Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“Emma Anderson had nothing to do with Jones’s death.” Matthias glared at Fergusson, trying hard to remember they were both cops, both on the same side.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Positive. She’s been with me the entire time we’ve been here. Her car’s back in Erie, so she has no way of getting around without me knowing about it.”
Fergusson lifted his chin, staring down at Matthias. “It’s too bad you didn’t have this kind of control over another one of your girlfriends.”
It was a low blow, and Matthias’s jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth ached.
Fergusson must’ve seen the ire on Matthias’s face. He took a step back but didn’t apologize.
Matthias forced his fists to relax before he gave into temptation and landed a punch in Fergusson’s solar plexus. Stay on track. “I’m telling you, Emma couldn’t have done it. Move on to a better suspect.”
“Okay. How about Eric Baker?”
Matthias suddenly understood the look Emma had sent him moments ago. She must’ve let her friend’s name slip.
“Huh,” Fergusson said and made a note. “She didn’t want to talk about him either.”
“We haven’t seen him since we’ve been here.” Matthias wasn’t about to provide an alibi when he didn’t even know for sure where Eric had been.
“Have you spoken with him?”
“No.” The truth. Matthias didn’t volunteer that Emma had.
“Do you know where he is?”
“No.”
“As I understand it,” Fergusson said, “Eric Baker was behind the land deal gone bad between your girlfriend and the victim.”
Matthias wondered where Fergusson had learned that tidbit and immediately knew the answer. Patrick Winslow. Matthias held the trooper’s gaze without speaking. While he didn’t intend to provide Eric with an alibi, he also had no plans to sacrifice him to Fergusson either.
“Fine. I’ll track him down and ask him myself.”
Smart move, Matthias thought.
“Since you and your girlfriend have been inseparable the whole time you’ve been here, I assume you were present yesterday when she and Mr. Jones got into it.”
“Into it?” Matthias echoed with a short laugh. “Emma told him no. Apparently, Jones was the type who didn’t take no for an answer.” As Matthias said it, he wondered who else had tried to tell Sonny Jones no.
Fergusson exhaled loudly as he closed and pocketed his notebook.
“Are we done?” Matthias growled.
“I’m doing my job. You’d be asking me the same questions.”
He had to admit, Fergusson was right about that.
“Look, Honeywell, we’ve worked enough cases together that I know you’re a good detective. Help point me in the right direction.”
“You mean away from Emma Anderson?”
Fergusson shrugged. “You know how it is. I can’t ignore her simply on your word. So yeah, who else do you think I should look at?”
Matthias stared at the trooper. Was he trying to stroke Matthias’s ego in order to lower his defenses?
Was he hoping Matthias would stop stonewalling him regarding Eric?
“This isn’t my turf, Fergusson. I don’t know the players.
Having been in Washington County just over twenty-four hours doesn’t give me any kind of insight on who had it in for Sonny Jones. ”
“Fair enough. Do me a favor?” Fergusson held out a business card.
“I’ll call you if I hear anything useful.” Maybe.
* * *
Matthias found Emma waiting in his Jeep. She turned toward him when he climbed in, tucking her left foot under her right thigh. “Well?” she asked.
“I don’t believe Fergusson seriously considers you a suspect.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“He had to question you. It’s his job.” Matthias started the engine. “I’ve worked cases with him before when he was still with Erie Police.”
“And?”
Matthias considered his next words carefully. “I had issues with him on one case in particular, but before that? He was a good cop, kept an open mind, had good instincts.”
She studied him, her gaze unwavering. “What happened with that one case?”
“Long story.” One he wasn’t ready to get into with her. Not yet.
“So is he still a good, open-minded cop?”
He looked at her. Worry carved lines across her forehead and at the corners of her lips. “I intend to make sure he is.”
“Did you tell him anything about Eric?”
“Nothing he didn’t already know.”
“Such as?”
“His part in the land deal between you and Jones.”
She looked away, her lips pressed into a tight, thin line. “Eric was out of town.”
“So he says.”
Emma’s gaze snapped back to Matthias, and her voice turned hard. “You can’t believe Eric had anything to do with Sonny’s death.”
“No, I don’t believe Eric knifed Sonny Jones, dragged his body back to this construction site, dug a grave, and buried him. But Fergusson has to figure that out on his own.”
Emma caught her lower lip between her teeth for a moment, shifting in the passenger seat to gaze through the windshield. “That’s what happened to Sonny? He was knifed?”
“Officially, he suffered a penetrating wound. Fergusson believes he was stabbed. They won’t know for sure until after the postmortem.”
“You said his body was dragged back here. He was killed somewhere else?”
“I’m not working this case,” Matthias said.
“But you saw him. You’ve seen enough dead bodies to make an educated guess.”
“A guess, yes. At this point, even if I was on the case, we wouldn’t have anything solid until after the autopsy.”
“Got it.”
Matthias glanced at her before shifting the Jeep into gear. “Are we headed to Eric’s house?”
“Definitely.”
* * *
Emma thought of the reluctant promise she’d made to give Nell some space.
But that had been before she’d been considered a suspect in Sonny’s death.
Now she had questions for Eric. Lots and lots of questions.
She hoped to get them answered before the police showed up on his doorstep with their own.
She sat in the passenger seat on the short drive from the construction-site-turned-crime-scene and fumed, her fury building like unreleased steam in a boiler.
The house looked the same as earlier. She wondered if Eric really was at home.
As soon as Matthias touched the brake, bringing the Jeep to a stop in the driveway, Emma leaped out and stormed across the yard.
On the stoop, she jammed the doorbell with one hand and pounded with the other.
She was about to bend down and retrieve the key from under the rock when Matthias arrived at her side and the door swung open, revealing a wide-eyed Eric.
“You don’t have to break down my door,” he said. “I told you today wasn’t a good time to visit.”
Emma crowded past him, ignoring his objection. “You haven’t been answering my phone calls or texts lately, so I wasn’t sure you’d let me in.” She wheeled to face him and caught a glimpse of Matthias’s stoic face as he trailed her inside.
“I didn’t return your calls because I didn’t have my phone.”
“Yeah. About that—”
Eric’s sharp intake of breath cut her off. His hand went to his mouth then reached toward Emma’s bandaged arm. “Are you okay? You told me about what you went through last week.”
Emma touched the healing gunshot wound wrapped in gauze.
It only hurt when she tried to lie on her left side.
It was the back of her head, which had impacted concrete several times, that still ached.
“I’m fine. And don’t try to change the subject.
” She lifted her gaze to the second-floor balcony.
The guest room and bathroom doors were shut, unlike this morning and yesterday.
“You knew I was on my way here. When you weren’t home, but your phone was, I was frantic. ”
“I’m sorry about that.” He shot a look at the closed doors as well before lowering his gaze and his voice. “I knew you would be. I had to make a judgment call.”
“It was the wrong one.”
“I’d make it again. You have to understand.
It’s Nell. She’s… fragile. She was determined to go to Zeke’s funeral despite everything.
If I hadn’t taken her, she’d have gotten there on her own somehow, even if it meant hitchhiking.
I had to go with her. To keep her safe. And to keep her from straying. ”
Emma’s rage lessened. At least part of it. “You couldn’t have left me a note? Called before you left your phone behind?”
Eric fixed her with a pleading look. One she’d grown up seeing from him.
Pleading for her to keep his secrets. Pleading for her help when the school bullies harassed him.
“She’s in a bad way, Emma,” he whispered.
“She hasn’t been using since I moved her in here, so she’s going through withdrawal.
And losing Zeke nearly killed her. I’ve had to keep an eye on her nonstop.
She was adamant about you not knowing where we were going.
I was afraid what she’d do if I went against her wishes.
I was afraid—” His voice cracked. “I was afraid we’d lose her for good.
If she stops trusting me, I’m not sure what she’d do next. ”
Emma studied him. Saw the distress eating at him. He’d always been a big brother to Nell. And Emma knew how Nell could be.
“I have a question,” Matthias said, keeping his voice as low as Eric’s. “You said Nell was determined to go to Zeke’s funeral despite ‘everything.’ Despite what exactly?”
Eric appeared pained. “Zeke’s family, especially his older brother, let it be known that she wasn’t welcome. They blame her for what happened.”
His words sank in. “Did something happen at the funeral when she did show up?”
“No.” Eric shook his head. “I did my best to make sure she wasn’t seen. We stayed in the rear of the church. At the cemetery, we didn’t get out of the car until after the others left. Then I kept watch while she stood at his grave so she could be with him one last time.”
Emma held his distraught gaze. She still had questions about the land deal and Sonny Jones, but those suddenly seemed unimportant.
She threw her arms around her childhood friend.
He held on, clinging to her tightly as if he feared losing not just Nell but Emma, too.
“Thank you,” she whispered, “for looking out for my sister. Our sister.”
The sound of a crash from upstairs pulled them apart.
“Oh no,” Eric moaned. He took a step toward the staircase.
Emma caught his arm. “Let me.”
He started to argue, but Matthias caught his other arm. “Nell might not want to see Emma, but I think she needs to see her. Besides, you and I should talk.”
Eric hesitated, then backed off. “You’re right.”
Emma took the stairs two at a time and paused at the top. Had the crash come from the guest room or bathroom? She listened. Heard a scrape. She crossed to the bathroom door and rapped softly. “Nell? It’s me.”
“Go away,” came the sobbing reply.
Emma closed her fingers around the doorknob and twisted, expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t. She eased the door open and entered.
Nell sat bent over on the edge of the tub fully clothed. A freestanding toilet paper dispenser lay on the floor, the source of the crash.
Emma closed the door with a soft click and took a seat on the closed toilet lid, facing her sister. “Kinda like old times.”
Nell’s shoulders rose and fell in a quick, silent laugh, but she didn’t lift her face.
“Remember? We’d hide in the bathroom, away from Mom and Dad, and share all our darkest secrets?”
“I remember,” Nell said. “The things we thought were dark secrets back then seem silly now.”
“You got bucked off your pony when you were… what? Five? Six?”
“I don’t know. Probably that. I was pretty little.”
“You were afraid if Mom found out, she’d sell the pony.”
“It wasn’t the pony’s fault.”
It was, as Emma recalled. He’d been an ornery, stubborn little snot, but Nell loved that animal. “Your whole right side was scraped raw.”
“You helped clean me up and put bandages on the worst of it.” Nell lifted her face for the first time since Emma had entered the room. “Mom never found out.”
Emma knew better. Their mother always knew what they’d been up to. The sight of Nell’s gaunt features, the dark circles under her pale eyes, drove thoughts of their mother away and crushed Emma’s heart.
Nell must’ve read her shock and dropped her chin to her chest. “I didn’t want you to have to clean me up again.”
Emma leaned toward her and took one frail hand in her own. “I’m so sorry about Zeke.”
Nell’s body seemed to collapse into itself.
She curled forward, slid from the edge of the tub, and sank to her knees on the floor as a thin, keening wail escaped her throat.
Emma never let go of her hand as she dropped to the floor with her, wrapping her free arm around Nell’s skeletal shoulders as she sobbed.