Pitch Black (23 page)
W
HEN GABE RETURNED TO HIS OFFICE, it took four phone calls to track down the officer in charge of the investigation into the death of Cheryl McPherson in Ann Arbor ten years ago. Once Gabe identified himself and why he was interested in the case, Detective Fiore (now Captain Fiore) couldn’t talk fast enough.
“That case has nagged me every day for ten years. I was never completely convinced that Cheryl McPherson’s death was an accident. But you know how it is when there just isn’t enough evidence to back up your gut instinct.”
Gabe almost admitted that he was dealing with that problem for the first time; gut saying one thing, evidence another. Instead he asked, “So what exactly was your gut telling you?”
“No doubt she died from a fall, but I think she had help falling down those stairs. Maybe they were in a tussle resulting from an argument; maybe it wasn’t intentional. Or maybe he just came up behind her and gave her a huge shove. Whatever, it appeared she took a flying leap over the first steps. The signs of her fall began at the sixth step. And those treads were hardwood, not carpeted.”
“When you say ‘he,’ I assume you mean her husband, Steve?”
“Yeah. Couple of the neighbors suspected something wasn’t right in that house. Of course, they couldn’t testify to anything specific, just that Cheryl seemed nervous, edgy—a couple even went so far as to say she seemed frightened.”
“And this was a deviation from her normal behavior?”
“According to everyone I interviewed, including her own family. Still, no one had witnessed anything that could identify why. Everyone insisted that Steve was such a great guy that the idea of abuse was ludicrous. You know as well as I do, more times than not that’s exactly the way it plays out.”
“Any indications of either partner having extramarital affairs?”
“Not one. If either of them had, they were extraordinarily careful about it. Mr. McPherson said his wife had been depressed in the months before the accident, even went so far as to suggest she might have thrown herself down those stairs.”
“Hmm. Insurance policy?” Gabe asked.
“No. Not even a small one to cover burial costs. If there had been a sizable policy, I might have had something to base a case on.”
“Steve McPherson take a polygraph?”
“Yeah. Volunteered even. It was inconclusive. His alibi was weak, but he did have one, at least during the most likely time of death. He was at the bank applying for a loan. Seems they were switching the boy from public to private school the following fall.”
“Really? They have a reason?”
“It wasn’t all that unusual. Lots of folks were switching to church-based education right around then . . . you know, school shootings and all were making parents nervous.”
Captain Fiore went on. “After the bank, McPherson went to lunch and then to work. There was plenty of slop in the timeline, but with nothing else to go on . . . ”
Gabe had been hoping for more than the same problems he was having with his own case. He took one last stab.
“Any forensic evidence worth running again?” There had been huge strides in DNA processing over the past ten years.
“No. Nothing under the victim’s nails. No signs of assault at all. Everything pointed to an accidental fall.”
“Except your gut.”
“And that ain’t admissible in court,” Fiore said dryly.
Gabe thanked the captain and hung up. For several minutes he sat there staring at the wall, fearing that ten years from now
he
was going to still be gnawing on
this
case.
Then he got up and headed out to pay Bobby Gray an overdue call.
SHELLY MITTHOEFFER STOOD BEHIND THE COUNTER
at the video store and watched him watch her. She knew he had no reason to be here now. But it was just like it had been every day for nearly two weeks; he was here just to let her know he was watching.
He’d become more aggressive about it since the day she’d talked to the newspaper lady. It hadn’t mattered at all that she’d blown the woman off.
Shelly was beginning to understand how those people in Nazi Germany felt.
He stared at her over the rack of videos as he talked to another customer. Even though the cold look he gave her made her insides turn liquid and her knees want to buckle, she stood tall and held his gaze.
She always made a show of not being afraid of him. But she was. Deathly afraid. There was something deep inside warning her not to let him see that fear. He was the kind to pounce on any weakness and use it in whatever way he felt necessary to get what he wanted.
He didn’t stay long. He didn’t check out a movie.
As he left he smiled and gave her a cheery wave. “Y’all have a great day.”
She smiled in return, holding back the bile climbing in her throat.
GABE KNEW HE SHOULD HAVE CALLED FIRST
. Not that the Gray Insurance office was that far from his own. But right now he didn’t have time to waste and Bobby wasn’t at his desk.
The lovely gray-haired receptionist told Gabe that if he’d like to wait, young Mr. Gray was due back shortly.
Gabe shifted his gaze for a second, deciding. Brooks glared at him from where he sat talking on the phone at his desk. If looks could kill . . . He decided not to wait.
As he turned to leave, he heard someone coming up the creaky staircase. Sticking his head around the corner, he saw it was Bobby—who didn’t look any more pleased to see Gabe than Brooks had.
Gabe gave Bobby the gift of not having this conversation in front of his secretary . . . and himself the benefit of not having to do this in front of Bobby’s overprotective brother.
Gabe stood at the top of the stairs and asked, “You have time for a cup of coffee?”
Bobby glanced at his watch. “A quick one. I have an appointment in an hour.”
“I promise not to take long.”
Bobby did an about-face on the stairs. He held the door that opened onto the sidewalk open for Gabe to follow him out. He gestured down the block and said, “Smoky Ridge?”
“Sure.”
As they walked, Bobby asked, “You find out anything from Pleasant Hill yet about their investigation into Jordan getting those pills?”
“I’m working on it. These things take time. Institutions like Pleasant Hill don’t like bad publicity.”
“You
really think
Jordan got those pills himself and took them?” There was a fresh edge to Bobby’s tone.
“It’s a possibility that we can’t dismiss.”
“He wouldn’t do that. No way,” Bobby said adamantly. “
Someone
forced him.”
“I know it’s hard to look at the possibility, but Jordan is suffering from incredibly difficult circumstances. We can’t know for certain what happened until he tells us. Is he anywhere close to being able to do that?”
Bobby put his hands in the pockets of his slacks and looked at the sidewalk beneath his feet. “The doctor said he’s making progress, but he wouldn’t discuss specifics over the phone. We have an appointment with him tomorrow, before we see Jordan. We’re allowed to visit Sundays and Wednesdays now.”
“That’s a good sign—the increased visitation, isn’t it?”
“Maybe. The doctor seemed to think more contact would be better for him. Kate said Todd’s started sending Jordan a card every day.”
Bobby stopped in front of the café and opened the door for Gabe. He confided, “That kid really rubs me the wrong way, but I gotta give him credit for trying to help Jordan.”
They took a seat at a booth near the back and ordered coffee.
Bobby leaned back and crossed his arms. “You checked into the Wade kid any more since we talked?” He seemed less agitated about Ethan than he had when he’d been in Gabe’s office with Kate. It made Gabe wonder who was the instigator of that visit.
“I’m checking into several things at the moment,” Gabe said evasively. “That’s why I have more questions to ask you. Keep in mind, I’m simply looking for several missing puzzle pieces.”
Bobby gave a nod. “All right.”
“What do you know about McPherson’s first wife?”
“Only that she died when Todd was in grade school.”
“Any idea how?”
The waitress delivered their coffee. Bobby waited until she was gone to answer. He looked puzzled himself. “I guess I don’t. I always got the impression she had cancer or something. She would have been pretty young.”
“How would you describe Steve’s relationship with Jordan?”
Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Puzzle pieces.”
Bobby lifted a shoulder. “I suppose they got along okay. He always wanted Jordan to be like Todd . . . like him. Those camping trips were a prime example.” His hands wrapped around the coffee mug. The knuckles of his right hand were scraped and there were a couple of razorlike slices on the tips of his fingers.
Gabe wondered if perhaps the injury could be from prying open a metal locker—or hefting a rock off a railroad overpass. Bobby was a long way from being knocked off Gabe’s suspect list.
“You would never have taken Jordan camping?” Gabe asked in a casual tone.
Bobby blew out a dismissive breath. “I’m not like Steve the Mountain Man and his son. I go huntin’ with my dad and brother, but it’s just for the company. I probably couldn’t find my way back home without them.” He went on, “McPherson pushed too hard, tried to make something out of Jordan that he isn’t.” He raised his gaze to meet Gabe’s. “I’ll admit it right here and now that I didn’t like it. If that puts me on your suspect list, even though I was hunting at the time, so be it.”
He seemed to be waiting for Gabe to tell him he wasn’t on that list. When Gabe remained silent, Bobby said, “The best way to describe how Jordan seemed around Steve is intimidated.”
“Intimidated?”
“You know, uneasy, afraid to disappoint, maybe a little scared even. Jordan is a quiet kid. He never wants to talk about much of anything—let alone the particulars of his home life with Kate and Steve. It was all reading between the lines, you know? Steve was a big dude; I don’t think he realized how he came across to a kid like Jordan.”
Gabe took a sip of coffee and thought Bobby was weighing his words very carefully. Unwilling to speak ill of the dead? Or for some more self-serving reason?
“How’d you hurt your hand?” Gabe asked offhandedly, motioning to the scraped knuckles.
Bobby glanced at his hand, then tucked it in his lap. “Working on that old motorcycle I bought last spring—you know, the one that sat out in front of Whetzel’s for nearly a year with a for sale sign on it.” He shook his head. “I might never get that thing finished and on the road.”
“You were working on it last night?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
Bobby’s brow creased. “I dunno. I went out to the garage right after work . . . a little before six, I suppose. Came in and ate a bowl of cereal and took a shower around ten.”
“You were in your garage between six-thirty and eight then?”
“Yeah.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah. What’s this about? What do you think I did now?”
“Just gathering puzzle pieces, remember?”
“I don’t understand where I fit into this puzzle.”
“Neither do I.” Gabe got up and left a five on the table.
B
OBBY SAT NEXT TO KATE in Pleasant Hill’s lobby, nervously waiting for their appointment with Dr. Brinegar.
“I wish they’d shut off those damn fountains,” he said quietly.
“I think they’re supposed to be restful,” Kate offered.
“All that splattering is getting on my nerves. We’d probably have to pay a lot less for this place if they cut out some of the bullshit.”
Kate’s admonishing glare cut his way. “It’s always about the money with you—”
The receptionist called them before she could finish. Just as well, Bobby thought, they didn’t need to get into that old argument right now.
He followed Kate into the small, well-appointed conference room.
Dr. Brinegar was already seated at the table, alongside Vanessa, Jordan’s counselor. There were several manila folders on the table in front of them. They both stood and shook both Bobby’s and Kate’s hands before being seated again.
Dr. Brinegar said, “I’ve asked Vanessa to be here with us because she’s the person who has spent the most time with Jordan. I hope you don’t mind.”
Bobby shook his head and from the corner of his eye saw Kate do the same.
Vanessa said, “Even though we’ve had this setback, Jordan is improving. He’s even talking a little. But he’s still extremely wary and reserved.”
“Oh, good. He
is
getting better,” Kate said, relief in her voice. “After what happened Sunday, I’ve asked that no visitors other than immediate family be allowed to see him.”
Bobby’s gaze cut to her. For as long as he’d known her, she’d looked at the world though polarized lenses, ones that only allowed what she wanted to see to pass through. Here she was again, filtering out all but what she wanted to hear.
Dr. Brinegar cleared his throat. “Yes, about Sunday. Our investigation showed our inventory of several different sedatives to be a total of twenty pills short. With only one or two pills missing from various bottles, it didn’t flag up immediately.”
“I thought your drugs were all kept under lock and key!” Kate leaned forward in her seat.
“Our pharmaceuticals are kept under strict security. Reviewing the meds log, not all of the drugs showing a shortfall were out for distribution at the same time. And not all of the drugs removed from Jordan’s stomach were distributed on Sunday. Mrs. McPherson, I think we have to look at Jordan’s act last Sunday as a well-planned, premeditated suicide attempt.”
“No! It was
that boy.
He came in and somehow got all of those pills—he can probably pick a lock, for heaven’s sake. Then he forced Jordan to take them.” She turned to Vanessa. “You saw how upset Jordan was with Ethan in there. My poor baby was terrified.”
Bobby put a hand on Kate’s arm. “Let’s hear what the doctor has to say, then maybe we can figure this all out.”
Bobby knew Jordan was in need of help, but the suicide attempt had taken him completely by surprise. He was very interested in anything the doctor had to say that might shine a light on the reason why—and what they could do to prevent it from happening again in the future.
“After the incident, we ran additional psychological tests on Jordan. And to be perfectly honest, the results are slightly baffling. We see no clear indicators that would lead us to believe Jordan was at high risk for suicide—”
“That’s because he didn’t try to commit suicide!” Kate said. “Someone tried to kill him—”
“Kate, please,” Bobby said quietly. He was so anxious to hear what those tests told about his son’s psyche that he was sitting on the edge of his chair. All of Gabe’s questions about Steve had gotten him thinking—pulling out old memories that standing alone didn’t flag anything, but when assembled as a whole showed the possibility of a trend.
The doctor continued, “Our tests do indicate that Jordan feels bullied, intimidated, unsafe in his own environment.”
Intimidated.
Bobby had used that very same word yesterday when talking with Gabe.
“That’s ridicu—”
Bobby cut Kate off. “Do your tests show where this bullying is coming from?”
“I’m afraid our tests aren’t that specific. That’s where the counseling part comes in. We use the tests to discover psychological characteristics that a person might mask, either consciously or unconsciously, in our therapy sessions. In Jordan’s case, he’s very repressed in this area. My opinion is that the intimidation has been long term and is ongoing; not just a recent attitude developed from a social situation at school, for example.”
After a meaningful pause where Bobby could easily read what was coming, Dr. Brinegar said, “With the recent violent death of his stepfather, there could be a link. Usually in these situations it’s a male relative, or a male close to the family. . . . ”
Kate shot to her feet. “What are you saying? My husband did not abuse my son! He always went out of his way to make Jordan feel included.”
“Sit down, Kate.” Bobby’s tone was sharp.
She dropped back into her chair.
Bobby’s thoughts were fast and angry. First Gabe, now the doctor with the same suggestion. Jesus, had McPherson bullied his son to the breaking point? How had Bobby missed something so critical?
He asked, “But if that threat is gone, why would Jordan try to harm himself now?”
“A very good question, Mr. Gray. And one we’re trying to answer. It is going to take some time—these things are often painfully slow to unravel.”
Kate got up. “I don’t need to listen to this ridiculousness anymore.” She stormed out of the conference room.
Bobby didn’t follow her. If he did he might do or say something he’d regret. Jesus Christ, she’d brought that man into their son’s life. She’d allowed Jordan to be psychologically beaten down for years. Bobby’s hands clenched in his lap and he tried to breathe slowly to calm himself. Anger wasn’t going to help Jordan; in fact that was what had done the damage in the first place.
After a moment, he asked, “So where do we go from here?”
“I suggest that at least for the next month, we continue inpatient treatment.”
“And then?”
“And then we see. There may be months and months of outpatient treatment. If we can get to the root of the problem, your son should have a good prognosis.”
Bobby got up to leave before the doctor said more. What if a part of the root of the problem was that Jordan had been there when his stepfather was killed?
BOBBY SAT HUNCHED OVER
, his elbows on his knees and his hands steepled in front of his chin, watching Kate chatter to Jordan. Bobby had to admit, even with the suicide attempt, his son appeared more relaxed, more focused on what his mother was saying. He even gave an occasional single word response.
He thought back over the years since Kate had married Steve, looking for clues that he’d missed. Bobby and Kate shared custody of Jordan, dividing his time equally between them.
There had been times when Jordan had begged to stay with Bobby and not go home with his mother. But not often enough to make him think there was a serious problem. He’d attributed it to the fact that he made a point of always doing something special when Jordan was with him. He knew it was selfish of him to want to make their time together exceptionally happy; he knew he’d been making up for the fact that he wasn’t able to be there for Jordan every night and every weekend. Kate had actually accused him of trying to sway their son away from her. And maybe she’d been right—or maybe Jordan’s reluctance to go home with her had nothing to do with Bobby at all.
Shit. Why did things have to be so much more clear in hindsight? Why did it have to get to the point where the wheels were falling off before you noticed all of the warning signs that trouble was brewing?
He hated the fact that he’d failed his only child. Hated the soul-searing fear he’d witnessed in his son over the past weeks.
The sound of Jordan’s laugh jerked Bobby back to the present. It was fleeting, the first hint of there still being the boy Jordan used to be buried inside that defensive shell. His face appeared more natural; the plastic-looking mask he’d worn since his arrival here seemed to be dissolving.
Bobby looked at Kate. She was looking back at him and grinning the same way she had when Jordan had uttered his very first word. Emotions kicked up, swirling like a cyclone in Bobby’s chest. He was just about to get up and walk over to her when the door opened.
“How’s my little brother today?” Todd said brightly as he entered the room.
Jordan had looked so normal a few seconds ago that Bobby looked toward his son, almost anticipating an equally cheery response.
But Jordan had reverted to hollow eyes and plastic features.
Bobby watched carefully as Todd approached the chair where Jordan sat.
Kate said, “Jordan’s so much better today.”
Todd leaned close. “Is that right?” He put a hand on Jordan’s shoulder and Bobby could swear he saw Jordan flinch. “Why, you’ll be back home before you know it.”
Jordan blinked, but kept his eyes fixed straight ahead.
Had the glimmer of normalcy been just a passing moment?
Todd was big, like his father. In Jordan’s current mental state, was he confusing the two?
The doctor’s words came back.
“With the recent violent death of his stepfather, there could be a link. Usually in these situations it’s a male relative, or a male close to the family. . . . ”
Bobby sat back and continued to watch.
ETHAN SAT IN A CUBICLE
just outside Madison’s office, his head resting on his folded arms on the desktop. He’d been quiet and taciturn all day, not that she could blame him. His life had been turned upside down yet again, just when she’d begun to see a real spark of hope for the future in his eyes.
Not for the first time in the past week, she wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming here. There had been dangers in Philly, for sure—the brotherhood of gangs and old habits constantly beckoning. She’d known there had been a distinct possibility if they’d remained in that city that the lure of no rules and complete freedom might have won out over living with her once the newness had worn off.
But were those things any worse than what was happening now? She’d traded familiar risks—those for which he’d established adequate defenses and coping abilities—for hazards with which he had no idea how to cope.
In her naiveté, she’d thought a slower-paced small town would be an easier place for a teenager to build a new life. But a small town held complications she’d never considered. Maybe she should have sought out a larger metropolitan area, one where a person could start over without all of his baggage arriving on the next train right behind him.
Of course, that baggage might have stayed on the train and chugged on through town if all of this McPherson crap hadn’t happened. Things would be so much easier if she’d just listened to her gut and refused to allow Ethan to go on that camping trip.
She studied him through the doorway—the exhausted line of his back, the nervous bounce of his knees; he was full of contrary emotions and fatigued energy. And she felt totally inadequate to help him.
He hadn’t wanted to come to work with her, but there was no way she was leaving him out there in that house alone. Not with all of the threats still looming.
Here under her own nose, in the company of her co-workers, he might be bored out of his mind, but he was safe. He’d finished his schoolwork by ten a.m. When he asked if he could go for a walk around town, she’d nearly bitten his head off. She didn’t want him out of her sight—not until the murderer was caught.
It was only Wednesday, his first full day away from school. How were they going to make it through the rest of the week? Maybe she’d figure out a job he could occupy himself with around here for a few days—
When her cell phone rang, she realized it was nearly five o’clock. She’d been sitting there staring at him for longer than she’d imagined.
She picked up the call, dragging her thoughts away from her son. When she heard who was on the line, those thoughts rocketed right back where they’d been for the past twenty minutes.
MADISON DISCONNECTED THE CALL
, her insides buzzing with excitement. Her PI had given her what could be the key to this entire situation. She wanted to pass it along to Gabe immediately.
Everyone in the office was getting up and leaving for the day, an activity that brought Ethan back to life. He rubbed his eyes, then looked hopefully at her.
She smiled and held up her finger. “Just one minute,” she said loudly enough for him to hear.
He rolled his eyes and slumped over on the desk again.
She dialed Gabe’s office number, only to find he’d left for the day. Then she tried his cell. It rolled right to voice mail.
“It’s Madison. I have some information you really need to hear. Call me on my cell as soon as you get this.”
