Alex Barclay - The Drowning Child

‘A couple of the guys in the command center were talking about it,’ said Paul.

‘Did they say anything else about him?’ said Ren. ‘Any weird vibe?’

‘No,’ said Paul. ‘Nothing.’

‘Ren – want to swing by, check it out?’ said Gary.

‘Sure,’ said Ren. She googled it, then typed the owner’s name into her phone.

Ren took the ten-minute drive to the Harvest Road Retirement Home, and went up to the front desk.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m looking for Nadine Jacobs.’ She showed her creds.

‘Just one moment,’ said the receptionist.

Nadine Jacobs came down to Ren, with the look of someone who had not been sleeping well. Her eyes were puffy, her hair in need of a brush.

Suicide is not exactly great for business.

‘Hello, Ms Jacobs – I’m Ren Bryce, I’m with the FBI – could we talk somewhere privately? It’s about Roger Lyle.’

Nadine frowned, but nodded. ‘Sure, absolutely – come with me.’

They walked a hallway that was painted a dismal shade of gray and hung with wall art that was angular and aggressive. The lighting was cold and bright and the heating was high.

What sensory fuckery is this?

No wonder Roger Lyle didn’t want to hang around.

Oh...

I could do this all day.

‘Here we are,’ said Nadine, pushing her office door open, letting Ren walk in ahead of her.

‘Take a seat.’

‘Can you tell me a little about Mr Lyle?’ said Ren, settling in a chair.

‘About what happened on Friday?’ said Nadine.

‘Well... if you want to start with that. Or you could just talk to me about him as a person.’

‘OK,’ said Nadine. ‘Well, he was the swim coach here in Tate for many years. He taught most of the kids coming up, did extra classes, took them on trips...’

Ding. Ding. Ding. ‘Was he a popular man?’ said Ren.

Nadine gave a one-shoulder shrug. ‘Depends on who you ask,’ she said. ‘He got results. The kids did well, but they didn’t like his discipline. Obviously, a lot of the parents did – the stricter ones. The more laid-back ones thought he needed to lighten up – not that they would say that to his face.’

‘Are you from here?’ said Ren. ‘Did he teach you?’

‘Oh, no,’ said Nadine. ‘I’m terrified of the water.’

Me too now.

‘Have you cleaned out Roger’s room yet?’ said Ren.

‘No,’ said Nadine. ‘We were going to wait until his son came by to pick up his personal effects. He asked that the room be left as is. And, he’s paid up until the end of the month, anyway.’

‘Did he have a wife?’ said Ren. ‘Are there any other family members?’

‘There’s just Jimmy,’ said Nadine. ‘He’s on his way here for the memorial. Roger’s wife – Jimmy’s mother – left him years ago. From what I can gather, it broke Roger’s heart. He threw himself into his work. It became all about the kids after that.’

I bet it did .

This could all be a coincidence. ‘Could I take a look at his room, please?’ said Ren.

‘Sure,’ said Nadine. As they walked the next hallway, this one a dirty shade of blue, Nadine turned to Ren. ‘May I ask, Agent, what your interest in Roger Lyle is?’

Yes, you may. And I may feel free to lie in response. Can’t think of anything. ‘I’m afraid I’m not in a position to discuss that.’

They arrived at Roger’s room. Nadine unlocked the door and pushed it open. It looked like a hurricane had swept through it. It was small, with a single bed, a closet, a chair and a table. There was a newspaper on the table, folded back to a completed crossword. Ren unfolded it to the front page. It was Tuesday’s edition of the Marion County Gazette , leading with Caleb’s disappearance.

She turned to Nadine. ‘Could I trouble you for a glass of water, please?’

‘No problem,’ said Nadine. ‘There’s a cooler at the end of the hallway. I’ll just be a minute.’

Ren bent down as soon as Nadine left, put on her gloves, and grabbed the wastebasket, tilting it toward her to get a look inside. There was a balled-up piece of paper. Ren opened it, flattened it out, read what was on it.

What.

The.

Fuck?

There were two dates handwritten on it: the date Aaron Fuller died, and the date that Caleb Veir disappeared.

Ren stood up, flipped the newspaper on to the crossword again, and compared the handwriting in the two.

Not his writing on the note.

There was a faint smell of citrus from the paper.

Perfumey. Female.

Ren took a paper evidence bag from her purse, put the page inside, and put it back in her purse. She opened the drawers, all of them half-filled with neat piles of clothes. She looked through them, found nothing. There was a stack of crime novels beside his bed. There was a suitcase underneath the bed. She slid it out and opened it. It was empty.

Nadine came back in as Ren was standing up, and handed her a cup of water.

‘Thank you,’ said Ren. She drank it and put the empty cup on the table.

‘Do the residents get out much?’ said Ren.

‘There are various outings organized every week,’ said Nadine, ‘residents can decide whether they want to go. If you mean Roger specifically – he hadn’t been on any of them.’

‘Has he had any visitors recently?’ said Ren.

‘Not since the Sunday before last – his son Jimmy came in that morning – he was heading off on vacation.’

‘Is your visitor log computerized?’ said Ren.

‘Yes,’ said Nadine.

‘Can you forward me details of visitors from last week?’

‘Sure, no problem.’

Ren handed her her card. ‘Thank you.’ She paused. ‘Where did Roger Lyle live?’

‘Well, the house is for sale now,’ said Nadine. ‘But it’s on Richmond Road, just by the middle school.’

Holy. Fuck.

Ren drove to Richmond Road, and parked opposite the one house that had a FOR SALE sign in the front garden. She opened up her laptop and called up the CCTV photo of Seth Fuller on the same street. He was pretty much parked in the same spot.

What is going on?

Ren arrived back in Tate PD and filled everyone in on Roger Lyle, and Seth Fuller. Ren turned to Ruddock. ‘What do you know about him?’

Please do not tell me he’s your best friend.

‘He’s very well-known in the community,’ said Ruddock. ‘He always kept very much to himself. He was strict with all the kids, strict with his son. He was a private man.’

‘Could you see him doing anything like this?’ said Ren. ‘He wasn’t in Harvest Road when Aaron and Luke were killed. Going in there could have been some very convenient timing. Have there ever been any rumors about him?’

‘No,’ said Ruddock.

‘CVIP’s estimate is that the man in the photos would be minimum mid-sixties now,’ said Ren. ‘He fits the bill in that sense.’ She put on gloves and pulled the piece of paper from the evidence bag. ‘This was the note from his wastebasket.’ She held it in front of Ruddock. He stared at it.

Ooh... what do you know? ‘Do you recognize the writing?’ said Ren.

Ruddock looked up at her. ‘No.’

There is a battle behind those eyes .

‘It smelled a little citrusy earlier,’ said Ren. ‘It’s worn off now. It might be a woman.’

Ruddock nodded. ‘Could be. Let’s see what the lab comes back with, in terms of prints.’

‘What did the Veirs say about the sleeping bag?’ said Ren.

‘Both thought that the other brought it from before they were married,’ said Ruddock. ‘After that, their best guess was that the previous owners left it behind. But we contacted them, and it wasn’t theirs. The Veirs were horrified the sleeping bag had appeared in images of abuse.’