Kole knows something. He’s been cagey ever since they discovered the drawings in Chloe’s locker. A subsequent search of Madison’s revealed no items of interest.
Rather, it was what was missing that snagged Axel’s attention. Unlike Chloe, it appeared as though Madison actually used her locker. On the inside of it was a collage of cut-out photographs. There she was, smiling on the soccer field with who must be her boyfriend, a dark-haired boy of about seventeen. He was tall and tan, wearing a royal-blue jersey and white shorts marked with grass stains. In another, she and a girl with an Afro, who Axel recognized as Sari Simons, held hands while roller-skating. A black-and-white strip showed a film reel of Madison and the same boy kissing.
But there were no photos of Chloe. Two girls who had been friends since kindergarten.
Sari Simons had only come into the picture (literally) about a year ago, when she and her dad moved from Cape Canaveral. She’s as “army brat” as they come: fiercely independent, mature beyond her years, and transient. She’s been over to the house a handful of times with Madison.
“You familiar with any of these kids?” Kole asked from over his shoulder as they searched Madison’s locker.
Axel shared what he knew about Sari. “Her dad’s a general in the army. It’s just the two of them, I think.”
“He leave a lot?”
“Once a month?” Axel tried to remember what Sari had told him about her father’s training schedule.
“She stay with family while he’s gone, do you know?”
Axel shook his head, then shrugged. “She must stay with the Caldwells. I see her around our neighborhood quite a bit.”
It isn’t just Belgrave Circle where he’s seen Sari; it’s everywhere. She’s a nomad, always out walking, always wearing a camouflage jacket, always carrying a purple star-printed backpack which, he imagines, has all her little life packed inside.
“Maybe she saw something.”
“Maybe.”
“What about this kid?” Kole gestured to the boy on the soccer field. “Looks like Madison’s boyfriend.”
Axel considered the photo again and after a moment, recognition dawned on him. “He lives next door,” he started, and corrected himself. “On the other side of Belgrave Circle.”
“In Rainbow Row?”
Axel cringed upon hearing the derogatory, yet widely accepted, nickname of the adjacent neighborhood. Rainbow Row was named for the garish spectrum of free government paint slapped on the houses. It had been called that for as long as Axel had lived there as a child—for longer than he’d been alive, even—when his father and dozens of other tradesmen came to work at the tannery. Besides the abandoned factory, Rainbow Row is all that remains of the Hedelsten Hides & Leather Goods Tanning Company. Just over a hundred years ago, Jim Hedelsten himself, commissioned the building of fifty single-story homes in a community within two miles of the tannery. There was—and still is—a bus stop at its only outlet. Narrow one-way streets discourage through traffic, which lends to Rainbow Row’s reputation of trapping its residents.
For years, the tannery has been in the possession of Bennett Reynolds, a venture capitalist who recently confessed to coercion, blackmail, and murder. Upon his death, the property was sold at auction for pennies on the dollar to an anonymous buyer who pledged to revitalize the building and its surrounding community. Last Axel heard, it was going to be a mixed-use development—whatever that means.
“We need to talk to him,” Kole said, already texting Riley.
“Who?” Axel had too many trains of thought going on.
“Him.” Kole tapped the picture of the boy in the blue uniform.
“You talk to him. I’ll talk to him.” Axel waved the sketches from Chloe’s locker.
Kole laughed. “Not a chance in Hell. I don’t need you busting up a teacher because of some stupid drawings. They’re kids, Axel. They’re shits.”
Rage boiled beneath Axel’s skin. Kole was minimizing the importance of these sketches. They weren’t just “some stupid drawings”; they were allegations. Of his minor daughter being inappropriately involved with an older teacher, someone who Axel knew she had been spending more and more time with as of late with the upcoming musical: before-and after-school practices, weekend rehearsals, things of that nature.
Now, hours later, following the search of the entire school and canvassing nearby premises for cameras, he is still thinking about the sketches. Self-loathing seeps into his bloodstream. He’s a fucking cop. How could he have been so trusting? How could he have been so blind?
He hasn’t shown the sketches to Rowan yet. He was about to stop home and check on her when Marnie texted him to let him know she’d fallen asleep on the couch. He wanted her to stay that way as long as possible, temporarily escaping the reality that they are living their worst nightmare.
Their daughter is gone. Missing. Maybe dead.
No. He cannot allow himself to think like that. Chloe’s alive. He will find her, no matter if he has to turn over every leaf and stone in this godforsaken place.
He’s upstairs at the Black Harbor Police Department. It’s been a while since he’s been in the Investigations Bureau with its cream-painted cinder blocks and endless grey filing cabinets, now that he spends most of his working life either incognito on the streets or holed away in the secret headquarters of the Violent Crime Task Force. He grabs the carafe and pours himself a warmup. Coffee hisses as it hits the heating plate. Then, he joins Kole in the viewing room, a deep narrow recess that offers a front-row seat to the goings on of Interview Room #1.
“I don’t know why we’re here and not at Cutler’s house.” Axel’s voice is a low growl. His heartbeat hastens, whether from the sudden jolt of caffeine or the prospect of willfully entering into a confrontation with his direct supervisor.
“Who would you like me to send over there, Axel?” The question has a bite of condescension to it. “We’re not exactly teeming with talent, here.”
Axel sets his jaw. In all of his years in law enforcement, he’s never seen the Black Harbor Police Department stretched so thin. Crime, on the other hand, is up threefold. Violent crime has never been more rampant, and yet, even in this environment, Madison’s death and Chloe’s disappearance still manage to hook everyone’s attention.
Because they weren’t in a gang. Or selling drugs or themselves on the street corners—actions that might make them victims of a violent crime. Rather, they were simply two high school girls minding their own business. Axel’s mind inevitably flits back to the sketches and derogatory nickname: Chloe the Hoe-y. Had she been minding her own business? Or had his little girl been stirring up trouble in someone else’s?
He shakes the thought out of his head.
Kole is still waiting for an answer. He raises a brow.
“We don’t need four investigators on one kid,” he argues. “I could go to Cutler’s house. Ask him a few questions.”
“That’s ironic, because that’s absolutely out of the question.”
Axel jerks his head toward him. “Nik.”
Kole stares forward. “Axel.” Silence slips into the sliver of space they generously call a room. The only sound is Kole drawing a breath. “We find the killer, we find Chloe. As far as we know, Reeves Singh was the last person who saw Madison Caldwell alive. We’ll talk to Cutler soon enough. But for now, how about you buckle up, shut up, and watch the show.”
Reluctantly, Axel turns away from the sergeant and looks straight ahead, through the pane of acrylic glass. Reeves Singh sits at a stainless-steel table across from Investigators Riley and Fletcher. There’s an unopened bottle of water in front of him. He stares at it like he could telekinetically knock it over.
Riley is the first to speak. Her voice is gentle enough, yet laced with a warning not to cross. “Reeves, thank you for agreeing to come talk to us this morning. I know it’s early.”
Reeves doesn’t look at her. His head bobs slightly.
“Listen, we won’t beat around the bush, okay? We’re sorry for your loss. I understand Madison Caldwell was your girlfriend.”
His head bobs some more. He clears his throat as though to say something, but decides against it.
“How long did you two date?”
From where he stands approximately ten feet away, Axel watches Reeves’s shoulders rise and fall. Finally, the kid pushes his dark hair out of his eyes. “Fifteen months. We started going out the summer before freshman year.”
“And you’re a sophomore now, is that right?”
He nods.
“How would you describe your relationship? Were you serious about each other?”
Reeves seems to freeze at this question, but for the muscles twitching in his jaw. He takes a deep breath before he speaks again, and Axel knows he’s chosen his words carefully. “She was more serious than I was, I think. Madison wanted to be together forever. At least, that’s what she always told me. But, I…” He trails off, letting the thought hang there, incomplete.
“It’s okay,” says Riley. “Most high school relationships don’t last forever.” She shares a glance with Fletcher, who hasn’t spoken yet. He sits beside her, forearms extended across the surface of the table, hands folded into one big fist.
“Did you two ever … have disagreements about that? Or anything?”
Whether it’s the question that does it, or the stark lighting, or Riley’s intense gaze, Reeves wilts. His shoulders slope; his chest hollows. He slumps a little in the chair, and every last bit of golden warmth evaporates from his skin. “Sometimes.” He is hesitant, as though Riley wields a bar of soap to wash out his mouth should he say the wrong thing.
“When was your last argument? Approximately?”
Now, Reeves is still. Axel watches a vein pulse in his temple. Shadows dance across the lower region of his face as he clenches his jaw shut.
“We have Madison’s phone,” offers Fletcher. “We can read every message exchanged between the two of you since last summer.”
Reeves considers him for a moment, the whites of his eyes burning bright. His gaze flickers to Riley then, who cosigns Fletcher’s statement with a nod. “Pretty recently,” he admits. “A couple of days ago, I guess.”
“Over texting or in person?”
When he doesn’t answer, Fletcher reaches into his pants pocket and produces an iPhone with a coral-colored case. He sets it on the table, and leans toward it slightly to read in a monotone.
It’s so unfair, Reeves.
Grow up.
Why are you defending her?
I’m not. I just don’t know why you’re acting this way.
You know she only got the part because of her stupid baby teeth.
Fletcher looks up from the phone. He and Riley both set their sights on Reeves.
“What’s that about?” asks Riley.
In the viewing room, Axel’s breath catches. Chloe has retained baby teeth. Her two front incisors never fell out. He noticed it bothered her as she grew older; the way she often kept her mouth closed when she smiled. Could Madison have been texting about Chloe?
When Reeves doesn’t answer, Fletcher adds: “That last message was sent at 5:53 p.m. Madison was strangled to death sometime between the hours of 6 and 7 p.m. Maybe a little earlier.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“No one’s saying you did.”
“But you brought me here to the police department. And you’re interrogating me—”
“We asked you to assist with our investigation,” Riley cuts in. “To which you agreed. You’re free to leave at any time; however, we think you want Madison’s killer brought to justice as much as we do. Without you, Reeves, we can’t make that happen.”
Good save, thinks Axel. Asking Reeves to simply “assist” with the investigation means his parents don’t have to be present.
Fletcher switches tactics. “Listen, Reeves. Madison is dead. You’re not doing her or anyone any favors by lying by omission here.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You’re holding out on us.” When Reeves throws a questioning glance at Riley, Fletcher adds: “Investigator Riley ain’t gonna save you. She’s harder than I am.”
Reeves looks up at the ceiling, as though pleading for a higher power to get him out of this situation. When nothing happens, he sinks lower in the chair and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Reeves,” Riley says gently. “Investigator Fletcher is right. You’re not doing Madison any favors by keeping something from us. On that same token, nothing you say can hurt her, either. In fact, anything you tell us could help us find her killer. Where were you last night between the hours of 5 and 7 p.m.?”
“At soccer practice.”
“Which is at the school?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Until when?”
“I stayed after for some extra footwork and to burn off some stress.” He tips his head toward the phone as though to indicate the conversation between him and Madison. “I think I hit the trail around a quarter to seven. It was just after seven when I walked into the house and my mom already had dinner on the table.”
“And you were home the rest of the night?”
“Yes.”
Fletcher scribbles some notes and Axel knows he’s planning to interview at least the soccer coach and a few of Reeves’s teammates, to corroborate his story and confirm his whereabouts. If Reeves was at practice until nearly 7 p.m., chances are slim that he had anything to do with Madison’s murder. He steals a look at Kole to his right and can’t help but glare. They should have been at Cutler’s already, making him squirm.
“Did you see anyone on the trail while you were walking home, Reeves?” Riley asks.
“A few people. They must’ve been headed to the play. I thought I’d run into Madison, but … well…”
“Were you nervous about the possibility of crossing paths with her, after that text exchange?”
“A little.”
Riley taps the stainless-steel surface next to the phone. “Believe it or not, this is a good thing. It means Madison was alive at 5:53 p.m. You’ve already helped us immensely, Reeves, by having this conversation with her. Just help us a little more, please. What did Madison mean when she said she only got the part because of her baby teeth?”
Reeves sighs, then swivels his head from one side of the room to the other, his gaze holding on the two-way mirror. If Axel didn’t know better, he’d swear the boy could see him. “Madison used to say that the only reason Chloe got that part of Lydia Deetz in the Beetlejuice play over her was because she still had her baby teeth, so she looked young. Which is dumb because I think that character’s like fifteen anyway. It was just a reason for her to pick on her.”
His daughter’s name is a punch in the face. Axel takes a step forward, so his fingertips press just beneath the pane of glass. He holds his breath to better listen.
“For Madison to pick on Chloe, you mean?” Riley clarifies.
Reeves nods. The ends of his hair look sweaty. “It’s kinda why I wanted to break up with her. Madison got really … mean. After she started hanging out with Sari, it seems.”
“Who is Sari?” asks Fletcher.
“Sari Simons. She transferred to our school last year and … I don’t know.”
Axel watches as Fletcher scratches the name on his notepad.
“You don’t care for her?”
Reeves shrugs. “She acts like the rules don’t apply to her. And to be honest, I think the only reason she really took to Madison was because Madison had money—at least her parents do—and the two of them could kinda do whatever they wanted.”
“You think Sari was using Madison?” Riley asks, a brow arched.
“Maybe a little.”
“Did Madison ever say anything to you about that?”
“She mentioned it offhand once or twice, but I could tell it was after she and Sari just got into a fight or something. They always made up, though. They’d have an explosive argument one morning, be clawing each other’s eyes out, and that afternoon, they’d be best friends again. Lately, it seemed ganging up on Chloe was the only thing that brought them together.”
Axel clenches his teeth so hard they creak. Sari Simons is lucky she isn’t here. He’d wring her neck himself.
“But they were all friends, weren’t they—Sari, Madison, and Chloe?” asks Riley. “In fact, I thought Madison and Chloe had been best friends since kindergarten, according to the girls’ parents, anyway.”
“They were,” agrees Reeves. “Until the beginning of this year.”
“What happened at the beginning of this year? Chloe got the part in the play?”
“Yes, ma’am. Madison didn’t like that.”
“And that’s why she and Sari ‘ganged up on her’ as you put it?”
Reeves takes a deep breath. “Yeah.” He pauses. “And, I think it was Sari’s way of stealing Madison all to herself. She, like, worshiped the ground Madison walked on, and that made Madison think everyone else should, too.”
Fletcher lifts his legal pad and slides out a couple of loose-leaf papers that Axel recognizes as the sketches from Chloe’s locker. “Does this look like Sari’s handiwork to you? Or, do you recognize these drawings at all?”
Reeves hesitates. His gaze lifts from the papers to consider both Fletcher and Riley. “I don’t want to get my DNA on them,” he says, and Axel can practically hear the gears whirring in his mind. The boy is genuinely afraid they’ll frame him. Or that they will lift his prints and match them with another set. The ones on Chloe’s windowsill, maybe. He narrows his eyes, the edges of his vision darkening to blot out everyone but Reeves Singh. Suspicion deepens. Fletcher is right. Reeves is holding out on them. And he’s about to get a rude awakening, because soccer star or not, lying to detectives is a game he cannot win. They always uncover the truth.
“Relax, Reeves,” says Fletcher, exasperation tinging his voice. “That’s why we took your prints earlier. So we can rule them out of shit like this. Plus, you’re on video.” He jerks his thumb to the little red light that Axel knows is just above the two-way mirror. Reeves turns to look, his gaze scaling the wall, and again, Axel swears the boy can see him. Perhaps it’s just that Axel wishes he could see him, see the death stare he’s drilling into him. Because if he’s lying to save his own hide or someone else’s, and it’s keeping them from finding Chloe, his dead girlfriend will be the least of his worries.
“It’s okay, Reeves,” Riley assures him in a soothing voice. It’s the one she employs when talking to child victims. It’s also reason #899 why Riley the Reaper is so dangerous. She can make anyone feel safe, to the point where they believe that confessing to their crime was their own idea.
Slowly, Reeves pinches the pages and flips through them. He traps his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, but…”
Axel doesn’t know whether or not Riley and Fletcher realize it, but they both lean slightly forward.
“It could be anyone, I guess. I mean … it was a known fact that Chloe and Mr. Cutler were … I don’t know. A thing?” He winces as though the investigators’ expressions tell him he’s said entirely the wrong “thing,” and hands the papers back.
If Axel were drinking coffee, he’d have sprayed it all over the glass.
“Explain,” says Fletcher.
Reeves sinks even lower. His hands are underneath the table now, fingers ripping at the calluses on his palms. “Everyone knows that Chloe is Mr. Cutler’s favorite. It’s just one of those things. People always talked about them sleeping together and stuff.” A deep rouge plumes in his cheeks.
“Did Madison talk about it?” asks Riley.
He shoots a guilty look at Madison’s phone as though apologizing for diming her out, and that’s all they need to know.
Without turning her head, Riley throws a glance at Axel as though to warn him to stay put and not go flying to Cutler’s house. She asks Reeves: “Are you sure it was just a rumor?”
“I hoped it was, but…” The boy trails off. Now, he begins to pick at the label on the water bottle as though hidden underneath is a safe word that will end this interrogation.
“You said you hoped the notion of a relationship between Chloe and Mr. Cutler was just a rumor,” says Fletcher. “What did you mean by that?”
Reeves remains fixated on the soggy label. “My parents are probably worried about me. I should get home.”
“Reeves.” Riley leans forward and touches his arm, even though he hasn’t started to get up from the table. “Remember: you can’t hurt anyone by telling us what you know or what you’ve heard. And anything you share with us will stay right here in this room.”
A lie, Axel thinks, but it might give the kid some peace of mind.
“Is there any doubt in your mind,” she presses, “that the alleged romantic relationship between Chloe Winthorp and Mr. Cutler was anything more than a rumor?”
It takes him forever to answer. He stares dumbly at the table for a moment and the scraps of the shredded label. Then, he heaves a sigh as he divulges the last little bit of everything he’s been keeping close to the vest. “It’s just … I don’t know why anyone would take it so hard if it wasn’t a little true. But I do know that if anyone had a reason to want Madison dead … it was Chloe.”