Poker Face Page 14

  “Are you going to handcuff me?” Steven asked, defeat in his eyes.

  Ryan and Dane exchanged a look, then Ryan shook her head, apparently having built a rapport with the seemingly broken man. “You’re not under arrest,” she assured him. “We just want to talk to you.”

  “You think I killed Charles and Cairo.” Steven’s words slurred a little. That was worrisome. Ryan hadn’t seen any alcohol around. Was it sleep deprivation, or had he been drinking earlier? He had seemed fairly lucid.

  By the time Ryan got in her patrol car, after putting Steven in the back, he was asleep.

  “Sleep deprivation?” Dane asked quietly, looking at Steven in the backseat.

  “Probably,” Ryan replied. She would keep an eye on him during interrogation and see how that went. If he showed any other signs of something, to the hospital he would go.

  But if he was sleep deprived, why was that? Was it the reminders of Cairo? Or was it because he’d been up late last night staging Charles’s body as elaborately as he had staged Cairo’s?

  An hour and a half later, Steven sat in an interrogation room, with Ryan and Dane =watching through a two-way mirror. He had been put there to stew, to think. Instead he just looked exhausted.

  Ryan was going to go in first. She, above Dane, had developed a better rapport with the potential suspect. He wasn’t under arrest, not yet. They needed to hear a bit from forensics and put their ducks in a row before they could do that.

  Ryan walked in and sat across from him, watching as he stifled a yawn. As those rude things always did, it made her hide a yawn behind her hand. “How are you doing?” she asked Steven, trying to keep her voice conversational. “Sorry about the wait.”

  Steven shrugged. “Tired.”

  “Not enough sleep?” Ryan didn’t have to try and sound sympathetic about that. She knew all too well the signs of severe sleep deprivation. But that was the life of a homicide detective, one who went after the worst people on Earth.

  “Something like that.” Steven scrubbed a hand across his face.

  “Let’s go over your whereabouts for the last twenty four hours.” Ryan flipped over a notebook, a pen next to it. Although questioning and interrogations were recorded, she preferred to have her own notes to refer to.

  Surprise flickered across his face, something that surprised Ryan in turn. Was he surprised that they were starting with that? He had to know that he was a suspect. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation changing some of his patterns.

  “Woke up, worked until about six pm, I think.” Steven’s gaze shifted to the right. “Then I went to Sports for the rest of the evening. Went home around nine. Slept until I got up to go to work at seven.”

  “Can anyone verify that?” Ryan asked neutrally.

  “I talked to the bartender,” Steven said. “But no, no one else was home. You could also talk to my secretary about when I left and when I arrived.”

  But basically, the crucial time periods were not corroborated. Ryan wasn’t certain how she felt about that. Steven seemed like such a convenient suspect. It was true, however, that the majority of homicides were committed by someone known to the victim. And Steven was connected to both.

  Ryan made a note to visit the bar later that afternoon to corroborate the times he gave. “Did you go to that bar often?”

  Steven snorted. “Cairo was there almost every damn night.” His words turned derisive. “Probably seeing that bastard.”

  “She met Charles there?” Ryan noted that down.

  “Probably.” Steven scoffed. “And then there was that damn poker night.” He shook his head. “Bastards, all of them.” He was gritting his teeth now, as if he couldn’t stand to remember something. “I saw Charles there, last night.”

  Dane and Ryan exchanged a look. That… was significant. “About when did you see him?” Ryan checked the quick timeline the ME had established about his death. He had likely died within a few hours on either side of 9pm. That put Steven without an alibi right in the middle of the prime window.

  “Dunno.” Steven scowled. “I was three drinks in.”

  “What were you drinking?” She was guessing it wasn’t beer.

  “Bourbon.” Steven’s gaze was challenging.

  Ryan just nodded. They continued working their way through the rest of his timeline, establishing details, the little things. But there was still nothing he could give to establish when he had gotten home, no witnesses that could corroborate it.

  “Would you be okay if we talked to your neighbors to see if anyone remembers you getting home?” Ryan asked, sitting up in her chair. They’d been in there for an hour or two, and she was starting to get sore.

  Even worse, Liv was still tugging at her conscience. She wanted to go check on her and make sure she was okay, but she had to stay with the suspect.

  “Let me guess - I’m stuck here?” Steven’s voice was growly now. He’d refused to drink the water they provided, and his throat was obviously parched.

  “Yes.” Ryan didn’t let herself sound apologetic or annoyed. A poker face was the best strategy a Detective had.

  Dane nodded to her. “Excuse us,” Ryan said to Steven, standing smoothly and taking both herself and her notebook out of the room. Steven couldn’t see them or hear them when the door was closed. It was safe.

  “You okay?” Dane looked concerned.

  Ryan exhaled. “Liv’s place was broken into Friday night. I asked Officer Wiggins if he could drop by, just to check on her.” She shrugged. “I’m focused on this case, promise.”

  “How about you go talk to Ross and then go home?” Dane’s voice was soft.

  “But there’s so much to do,” Ryan argued. “Talking to his neighbors, seeing if we can find anything on the alibi —”

  “I’m the primary Detective on this now,” Dane said patiently.

  Ryan was stung at the rebuke. The Chief. She wanted to swear, but she didn’t let herself. She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. “Thanks.” She nodded to Dane, then headed out. She knew she was being unfair, knew it wasn’t really her fault, but the emotional part of her didn’t care.

  Before she left, she grabbed her missing persons case files. Even if the Chief didn’t want her working on them, she was going to do it anyway. Someone had to care about the two teenagers; one had been murdered and the other was still missing. Even if they weren’t connected to the richest family in the town, their lives had and did mean something to someone.

  Her first stop was the bar. It was late enough in the afternoon that she guessed Ross would be there, and if he wasn’t, she could drop her card off and have him give her a call. It took more than she would have liked to rein in her petty streak. It was a homicide case, and she was an adult. She shouldn’t have been so put out about it.

  Ross wasn’t there, but Veronica was. She was standing behind the bar and surveying the room, as if she was waiting for something — or someone. It was a bit weird, but Ryan wasn’t exactly one to judge.

  “Is Ross here?” Ryan asked.

  Veronica looked at her, as if she hadn’t noticed she was there. Strange, since Ryan had been standing there for quite some time, but whatever. Ryan had had weirder encounters. “No, he doesn’t work on Mondays.”

  “Can you give him my card?” She passed it across to the woman. “I need to talk to him about whether or not a couple of customers were at the bar last night.”

  Veronica picked up the card and studied it, then looked at Ryan over it. “I’ll pass on the message.”

  Ryan wasn’t exactly certain why she was getting goosebumps. She thanked Veronica, then left. Surely it was just the empty bar, and the bar felt more like an actual bar with the music going and surrounded by people.

  Or maybe it was Veronica. Either way, Ryan could have done without it. She texted Dane, letting him know what had happened. Her next stop was Liv’s house. If anyone needed her right now, it was Liv.

  If only Liv would acknowledge that.

  22


  Monday 24th October; 12 noon

  When Ryan pulled into the dirt street, Liv was out in front of the house, boarding up the broken windows.

  One look at her face kept Ryan from saying anything. Liv didn’t look broken, or angry, but there was a sort of numbness there that Ryan knew she might only make worse. Instead she went over, holding up the wood so Liv could nail it in without having to do both roles at once.

  Mocha came out of the house, sniffed Ryan’s legs and then trotted back in, apparently unbothered by the new addition. That was a good sign, right?

  “Here’s some water, Oli — Oh!” Gram tottered out of the front door, apparently having caught sight of Ryan. “I’ll be right back.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  Gram was already back inside, giving no indication she’d heard.

  “She’s stubborn,” Liv said with a smile on her face.

  Ryan exhaled in relief. Liv had broken the spell, and she was even smiling. “Hey.” This time Ryan was the one who smiled.

  Liv smiled back at her, but her eyes were distracted and she rubbed the back of her neck with a grimace on her face. “River and Abby are watching the coffee shop today so I can take care of all of this.”

  “Can I help you with your neck?” Ryan’s grandmother had been a massage therapist, and Ryan had learned more than a few tricks that she had used to help Liv when they were in high school. Liv carried all of her tension in her neck, which led to headaches and other aches that could keep her busy for weeks.

  Liv nodded once, then turned back to her Gram as she brought the drinks out. Water with a lemon slice for both of them, in clear yet mismatched glasses. Ryan smiled.

  “I’ll be inside if you need me, dears.” Gram headed back through the door.

  “I already did the other window,” Liv said, nodding towards it. “I just had to finish this one.”

  Ryan nodded, taking a sip of the clear and refreshing water.

  “Follow me.” Liv turned and started walking around the house. It was a decent feat, given its size, but Ryan followed nonetheless.

  Around the backside was a decent-sized wooden porch, with a table and umbrella set up in the middle of it. “We can actually sit here,” Liv said as an explanation.

  Ryan was grateful for that, even though she didn’t want to admit it. Her day had been long, and even with seeing Liv, she knew it was going to get longer. Once Liv was taken care of, her mind would be turning the cases over in a thousand directions, trying to figure out how they fit together.

  “Would you mind?” Liv pointed to her neck, a flush on her cheeks.

  “Not at all.” She’d said it, and she’d meant it. Taking a sip of her water, she put it down on the table and rubbed her hands together, trying to reduce their chill from the cold glass.

  She started with her thumbs in her neck, gently massaging and loosening up the knots that lurked there under the skin. “You haven’t had this done to you in a while, have you?” Her neck was as tight as steel rods.

  “Nope.” Liv’s smile was strained, at least what Ryan could see of it. That was the unfortunate thing about massage therapy. It hurt until it didn’t.

  She worked on her neck for a while longer and then started going down her back just a bit, evaluating the rest of her muscles. A full-body massage would have to be a necessity at some point. Not just because she wanted to get her hands all over Liv, but because she was so tense to the point of snapping.

  “I know I need help.” Liv’s soft voice caught her off guard, to the point her hands stopped moving.

  It was the first time Ryan had ever heard those words. She wasn’t certain she would ever hear them again. Were they an apology? She started moving her hands again, not certain what to say.

  “I shouldn’t have shut you out.” Something cracked in Liv’s voice, and Ryan turned in time to see a tear slide down Liv’s cheek before she pushed it away.

  Ryan knew what she wanted to do. Pick her up, hug her, kiss her, tell her everything was going to be okay. But Liv was actually opening up to her, sharing feelings and actual facts instead of impressions and vague hints. Instead of speaking, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Liv’s head. Vaguely domestic, and possibly a bit creepy, but it was the easiest spot to reach at the moment.

  “Mom had cancer,” Liv said, her voice stronger now. It was as if she was relieving the past, as if it was rolling out in front of her and she was finally acknowledging it. “And she didn’t want me to tell anyone.”

  Ryan nodded, working on the tense muscles of Liv’s shoulders. “Why?”

  “Mom was agoraphobic,” Liv said, closing her eyes. “I was raised with the mantra that you could only trust the family.”

  “I wouldn’t have told anyone,” Ryan said softly. There was a hint of hurt in her words, a decade’s worth of hurt swelling up and threatening to overwhelm her.

  Liv reached up and took her hand, stopping the massage for a moment. There was a sadness in her eyes. Not that she was about to cry, but almost a hollowness. As if she was reliving a tragedy. “I grew up being told that if I told anyone anything about my family, we’d have to leave.” Liv swallowed thickly. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

  “Until you did.” Ryan exhaled slowly, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She thought she had processed all of them, but apparently not.

  “Yeah.” Liv’s smile was sad. “Until I did.”

  The two of them stayed in the same spots, the weight of everything in the past threatening to roll them over. Ryan felt her brain processing the information, but her heart was already willing to forgive. Was the rest of her ready?

  “Well, this time you’re not allowed to run away.” Ryan kept the words as lighthearted as she could, the emotions prickling over her skin. It was silly, how much it meant. She was such a strong woman. But finally letting that hurt go, letting Liv back into her life — it was a risk, and a big one.

  But Liv was worth it.

  Liv chuckled. “I won’t.” She leaned her head into one of Ryan’s hands, her eyes closing. “I won’t.”

  Monday 24th October; 9pm

  Liv sat in the living room drinking coffee. It was nearly bedtime, and Ryan was still there with her and Gram. Not that Liv particularly wanted her to leave, after everything that had happened. But she felt raw. She had stripped open wounds that hadn’t been touched in so long.

  She had never questioned her mother’s strict rules, and it had lost her so much.

  “Are you safe here?” Ryan asked, catching Liv off guard. Her gaze flickered to the two boarded windows. Liv’s eyes followed, and she hesitated.

  “I hope so,” she said finally. “I don’t know.”

  “We’ve got Mocha,” Gram said, reaching down and giving Mocha a pat as she sat next to them.

  “Yes, and she is the most ferocious guard dog,” Liv said with a smirk. In a way, she was. Mocha had no hesitation about barking at things that didn’t belong. One of the best of her beagle qualities, in Liv’s opinion.

  Gram got up, heading back into the kitchen. Liv watched her until she faded from view, but anxiety prickled faintly under her skin. Gram was still pretty independent, except for those few evenings where something cracked and she forgot everything. But it still worried her.

  “Come with me to work.” Ryan’s words were impulsive. “You’ll be safe there.”

  “What about Gram?” Liv shook her head helplessly. “I have to keep her safe.” And run the coffee shop at the same time, somehow, but at least River was keeping an eye on that for her.

  “She could come with us.” Ryan shrugged.

  Liv hesitated.

  Then a crash from the kitchen sent her running. Gram was laying on the floor, an arm flung out with her eyes closed.

  Liv froze.

  “Call 911,” Ryan said, tossing Liv the phone and checking Gram for a pulse and breathing.

  Liv did, feeling the ice crack around her as her body figured out exactly what
it was supposed to be doing. She didn’t panic, she never had. But at that moment, she did. “I need an ambulance.”

  “It’ll be about ten minutes,” the 911 operator warned.

  Liv swore under her breath, causing Ryan to lift her eyebrows. It was rare she got vulgar, but the distance from emergency services was one of the worst things about living so far out of town.

  Not that she had needed to use them before.

  “She’s got a pulse and she’s breathing,” Ryan reported. Liv exhaled in relief. “But she’s still not awake.” Ryan’s face was grim.

  But a pulse and breathing were good. Awake they could work on. Surely the hospital would figure out what went wrong and fix it, right?

  It had taken almost exactly ten minutes when the piercing sirens of the ambulance came into hearing distance. A few minutes later, the paramedics were out and inside the house, carefully moving Gram onto a stretcher. “I can take one of you in the ambulance.” The lead paramedic, a woman, looked between Liv and Ryan.

  “She’s going,” Ryan said without hesitation.

  “But—”

  “I’ll follow in the car.” Ryan shooed her gently.

  Liv nodded, gratefulness threatening to burst her heart, and then she headed after the paramedics, climbing up into the ambulance and sitting on one of the side benches.

  She had to turn her head as they inserted IVs, but she could hold her Gram’s hand on the side that didn’t have IVs.

  “Any idea what happened?” The lead paramedic asked.

  Liv shook her head regretfully. “We were in the living room when I heard a huge crash,” she said. “I don’t know if she fell, or something hit her, or —” She closed her eyes, making herself picture the scene. A bowl partially filled with flour had been on the floor. “I think she just fell.” But over what? Did she trip, or was it more nefarious?

  “Okay.” The paramedic jotted that down, then quickly wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Gram’s arm.

  “Where are we going?” Liv asked, her voice soft. She hadn’t been to the hospital in a long time.