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I drove back to Cleo Bullock's home. I didn’t know why, but starting with her again seemed like the most logical place, maybe because she was the person I’d started with. I called her and asked her if I could stop by just so I could finish up my notes and she told me she'd be home for the next few hours. I wasn't yet sure what I was going to tell her and I didn't want to dissuade her from what Mike had already told her about Patrick's death being a suicide, but if the toxicology report was accurate, something was off.
Cleo greeted me with swollen eyes. Her entire body looked gaunt and tired, like she hadn't slept in weeks. She had morphed from a woman with hope to someone completely devastated since I'd last seen her.
She ushered me into the living room where we'd sat before.
“I talked to Mike yesterday,” she said, her voice dry and hoarse.
“I'm sorry about Patrick.”
She sniffed and nodded. “Yes. Thank you. My understanding is you were the one that found him?”
“Yes.”
She nodded again. “Thank you. For finding him. That couldn't have been easy.”
I didn't say anything.
“Mike said you spoke with his friends. The boys in the band?”
“I did,” I told her. “Yesterday. I think they were still in shock, for the most part.” I paused. “They really looked to Patrick as the leader of their band. I'm not sure they'll know what to do without him. They all had kind things to say about him. Each of them made a point to say he was their friend, not just someone they played in a band with.”
She studied her hands for a moment. “Yes. I think he was their...leader.” She looked up from her hands. “I probably should've seen them play more often. Patrick believed in them. He really did.”
“They believed in him, too,” I told her.
She nodded, then looked at me. “And you spoke to Erin, as well?”
“I did,” I said again. “She was just as shocked.”
Cleo chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “Erin. She and Patrick...it was a bit of a rollercoaster.”
“That's what she indicated,” I said.
“Did she?” she said, her eyes twitching in my direction. “I'm surprised she didn't blame it all on Patrick.”
As I thought about it, she had placed most of the blame on Patrick for the tempestuousness of their relationship, but not in a way that felt like she was angry about it. She'd presented it a fairly pragmatic way.
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
She chewed on her lip again before answering. “She didn't seem to be able to believe he could stay clean. My son loved her, and her opinion mattered to him.” Her voice cracked, and she took a deep breath. “The fact that she was always skeptical about where he was in his recovery was a source of tension in their relationship.”
“I think that's reasonable,” I said.
Her eyes flickered in my direction. “Have you had much experience with addiction, Mr. Tyler?”
“No,” I said. “And it's Joe.”
“When someone you love is recovering, it's vital that they feel supported,” she explained. “They need to know they'll be accepted unconditionally. No matter what happens.”
“Meaning that even if there's a slip-up...”
“...that they'll have a person's unconditional love and support,” Cleo said. “I'm not sure he and Erin ever reached that point in their relationship.”
I shifted my weight, my back stiff from my run with Elizabeth. “If you don't mind me saying, I gather you weren't in favor of their relationship.”
“I wasn't in favor of Erin,” she said, her gaze fixed on me. “No.”
“So it was personal?”
She pursed her lips for a moment. “I didn't think that she and Patrick were a good match. And I know that when their relationship suffered, Patrick took it very hard.”
“How so?”
“He had down periods,” she said. “He'd have trouble writing. When he fought with her, his mood darkened.” She wrung her hands. “She was not a positive influence on him.”
I thought she was seeing things from a very biased point of view, but I wasn't sure how else a mother was supposed to see it.
“Did you talk to Patrick about that?” I asked. “About your disapproval?”
“I made it known to him that I thought he'd be better off with a fresh start,” she said. “In every area.”
“But he disagreed.”
She smiled bitterly. “When a young man is in love, it's very hard to reason with him.”
I nodded. “It can be, yes.”
“I firmly believe that if he'd broken up with her, we would not be having this conversation,” she said.
“You blame her?” I asked. “For his death?”
“Their relationship weighed on him,” she said, leaning ever so slightly in my direction. “Her opinion weighed on him. Her lack of trust weighed on him. All of that was a lot for him to...digest.” She sat up straight. “I think it makes sense that she wasn't making him happy.”
I thought that was harsh, but, again, I understood trying to place blame. Grief was an unruly animal, and it rarely was logical or reasonable. Cleo Bullock needed to place blame somewhere and Erin was a natural target. Because she certainly didn’t seem willing to blame her son.
“And she wanted him out of the band,” she added.
“Really?” I said. “I didn't get that impression from her.”
She nodded. “Yes. She did. She was pressuring him to get a job. She wanted him to pay down his debt.”
Erin had mentioned his borrowing money, but she hadn't said a word about paying down debt. And she'd told me that he actually did have some money. From dealing.
“With all due respect, those don't sound like bad things,” I said.
“You didn't know Patrick,” she said, stiffening. “Music was everything to him. It's what kept him going. Anyone who cared about him would've known that suggesting he set it aside would've been a devastating suggestion. But Erin did just that.”
I found that to be interesting. Erin had spoken about his money troubles, but never to the point of suggesting that she wanted Patrick to change. I wondered if she'd left that out of our conversation or if Cleo Bullock was exaggerating what had been going on between her son and Erin.
“Do you need anything else from me?” Cleo asked. “Because I have some things I need to attend to.”
I was still mulling over the toxicology report and why there'd been so little heroin in his system. I'd gone to Cleo's house with the intention of trying to work toward that, but she'd given me another avenue to explore with some of the things she was telling me about Erin. I was going to leave the tox results for Mike to share with her.
I stood. “No, I think I have everything. I appreciate your time and again, I'm very sorry about your son.”
She walked me to the door in silence and stood there as I walked to my car at the curb. I glanced up at her as I opened the driver's side door.
Cleo Bullock was staring at her hands again, no doubt wishing she'd never met me.