Chapter 29
Noelle didn’t know how to react.
Her heart was breaking as she listened to Max’s story, watching the emotions on his face and hearing them in his voice. She’d pulled up a chair next to him, gripping his hand as he told her and Mercy what had happened.
“It was a good shoot,” Max said, staring at their clasped hands. “I knew it and the review confirmed it.”
“That doesn’t take away the pain of ending someone’s life,” said Noelle, recalling how she’d emotionally struggled after shooting a killer, even though her decision had saved several lives.
“No, it doesn’t,” said Mercy softly. “It will always be with you. Popping up when you least expect it.” She took a breath. “I’ve been there too. It’s a club no one wants to join.”
“Besides Jacob’s family condemning me,” continued Max, “the media tried and sentenced me in public. There were maybe seventy-five thousand people in town back then. It sounds like a lot, but it was a tight community. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.
And they’d decided my business was theirs.
” He looked away. “There was a petition to get me fired. Lawsuits were filed.”
“Oh, Max.” Noelle hated the distant look in his eyes.
“In the media they said I shot a child,” said Max.
“I considered him a child too, and not that it matters, but he was eighteen and a legal adult. Other people claimed that he’d never hurt his cousin—how could Jacob hurt someone in his family?
I guess they forgot he nearly killed his mother first. Which told me he’d probably kill a cousin too.
Other people complained that he hadn’t fired the gun, so I had no right to fire when I did. I was hounded for months.”
“That’s not how it works,” said Noelle. “You can’t wait until they fire; by then it’s too late.
The public simply doesn’t understand that concept.
It’s the same people who ask, Why didn’t we shoot him in the leg?
Or they claim it wasn’t a ‘fair fight’ because we used a gun when the suspect had a knife. ”
Mercy nodded emphatically.
“I know all this,” said Max. “I know how invalid their reasons are, but they still ripped me apart inside.”
At least he said it in the past tense.
“When it was revealed that Jacob’s gun hadn’t been loaded, the uproar got worse.
As if I should have been able to tell it was empty.
There was a magazine in it.” He waved a hand, as if brushing the words away.
“Once again that is irrelevant because he had a gun at her head. But it felt as if the entire city hated me.” He snorted.
“Those were fun times. But do you know what was the worst part?” He looked from Noelle to Mercy.
“Well, it wasn’t the worst part, but it was definitely a horrible twist .
. . my sixteen-year-old sister was Jacob’s girlfriend. ”
Noelle sucked in a breath.
“Right?” he asked. “I had no idea Brittany was even dating. We’re twelve years apart and hadn’t lived under the same roof in a decade.” He shook his head. “You can imagine how distraught she was. And she hated me too.”
“I’m sure she didn’t—” Noelle began.
“She’s never forgiven me,” Max told her. “She told me I was wrong to shoot and that Jacob would never hurt anyone. She still doesn’t speak to me.”
Noelle remembered how Max had always given minimal answers when she asked about his two sisters who lived in Medford. When she spoke of meeting them, he’d just nod and say, “When they come to town.” Now she understood why he was so quiet about that part of his family.
“It’s been more than a decade,” said Mercy. “How can she still hate you?”
“We have a strong stubborn streak in my family,” said Max.
“And for some reason it’s even worse in my two younger sisters.
Amber goes along with whatever Brittany wants and vice versa.
They’re very tight, and I suspect they’ll take this grudge to the grave.
Keira has played mediator for a long time, and she hates it.
She’s tried several times in the past to repair the rift with no results. ”
“What about your mother?” asked Noelle.
“She sided with Brittany. My mother taught English at the high school. She knew Jacob and said she couldn’t believe that he’d do such a thing. That I must have screwed up. It had to be my fault.”
Noelle was speechless.
“It’s not healthy to be angry that long,” said Mercy. “It festers.”
“My sisters are good people,” said Max. “My mother too. But they’re blind about that one incident and won’t let it go.”
“Jacob’s death is the murder mentioned in the note with Keira’s flowers?” asked Noelle.
“I haven’t taken anyone else’s life.” His eyes were calm. “That has to be what it refers to.”
“So you think whoever sent the flowers and photos is still angry about the shooting,” said Mercy.
“That makes the most sense to me.”
“But why now?” asked Noelle. “What’s changed? It’s been more than a decade. I assume you haven’t had this level of harassment in a long time?”
“I haven’t,” admitted Max. “This is abruptly coming out of left field.”
“Could it be your sister Brittany?” asked Mercy.
“Absolutely not. She wouldn’t want to scare Keira. This is someone who is trying to threaten me. This is solely about me,” he muttered. “I’ve had enough experience in the past with people who were angry about the shooting. This feels the same.”
“But who?” asked Noelle. “Someone in Jacob’s family?”
“Or perhaps the harasser is totally unrelated to that incident, but they’re using your past to get in your head,” said Mercy, looking up from her phone. “The shooting in Medford is easy enough to find online by searching your name.”
“I never thought to Google you, Max,” said Noelle. “I always dug for information on anyone I went out with in the past, but I never did it with you.” She forced a weak smile. “I believed the FBI had already done the work for me.”
Noelle had tried online dating. The profile information in the apps was supposed to be minimal to protect people’s identities, but she found that men always revealed some sliver of information that allowed her to find out who they were.
They’d post photos she could image search, talk about when and where they went to college, or even give a phone number.
All these things helped her figure out their last names, and then she’d learn they had prison sentences, wives, assault charges. The list went on.
But she’d never Googled Max.
“The harassment doesn’t matter at the moment,” said Max. “TJ and Keira can take care of themselves—I’m ninety-nine percent certain it has nothing to do with them anyway. We need to concentrate on these people.” He pointed at the whiteboard. “That’s what’s important.”
Noelle didn’t completely agree. “Give me the names of people who hassled you the most after the shooting. I’ll have someone look into them. See where they are and what they’re doing these days.” He started to refuse, and she held up a hand. “It will let you focus on our cases.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, and she knew he was devising a way to refuse. “Tomorrow,” he finally said.
He’s trying the procrastinate-and-hope-she-forgets method.
“Okay, tomorrow,” she agreed.
She might have a crappy memory, but she wasn’t going to forget this.
Her phone rang with an unknown number, and she sent it to voicemail. “What do we have left to address tonight?” It was late and she wanted to catch up on some sleep so she could start early tomorrow.
“As expected in a hotel, forensics lifted dozens of fingerprints from Rachel Johnson’s room,” said Mercy.
“They’ll run what they can through our database.
They also collected a lot of hair from the shower drain.
I’m hoping our suspect showered after sex with Rachel, but who knows.
When we find a suspect, hopefully we can match him to hair and fingerprints to place him in the room. ”
“And if he isn’t a match to any of those?” asked Noelle.
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t do it,” said Mercy. “The right evidence could still turn up.” She looked at Max. “We need to call it a night. I’m about to fall asleep in my chair. Noelle and I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Agreed.” Max stood and started to pick up his area.
Noelle watched him for a long moment, glad he’d agreed to come to her place that night. His emotional story made her want to burrow her head into his neck while under the covers and just hold him.
She checked her phone and saw the earlier call had left a voicemail. The transcript was jumbled and confusing, so she hit play and listened.
“Detective Marshall? It’s Emma Chambers.”
Why is she whispering?
“I might’ve figured out one of the men who was at my house that night. I heard him talking to Tommy today, but I didn’t see him. I’m almost positive it’s him. Can you call me back right away?”
“Shit.” Noelle hit the call button on the voicemail. Emma’s phone rang and rang. “Doesn’t she have voicemail set up?” she muttered as she dialed the young woman again.
“Who doesn’t have voicemail?” asked Max.
“Emma Chambers. She left a message saying she might know who was at her house that night, and now she’s not answering.” She met Max’s gaze. “She was whispering, so I wonder who she didn’t want to overhear.” Noelle ended the unanswered call. “She said she heard this man talking to Tommy.”
“Who is Tommy?” asked Mercy.
“Good question,” said Noelle. “Emma said he’s her uncle but not really her uncle. She was staying with him at his home after the break-in. I have his address somewhere. I made her give it to me so I’d know where to find her.”
“It’s probably an address but not his address,” said Mercy. “Did you check it?”
“Looking right now.” Noelle opened her laptop as Mercy and Max watched over her shoulder. “Looks like it’s a real address and not too far from Emma’s home. She sounded super nervous in her voicemail, so I’ll go check on her. If she’s not at this home, I’ll check her house.”
“I’ll follow you,” said Max. He looked at Mercy. “Go home.”
“Gladly. Let me know if you run into any problems.” She headed out the conference room door. Then returned ten seconds later. “Just letting you know the snow has started. There’s already an inch.”
“Thanks, Mercy.” Noelle looked at Max. “Ready?”
“What do you want to do after you talk to Emma?” His gaze held hers, a subtle message in its depths.
Noelle paused, caught up in that look. “I want you to come over like you agreed,” she whispered.
“Good answer.”
Max’s smile warmed her to the tips of her toes. He followed her out the conference room door and then locked it.
Find Emma first.
I hope nothing has happened to the girl.