ll have to ask Detective Prescott. He’s sure a stickler for making sure everything is packaged just so. We all had to sit in on training just last week.” She frowned. “With all this, I guess it’s a good thing we have a system.”

“Hey, enough of the chitchat!” Chief Egan called from outside the door.

Shaking her head in disapproval at his tone, Caroline pushed open the door. Chief Egan stood in the hallway, his arms folded over his chest. “Ms. Burke, you’ll wait in here.” He pointed toward a conference room.

Relief feathered through her chest—she had been sure that she was on her way to jail.

“Maybe she’d like a cup of coffee, Chief,” Caroline said.

He scowled, then asked, “Would you?”

“Yes, please,” Megan said as much to goad him as because she really did. “With cream.”

“I’ve got some half-and-half in the back instead of that icky powdered stuff the officers use,” Caroline said. “I’ll get it after I lock this up.” She held up the paper bags and disappeared down the hallway while Chief Egan waited pointedly next to the conference room door.

“So you and Caroline are friends,” he said to Megan.

“We are.” Not close ones, but no reason to admit that at the moment.

“Uh-huh,” he said, motioning Megan into the room.

Megan went to the end of the table and chose a chair that let her look out into the front of the building. She hoped she looked calm, but the truth was, inside she felt as though she was shattering into a gazillion little pieces. The truth was that inside she felt like she was eleven again, a child whose whole world had shattered.

Looking out the window to the street beyond, she was able to reassure herself that she was not in Hackensack, New Jersey. She closed her eyes, deliberately recalling each of the businesses on the block across the street. This was Natchez, the town that had been her home for the past three years.

“Here’s your coffee,” came Caroline’s bright voice. She breezed through the door past Chief Egan, a coffee mug in one hand and a pint of half-and-half in the other.

“Thanks.” Megan poured it into the mug filled with coffee, watching the two liquids merge together before handing the carton back to Caroline. Beyond her, Chief Egan gave the dispatcher a curt nod, urging her out of the room.

Then he crossed the room and sat down across from Megan.

“My new detective said he wanted to be here for your statement,” he said. “Do you want to call a lawyer?”

She knew what he was really saying—that he thought she had killed Robby—and she also knew she probably should call a lawyer. Instead, she wrapped her trembling hands around the warm coffee, raised her chin, and met his gaze. “If you’re accusing me of anything, you need to be a lot more direct.”

“When the time comes to Mirandize you, you’ll know it.”

She met his gaze without answering.

“And you’re not hiding anything,” he added, his tone too flat for the sarcastic words.

She wasn’t, at least not in the way he meant.

“You’d better pray you have your story straight by the time Detective Prescott gets here,” Egan said, closing and locking the door behind him as he strode toward the front door.

This wasn’t quite jail—not like it had been the last time she’d been accused of murder.