Faces of Evil [4] Rage (10 page)

Had he brought the saw he used or gotten it from the garage? Jess’s money was on the garage. A good question for Grayson. She was well on her way to being utterly convinced that the killer had done all this to cover up what he had done and that there hadn’t really been a plan.

Still. Why here? In this room? Maybe the perp thought the tile floor would help with skewing the time of death. With the frosty temperature, the tile floor would have been damned cold. Like lying on a refrigerated slab. Had that been the point? To skew time of death.

Jess pushed to her feet and walked around the glass to go out the damaged door. And if the perp was someone the vic knew, why break the door? Though the set of sliding doors were old, the glass was still a safety type that was much harder to break and crumbled rather than shattered. It would have been easier to break a window. Had that move been yet another to throw off the investigation? And how did the perp break the door? The impact had come from outside, sending the glass inward.

Jess looked around the patio, her attention settling on the wrought-iron table and four chairs. She lifted one of the chairs. Definitely heavy enough to do the job. The set was old. A little chipped paint and rust here and there.

According to the initial report from the first officer on the scene, Grayson had stopped by only long enough to kiss his wife and baby good night. He hadn’t stayed for coffee or anything else and all had seemed fine.

But someone had been here. Whether a stranger or a friend someone had come into this house and murdered a mother while her child slept in his crib.

Outside, even as the sun descended lower and lower behind the trees, the heat was suffocating. Last night had been hot like this. The rain torrential. Thunder and lightning like a fireworks display in the black sky.

Jess turned back to look at the broken door she’d exited. Even with the lights out, the flashes of lightning would have provided an occasional view of the murder scene. Several minutes had been required to do the job. Several streaks of lightning to spotlight the gruesome work.

The dog-eared wood fence provided some amount of privacy from a ground-level view, but it had seen better days. Jess’s gaze moved to the second floor of the neighboring home. “Except from right there.” The windows provided a bird’s-eye view like a box seat at a stadium.

Only the neighboring two-story was run down. Probably abandoned, Harper had said. A foreclosure maybe. God knew there were plenty of those around, even in the better neighborhoods. When the neighborhood had been canvassed today, not once but twice, there had been no answer at the home. Which was not surprising, since the utility meter had been pulled.

That someone actually did live there and might have witnessed the murder was wishful thinking.

The knowledge that the house was abandoned could have been the reason the killer hadn’t worried about anyone seeing him. He knew no one would be home. Just another reason to believe Gabrielle knew her killer.

Jess lifted her gaze once more to those second-story windows. A face appeared beyond the glass. Her breath stalled. She blinked. Stared harder. Was that a… child?

The face vanished as abruptly as it appeared. Someone did live there, or at least was in there now.
Right now
. Whoever it was she definitely wanted to talk to them.

There was no gate to exit the backyard. Her heart pumping in anticipation, she eased back through the shattered door, moved carefully around the blood and glass, and flat-out ran for the front door—at least as fast as she could run in heels and shoe covers.

“We going somewhere?” Lori intercepted her in the kitchen.

“There’s someone in the house across the backyard.” When Lori didn’t look as though she understood, Jess added, “The one with the windows that overlook the pool.” She hitched her head in the direction from which she’d come. “When the neighbors were canvassed this morning that was the one no-answer with the pulled utility meter.”

“I thought the house was empty,” Lori said, joining Jess’s rush to the entry hall.

“That’s what we all thought.”

Outside the front door, they tore off the gloves and shoe covers. “We’ll be right back,” Jess assured the officer guarding the scene. Since the Grayson house was the next to the last on the block, it took only a minute to go around to the street running parallel behind it.

“There’s a green minivan in the drive,” Lori said, spotting the vehicle a split second before Jess.

The minivan was a Ford and looked to be as used up as the house it sat beside. The gutters of the house sagged from last night’s rains and months of neglect. A pile of rolled up newspapers lay disintegrating in the overgrown grass.

They took the few steps up to a small stoop, where Lori rapped at the door and Jess struggled with the urge to kick it in. She needed to talk to whoever was here. She needed to talk to them now.

“Pretty quiet in there,” Jess noted, her nerves jangling. “But I saw someone in the window. A child, I think. Whoever it was, they’re in there.” Surely they hadn’t gotten away so quickly.

Lori rapped again. “We’ll just keep knocking until they invite us in.”

Jess swiped the back of her hand over her damp forehead. Damn it was hot. “Just breathing is exhausting in this heat.”

“Give it a week or two,” Lori promised. “You’ll be wishing for these temps again.”

Jess could feel her clothes wilting to her skin. “God, I’d forgotten how hot it gets down here in the summer.”

“And we’ve got at least six more weeks of this to come.” Lori pounded on the door a little louder, then rubbed her knuckles. “If they didn’t hear that they’re either deaf or dead.”

“Or gone already.” Jess fanned herself. She hoped like hell they weren’t too late.

D
evon huddled at his bedroom door. If the two ladies didn’t stop making all that noise his sister would wake up and she would be mad. Really mad.

The two ladies from the dead mommy’s house pounded on the front door some more.

Why did they come here? Police people had been over there all day. Bunches of them. They had taken the mommy away. The daddy had been real upset. Devon saw him crying. The baby had cried, too.

Devon still felt those funny butterfly things in his stomach when he thought about how scared he had been in that closet. And then when the angel had chased him he thought he was going away for sure. His arm hurt from the scratches. He’d crawled under his house and then he’d finally come inside when he was sure the angel hadn’t followed him home.

It was daytime when he woke up and police people were everywhere.

The police had come to his house this morning, but he didn’t answer. His sister told him over and over to never answer the door.

Why were the two ladies here now? They banged on his front door again.

Devon held his breath.

His sister’s bedroom door opened.

She was gonna be so mad.

As if she had heard him talking in his head, she shook her finger at him. “You stay right there. Don’t make a sound.”

His sister didn’t like for people to see him. She said they would take him away if they found out she couldn’t afford a real babysitter. He didn’t want to go away. Not with people or with angels. This was his home. Since his mom died it was just him and his sister. He couldn’t go away and leave her all alone. And he didn’t need a babysitter.

She answered the door and he tried to hear what the ladies said but he couldn’t. Crawling on his belly, he sneaked down the hall and closer to the stairs so he could hear the words. He had to be careful. If he got too close they would see him. That would be bad.

“I’m Deputy Chief Harris and this is Detective Wells,” one of the ladies said. “Were you aware that your neighbor, Gabrielle Grayson, was murdered in her home last night?”

“What? No!” his sister cried. “That’s awful.”

Murder
. Devon knew that word. He saw murders in some of the movies his sister watched. She didn’t know he watched them while she was at work. Murder was when a bad person killed a good person. Devon was pretty sure the angel took the mommy next door. Angels weren’t bad. There was a mistake, he decided. The police didn’t know about the angel. Maybe it was supposed to be a secret.

“Were you home last night, Miss Chambers?”

“I work the graveyard shift at Steward Machine Company. Then I have classes at Lawson State. I just got home a couple of hours ago. I was sleeping.”

“I’m sorry we had to bother you today,” the same lady who was doing all the talking said. “Do you live here alone?”

“It’s just my brother and me.”

Devon couldn’t help himself. He eased a little closer so he could see past the railing.

“Was your brother home last night?” the lady with the blond hair asked. She was the one asking all the questions. He liked her voice. She sounded nice. He’d seen her in the dead mommy’s backyard.

His sister shook her head. “He’s only eight. He stays with a sitter when I’m at work or school.”

Devon didn’t like when his sister lied, but she said it was the only way they could stay a family.

“Miss Chambers, how long have you been living here without electricity? We thought the house was vacant since the utility meter has been pulled.”

His sister stared at the floor a second like she was embarrassed. “I didn’t get paid until today. They’re supposed to turn it back on sometime this evening.” She shrugged. “I’m late with the payment sometimes. It’s no big deal.”

The blond lady and the dark-haired lady looked at each other as if they didn’t believe his sister. She was telling the truth. Devon pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t say anything. His sister didn’t tell lies except about him staying at home alone so much.

“So no one was home last night?” the blond lady asked.

His sister shook her head. “I’m really sorry about Mrs. Grayson.”

“May we speak to your brother?”

The air stuck in Devon’s chest and swelled up like a big rock.

The blond lady looked up as if she’d heard him. He scooted back. His heart started that funny flapping it did when he was scared.

Had she seen him? Was he in trouble? His sister was gonna be mad!

“He might be asleep.”

“Miss Chambers,” the blond woman said—he couldn’t see her but he knew her voice now—“it’s very important that we speak to everyone who lives near the Graysons. You and your brother are the only people we haven’t interviewed. I’m certain you want to help us find Mrs. Grayson’s killer.”

“My brother is… autistic. I doubt he can be any help.”

His sister said the word! He hated that word. The urge to hide inside himself started pulling at him. No! He had to stay. He had to hear what they said next. His sister needed him!

“Can he communicate at all?” the lady asked.

What a silly question. He was autistic, not a dummy. He could talk and he could hear. He could see real good, too. He did lots of things real good.

“He can but he’s very shy.”

That bad feeling in his tummy started again. What if they found out the truth and tried to take him away? He should never have sneaked out of his house. He shouldn’t’ve been watching next door. This was his fault!

“With your permission,” the blond lady said, “we’d like to try to speak to him. Maybe he’s seen someone new in the neighborhood or heard something. I noticed some of your windows are open. In this heat, most of your neighbors keep their houses shut up tight. You and your brother may be the only people who might’ve heard any trouble in the neighborhood.”

“I explained that we weren’t home last night,” his sister repeated. “But I’ll go up and get Devon if that’s what you want.”

The blond lady said something else and then he heard footsteps on the stairs.

His sister was coming!

Devon scrambled back into his room. He jumped in his bed and covered himself.
Don’t take me away. Don’t take me away.

“Devon.” His sister jerked the cover off him. “The police are here. They want to talk to you. You have to—”

His sister made a sound with her mouth like he did a little bit ago. Like she sucked in a big breath that would turn into a rock in her chest.

He looked up at her but she was staring at his T-shirt. Why did she look so funny? Was he wearing it inside out? Devon looked down to see. There was lots of dried blood on his T-shirt. He’d forgotten about wiping his fingers on the shirt after he touched the dead mommy’s blood. Uh-oh.

His sister clamped her hand over her mouth and fell to her knees next to his bed. “Oh my God, Devon,” she said behind her hand. “What’ve you done?”

His sister’s eyes were big and round like she was scared…

“I scratched my arm under the house.” He held out his hurt arm for her to see. Much as he didn’t like telling stories to his sister, he couldn’t tell her about going into the neighbor’s house and he couldn’t tell her about the angel. No one could know.

Leslie stopped being afraid and got mad. “You shouldn’t be going under there. How many times have I told you to stay in the house?”

He shrugged. “Sorry.”

She helped him change his shirt and then she held out her hand. “Come on. The police want to ask you some questions. Remember, Dev, we have to keep our secret.”