27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter twenty-seven
Nash
It’s late afternoon when I get the call. It’s an unknown number which happens more than not. I hand out my number to so many people hoping they’ll reach out with information or if they need some kind of help. I answer the same way I always do.
“Detective Nash Bennett.”
It’s quiet for a moment. Too long.
“Hello?” I ask. Then I look at the call. It’s still going. “Is someone there?”
“Yes, hi.”
It’s a quiet voice. Small. Female.
“Hi, can I help you with something?”
“It’s Lilianna. Can we meet somewhere?” Her words are rushed and quiet.
“Tell me where,” I say, leaning forward and grabbing my pen.
She gives me the address of a coffee shop on a busy block downtown. I tell her I can be there in twenty minutes. We hang up. As I quickly grab my things, I call Gendreau and Weber.
I speak as soon as they answer. “I’m going to meet Lilianna Travers. She just called. I think she’s going to talk.”
“That’s good,” Gendreau says. “Keep us updated.”
“I will. Be ready.”
I don’t know what for, and they don’t either.
But they need to be prepared in case she gives us a name.
There is a process we have to go through, like getting a warrant—which I will get as long as I have enough evidence.
This is a cold case and they want it solved.
Depending on what she gives us, we could really move forward in this case.
And Carter… he’ll finally get the closure he needs.
Lilianna is already waiting in the coffee shop when I get there. I spot her the moment I pull the door open, sitting in the back all bundled up. Either from the cold or from being seen. To not bring attention to myself or her, I order a coffee and then casually go sit at her table once I have it.
“Thank you for calling, Mrs. Travers,” I say.
She nods, her hands wrapped around her to-go cup. I take the lid off mine. Steam billows up and I bring it to my mouth to take a sip.
“I didn’t know someone got hurt,” she starts quietly. “I didn’t know someone died.” She looks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed. “It’s been eating me alive. Had I known, I… I would have done things differently.”
“You’re here now. You’re doing the right thing. Tell me what you know—tell me what happened.”
She winces, then nods, eyes on her coffee. I wonder if she’s taken a sip at all, or if it’s just there for emotional support.
“I was walking home from work, like I did after every shift. I always took that alley because it was quicker than going around. Enough people used it that it didn’t worry me much, but that night… someone was waiting for me.”
“Waiting for you? So this is someone you know?”
It takes her a moment, but she finally nods. “Yes. That’s why I quit.”
“It was someone who worked at the facility. At Rayne,” I say. It’s not a question because I’m already piecing the puzzle together.
“I tried to go back to work, act like nothing happened. My husband… he’s strict. And quitting for no reason, it would have set him off, and—” She whimpers softly, wiping tears from her eyes. “I had to think and figure things out.”
“He doesn’t know what happened?”
She huffs a disbelieving laugh, wiping more tears. “No.” She looks up at me. “And he can never know.”
I don’t worry about that now. There are other people who will work with her on that. Right now, I need this confession. I need her story so I can do my part.
“What’s his name?” I ask.
I expect to have to ask more, to have to pull it out of her. But she hands it right over.
“Jason Mercer.”
I recall the name from the list of employees. Once I was sure she was the victim, I’d gone through that list a hundred times to check backgrounds and records. Nothing popped out to me on any of the employees.
“Can you tell me the rest?” I ask.
Nodding, she shifts in her seat and takes a slow breath.
“He grabbed me.” Her voice is emotionless, her gaze still on that cup of coffee.
“He pulled me over by the dumpster and he covered my mouth so I couldn’t scream.
I fought, but he’s bigger than me, and I…
I just couldn’t do anything. I remember his cold hand on my stomach as he tried to…
” Her voice cracks. She takes a breath. “As he tried to shove it into my pants.”
“That’s when Ryan Kinsley stepped in?” I ask.
“That’s when that man saved me.”
“I’m sorry this happened to you, Lilianna. No one deserves this. And I can’t thank you enough for coming forward now.”
She looks up at me, her eyes so damn tired. “He really killed that man? The one who helped me?”
“Yes,” I say seriously.
She grabs another napkin from the dispenser and wipes more tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I… I’m just so sorry. I didn’t know what to do, and I… I panicked. If my husband knew. If—”
“Hey,” I say firmly but gently. She looks up at me. “You’re talking to me now. You’re doing the right thing. I’m sorry you have had to carry this for so long, that you don’t have anyone to support you through this. It’s a lot. I can’t even imagine.”
She nods, then looks back at her cup.
“You do know that other people will be in touch, right? You’ll have to give a formal statement at the precinct.”
Again, she nods, but says nothing.
“We can keep this discreet. I’ll make sure everyone knows, so your husband doesn’t find out, but Lilianna, you need to decide if you want to keep this secret for the rest of your life.”
“Peter is a good man, he’s just… a bit old fashioned.”
No fucking excuse in my opinion. What kind of man acts a certain way that his wife can’t even get help for being sexually assaulted? It’s repulsive.
“I’m not here to judge. I just want to help. If you need anything at all, please call. No matter what. And again, thank you so much for this.”
She forces a small smile. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”
“No, thank you. I’m meeting a friend around the block shortly.”
“I’ll be in touch with you.”
“Please, only call during the day. Before four…”
“Of course.” I get up, taking my coffee with me, but I pause before leaving. “You are bringing closure to someone who desperately needs it. Ryan’s family is… they’re good people.”
Another sad smile, another nod.
I go back to my truck and call my boss. I give him the run down.
He says he’ll work on the warrant. I inform my team, let them know we need to find where this Jason Mercer is and get every possible bit of information on the guy.
He no longer works at the facility; I know that much.
He was listed as someone who quit, though it was more recently.
Within the last year, if I remember correctly.
My fingers itch to call Carter, to give him the good news, but I can’t do that yet.
It’s not fair to anyone. I still need to keep in mind that this guy could be innocent.
Just because she thinks it was him, doesn’t mean it was.
But I’ve got a good feeling this is the man we need.
Still, I can’t jump the gun and fuck up this case. There is too much riding on it.
I get back to the precinct and Daniels is waiting for me in my office. He’s got at least twenty years on me, salt and pepper hair with a big mustache.
“Good work,” he says, getting up from the chair and holding out his hand. “But you know we need a lot more, right?”
“I know how this works.” I shake his hand.
“Good, because in order to keep your team, we need as many cases to go well as possible. We can’t have this first one fucking up.”
“I understand.”
“It’s not just about closing cases; it’s about proving that we can do it the right way.”
“Of course.”
Nodding, he says, “We need more before the warrant. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I want to be sure we can get it.” Disappointment sinks into my chest, but I get it. We need to be smart. “Go through his records, find everything you can, watch him, see what he does.”
“He’s not going to know she said something.”
“Right. But if he did it once, maybe he’ll do it again.
Maybe he already has. We need to dig into this guy and see what we can get.
Name dropping isn’t enough yet, but you’re close, Bennett.
So close.” He pats me on the back. “We need to be patient. You did good, Bennett. Real good. I’m glad to have you here. ”
He walks out, and pride swells in my chest. This is exactly why I’m here.
Yes, I hoped to grab the fucker today, but if that’s not how we can play it, then we need to wait.
I’m itching to get this guy put away, to tell Carter the case is closed, but I won’t risk all that because I was careless.
This is why I’m glad I didn’t tell Carter yet.
I need to take things slow, take a breath.
My team shows up a few minutes later. I update them on everything I have and tell them I’m going to work this myself for now.
I’ll get everything we need, dig as deep as I can so they can keep working on the other cases.
If we’re lucky, we’ll start a streak on closing them, because the Howard case is getting close too.
It’s nearing time for me to leave, but I’m not planning on going any time soon. There is too much to do.
I dig into this Jason Mercer, pulling all of his records. All I find are a few parking tickets, which isn’t uncommon. What doesn’t make any sense is that his record only goes back seven years.
“Red fucking flag,” I mutter. I put his photo through a general recognition program, run his social security number, birthdate, address and everything else to see where this guy came from and what he’s been up to.
He’s currently living two blocks from the scene and has been for six years.
That’s a long time to live somewhere. He must know his neighbors—or they must know him.
Which is what I’m going to handle while the rest of this stuff is running because unfortunately, even in this day and age, it isn’t instant.
I’m digging too deep for it to be quick.
I can’t sit here and wait for something to pop up. I’ll go fucking crazy.
I leave the office and go straight to his apartment building.
He lives on the fourth floor, so I start on the third; this way if he’s here, he won’t hear me asking around about him too soon.
I need to get surveillance on him though, which should be set up by tomorrow.
Hopefully sooner. All this takes time, which is the worst fucking part. It’s not like the movies—not at all.
I knock on the apartment door that’s below his. A little girl opens the door, smiling up at me like I’m her favorite person.
“Hi, is your mom or dad home?” I add.
She nods, then runs off giggling.
“Charlotte, what did I tell you about opening this door?” the mother scolds. She comes over, confused, when she sees me, wiping her hands on the dish towel she’s carrying. “Can I help you?”
“Detective Nash Bennett.” I flash my badge. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“I’ve told Charlotte a hundred times not to open the door, and the building keeps telling me they’re going to get me one of those chain locks but it’s always wait, wait, wait.” She steps aside, letting me in. “How can I help you?”
The apartment is small. The layout upstairs is probably exactly like this. Living room and kitchen to the right, small dining area ahead, bathroom to the left along with two bedrooms.
“I’m investigating a matter around the area, and I wanted to ask you a few questions about your neighbor.”
“Which one?” she asks, gesturing toward the couch. I take a seat, trying to stay calm. But I’m getting antsy.
“Upstairs. Jason Mercer?”
“Oh God, him.”
“Problems?”
“All the time. I don’t know what he does up there, but he’s always banging around. I hear shouting all the time. Charlotte and I had to switch bedrooms because he was keeping her up all night.”
“You’ve complained to the super?”
“Many times. So have others. They don’t care about us. They just want their money.”
I nod as I take notes. “How long have you lived here?”
“Two years. When Charlotte’s father and I split.”
I get some more information from her, like her name and number. Let her know I may be in touch and to not say anything about this.
“Is he dangerous?” she asks as he sees me to the door.
“Just… avoid him if possible. But don’t worry. Call us if you need anything.”
She thanks me, and I hear the lock clicking behind me.
I talk to the rest of the residents on the floor.
One tells me she just ran into him on the street because he was leaving for work.
Now I know I can head up. So I go talk to the neighbors up there too.
They all say the same thing as the first woman.
He’s loud, always shouting about something, sometimes with others—women and men.
They say he drinks a lot and hangs outside during the summers with shady people, but seems to pay his rent on time and works, so the super doesn’t do much about the noise. That’s the area, and it sucks.
On the way out, I knock on the door labeled Maintenance. A middle-aged guy in a grey jumpsuit with blond hair and a goatee opens the door. “Can I help you?”
I flash my badge. “Detective Nash Bennett. Get apartment 3E a chain lock on their door before the end of day or I’ll fine the entire building.” I turn on my heel and walk away.
“For what?!” he shouts.
“Everything!” I call back.
He curses under his breath, and I hear the door close harder than necessary. There better be a fucking lock on that door by the time I’m here next, or I’ll have his head.
I get back to my car and update my team. There’s an email waiting for me that says surveillance will be on Jason Mercer tomorrow at six a.m. That’s the soonest we have officers available. For now, I just have to be patient.
My phone rings as I’m about to pull off, so I put the truck back in park to answer it.
“Hey,” I answer with a smile.
“How was work?” Glancing at the clock I see it’s already almost seven.
“It was work. How was your day?”
“Tiring. I forgot we had schools visiting today. Those kids are crazy. Too much energy.”
I chuckle.
“I was hoping you wanted to come over,” he says carefully.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I’d like to attempt to make you dinner, if that’s okay.”
“Food poisoning together, or not at all.” He laughs. A full-on laugh. “Sorry, that was cheesy.”
“No, it was funny. And you’re right. Food poisoning together, or not at all.”
I’m smiling so hard my face hurts.
When’s the last time I did this?
“I’ll be there soon,” I say, before putting the truck in drive again.