CHAPTER TWENTY
C HAPTER T WENTY
The next morning, Bree stood in the monitoring room and watched Amanda Ward on one screen. She was a thin forty-year-old in beat-up black sneakers, bleach-spotted black yoga pants, and a white T-shirt that read A-P LUS C LEANING . Clearly, she was in her work clothes. She sat at the table in one of the interview rooms, with one arm wrapped around her own waist, curled in on herself. She gnawed on a cuticle on the other hand. Her makeup caked on her dry skin, and the bottle-blond ponytail that emerged from the back of her black A-Plus Cleaning baseball cap looked brittle enough to snap.
“Did we bring them in via deputy and patrol car?” Matt asked.
“No. Zucco called them and asked them to come in to answer some questions about the Masons. What do we know about Amanda?”
He opened a file. “She has no criminal record, not even a traffic ticket. She’s had her own cleaning business for thirteen years and lived at the same address for seventeen. Mrs. Lawrence had only good things to say about her work ethic.”
“She looks tense. Because she did something? Or is she upset that we also asked to talk to her son, who was recently released from jail?” Bree could believe either one. She’d seen plenty of mothers cover for their criminal offspring.
“She hasn’t asked for an attorney, nor has he,” Matt said.
Bree shifted her attention to another monitor, where Amanda’s son paced in a different interview room. He was tall and lean, dressed in jeans, a blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled partway up his forearms, and white Nikes. His hair was short on the sides, with slightly longer waves on top. It appeared freshly cut. “What about Liam Ward? Compared to his mom’s clothes, his look expensive. So does that haircut.”
Matt flipped pages. “Liam is a different story. Three weeks ago, he was released from jail, where he did six months for running a gift-card scam. Lucky for him, he only stole small amounts, and it was his first offense.”
“His record is clean before that?”
“Yes.”
“How old is he?” Bree asked.
Matt glanced at his paperwork. “He’s twenty-three.”
“So, Amanda was seventeen when she had him. Is she married?”
“No,” Matt said.
“We’ll let him sweat awhile longer. I want to question her first.” Bree sized up Amanda again. She looked scared, like a rabbit who smelled a fox. Would she shut down if frightened more? “I’ll go in alone. If I need you, I’ll let you know.” Bree stood. “You watch her from here and observe her body language.” Matt was very good at reading the physical cues that didn’t match or went beyond verbal answers. The body often told the truth even when the lips lied.
In the interview room, Bree sat next to Amanda.
“Hey, Amanda.” Bree turned toward her. When possible, Bree preferred to interview subjects without a physical barrier. She wanted full view of all Amanda’s body language.
As Bree faced her, Amanda shrank, as if terrified.
“Thanks for coming in today,” Bree said. “This interview is being recorded. That way, everything that is said here is clear, and there are no misunderstandings.”
Amanda nodded. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, as if she’d been crying. “I can’t believe they’re dead. I was there that morning.” Disbelief filled her voice.
“It’s terrible,” Bree agreed. “What time did you clean their house?”
“I’m there every other Monday from eight to eleven.”
“Were you there alone?”
Amanda shook her head. “No. My assistant, Janelle, was with me.”
“Janelle’s full name?”
“Patterson,” Amanda said. “You want her number?”
“Yes, please.” Bree wrote it down on a notepad. “Were the Masons home while you cleaned?”
“No.”
“Is that normal?” Bree asked.
“Yeah. Most people go out.”
“Did they say where they were going?”
“No. They weren’t home when I got there.” Amanda unwrapped her arm from around her waist and dropped her hands into her lap, as if she were relaxing with the mundane nature of the questions.
“Were they ever?”
“Sometimes, but they’d leave within a couple of minutes,” Amanda said.
“How did you get in?”
“I have the code to the garage door.”
“Do you have the alarm code too?”
“No,” Amanda said. “It was never on.”
Bree wrote on her notepad. Access didn’t matter that much. The house had been entered through the patio door, but she wanted some ordinary-sounding questions to form a rapport with Amanda. Frankly, if Amanda had wanted to steal from the Masons, she had plenty of opportunity that didn’t involve cutting the glass in the patio door. Maybe she had thought direct theft would be too easily traced to her. Maybe she’d cut the glass to make it appear like an outside job.
“Do you keep a record of the entry codes?”
Amanda nodded. “On a folder in my phone.”
Which her son could have accessed if he was sneaky enough. The fact that he’d served time for running a gift-card scam told Bree he was, in fact, the sneaky type.
Bree asked, “While you were in the house on Monday, did you see anything unusual?”
“No.”
“Did you see anything odd in the neighborhood?”
“No. Everything seemed to be the same as usual.”
“Did the Masons pay on time? Were they difficult clients?” Bree asked.
“They paid in cash every time I cleaned, and they were one of my easier cleans. Neat with their stuff. Not particular about anything. Never had parties.” She touched a knuckle to her lower lip. “The only even slightly strange thing was they didn’t let me clean the office. The door was always locked.”
“Did they say why?”
Amanda lifted a shoulder. “Shelly said there was sensitive client information in there, and they needed to maintain their clients’ privacy. It made sense, but Shelly was, I don’t know, a little weird about it.”
“Your son got out of jail a few weeks ago,” Bree said.
Amanda’s face went white, and her arm snaked around her waist again. “Yeah.”
“Has he been to the Masons’ house?”
Amanda blinked. “He dropped me there, at the curb. He didn’t go inside.”
“So he knew where they lived.”
“Yes,” Amanda admitted. “He needed to borrow my car that day for a job interview.”
“He had an interview on Monday?”
“Yes,” Amanda nearly whispered.
So, Liam had been outside the Masons’ house the day they’d been murdered.
“Did Liam ever meet the Masons? You cleaned for them for years.”
“I don’t remember.” Amanda stared at her lap.
“Did Liam ever go into their house with you?”
“I don’t remember. I have a lot of clients. Sometimes I confuse them.” Amanda lifted her chin, but Bree could see the lie in her eyes.
“But Liam has met some of your clients?”
“Yeah.” Amanda’s jaw shifted back and forth, as if she were wrestling with a decision. “He’s filled in for my assistant a few times.”
“Since he got out of jail?”
“No!” Amanda stiffened. “Before.”
Bree waited. She sensed Amanda was going to say more.
Amanda’s face was full of worry with a dash of indignation. “I’ve already lost three clients because of it.”
“ It being Liam’s conviction?” Bree asked.
“Yeah.” Amanda swallowed, her face miserable, but she didn’t elaborate.
“Is the Masons’ house one of the ones Liam helped clean in the past?” Bree tried again, changing up the phrasing slightly. She was always surprised how often people forgot how they already answered a question.
Amanda’s jaw set. “I already told you. I don’t remember.” She met Bree’s gaze for the first time in the interview. Amanda’s expression was determined. She was not giving up anything on Liam. So, she was a frightened rabbit for herself but a bear for her son.
Bree backtracked. “You raised Liam by yourself?”
Amanda nodded.
“What about his dad?”
“Useless.” Amanda practically spit out the word. “When I told him I was pregnant, he told me that was my problem.”
“You didn’t sue him for child support?” Bree asked.
“Waste of time.” Amanda’s voice turned bitter. “He dropped out of high school, sold drugs for a while. He’s been in and out of jail so many times, he has friends there. It’s like a revolving door for him.”
“Does he have a relationship with Liam?”
“He sees him once in a while, when he’s not in jail. That’s it.”
“So Liam knows about his father’s criminal activity?”
“Yes,” Amanda said. “And so did the judge in charge of Liam’s case.”
“He was harsh?”
Amanda’s spine straightened. Her arms folded across her chest. “It was Liam’s first offense. He shouldn’t have gone to jail.”
“He had a lawyer?”
“We couldn’t afford a good one. The one they gave him was always juggling a hundred other clients. He couldn’t even remember Liam’s name without checking the file folder. Liam was trying to help me. I got pneumonia and couldn’t work for a couple of weeks. I don’t have health insurance. A couple of doctor visits and the cost of the medicine drained my savings. I got behind on a few bills ...” Amanda studied the table for a few seconds. “Liam was young. He made a mistake, but he was trying to help me. Sending him to jail made everything worse.” Her chin lifted again, and Bree knew she would get nowhere interrogating her.
“Where were you Monday night?” Bree asked.
“I went out with a friend for tacos and margaritas. Her life has been even shittier than mine lately.” Amanda gave Bree the friend’s number and the name of the Mexican restaurant. But Bree already knew the alibi would check out. The same way she knew Amanda blamed herself for her son’s crime.
“OK.” Bree stood. “Thanks for cooperating. I’ll let you know if I have any follow-up questions.”
“That’s it?”
Bree nodded. “Yep. You’re free to go.”
She rose slowly, as if not trusting what Bree had said. “What about Liam?”
“I’m talking to him next,” Bree said. “If you need to get to work, I can have a deputy take him home afterward.”
Amanda thought about it for a few seconds. Then she picked up a shabby purse and clutched it by its torn strap. “No. I’ll wait for him.”
“Suit yourself.” Bree motioned toward the door. “I’ll have someone show you to the lobby.” She summoned a deputy for the task and returned to the monitoring room.
Matt was watching Liam. “She lied about Liam going to the Masons’ house. He’d been there.”
“She didn’t technically lie. Amanda said she didn’t remember. She didn’t deny he’d been there.”
Matt gave her a Look.
Bree shrugged. “How can we prove he was in the house?”
“We could show his picture to Claire,” Matt suggested. “Maybe she’ll remember him.”
“Maybe.”
“How do you want to handle him?” Matt asked.
Bree thought about it. Amanda didn’t act like a tough mom. She was protective but not a disciplinarian. She seemed more passive, even permissive. But they didn’t know how Liam would respond to a male authority figure. “We’ll tag-team him and see who he responds best to.”
Matt was a masterful interviewer, with the ability to shift personas like a chameleon to best suit the circumstances. Bree wondered if Liam would respond better to a male authority figure, something his own upbringing had likely lacked.
They filed into the interview room. Liam stopped pacing, freezing momentarily. With his shoulders hunched, he looked like a coyote caught in the beam of a flashlight. His entire persona was a contradiction. His posture and demeanor were defensive and insecure, but his clothing and hairstyle screamed frat boy , as if he wanted to be part of the rich, privileged world and was trying to project that confident image with his personal style.
Bree introduced them. As she talked, Liam’s gaze kept straying to Matt. She gestured toward the table. “Have a seat.”
Liam eased himself into a chair, his posture remaining wary. He pressed his hands flat to the table, and she could see the cuticles of his fingernails had been ravaged. His fingertips trembled, and he dropped them to his lap.
Bree let Matt take the seat next to Liam. She sat opposite as she gave him the same spiel about the video camera. She didn’t dance around the topic. “You went to jail.”
“I did my time.” Despite the words, his voice quivered. He cleared his throat and swallowed before continuing with a more level tone. No doubt jail had been brutal. “I wouldn’t take any risk of going back in there.”
“I understand,” Matt said. “Six months can seem like a very long time.”
“Forever,” Liam muttered.
Matt commiserated, “Seems like a bogus amount of time for the stupid scam you were running. If you were some rich dude’s son, you would’ve gotten away with a slap on the wrist.”
“Yeah.” Anger colored Liam’s cheeks. “I couldn’t believe it. Seemed like they were trying to make an example out of me. Nothing I could do about it, not with that lazy-ass public defender. He didn’t give a shit about me at all. Barely talked to me. Kept calling me Ian.”
Matt shook his head, capitalizing on the younger man’s obvious grievance. “That sucks.”
Liam raised his chin, like his mother. “It wasn’t fair.”
“Not at all.” Matt huffed. “Look, we’re talking to everyone who was near the Masons’ home around the time of the murder. We know you dropped off your mom. What time was that?”
“Around eight.”
“Where did you go?”
“I had a job interview.” Liam shook his bangs off his face.
“Where?” Bree asked.
“Electronics Depot,” he said to Matt, barely sparing Bree a glance.
Did he think an electronics store would hire someone who had done time for theft or fraud? Who would trust expensive, easily transported merchandise and customer financial information to an ex-con? She wanted to laugh out loud at his audacity. He was going to have to accept reality. His employment options would be limited. “The one on the interstate?”
He nodded but continued to fix his gaze on Matt. Bree had called it. Liam sought male approval. Matt had played this game before. He had the physique of a professional athlete, with an air of authority he didn’t have to work to exercise. It hovered around him like an aura made of testosterone.
“How did that go?” Matt asked.
Liam’s mouth tightened. “They don’t hire anyone with a criminal record.”
No kidding?
“That’s a shame,” Matt said, his voice sympathetic but with an edge, as if he were angry for Liam. His straight face never wavered. Damn, he was good. “You’ll keep trying, though, right?”
“Of course.” Liam looked at Matt like a puppy trying to please.
“So you dropped off your mom, then went to the interview, then what?” Matt asked in a casual tone.
“I went to the grocery store. I wanted to help Mom. She works hard. It took a while because she uses coupons for everything.” He sighed.
“Which store?” Matt asked.
“The one near the interstate. Mom follows the sales, and that’s where the best specials were this week.”
“Sounds like your mom knows how to stretch a dollar,” Bree said.
Liam’s mouth turned down. “I guess.”
“You don’t approve?” Bree asked.
“She shouldn’t have to chase discounted ground beef,” he snapped.
“There’s no shame in being frugal,” Bree said. “Only fools waste hard-earned money.”
Liam looked away, his expression unrepentant.
Matt asked, “So, what were you doing before you ran the gift-card scam?”
“I worked in the marketing department at Henderson Sports Chalet. The pay wasn’t that great.” Liam’s eyes went small and angry. “Mom needed medicine, and that costs money. I wanted to help her. We should live in a nice house instead of a crappy little dump. But my only option was community college because Mom wouldn’t cosign a student loan.” He sneered. “I could have done better.”
“Sounds like your mom didn’t want you to go into debt,” Bree said.
“She’s satisfied if she can pay this month’s bills. I want more.” His tone suggested he was entitled to more.
“She runs her own business,” Bree said.
“She cleans other people’s toilets.” Liam turned a glare on Bree, the first time he’d made full eye contact with her. His eyes were boiling over with resentment and indignation.
Bree resisted the urge to smack the disrespectful little shit. His mom was cleaning houses to put food on the table and a roof over his obnoxious head. She even sent his spoiled butt to community college, and he had the nerve to not appreciate it at all?
She knew Matt felt the same, but he held his line.
He used a commiserating tone. “It’s hard starting out with a disadvantage like that, and I respect that you wanted to give back to your mom. Sounds like you want better for her.”
“Yeah.” Liam stared down at his torn fingernails. “It didn’t work out the way I planned, though. I thought I’d supplement our income a little. I kept the numbers small. I didn’t really hurt anyone.”
“Did you ever meet Josh Mason?” Matt tossed the question in all casual-like.
But Liam saw it coming. Where his mother had been defensive, Liam was cunning. His eyes narrowed. “I don’t recall.” Did he sit around watching congressional hearings on C-SPAN? Or was that a phrase his lawyer had coached him to use to avoid lying under oath?
“How about Shelly?” Matt asked.
Liam didn’t meet Matt’s gaze, but curled his hand in front of himself and talked to his fingernails. “Not that I remember.”
“Were you ever in their house?” Matt pressed. “You’ve helped your mom clean, right?”
Liam was ready. His worship of Matt’s testosterone evaporated like fog on a sunny morning. “Yeah, but that was a long time ago. I don’t remember which houses.”
“What were you doing Monday night?”
“Why do you want to know?” Liam asked. “Is that when the Masons were killed?”
“It is,” Bree said.
“Do you have any tattoos?” Matt asked.
Liam folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not answering any more questions without a lawyer.”
Bree guessed he didn’t have an alibi.
“OK.” Matt lifted his hands in mock surrender.
Liam glared at him, like Matt had betrayed him. “Am I free to go?”
“You are.” Bree stood, crossed the room, and opened the door. She summoned a deputy to escort Liam to the exit. “Your mom is waiting in the lobby. Thanks for coming in.”
Liam said nothing as he left.
“Well, that was interesting.” Matt said. “He’s a smart one.”
“Cagey,” Bree specified. “I’m sure his time in jail made him even more so.”
“No one comes out of jail more innocent than when they went in.”
“Nope, but it’s interesting that his attitude is so different than Calvin Wakefield’s.”
“Calvin Wakefield had a one-time lapse in judgment. Liam planned to steal from people.”
“True,” Bree agreed.
Matt stroked his beard. “If Amanda wanted something from the Masons’ house, she had plenty of time alone to search. She had no need to break in or kill anyone.”
“Unless she was trying to make it look like someone broke in,” Bree said. “What about Liam?”
“ If he’s been inside the Masons’ house—and from his answers, I’ll bet he has ...” Matt paused. “Then he knew they had a few valuables he could swipe. He isn’t dumb enough to use the garage code provided to his mother, and he’s already shown that he’s willing to steal.”
“But murder? That would be a whole new level up for him as a criminal.”
Matt frowned. “Like I said before, no one becomes more innocent in jail. But would he break in while they were home? We’ve established he isn’t completely stupid.”
“He got caught running that gift-card scam,” Bree pointed out. “So, he isn’t a master criminal either.”
“Definitely not,” Matt said.
“We keep him on our list, but without evidence, all we have is a theory.”