Chapter 10 #2
“The heat? Are you hoping to sweat some sort of confession out of me?”
“Nothing of the sort, Ms. West,” he replied coolly in return. “We simply did not want you to get cold. After all, we are coming into winter, and Massachusetts can be very cold at this time of year.”
“You’re too considerate,” she answered dryly.
“Ms. West, where is Brody Walker?”
“Who?” She tried to place the name.
“Brody Walker. He came to your home late yesterday afternoon.”
“The auto guy?” She frowned, casting her mind back. “The one who dropped my car off?”
“That’s correct.”
“How the hell should I know?” She shrugged. “He dropped my car off and left. Why?”
“Brody’s been missing since he left your property yesterday evening,” snapped the deputy referred to as ‘Cam’.
Gazing at his face, it suddenly clicked why he looked familiar, and her eyes dropped to the badge pinned to his shirt.
“You’re his brother.” It was a statement rather than a question.
Chief Walcott leaned in closer. “Ms. West, how would you know that?”
“Seriously? He looks like the guy, and his badge says Deputy Walker. It’s not exactly rocket science.”
“Ms. West, you were reportedly the last person to see Brody Walker. Yesterday afternoon, after dropping your car off, he disappeared. His truck was found not far from your property, abandoned. There were signs to indicate some harm may have come to him.”
“And right away you just assumed what? That I followed him and somehow managed to overpower a guy who had a good six inches and fifty pounds on me?”
“Ms. West,” Walcott said, his voice hardening, “this is not a moment for levity.”
“Believe me, I’m well aware of that,” Olivia replied, her gaze flat. “Besides, you’re mistaken.”
“How so?”
“I wasn’t the only one to see Brody yesterday,” she stated. “Erica Kelly was with me.”
Chief Walcott’s jaw tightened. “Ms. West, if you wouldn’t mind running through the events of yesterday afternoon.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “Brody arrived at my house late yesterday afternoon with my car. Erica Kelly arrived at exactly the same time. She introduced herself to me, and Brody handed me the keys to my car and left. Erica came in the house with me. We talked for a while, and she ended up staying and didn’t leave my place until nearly nine-thirty. ”
Olivia straightened in her chair. Leaning forward and placing her elbows on the table, she stared at the chief.
“Where’s my brother?” Deputy Walker hissed.
“Deputy Walker,” she replied tightly, “I don’t know what happened to your brother, but it had nothing to do with me. If you want to find him, get your shit in order, go do your job, and quit trying to bully me.”
“Alright, Cameron, that’s enough,” Chief Walcott interrupted.
Deputy Walker held her gaze for a moment longer before stomping angrily from the room, closely followed by the chief and his other deputy.
Letting out a breath, Olivia clenched her fists and tried to calm her racing heart as she sat alone in the room again. They had a lot of nerve accusing her of every recent wrongdoing in Mercy, and she wondered when she’d catch a break and also what the hell was keeping Erica.
Another ten minutes passed, and when the door opened again, the chief entered with the unknown deputy from before. Deputy Walker was conspicuously absent. Chief Walcott once again took the seat opposite her and introduced the man beside him as Deputy Carl.
“Are we done yet?” Olivia asked impatiently. “There’s really nothing else I can add about Brody Walker. I’m sorry he’s missing, but I don’t know anything about his disappearance.”
“Not quite, Ms. West. There are a couple of other matters we wish to discuss with you.”
“Such as?”
“With regard to the man you hit with your car,” he began.
“I thought we’d established that I didn’t actually hit him with my car,” she replied.
“You stated you didn’t know him,” he said, ignoring her comment.
“That’s correct.”
“Once again, could you take me through the statement you made to Deputy Gilbert?”
“There’s not much to tell. I was driving home, it was dark, and there was a guy standing in the middle of the road. I didn’t see him until he was highlighted by my headlights, and I slammed on the brakes. I called Jake and we all ended up at the emergency room.”
“You don’t know how he received his injuries?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Louisa said something about him having burns, but I don’t really know much more than that.”
“He had a stab wound to his arm.”
“I suppose I tried to stab him and set him on fire before trying to run him down with my car, then?” she replied, her irritation showing through.
“Sarcasm is counterproductive, Ms. West. Please refrain from it.”
She raised her brow at his deadpan response. “Could you please get to the point, Chief Walcott? I have no desire to spend any more of my day in here. I do actually have a job, you know, and I’m on a deadline. I don’t really have time to waste playing these games with you.”
“You stated you didn’t know or recognize the victim?” He ignored her curt reply.
“That’s right.” She shrugged. “I have no idea who he is.”
“Well, he seems to know you.”
“What?” she murmured in confusion.
Olivia watched curiously as he pulled a sheet of paper out of the file.
It was enclosed in a clear plastic envelope that was sealed at the top with red evidence tape.
Walcott slid it across the table. Her mouth fell open slightly, and she pulled in a slow breath as she picked it up and took in the fine lines of the sketch. It looked exactly like her.
She stared silently at the drawing. It seemed familiar somehow, the style of the artist, the paper, the pencil strokes. She was sure she’d seen some of the artist’s other work. She just couldn’t quite place it. Her gaze dipped to the lower corner searching for the initials of the artist.
TB. Theodore Beckett.
No, it couldn’t be.
“Did you speak with the guy? Has he regained consciousness yet?” she asked.
“Yes, we did,” Walcott replied. “He didn’t reveal much. Dr. Linden believes he is suffering from some kind of amnesia. He did, however, confirm that he drew that picture but didn’t know your name.”
“Impossible.” The word was out of her mouth before she could censor her reaction.
“What’s impossible?” He leaned forward, his eyes eager.
“Nothing,” she muttered.
She was almost certain that if this was truly a sketch by Theodore Beckett, the same Theodore Beckett referred to in Hester’s journal, then it couldn’t have been done by the man in the hospital.
It was ridiculous. That would make him over three hundred years old.
No, there had to be some other explanation.
Theodore Beckett’s journal and sketchbook were locked away in the trunk in her library with Hester’s journals.
If he’d broken into her house and stolen the sketches, surely she’d have known.
Besides, Hester’s trunk was protected by magic, so there was no way some random stranger would be able to access it. And why the hell a picture of her?
Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it was a picture of Hester—after all, there was a strong familial resemblance. Her gaze fell back to the drawing in her hand. The problem was, it didn’t look like Hester. It looked like her.
What the hell was going on?
Chief Walcott watched her, his expression intense.
“Ms. West, do you recognize this picture?”
“No.” She dropped the sketch back on the table.
“You’re lying,” he accused.
“Why don’t you prove it?” Her gaze hardened and she once again leaned back in her chair as the chief glared at her. “I need to use the restroom.”
His jaw tightened. “Deputy Carl, would you be so good as to show Ms. West where the restroom is?”
“Sir.” He nodded and beckoned Olivia to follow him.
With an arrogant tilt of her head, she stood. As she swept past the chief, the door opened and Deputy Hanson walked in, holding onto a laptop.
When Olivia stepped back into the room, she purposefully stalked over to the chair and unhooked her jacket off the back. Shrugging into it, she fixed the chief with a steely gaze.
“Chief,” she said coolly, “I think we’re done here. I have work to do and can’t spare any more of my time for your games, so I’m afraid you’ll have to live without the pleasure of my company.” She headed toward the door, ignoring his frown.
“We’re not done here, Miss West.”
“Yes, we are.” She turned to face him as her eyes blazed belligerently. “So, either charge me with something or stay the hell away from me.”
But when she turned back to the door, she found Deputy Hanson blocking her way.
“Get out of my way.” Her voice was low and controlled. “Or badge or not, I will make you get out of my way.”
Hanson looked at the chief, who nodded, and stepped aside, allowing Olivia to pass.
“It’s about your father.” The chief’s voice rang out.
Olivia paused in the doorway, her spine stiffening as she turned back toward him, her expression carefully blank. “I can’t imagine what you could possibly have to say to me about my father that I would want to hear.”
“Please.” He indicated the seat she had just vacated. They stared at each other for a moment until Olivia relented.
“Fine.” Her tone was curt as she moved around to the chair and sat back down. “You have exactly five minutes, and then I’m out of here. And next time you want to speak to me, I won’t be so accommodating.”
“Fine,” he repeated as he sat back in his seat.
He had the appearance of a man with aces up his sleeve, and Olivia didn’t trust that one bit.
“Four minutes thirty seconds. You’d better hurry up.”
“Ms. West, were you aware that there was a string of murders around here twenty years ago?”
“I was eight, Chief Walcott. What do you think?” she replied derisively. The more time she spent in the chief’s company, the more her dislike of him intensified. “Besides,” she continued, “that was the summer my mother died, as you are well aware. That pretty much eclipsed everything else.”
“Was murdered by your father, you mean,” he corrected her.