Even in the dim light, James could see the man’s eyes were almost vacant.
“I think something might’ve happened to Bonnie.”
The man took James’s hand and dumped two pills into his palm. “Take these.”
“What is it?”
“They’ll help you sleep.”
“Do I usually take these?”
“Yes. Every night.”
“Is Bonnie doing the laundry? Maybe that’s where she is.”
“Take the pills.”
James popped the pills in his mouth, and the man helped him sip from a glass of water that was on his nightstand.
“You need the bedpan?”
“No.”
“Okay then. Go to sleep.”
“Is Bonnie up there?”
The man didn’t answer. He crossed the room, his boots thumping on the tiled floor. When he got to the landing, he shut off the lights and plunged the room into a thick darkness.
“Please tell me your name. Even if I’m going to ask again tomorrow, just tell me anyway.”
A sigh. “Trevor.”
“Thank you.”
The only reply was the sound of the man’s boots stomping up the stairs and the basement door quietly closing.
13
Cindy was waiting in the kitchen when Trevor came up from the basement. He closed the door, and they looked at each other as the noise in the house settled.
“How is he?”
“Physically, he’s doing fine. I don’t think the bump he got is affecting him. As for his mental state, he’s a mess, but we knew that going in. Has no recollection of what happened, which is definitely a good thing. He kind of knows he hadn’t gone to bed down there before, but I played it like he’s been here for a while. He kept asking about someone named Bonnie.”
Cindy pushed off the counter she was leaning on. Her eyes grew wide. “That’s a good thing,” she said. “He’s remembering. Bonnie was one of his victims. I knew he’d start to remember. I knew it.”
“I don’t know if you’d call it remembering,” Trevor replied. “More like random thoughts popping into his mind. He just thinks of something, and it comes out of his mouth.”
“No, he’s remembering. Same with the ghosts he’s seeing. They’re the kids he abducted. He’s remembering.”
“Okay, whatever.” Trevor made his way over to the table and sat down. “Just work on the old man so you can get your answers. If you think Hagen wants to hear his confession, then get it before he comes up, because once he’s here, it’s over.”
“I know. I’ll push a little harder tomorrow.”
“How’s our girl doing?”
“She’s fine. She’s in bed. I gave her a couple more Valiums.”
“She’s getting pretty amped up.”
“Yeah, well, this isn’t something that people do every day,” Cindy said. “Of course she’s gonna be a little freaked out. We killed two people, and now we’re stuck up here. The original plan crumbled the second those red lights started flashing.”
“No, the plan crumbled the second you decided to go twenty miles over the speed limit.”
Cindy ignored the jab.
“I’m sorry,” Trevor said. “I know you didn’t mean to do it. I’m just saying she’s making me nervous. If she wants to help her mom, she better learn to calm down.”
Cindy sat down at the kitchen table across from him. “She’ll be fine. I’ll watch her. Help her through it.”
“Okay,” he said. “You’re the boss.”
14
Susan followed the trooper back to the barracks, and they put David Hill in one of the two small interview rooms. He was seated at the far end of a tiny table that looked like it would be more appropriate for a poker game than an interrogation. The room itself was no bigger than a walk-in closet. A camera mounted in one corner recorded the interview and fed a live feed to the flat screen hanging in the investigators’ unit. There was no large two-way mirror or separate viewing room. There simply wasn’t enough space.
Susan opened the door and slipped inside. She dropped a file and her notebook onto the table and then made her way toward the camera. “We have to record this. For your sake as well as ours.”
David nodded.
“You ready?”
“Am I going to need a lawyer?”
“Eventually,” Susan replied. “You’re going to be charged with trespassing, breaking and entering, and disrupting a crime scene. You can ask for a lawyer at any point, but if you cooperate here and talk to me, I won’t file charges for running from the scene. I just want to know what you can tell me about your sister and James Darville.”
David fell back in his chair. He wasn’t crying anymore, but his eyes were red and swollen. “The quicker I tell you what I know, the quicker you can find Rebecca. Ask me what you want. I’m good.”
Susan nodded. She ran through the details of who was in the interview for the benefit of the video record, asked David to confirm that he was aware he was being recorded, then opened her file.
“When we spoke with you and your mother earlier, your mother indicated she last talked to Rebecca two days ago. When was the last time you spoke to her?”
David thought for a moment. “I’d say about two days ago also. My mother had been in the hospital for a couple days, which is why Rebecca called.”
“She wasn’t there when your mother was discharged?”
“No, she couldn’t leave Mr. James. I took care of it.”
“Is that unusual? Your sister, a nurse, not being there after your mom was sent home from the hospital?”
“I don’t think it was that unusual,” David replied. “Sometimes her patients have to come first. We get it. It happens.”
Susan made a few notes. “When you spoke to Rebecca two days ago, did you notice anything different about her tone or her mood? Was she worried or stressed or nervous? Anything like that?”
David nodded. “She was worried about my mom. My mom needs a liver transplant, and time’s running out. She’s older, so she’s always at the bottom of the donor list. We thought this might be the end, so we were both freaking out a little.”
“Could she have been worried or stressed for another reason?”
“I have no idea. She didn’t say anything.”
More notes. “Did you ever meet James Darville? Rebecca ever introduce you?”
“No. Like my mom said before, we knew about him, but we never met him.”
“Did Rebecca ever tell you about what’s going on in his life? Friends? Relatives?”
“No.”
“Enemies he might’ve had?”
“No. Nothing like that. Just that he had dementia and she was taking care of him. That’s all she ever told us other than a funny story here or there.” David leaned forward. “We’ve already been through this. Why is Mr. James’s house a crime scene? What happened to him?”
Susan ignored the questions. “Did Rebecca ever come across as nervous or uncomfortable talking about James?”