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Baltimore, Maryland
Saturday, October 26th, 1:30 PM Local Time
Kelly couldn’t imagine being wanted dead by her own flesh and blood. She wondered if her dad had known that one day his raised fists would cost him his life at his wife’s hand. But she couldn’t dwell on that. Whenever she gave her father a personality, feelings, she’d start down a dark, twisty rabbit hole she didn’t want to visit. But Frank Evans seemed to be handling the possibility better than most people might.
Frank had finished his coffee, and the empty cup sat at his feet. He’d just told them that Estella had been raped when they’d been engaged. “At the time, I had no idea about the rape or that Michelle could have been one of theirs. We eloped within a month of her pregnancy, which I came to find out later—much later—was because she wanted to get married before she got a baby bump. I was just flattered she wanted to get married right away. Estella never told me why she’d been in such a rush until after we’d been married for six years. She started putting on weight and eating anything she could get her hands on, until one day, she just broke down. She told me she was eating to fill a hole and then came out about the rape.” Frank screwed up his face in disgust and rage.
Kelly’d seen victims of sexual assault struggle with self-worth for decades, even after going on to find love, getting married, and having children. So many didn’t realize rape was a violation that lasted a lifetime. “And that’s when you left?” The question was off Kelly’s lips before she could think them through; her heart was thumping, and her stomach tossing. When Estella needed Frank the most, he’d bolted—and he had the nerve to tell them he loved Estella last night! But then, how could a person deal with the fact they’d lived a lie for six years?
“Yeah,” he replied sourly. “I’m douche of the year.”
“You told us you met the four men at summer school. Tell us a bit more,” Jack requested.
“Um…” Frank hitched his shoulders. “We hit it off as quick friends and started hanging out after class and on weekends. I introduced them to Estella, and everything seemed fine. They liked her, and she liked them.” He bit his bottom lip. “Everything was great—at least I thought it was. It makes it easier when the girl you love likes your friends, and they her.” He was staring into space and wringing his hands. “Guess they liked her too much. Every one of them took a turn.” He balled his fists.
Kelly glanced at Jack to see if he’d noticed, and he glimpsed at her. He’d caught it.
“Some friends, eh,” Frank added. “All four of them even had the nerve to stand up for me at my wedding. Fucking sons of bitches.”
Kelly couldn’t imagine what it would have been like for Estella if these men, a.k.a. friends of her husband, were always hanging around. “It must have been hard on you, too,” she empathized.
“That’s why I left. She’d betrayed me by not telling me, and I looked—and felt—like a damn fool. And I couldn’t stand looking at her anymore. Estella or Michelle—truth be told. But it was mostly me who I hated, who I wanted to punish. If it hadn’t been for me, Estella never would have had to go through what she had. And Michelle, well, every time I looked at her, I wondered who the father was. One day I’d see Rob in her; another day Darrell; and around it would go with all four of them.”
“Did you ever confront any of your so-called friends?” Jack asked.
“Nope.” A pulse tapped in Frank’s cheeks. “Another reason I enlisted. If I ever saw any of their faces again, I’d have killed them.”
Kelly was finding it hard to believe he just ran away like a scared dog with its tail tucked between its legs, and Jack must have, too, given the question he’d just asked.
“That would have taken a lot of self-control,” she said, shivers dancing across the back of her neck, over her shoulders, and down her arms. Something was starting to feel way off here. Was his current anger evidence of pent-up emotions, or indicative that Frank had taken action himself? Then there was another possibility that flittered through Kelly’s mind as quick as a flash of lightning. “Mr. Evans, you’re aware that we found a photo of you with these men when you were all younger in Michelle’s apartment.”
“Yeah, you showed it to me.”
“Do you know where she would have gotten the photo?”
“Maybe Estella? She’s the one who took the picture. That’s all I can think, anyway.” Frank wiped his sweaty forehead with the palm of his left hand again.
“Really? She held on to a photo of her husband, who left her, and the four men who raped her?” Kelly didn’t bother to mask her skepticism. She wanted a reaction.
“She must have…I mean, I don’t know where else Michelle would have gotten it from.”
Kelly wasn’t buying his words, and a theory was starting to form in her mind. “You think that Michelle found out that her mother was raped—and possibly by these men? Estella showed her the picture even?”
“It’s possible,” Frank said.
“Then, maybe she…” Kelly rolled her hand.
Frank’s eyes widened. “She killed them for what they did to her mother.”
Kelly’s approach had worked: father had turned on the daughter in a flash. But she wanted to know one more thing before she asked Jack to join her in the hall. “Mr. Evans, do you know a couple named Edna and David Mavis? They’re from Bridgeport, California, where you grew up.”
Frank’s brow crinkled. “The name sounds familiar. Ah, yeah, Rachelle Mavis. She was Edna and David’s daughter and a good friend of Estella’s. They’d known each other since they were little.”
Kelly tried to contain her excitement at finally having a connection between the stolen card and Michelle. Just like Michelle had done with dropping the name Estella at the Lucky Pub, she was leaving a breadcrumb back to California—back to the scene of the real crime in her mind—by swiping the Mavises’ credit card information. She looked at Jack and said, “Can we talk in the hall for a minute?”
Jack led the way out, and they walked to the end of the corridor, well out of earshot from Frank’s apartment, but still within view if he tried to leave.
“I think Frank’s involved—and maybe even working with Michelle,” she put out. “You saw how quickly he turned on Michelle in there. Yesterday, he was defending her. I apply a little pressure, hook him, and he’s all about her guilt. He knows exactly how Michelle came into possession of that photo, because he gave it to her. I feel it. There’s no way Estella would hold on to that photo. Frank took advantage of Michelle’s vulnerability, of her fragile state of being. I think he moved in around the time of Estella’s death. Michelle would be at her lowest point, having just lost her mother, having experienced an active war zone, suffering from PTSD. She’d be wanting a place to belong in the world—even more so if she’d just found out how she’d come into the world. That’s assuming Estella told her, but it could have just as well been Frank. I think he commissioned his own daughter to carry out the murders. Though he says he hasn’t seen her in years.”
“People say a lot of things.” Jack tapped his shirt pocket.
“Sadly true. We’ve got to have Nadia do a full background on this guy. I really don’t think he’s Michelle’s next target; I think that he’s her conspirator. Both would have motive. You heard him—if he saw their faces again, he’d kill them.”
Jack pulled out his phone. “We’ve got to let Frank think we’re on his side for now, assuming we haven’t already made him think otherwise.”
“Sorry, Jack, if I was a little straightforward in there.”
“It’s fine. What’s done is done, and he might not even have picked up on your implications. But let’s see what we can do to salvage the situation.” He called Nadia, and Kelly listened as Jack asked her to subpoena Frank’s phone records and financials. “The guy says he hasn’t taken any vacation or sick leave in the last year, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have hopped on a plane on his days off. See if you can find any record of travel, too,” Jack told Nadia. “Also pull up information on Rachelle Mavis. She’s the daughter of the couple whose card was stolen. I’ll hold the line.” Jack, ever so softly, tapped the carpet with his foot while he listened to Nadia. “Okay. And one more thing. Quickly check to see if Frank has any weapons registered to him.”
Kelly felt herself go cold at thoughts of how quickly this could go sideways.
A few moments later, Jack hung up, but he didn’t put his phone away. “He doesn’t show any registered weapons, but when we go back in there, we still approach with caution. Talk to him like a friend, like we still fear for his life, got it?”
She nodded, but adrenaline was pumping through her and making her quaky.
“But we’re going to call in for backup first.”
“Makes complete sense.”
Jack made another call to the local police department. He let them know where they were, the potential situation, and that their subject could be armed and dangerous.
“We hold off going back in until they get here,” Jack added. “Should be about fifteen minutes.”
“What did Nadia say about Rachelle Mavis?”
“She died a couple years ago.”
“Oh.” She could have provided some insight into Estella and Michelle.
“I’m going to update Paige and Brandon on our suspicions about Frank and let them know about Rachelle.” He made the call and told them, then said, “Okay, go back and see if you can get anywhere with that. Keep us posted, and we’ll do likewise. Bye.” Jack pocketed his phone.
“What is it, Jack?”
“They said that the building manager where Michelle has her apartment remembered seeing a man with Michelle there once or twice. He described him as being in his fifties. I have them going back to see if the manager recognizes any of the men in the photo.”