Blake Pierce - Cause to Fear

“So,” Ramirez said as he wound through the rustic little streets of the Somerville neighborhoods. “Are you going to take the sergeant gig?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said.

“Any inkling?”

She pondered this for a moment and then shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. It seems small in comparison to what we’re about to do.”

“Hey, you volunteered for this,” he pointed out.

“I know,” she said, still not certain why. Yes, her thoughts about getting a good lead were true, but she felt like there was something else. Patty Dearborne had only been three years older than Rose. It was far too easy to see Rose’s face on that frozen body. For some bizarre reason, it made Avery feel that she needed to break the news to the family. Maybe it was a maternal-based urge, but she felt that she owed it to the parents in some strange way.

“So let me ask you this,” he said. “What makes you so sure this isn’t just a one-time thing? Maybe an ex-boyfriend just lost his shit. Maybe this is a one and done.”

She grinned briefly because she knew he wasn’t arguing with her. Not really. She had noticed that he liked to get glimpses into how her mind worked. His rebuttal of her theories was simply a way to get her primed up.

“Because based on what we know about the body, this guy was careful and meticulous. An enraged ex-boyfriend would not be so careful about not leaving bruises. The finger- and toenails are the clincher for me. Someone took their time with them. I’m hoping the parents will be able to provide more insight into the sort of woman Patty was. If we know more about her, we’ll know exactly how much of the primping was done by whoever dumped the body.”

“Speaking of which,” Ramirez said, pointing ahead. “Here we are. You ready for this?”

She took a deep, shaky breath. She loved her job but this was the one part she absolutely dreaded. “Yeah, let’s go,” she said.

Before Ramirez had time to say another word, Avery opened the door and stepped out.

She braced herself.

Avery knew that no two people responded to grief in the exact same way. That’s why she was not all that surprised when, fifteen minutes later, Wendy Dearborne was nearly in a state of shock while Richard Dearborne was a loud and frantic mess. At one point, she feared he would become violent when he slapped at a vase on the kitchen table and sent it crashing to the floor.

The weight of the news hung heavy in the room. Avery and Ramirez had remained quiet, speaking only when asked a question. In the silence, Avery saw two pictures of Patty in the living room; one was on the mantel above the fireplace and another was a canvas hanging on the far living room wall. Avery’s suspicion had been right. The girl had been absolutely stunning.

Wendy and Richard were both sitting on the couch in the living room now. Wendy had gotten slight control of herself, letting out the occasional gut-wrenching sob as she lay against Richard’s shoulder.

With tears streaming down his face, Richard looked at Avery. “Can we see her? When can we see her?”

“Right now, Forensics is still trying to determine what might have happened to her. As you might imagine, the cold water and frigid temperatures make it harder to find clues or evidence. In the meantime, there are a few questions I’d like to ask you that may help us find answers.”

Both of them wore looks of confusion and absolute horror on their faces but it was clear that Wendy would be no help. She was stunned into silence, taking the occasional look around the living room as if checking to make sure she knew where she was.

“Of course, whatever questions you have,” Richard said. Avery thought the man was tough deep inside – perhaps trying to figure out some answers on his own.

“I know it’s going to seem like a strange question,” Avery said. “But was Patty the sort of girl to get really intricate with grooming and fingernails? Things like that?”

Richard let out a whimper and shook his head. He was still crying but was at least able to form words between his hitches for breath. “Not at all. She was actually sort of a tomboy. On any given day, I bet you’d find dirt under her nails before you found them with nail polish. She did get dolled up from time to time but only on special occasions. She sometimes paid a lot of attention to her hair, but she’s not – she wasn’t – a girl’s girl, you know?”

Correcting himself on wasn’t seemed to break something within Richard Dearborne. Avery hid her own little cringe as her heart broke for him. It was enough to make her decide not to ask the next question she had planned – a question about the frequency in which Patty shaved her legs. Avery thought it was a safe bet that if she was a tomboy who cared little for her nails, she probably wasn’t obsessive about shaving her legs. There was no need to ask the question to a man who had just lost his daughter.

“Do you know of any enemies Patty had? Anyone she had a history of problems with?”

The question took a moment to sink in. When it finally did, the flicker of anger she had seen earlier returned to Richard Dearborne’s eyes. He got up from the couch but was held in place by his wife’s groping hand on his wrist.

“That motherfucker,” Richard spat. “Yes. Oh yes, I can think of someone and I bet you anything …oh God…”

“Mr. Dearborne?” Ramirez asked. He had slowly gotten to his feet, perhaps anticipating some sort of rage-filled lashing out from Richard.

“Allen Haggerty. He was a high school boyfriend that just wouldn’t let go when things eventually ended two years into college.”

“Did he cause any problems?” Ramirez asked.

“Yeah. So much so that Patty had to get a restraining order placed against him. He was waiting outside of her classes for her. It got so bad that Patty lived here last year because she didn’t feel safe at the dorms.”

“Did he ever get violent?” Avery asked.

“If he did, Patty never said anything. I know he tried to touch her – hugs and kisses and things like that. But she never said anything about hitting her.”

“The note…”

Wendy Dearborne’s voice was so light that it was like wind. She would still not look at Avery or Ramirez. Her eyes were downcast, her mouth partially open.

“What note?” Avery asked.

“A note that Patty never showed us but we found in her pockets while doing laundry while she was living here,” Richard said. “The creep left a note pinned to her dorm room door. She never said so, but we think it was the deciding factor in her moving back here. I don’t remember it word for word but it talked about how he thought about killing himself because he could not have her but how it sometimes made him angry. Some dark stuff about how if he couldn’t have her, no one could.”

“Do you still have the note?” Avery asked.

“No. When we confronted Patty about it, she threw it away.”

“How long did she stay here?” Avery asked.

“Until last summer,” Richard answered. “She said she was tired of living in fear. We made the decision that if anything happened with Allen again, we’d directly get the police involved. And now…now this… ”

A heavy silence blanketed the room, until finally he looked up at them. Avery could feel the father’s grief and rage in that stare.

“I know it’s him,” he said.

As Avery and Ramirez staked out the block surrounding Allen Haggerty’s address, she received Haggerty’s file via email. She was surprised to find little on it. He had three speeding tickets since the age of seventeen and had been briefly arrested at a mostly non-violent protest in New York City four years ago, but nothing serious.