The secrets they keep, p.6
The Secrets They Keep, page 6
She pointed to the lanterns in the lot, and the bright light off the side of the hall.
“Looks like a great spot to hide out,” Mac said. “If it wasn’t a wedding guest, that’s a prime spot to watch in wait.”
“Then there’s all these,” Grace sighed, staring at the bloody prints around the left side of the parking spot and leading toward the back of the car in a light pink hue. “I’m assuming these are from Jack and the others who found him.”
“Yeah, they really messed it up.”
“If the killer came from the hall, his prints are covered.” Grace looked around. “Okay, so far everything corroborates their stories. I think I’ve got an alibi for Marie, photographic evidence she was where she says she was. Maybe even a witness.”
“Nice,” Mac said, nodding. “Okay, so the car’s going in to be looked at. Killer could have gotten in from the passenger’s side. No prints there but Lockwood’s, so they might have covered something up. I think we have to go with the theory they came to the driver’s side, though. It’s a natural place to sneak up on someone. Most of the blood is contained in the car, but there’s none on the other side, and all this here.”
“You think the windows were all fogged up, and someone knocked on his door?” Grace asked. “He opens it thinking it’s Marie, or even Kurt?”
“Then they stab him in the chest,” Mac said. “To get in there and do that, at least some blood had to have gotten on the perp.”
“Did Lockwood say how many times he was stabbed?”
Mac shook his head. “Too soon to tell. We’ll find out the specifics when we meet with her, but it’s safe to say multiple. Looked like at least three.”
“All the possible evidence was right here,” Grace said. “In the car. On the vic. In the snow.”
I should have come out here first, but I really thought I’d be able to confront the killer inside. It’s important to keep the suspects close after the fact whenever possible. Observe their behaviour.
But no one person stood out based purely on that.
“We’ve got the pictures.” Mac started for the trees behind the building. “Come on.”
She ducked back under the police tape and followed him, walking to the right of the prints in the snow. They got to the trees and kept their flashlights on the tracks, searching for anything else. The tracks stopped just after the treeline. Grace veered to the left, trying to pick them up again.
“What time was it snowing here?” she called to him.
“Roughly nine to nine forty-five,” he said. “I mean, there’s not even any cigarette butts over here.”
Grace shone the flashlight over by the road, finding only a crisp sheet of untouched white snow.
“Alright,” Mac said on his way back, “where would you sit in wait if you were the killer?”
“Behind that bush,” she said, pointing to an evergreen beside the end of the tracks. “Thick, lots of cover. Best view of the lot.”
They walked over, shining their lights along the ground and into the bush.
“Thing is, no one could have known Cory would be alone,” Mac said.
“They said he was outside taking calls. Someone could have called him, knowing he’d have to come out. Maybe it was pure luck or a crime of opportunity because he was already out there alone for a while anyway after the fight.” Grace took a long step to the side and shone her light on the prints and then up into the trees, considering all angles.
Mac laughed. “You think someone’s up there still? Watching us?”
Now he’s razzing me again.
“Okay.” She shone the light in his face, and he closed his eyes tightly. “What’s your explanation for the footprints?”
He shielded his face with his hands, and she turned off her flashlight.
“Now that you’ve almost blinded me, I can’t think straight.”
“Well, I’ll do the thinking for the both of us.” She smirked and turned to the prints. “We need to come back here in the daylight. We might see something we haven’t. Until then, I think we need to be ready for Cory’s parents to come in from Alberta. They’re going to have even more questions, and we should work out what to tell them.”
“Oh?” He laughed as they started back to the lot. “So now you want to collaborate.”
“I’m sorry about before,” she said. “I’ll consult you next time, but I didn’t see the harm in telling the newlyweds to go on their honeymoon after all they’ve been through tonight. Their day will be remembered for murder and death. I thought it was the least I could do.”
“Hey,” he stopped her before she grabbed the yellow tape. “I get it. You were just trying to do what you could. You know them?”
“I’ve only met Doreen a few times, and I’ve never met Kurt before today. When I used to visit Madigan at the Knoxes, the Holdens were always over, or we were over there. Doreen’s older, though, so she wasn’t around as much. She was in University a year or two after Madigan moved in.”
“So you’re familiar with them. Is that why you gave them a break?”
“Are you questioning my integrity on this case?”
Mac grinned and shook his head. “Just pressing your buttons.”
“Uh, huh. Hey, now that the air’s clear, maybe you can apologize for what you told Marie about her husband being stabbed to death?”
Mac cocked his head to the side. “I thought you understood why I did it now.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Never mind. Just like you said, we’ll consult each other in the future.”
He nodded. “Listen, what I can’t shake is whether this was planned to happen tonight at this wedding, of all places, or if it was a crime of passion.”
“I thought you didn’t like to go over theories,” Grace smirked.
“I don’t.” He raised his brow and smiled down at her. “But it affects how I look at this. He was stabbed to death, yes, but there’s a big difference between someone waiting in the bushes for the perfect moment they planned for this specific occasion, and someone who came from inside the hall—”
“That’s it,” she said.
“What?”
“He started from the lot, not the trees,” she said. “The footprints go both ways, so they came from the lot, not the trees.”
“It explains the prints, but going with the potential for this person to be the killer, did they leave the reception, wait in the bushes and then come back to kill him when they saw he was alone? I mean, otherwise, they murdered him, ran behind the trees and bushes, and then came back?”
“Maybe they wanted to watch,” Grace said.
“The fight? Or when the body was found?” Mac asked.
Grace shrugged as she shook away the thoughts of watching a man die for fun and the shivers they gave her. “Maybe all of it. If the person with those prints is the killer, he started out here. At the lot or in the hall. We need their shoes.”
“All the prints.” He nodded. “We need to talk to those older men out here with the cigars who must have seen Todd.”
“Okay, that’s first on the list tomorrow. Then we come back here and see if there’s anything we’ve missed while we have Malone collect and bag the shoes.”
“And then meet with Cory’s parents whenever they get here.” Mac started toward their parked cars. “You coming?”
“I’m just hanging back for a bit,” she said. “You go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mac nodded, and she lifted the tape, stepping back into the crime scene. She ran the events of the night over in her head, turning from the side door of the hall back to the lot.
Kurt excused himself before leaving for the night with Doreen when he saw your car, Cory.
To apologize for sending you away? To stop you from driving drunk?
If he hadn’t, it would have been Marie who found you.
If someone hid in wait in the bushes, they could have been waiting for her reaction, then joined the group again among the commotion.
Why were you sitting in your car, Cory? To sober up and clear your head? To apologize to Marie when she came out? Or to end the fight you started with Todd?
Chapter Eight
A note from Grace on the kitchen counter awaited Madigan when she woke up.
I know you’re working late, so I’ll take care of Buster when I get home tonight. We need to talk about last night. I’ll be in touch. Please check your phone at work in case.
Her mom had called twice, and Madigan pressed her name in her cell phone as she finished her coffee.
“Hi Mom.”
“Still sleeping in late?” her mom sighed. “I wanted to see you for breakfast, but we’re having lunch at the Holden’s, so be here before noon, please, so we can talk.”
“Okay. I’m leaving now.”
On her bike ride back to her old neighbourhood, she passed several of the places she used to explore along the coast with her brother Drew and Jack once the boys got their motorcycle licenses.
Escarpments and cliffs loomed along stretches of untouched land as far as the eye could see. She’d ride on the back of Drew’s motorcycle, the same bike she rode most places since his passing, and together they would spend their time discovering every part of Deerhorn County for themselves. Back then, their mom would read them the riot act before embarking on those adventures, reminding them that if it weren’t for their dad, Madigan wouldn’t be riding on the back of the bike at all.
Since Drew’s passing, because she had already gotten her license, they agreed Drew’s bike belonged to Madigan. That he’d want her to have it. And their mom never mentioned any worries, fear of accidents, or lectured her about being cautious after that.
Her real child died, and I didn’t matter that much to her anymore. If at all.
She parked her bike at the end of the driveway of their two-story brick home, passing two extra cars in front of the Holdens across the street. She took off her helmet and sauntered up the path to the front door, hesitating as she stood in front of it. Instead of grabbing the handle, she rapped her knuckles against it.
“It’s open,” her dad called, and she walked inside, slipping off her boots. He came downstairs and gave her a hug before he led her toward the kitchen, still the same as when she’d last seen it.
The same since Drew had passed.
“Morning.” She stopped in front of the counter as her mom turned around from the stove.
“Afternoon,” her mom sighed. “I wanted to make a nice warm casserole, but I thought a minestrone soup would be better. Hearty, yet light. The Holdens need comfort food.”
“It smells good in here already.” Madigan took a seat on the stool across from her.
“I spoke to Nicole this morning,” she said. “The kids aren’t going on their honeymoon.”
“Really?” Madigan asked.
“They’re postponing it,” her dad said, grabbing a carrot stick as her mom swatted his hand away. “I think they’re losing money on the flights. Terrible situation.”
Her dad leaned against the counter. “The fellow’s parents are getting in from Alberta this afternoon. Funeral will probably be near the end of next week. A wedding and a funeral. Sounds like that movie title, doesn’t it?”
“Marie, the widow, she’ll be picking his parents up from the airport,” her mom said and set the knife down, shaking her head. “So sad.”
She’s probably remembering the rescue crew finding Drew’s body.
Seeing it for the first time at the morgue before planning the funeral.
“I’m just glad she didn’t see her husband’s body,” her dad said. “Steve said there was a lot of blood. They think he was stabbed right in the heart.”
Blood on the snow by the car.
Her stomach churned.
“Could we talk about something else?” Madigan asked. “Like the reason you wanted me to come over?”
Her mom added the vegetables to the pot on the stove, and her dad sat down on the stool beside her.
“Your mom and I have been thinking. We haven’t decided on anything yet, but we want to prepare for our future. The retirement years.”
“We don’t have a lot saved since I quit work,” her mom said. “Most of our equity is in this house and the Florida home.”
Madigan frowned. “So you want to sell one of them?”
“Or both maybe.” Her mom sighed. “Have a fresh start.”
So this is it. They’re finally leaving for good.
“Here or Florida?”
Her parents exchanged a knowing look, and her dad held her hand.
Florida, then.
“We’re considering moving to Florida for good,” he said. “We spend more time there than here. We love it there. The weather. Lots to do.”
I knew it.
Each breath became more difficult to take.
“And if we sell this house, we’ll be set. Might sell in Florida, too, and downsize,” her mom said. “We can always come back to visit you. We can stay with the Holden’s. Of course, you’re always welcome to visit us in Florida too. Just like you always have been.”
You went to Florida to get away from me. Why would I have chased after you?
Her dad licked his lips. “We booked an appointment with a realtor while we’re here.”
“And we want to know what you think,” her mom said, turning to face her. “We haven’t been here for you since you started college. We barely speak on the phone. You never respond to my emails.”
“Why would it matter what I thought?” She folded her arms in front of her and stared at the counter.
“What we’re saying is,” her dad shifted to face her, but she remained stoic, “we regret the way things happened. Life’s been… this thing we’re trying to get through since Drew. We’ve made mistakes, but nothing compared to how things have been with you.”
I’m just another mistake to them.
“We need to talk,” her mom said. “We finally need to talk if we have any hope of moving forward in a way that makes life worth living.”
Now they want to talk to get their fresh start. They want to release the burden I’ve been, and the guilt they’ve felt for how they’ve treated me.
This is all I’ve wanted. An acknowledgement they were wrong. But it’s not enough. Too little, too late.
Madigan shook her head and stood from the stool.
“Mads,” her dad said. “Please don’t leave.”
“Like you guys always do?” she spat.
“Madigan.” Her dad sat up straight.
“You want to do this?” Madigan spun around to face them. “Because if you want to talk about our issues, you have to hear me out.”
Her hands shook until she folded them over her chest, grabbing at the flesh of her arm with her fingers. Her dad nodded, but her mom just stared at her.
“What do you want to talk about?” Madigan asked. “How you guys just left me less than a year after Drew died? How we haven’t really been a family since Drew passed away? The fact that you blame me for Drew’s death?”
She drew in a breath, instantly wishing she hadn’t asked.
We never bring it up. We never talk about it. Because it’s true.
“We don’t blame you,” her dad said.
“Maybe you don’t, but Mom does.”
Her mom drew in a shaky breath and leaned with one hand against the counter. Madigan held her breath, every inch of her wanting to run.
I know the truth, but I don’t want to hear it. If I hear it, it’s all over.
“I don’t blame you for his death,” she said. “I know you didn’t hurt him. I know you never wanted this. I know that.”
“But you think I could have saved him somehow. If I’d gotten back to camp sooner. If I’d swam after him—if I had been a better swimmer.”
Her dad shook his head. “Drew was a stronger swimmer than all of us, and if he couldn’t… well, none of us could. Felicity knows that. Tell her.”
“I never want you to feel like we blame you. We don’t. I don’t. I can’t help but wish things could have been different somehow. I wish that I’d been there.”
“We both feel guilty,” her dad said. “I guess we all do.”
“We left you here because I had to get away from everyone and everything that reminded me of Drew.” Tears dripped down her cheeks. “I was only thinking of myself, and I wish I could go back and do it differently. I’d have made sure you never felt like this. I wasn’t strong enough.”
“We were lost,” her dad said, staring at the floor. “We were all lost. Drowning just like Drew. None of us reached out. Not one of us tried to grab on to the other.”
They stood still, heavy breath filling the silence.
Her heart pounded, relieved to have not been blamed outright, but waiting for the other shoe to drop, because there had to be a reason she felt tension between them. Ill feelings they’d hidden from her.
Madigan shook her head. “I can feel it. I know it’s there. It’s palpable. Your resentment toward me. It wasn’t just that you needed to get away. You wanted to get away from me.”
“Fine,” Felicity huffed. “I did. I admit it. I shouldn’t admit it because I wasn’t in my right mind. I’ve always loved you since you came into our lives. It wasn’t just because we signed those adoption papers that you were family. It happened the first night we sat down to the dinner table. The four of us sat there, and the table was full. My heart was finally full.”
She covered her mouth, and her dad went around the counter to hold her as she shook.
“I don’t understand, then,” Madigan muttered. “Maybe I never have.”
“You couldn’t,” she cried. “You’ve never lost a child.”
As her mom sniffled, her dad let her go, walking toward the fridge.
“But why? Why did you want to get away from me?”
Her dad yanked out some tissues from a box on the fridge and handed them her mom. She held them over her mouth, shaking her head.
“I think that’s enough,” her dad said, rubbing her mom’s arms.
It’s enough because it’s too much for her to take?
