Questions stacked up, one on top of the other in Maisie’s mind, like the layers on her cakes. Was Jayden carrying his gun the night he died? And if he was, had it been taken off of him in a scuffle with another person, wherein he was accidentally shot? Or was he shot on purpose? And if he was, was it possible someone else knew about Jayden’s gun and where he kept it? Had it been stolen with the intent of killing Jayden so it couldn’t be linked back to the killer? If true, could the killer have been Lane Marshall? If so, what was his motivation?
Since the beginning of her queries, Lane had been described as a kind, non-violent person. If he was responsible for Jayden’s death, what was his motivation?
While the questions made their rounds in her mind, Maisie arrived at the home of Allan Conrad, Jayden Conrad’s father. A teenage boy came to the door when she knocked. Dressed in a muscle shirt, gym shorts, and tennis shoes, all bearing the Nike logo, he had a solid, buff physique, and the kind of arms she wanted to reach out and squeeze. He didn’t talk. He didn’t move. He just stood there, sucking on the sucker dangling from his lips.
Unsure of how best to connect with the kid, Maisie opted for a cool, laid-back approach. She crossed her arms in front of her, leaned back, and said, “Wassup?”
The boy’s head rolled back, and he roared with laughter. He removed the sucker from his mouth, pointing the sucker end at Maisie. “You’re freaking funny. Who are you here for—my mom or my dad?”
“Either one will do.”
“Well, they’re not here right now.”
He seemed nice and polite, but his dark, sleepy eyes were rough and piercing.
“Are you Jayden’s brother?” Maisie asked.
“Yep. Brandon. Well, I was. He’s ... umm ...”
“No longer with us. I know. They never caught the man who killed him, did they?”
“Or woman.”
“What makes you think a woman could have done it?”
“There are some crazy-ass bitches out there these days. You never know.”
He was right. And one of those crazy-ass bitches happened to be standing in front of him right now.
“Oh, sorry,” he added. “Probably rude to be swearin’ in front of you.”
She waited for the word ma’am to follow, pleased when it didn’t. “Did your brother have a lot of women in his life? A jealous girlfriend perhaps?”
“He wasn’t really the commitment type. He liked to date around. Made some girls angry though. He just laughed it off. He never thought it was a big deal, but now ...”
“Did he ever mention the names of any of the girls he was dating?”
He shook his head. “He mentioned things that happened with different chicks here and there, like when a girl freaked out on him, but honestly, I don’t even think he knew their names most of the time.”
“Sounds like your brother was a real ladies’ man.”
“Guess so.” He winked. “Kinda runs in the family.”
It seemed plausible that a girl Jayden was dating found out about another girl he’d been dating and lost it. And, if she had been in his dorm room before, she may have seen the gun and knew where he kept it. It still didn’t explain how Lane ended up dead, unless said girl had been friends with Zoey.
“What was the age difference between you and your brother?”
“Two years. I’m nineteen; he was twenty-one.”
“Did you two ever date together?”
“A few times. Why?”
“Did you ever know a guy named Lane Marshall?”
He shook his head.
“What about a girl named Zoey?”
“Mmm ... I don’t think so. Who are they?”
“They were my neighbors. Lane Marshall is dead, and Zoey Marshall is missing.”
“Right. I think my dad said something about those two. What do they have to do with my brother?”
“Let’s just say there’s a good chance Lane, and maybe Zoey, knew your brother.”
“Well, like I said, I don’t know either one of them. Plus, I think I’d remember a guy with a name like Lane. Pretty soft for a guy. Wonder what his mom was thinking.”
She was most likely high, which meant she wasn’t.
“Right before your brother died, was he having any problems with any of the women he was dating?”
“He always had problems with the women he was dating. They fought over him.”
“Were any of the girls worse than the others?”
He popped the sucker back in his mouth and swished it around, thinking. “You know something, there was this one girl he thought was harassing him. I think he called her Brittany.”
“Did he tell you her last name?”
“Think it was something like Carr or Farr.”
“What happened with her?”
“I dunno. He just thought she was messing with him.”
“What did she do?”
“He saw her at a football game. She was giving him dirty looks, and then when he left the game, all four of his tires were slashed.”
“How did he know? Did he see her do it?”
“No, but he said he knew it was her.”
“Did he tell the cops?”
He shook his head.
“Why not?” Maisie asked.
“He didn’t want to get them involved.”
“What about your parents?”
“My dad asked about it, but my brother said he didn’t know who did it.”
“So your brother lied.”
“Guess so.”
“Why didn’t you tell your father?”
“Jayden said to leave it alone, so I did.” A car sped into the driveway. A teenage boy put his window down and said, “Let’s go.” He grabbed a football from the table beside him, shut the front door, and hopped in the car with his friend.
Maisie walked up to the car. “One last question please.”
“Shoot.”
“Who was your brother’s roommate at school?”
“His name was Kyle.”
“Kyle what?”
“Kyle Grady.”