Blake Pierce - If She Heard

DeMarco and Kate approached the shoe rental counter, where a man of sixty or so was standing by a small television. He looked extremely bored. A quick glance of the fifteen lanes behind her revealed that only two lanes were occupied—one by five middle-aged women and another, all the way at the far end of the building, by a lone man.

The man behind the shoe rental counter nodded to them as they approached, giving them a strange look. The lapel on his shirt read LARRY. “Can I help you?”

DeMarco acted quickly before there could be any odd tension between her and Kate. She showed her badge and ID and said, “Agents DeMarco and Wise, with the FBI. I was hoping to get some information about the death of Mariah Ogden.”

“I already told the cops everything I know,” Larry said. “But if it’ll help find who’s been killing these girls, I don’t mind.”

“You said girls,” Kate said. “As in more than one. I assume you heard about the second victim?”

“Can’t help but hear terrible news like that pretty quickly in a town as small as this one. Yeah…it was Kayla Peterson, right? Home for a wedding, from what I hear.”

“Larry, how did you find Mariah’s body?” DeMarco asked.

“I had closed the place down. Walked out to my truck and saw a car still in the parking lot, all the way over near the edge. Sometimes the teenagers hang out over there after they’ve bowled. So I walked over to see what was going on. Figured maybe just someone left their car there while going out somewhere else with a friend. But as I got closer to it, I saw a sneaker. And then I saw a leg attached to it. And there was Mariah Ogden, right behind her car.”

“Already dead?”

“Yeah. But I don’t think for very long. I heard there was bruising on her throat. But I didn’t see any when I found her like that.”

“Had she been in here that night?”

“Not that night, no. But she would come in here from time to time with her friends.”

He was about to say something else, but was interrupted by the clatter of pins falling and cheering from the crowd of middle-aged ladies. When the noise quieted down, Larry continued.

“She was a lovely girl, really. Very polite, well-mannered.”

“Do you know anyone in the crowd she typically hung around with?” DeMarco asked.

“Not really well, no. But you may want to check with him.” He nodded behind him, in the direction of the man who was bowing by himself.

“Who’s that?”

“His name is Dwayne Patterson. He would sometimes be with the crowds Mariah would come in with. Bashful kid. He’s here a lot, sometimes by himself, but usually sort of meanders from crowd to crowd. I have no real evidence to support this, but the way he sometimes looked at Mariah and laughed at anything she said…I think he might have fancied her a bit.”

“Thank you, Larry,” Kate said.

He gave a wink to them both as they turned and headed for the lane all the way to the left. As they approached, Dwayne Patterson rolled a ball that left him with a dreaded 7-10 split. He angled his head as if hoping to see something different and then approached the ball return machine. As he waited for his ball, he spotted DeMarco and Kate. There was no mistaking where they were headed; he knew they were coming to speak to him and it showed in his eyes. He looked like a trapped cat, cornered by two feral dogs.

“Mr. Patterson,” DeMarco said as they approached the ball machine. “Larry over there says you might be a good resource for information about Mariah Ogden.”

It was clear that Patterson had not yet decided if he should be fearful or not. He eyed them skeptically and asked: “And just who the hell are you?”

This time, DeMarco and Kate moved at the same time, showing their IDs in tandem like a well-rehearsed magic trick. “Agents DeMarco and Wise, FBI. Now, do you want to be just a bit more accommodating?”

Slowly, Patterson took a seat behind the scorekeeping machine. “Sorry. I had no idea. Um…yeah, I mean, I knew her. Not super great or anything, but I knew her.”

“How old are you, Mr. Patterson?” Kate asked.

“Nineteen.”

“Would you say you and Mariah were friends?”

“Sure. We were friends through most of school, just not best friends, you know?”

“Sure,” Kate said. “How about this past Wednesday night? Did you see her then?”

“Yeah, that was the night she died. I was here, bowling with a friend. When he and I left, I saw that Mariah and a few of her friends were hanging out in the parking lot.”

“Is that something she did a lot?”

“Not a lot, no. But from time to time. There’s not really much else to do around here, you know?”

DeMarco did know. She’d grown up in a similar town where the only thing to do after hours was hang out in convenience store parking lots, smoking cigarettes and maybe making out when the coast was clear.

“Did you go over to hang out?” DeMarco asked.

“Just for a little while. At first, I mean. I took my friend home and then swung back by just to check in.”

“Check in on what, exactly?” Kate asked.

Patterson frowned, sensing that he might be venturing into dangerous territory. Slowly, he started to do his best to explain. There were nerves in his voice, as well as something else. Regret, maybe? DeMarco wasn’t sure.

“Well, she was hanging out with some of the regulars…some friends of hers from high school and a new girl she met at the community college in Charlotte. But there was this other guy with them, some dude I’ve seen a few times and just…I don’t know…sort of avoided. I went back by later to check on Mariah to see if he was still around.”

“Why would you avoid this guy?” DeMarco asked.

“He’s sort of creepy, you know? The type that used to hang around the high school parking lot a few years after he had already graduated. He’s got to be at least twenty-five.”

“And what were the ages of the crowd you and Mariah hang out with?”

“Between nineteen and twenty-one or so. I hate to stereotype someone like that, but he’s sort of a loser. But anyway…that night, it was clear that he was drunk. Being loud and belligerent, you know?”

“What’s this guy’s name?” Kate asked.

“Does anyone need to know I was the one that told you?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Jamie Griles.” There was some grit and anger in his voice as he said it. “There’s no hard proof, but a lot of people think he goes to high school parties to get girls drunk and then sleeps with them. So when I saw that he was hanging out with Mariah and those younger girls, it felt creepy.”

“And was he still here in the parking lot when you came back by?”

“No, he had already left. One of Mariah’s friends said there was a party somewhere and even joked that Jamie went because there were younger girls there.”

“Is Jamie Griles a local?” DeMarco asked.

“Yeah. Born and raised. He’ll die here, too. Loser won’t ever amount to anything.” Patterson chuckled and shook his head. “Says the nineteen-year-old mechanic bowling by himself on a Monday night.”

“Have you spoken to the police?”

“No. No one bothered talking to me. Like I said…I wasn’t best friends with her. Just…a guy that knew her.”

The way he said this made DeMarco think Larry had been right; Dwayne Patterson had feelings for Mariah Ogden. She wondered if he ever told Mariah. The way he was handling it made her think he had not—that he had kept his feelings bottled up.

“Did you not think to talk to them about Jamie Griles?” Kate asked.

“Well, I didn’t even pause to think he might have been the one to kill her. Yeah, the guy is a creep and a loser, but I don’t know that I’d put murder within his reach.”