The Drowning Child

42

Ren and Gary flashed their creds at the neighbor. He looked a little stunned.

‘We’re with the FBI,’ said Ren. ‘Anyone call at his house before J. J. left?’

‘Nope.’

‘Does he have a lot of visitors?’ said Ren.

‘Nope. But’ – he raised the fingers holding his cigarette – ‘I do believe he has a lady in his life.’

‘Do you know her?’ said Gary.

‘I get the impression she’s from out of town – she’s only ever around on weekends, drives a red car – I’m not good on makes and models – arrives Friday night, leaves Saturday mornings, comes back Saturday afternoons, stays the night again, then leaves Sunday evening.’

Jesus, you don’t miss a trick.

‘Could you describe her for us?’ said Ren.

‘She’s an attractive woman – older than him by maybe twenty years, I’d say. Nothing wrong with an experienced lady. She has that blonde hair, nicely styled, dresses real well, nice jewelry – the real deal, good shoes, nice nails...’

I’m just going to keep nodding here, you nosy, but helpful, weirdo.

‘Did you catch her name?’ said Ren.

‘“Babe”,’ he said, smiling.

‘So he never introduced you,’ said Ren. Even though you were right up there in manicure-judging distance.

‘No. To be honest, it felt like he was going out of his way to avoid introducing her to me.’ He took a step back. ‘I mean, do I look like the kind of guy’s gonna steal your chick? Not a lady like her, anyway. Nothing to worry about with me. They’re not lining up at my door.’ There was a wistful look in his eye.

Back at the station, Gary and Ren went into Ruddock’s office.

‘We have a problem,’ said Gary.

Ruddock looked up, wide-eyed. ‘What?’

‘J. J.’s gone,’ said Gary. He let it hang there.

‘He packed a bag, hopped on his Harley and left a short while ago,’ said Ren.

‘What?’ said Ruddock.

Genuine shock.

‘Did you speak with him?’ said Gary.

‘No,’ said Ruddock. ‘Of course not.’

‘Was he planning a vacation?’ said Ren. ‘A weekend away?’

‘Not that I know of,’ said Ruddock. ‘But it’s not like he keeps me posted on all his movements. Most of the time, I only know he’s been away after he gets back.’

‘Looks like his cell phone is on the kitchen table,’ said Ren.

‘Do you have keys to his house?’ said Gary.

‘Yes,’ said Ruddock. ‘Would you like me to take you over there? Or are we being a little dramatic? Maybe, I’ll call my sister-in-law – his mother – first.’

‘Do you know about the woman J. J.’s seeing?’ said Ren.

‘No,’ said Ruddock. ‘What woman?’

‘His neighbor said she’s blonde, quite a bit older than him, she’s only ever there on weekends.’

‘First I heard of her,’ said Ruddock. ‘But it could explain if she’s only free on weekends why he might not be around. They could have gone away.’

‘True,’ said Ren. ‘And the nosy neighbor said no one had called to the house.’

Ruddock called J. J.’s mother. It was clear they had a warm relationship. He put down the phone. ‘She doesn’t know where he is, she doesn’t know anything about a girlfriend, but she says absolutely go over and take a look around.’ He shrugged. ‘She knows there’s nothing to this.’ He paused. ‘But, obviously, I understand why you have to look at him.’

He was in my hotel room!!!

Gary stayed at the station. Ren returned to J. J.’s house with Ruddock. The first thing she went for when he let her in was the cell phone. She turned it on. There was no password set up. She scrolled through the text messages. They were all straightforward: work, family, and friends. There were none that looked like they were sent to a romantic partner. Email hadn’t been set up on the phone. There was nothing immediately off about the last-dialed calls.

‘Oh, hold on,’ said Ren. ‘He called Rose Dennehy after I’d been there.’

‘I know you’re doing what you have to do,’ said Ruddock, raising his hands, ‘but you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’d just hate for you to waste your time on this.’

‘Why don’t you ask your sister-in-law to call around J. J.’s friends,’ said Ren, ‘and if nothing comes back, we can put a BOLO out for him tonight.’

Ruddock looked resigned. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll do that.’

On the drive back to Tate PD, Ren turned to Ruddock when a silence opened up.

‘I’d like to go take a look at Luke Monroe’s autopsy file.’

Ruddock’s eyes went wide. ‘But, why? He choked on a sandwich. It was an accident.’

‘I know,’ said Ren. But...

Beckman was in the middle of an autopsy when Ren and Ruddock arrived unannounced. She stepped outside to meet them, pulling down her mask.

‘You’re lucky you caught me,’ she said. ‘I’m only here late because there was a suicide out your way. A guy hanged himself at the Harvest Road Retirement Home – he’d only been there two weeks. Lesson: do not farm your seniors out to Harvest Road.’ She paused. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Did you do an autopsy on a seven-year-old boy from Tate – Luke Monroe?’ said Ren. ‘He choked on a sandwich.’

Beckman gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. ‘Yes.’ Pause. Deadpan: ‘He choked on a sandwich.’

I like your style.

‘Would you mind if we took a look at the file?’ said Ren.

There was fire in Beckman’s eyes this time. ‘May I ask why?’

Ren nodded. ‘Tate’s a very small town: in just under three months, two children have died, and one is currently missing – that’s not very common in my experience.’

‘Luke Monroe was an accidental death,’ said Beckman.

And the response that hovered, unspoken, between them all was: So was Aaron Fuller’s.

Ruddock and Ren followed Beckman to her office. She set them up at a desk, left them the file and went back into the morgue.

‘Tense,’ said Ren.

‘Yes,’ said Ruddock. ‘Are you OK to start without me? I have a call to make. I’ll be right back.’

‘OK,’ said Ren.

She started with the first responder’s report: ‘Boy, seven years old, found unresponsive in garden of family home, holding a peanut-butter sandwich with one bite taken, piece of sandwich found lodged in boy’s throat.’

She pulled out the autopsy photos.

I can’t deal.

She slipped them back into the folder. There was another photo in the file – of Luke Monroe, alive, grinning, gripping the handlebars of his red bicycle. He had wild blond curly hair, huge, eager blue eyes, long lashes.

How do your parents function? How do they get up in the morning? What levels of strength does that take? What could possibly get them through this?

Ren took a deep breath. Tears welled in her eyes. She put her elbows on the desk, pressed her palms against her forehead. Her nose started to run. She reached into the drawer.

Not your drawer. Not your desk.

She grabbed her handbag.

No tissues.

She held her head back until the tears were gone, sucked air through her nostrils until her nose stopped running.

Gross.

She picked up her cell phone. She was about to text her brother, Matt.

I can’t text him. He is a father. He doesn’t do what I do.

She texted her best friend, Janine.

She took another breath, looked back at the autopsy photos. There was one of Luke, face down on the morgue table.

What is it? What is wrong with this picture?

She felt a spike in her chest, a shift, a realization.

What happened to your purty curls, Luke Monroe? Your hair is very flat at the back of your head.

Her heart rate shot up.

Oh, God: your hair was wet. Your hair was wet, then it dried as you lay on it.

Not exactly stark evidence. It could have been from the paramedics working on you.

She looked through the photos of the Monroes’ garden. There was no pond, no water feature, no vessel nearby that would hold water.

That doesn’t mean there wasn’t one there beforehand.

Her phone beeped with a text from Janine.

Aw, maaan.

Ren replied:

Ren went back through the file.

This is too weird. John Veir nearby...

There was no sign of Ruddock. Ren called his cell phone. He was walking in the door as it rang.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘That took a little longer than I expected.’

‘No problem,’ said Ren, turning to him.

His face fell when he saw her expression.

‘I might be jumping to conclusions,’ said Ren. ‘But... I’d like Beckman to take a look at his lung tissue. She didn’t take a sphenoid sinus sample, understandably – drowning was not part of the picture.’

‘No,’ said Ruddock.

After a short silence, he added, ‘Please God, no.’