14. Homicide Hotline, How Can We Help You? #2
‘Mrs. Reynolds, we’re sorry for your loss, and we hate to intrude on your grief.’ Tim is much better at this than I am. Maybe it’s the ghosts of my own grief, hovering just beyond my vision, but I want to do what we came here for and leave. It’s not a lack of emotion I feel. It’s too much.
Aida only nods, her mouth a tight line. I note the gold band on her left hand and briefly wonder what happened to Mr. Reynolds.
‘We were hoping to ask you a few questions and look around Evan’s room, if he still kept anything here,’ Tim continues, hands loose in his lap as he leans forward.
We already know he did; his friends told us in their interviews, but it’s polite to act as if we don’t. To let Aida tell us about her son.
‘Of course,’ she says, her voice halting and unsure. ‘He liked to come back here for privacy.’ A slight smile. It doesn’t matter to us if he did it to get away from the ever-present Pack, or to show his mom he still loved her.
‘I haven’t been in there since…,’ she trails off, ducking her head as she swallows down more tears
Suddenly, I’m glad Jake was the one who told her of the loss of her only son. I’ve never had to do it before, and I hope I never have to.
‘Did he make it here that night?’ I ask quietly.
He was supposed to come here for dinner, yet he was found on the other side of the city in Lyco territory, but not his own.
Each Pack has a compound where they live, but they’re surrounded by businesses, shops, apartment blocks, bars, and restaurants.
It’s not forbidden to go into another territory, but most Weres don’t.
They have their own, along with the rest of the city, to get anything they want.
Evan would have needed a damn good reason to be in Janus’s territory.
It would have been far more understandable if he’d been found where Jason was- at a bar or restaurant in a neutral part of the city.
‘No,’ Aida shakes her head, her eyes drifting around the room, unfocused. ‘I wasn’t worried, though. He wasn’t flaky, but I know he has to put the Pack first. Things come up, you know.’ I can hear her trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.
Her son is dead, and she doesn’t want to blame him in any way. He will be immortalized with his strengths, his weaknesses forgotten or glossed over, as often happens with the dead. But I’m not interested in what kind of person or son he was in life, unless it’s directly linked to his murder.
‘Do you mind if we see his room now?’ Tim asks gently, slowly rising to his feet.
Aida Reynolds is pulled from her thoughts and shakily does the same.
‘It’s the room at the front on the left, past the bathroom.’ She’s wringing her hands, rocking back on her feet. She wants this over as much as we do.
‘We’ll see ourselves out once we’re done,’ my partner tells her softly. ‘Thank you for all your help.’
I wait a beat, knowing what’s coming.
‘Promise me,’ her pale green eyes lock onto mine. The devastation and loss in them is like a physical blow. ‘Promise me you’ll find who did this to my son.’
There it is, the desperate plea. My heart catches. To make her a promise I can’t keep will give her false hope and put Tim and me in an untenable position.
‘We’ll do everything we can,’ I give her the standard line: make no promises. It’s vastly different to give Vincent Rodriguez reassurances than to do the same for this grieving mother. She nods and stands in the same place, her eyes focused on something we can’t see.
Evan’s room is like a shrine, as if he’ll come back any moment and flop onto his bed.
Sometimes the Change is hard for parents to accept.
They keep hoping their loved one will come home, so they leave things as they were, patiently waiting.
Aida was one of those moms. I had a feeling that was the case, which was why neither of us asked her why her son had become a Lycanthrope.
Grief is hard enough without piling on guilt.
The room is a reasonable size, large enough for a queen bed, chest of drawers, built-in wardrobe, desk, chair, and bookshelf. Framed holo-pics line his desk and windowsill. There are trophies on the shelf, along with books.
‘It looks like she hasn’t moved anything yet,’ I say to Tim as he stands behind me in the doorway. Evan’s drawers are partly open, clothes hanging over the sides.
‘Think we’ll find anything in plain sight?’ he sounds skeptical, which is how I feel.
Huff out a laugh, I move toward his drawers. ‘No. But there’s more chance of us finding his stash if she hasn’t cleaned up yet.’ I’m not surprised she hasn’t been able to face it yet.
I look through his clothing while Tim opens the wardrobe, finding a thin cord that’s attached to a dim bulb.
I’ve barely begun lifting sweaters and t-shirts when Tim calls, ‘Well, that was easy.’
He presses his foot onto a floorboard, a hollow noise echoing in the silence. Leaning over him as he lifts the worn carpet to reveal floorboards, he runs his fingers along the seam, catching the edge to lift it.
The cavity is small. I doubt anyone except a cop or a crim would have found it, muffled beneath the carpet.
It contains a thin black card- portable untraceable crypto- and a thin metal box with a bio-lock. Tim lifts both out and presses the lock. It’s not keyed to Evan, and slides open easily.
‘He probably deprogrammed it when he Turned,’ I say.
‘Bingo,’ my partner pulls out a small black plastic bag.
‘Is that Rodriguez’s symbol?’ I ask as Tim stands up, box in hand. He holds it out for me to get a better look.
An ace with an arrow through it is clearly stamped onto the bag.
‘It sure is. Let’s get it to Ruby in the lab to run tests,’ he confirms.
I want to sigh with relief, dance, and laugh at the same time.
Thank you, Green and Gold. Finally, we have a possible connection between our vics.