Faye Kellerman - Walking Shadows

She said nothing. Just wiped her eyes.

“Brady was twenty-six?”

“Yes.”

“Did he live with you?”

“Yes.”

“Did Brady work or go to school?”

“Both.”

“Where is work and where is school?”

“He worked at Bigstore in the electronics department.”

“He’s good with computers?”

“No idea.”

Her apathy took Decker aback. “No idea?”

“No. He was secretive about his life.”

“Okay. Secretive as in …”

“We just didn’t talk about anything personal. Truth be told, we hardly talked at all. He’s a single male in his twenties. We don’t have anything in common.”

“Got it. Do you know how long he worked at Bigstore?”

“About a couple of years. He must have gotten a promotion because Brady always had money.”

“He had money?”

“Always.”

“What kind of money are we talking about?”

“He had a car and all the gadgets—y’know, the Xbox and the iPhones and that kind of stuff. It kinda pissed me off that he had money for that shit and never offered to help out with the food and rent until I asked him for it.”

Store managers didn’t make that kind of expendable money. The kid was probably dealing, and something stronger than weed. Opiates were an issue upstate. He said, “Did he give you money when you asked?”

“Couple of hundred here and there.”

“And he lived with you even though he had money?”

“Maybe that’s why he had money. Anyway, I never bothered him and he never bothered me. He lived in the basement. It’s a big basement with two rooms and a bathroom. If he ever got his own place, I was gonna rent it out.” She bit her lip and wiped her eyes. “Guess that’s not a problem now.”

“How did he behave with you?” When Jennifer looked confused, Decker said, “Was he rude or apathetic or physical—”

“No, he never got physical with me even when he was out of control.”

“Out of control?”

“Typical teenage stuff—drinking, smoking marijuana, not going to school, not coming home at night. He still goes out at night on occasion, but in the morning, he’s sober enough to go to work.”

“And you said he’s also in school?”

“Night school. That’s what he told me. Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s not. The kid used to lie for the hell of it. Shades of his father.”

“Did Brady ever have problems with the law?”

“Not that I know of.” She looked at him. “Can’t you look that up?”

“I did. No record as an adult, but juvenile records are sealed.”

“He used to be truant. Couple of times, cops brought him back home. But then he dropped out of high school so truancy wasn’t a problem. He went through some low-paying jobs—fast-food counter, things like that—until he got a job at Bigstore. Like I said, it must pay well, because he has spare money.”

Decker thought about Brady, working in the electronics department. He could also have been involved in warehouse theft. Working for a bigger ring and it caught up with him? Both sidelines—dealing and theft—were dangerous enough to explain his corpse.

“And you don’t know where he went to college?”

She continued talking. “A year ago, he said he was taking some classes at community college. Like I said, don’t know if that was true or not.”

“Do you know if his money may have come from something other than a job?”

“Wouldn’t know that, either. You mean like drug dealing?”

“Do you think he was dealing drugs?”

“I don’t know, Detective. When are you going to release the body?”

“I’ll call you as soon as I know.” Decker waited a beat. “Do you know of anyone who’d want to hurt Brady or held a grudge against him?”

“No.” A quick response. “Is that all?”

“I’d like to take a look at his basement room, Mrs. Neil. Would that be okay?”

“I don’t have the key.”

“Can I bust open the lock?”

Her eyes started to water. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” She was quiet. Decker said, “Mrs. Neil, would you know the names of any of Brady’s friends?”

“No. The basement has a private entrance. He came and went as he pleased. I know that occasionally he had people down there. I could hear voices. But that’s all I know.”

“Male? Female?”

“Mostly male, but a woman now and then.”

Decker mentioned the names of the thugs who were probably responsible for the mailbox vandalism. “Any of those names ring a bell?”

Jennifer shook her head no.

“How about friends from when he was a teenager?”

She gave the question some consideration. “You might try Patrick Markham or maybe Brett Baderhoff. Those are the only two I can think of. You also can try his sister. I’m not on speaking terms with her. But that don’t mean that the two of them didn’t talk.”

HE NEEDED Apair of bolt cutters to break open the padlock. Once Decker was inside, he wondered why all the secrecy. It was an ordinary living area, only much neater than he had expected from a young adult living at home.

The space was divided into a small living room with a kitchenette. It had a two-burner cooktop and an apartment fridge. No oven. Brady had a sofa, a couple of big chairs, and a big-screen TV. Jennifer was right. He had a massive game console set. No photographs of himself or anyone else. Off the living area was a shower, toilet, and sink.

The bedroom was taken up by a queen bed. It had two doors, one from the living area and the other that emptied into a one-car garage that also held a washer/dryer. The sole vehicle inside was a maroon Ford Focus that was around five years old. Brady may have owned the car, and that may have put him a step ahead of his mother, but it wasn’t exactly a showpiece.

Decker went back inside and began his search in earnest. He checked drawers and cabinets. He looked inside the pillows’ cases and pockets. He peered under the mattress and did find a half-dozen photographs of a much younger Brady with a girl. He looked around fifteen, the girl a few years older. The boy had dark brown hair and intense dark brown eyes. The girl was a blonde with blue eyes. The boy’s stare pierced through even though the couple was mugging for the camera.

The inspection took about thirty minutes because Brady kept a spare apartment. He wasn’t much of a drinker—a couple of six-packs in the fridge. And not much of a doper except for a dime bag of weed. No hidden pills. No hidden powders and no drug paraphernalia. There were no closets brimming with electronics and no stash of phones. If he was involved in illegal activity, he was operating elsewhere.

Jennifer was waiting for him at the top of the stairs. She said, “Find anything?”

“A little marijuana.” Decker climbed the steps. “Nothing that makes me think he’s dealing.”

She nodded. “What does it look like down there?”

“It’s pretty tidy. If he was having wild parties, he cleaned up after himself.”

“I don’t think I can go down there just yet.” Her eyes watered up. “I suppose I’ll have to do it eventually … especially if I’m gonna …”

Her words drifted off. Decker filled in the blanks: if I’m gonna rent it out . Jennifer was a little short on maternal feelings, but there didn’t seem to be open hostility between mother and son as far as he could tell. He took out a photograph. “Mrs. Neil, could you tell me who’s in the picture with Brady?”

“That’s my daughter.”

“Brandy?”

“Yes.” A pause. “I remember this picture. It was during the summer, and we were visiting a corn maze. I took the photo on Brandy’s phone.”

“How old were they?”