11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Aaron

S he doesn't unlock the storm door when I show her my badge and smile like I'm a normal person and not a psycho here to kill her. I'd never hurt her, but I guess she doesn't know that. She pales, like she saw a ghost, and her hand shakes as she holds on to a dainty teacup like what my grandmother drank out of. Maybe that's what makes her look so old.

She's a couple years older than Lucy, but there are bags under her eyes. This is a woman who hasn't been sleeping. She's wrapped in an old gray sweater that doesn't go with her black Lululemon leggings and the house slippers on her feet that look like expensive fabric boots. A grungy white t-shirt is under the sweater and looks like it could use a wash.

"I just want to ask a few questions about Beck Lenin. Can I come in?"

She shivers at the name and looks left and right up the street. Is she scared of him like Lucy is scared of him? Did they fight?

Her fingers toy with the lock on the screen. "Did someone send you?" she asks.

The question startles me, and I open my mouth in surprise. It must be enough of a genuine reaction to get her to open the door because she unlocks the door and pushes it open before stepping back. Is she afraid I'll grab her? Does she think this is a kidnapping attempt? Who would send me? Beck?

I climb the two steps into the entryway of her home and keep my hands visible. I need my phone to take notes, but I don't dare put my hands in my pockets now. She may think I'm carrying a weapon. I am. I have my service weapon in my back holster, but my jacket covers it. Something tells me that I'd never need to use it with her anyway.

She's terrified of me. Her lip quivers, and she backs against the wall, knocking over a nearby frame of Jalen holding a golfing trophy. "What do you want with me?"

"Can we sit down, Mrs. Quarry? I'm with the police. I just have a few questions for you."

She waves me to the nicely decorated living room and waits for me to walk into the room first. She doesn't want to turn her back on me. I normally don't like to turn my back on anyone I don't know and trust – it's just the cop in me – but I don't think a woman that weighs all of a hundred pounds dripping wet will get the jump on me. If I can get her to relax, I have a feeling she'll be a great source of information.

I take in the room and smile at her wedding pictures on the mantle as I make my way to a rose-colored loveseat with white and yellow cushions. The room is cheerful and bright. It's definitely a contrast to Ellen's demeanor and clothing today. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was in mourning. The rest of the room is floral patterns and pinks with a rich, white shag rug in the middle of the room.

She practically slinks onto the couch across from me. No offer of coffee or water. Most people I question want to impress the police officers at their door. Play nice.

Ellen Quarry doesn't give a shit.

She pulls her sweater tighter around her chest. "What did you want to know?"

I lean forward. "I'm going to get my phone out so I can take notes, OK?" She nods, and I finally reach into my pocket. "It's my understanding you know Beck Lenin."

"What would make you think that?"

I sigh and look around the room again, finding my words carefully. "Mrs. Quarry, I know you were having an affair with him."

She sits up straighter and her eyes widen to silver dollars. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"His wife reported him missing. We know you were involved with him. I'm not here to judge you, Mrs. Quarry. I've spoken to your husband about Beck's work life, and I did not mention your affair. I have no desire to break up your marriage. Hell, maybe you have an open marriage. It's not my business what you do in your bedroom. It is my business to gather information about Beck to see where he may be."

She's silent, but a little tea sloshes onto her leggings as her hand shakes. After what seems like minutes, she clears her throat. "It's not what it looks like."

"Tell me how it is. Please. His wife wants to divorce him, and she needs to find him to serve him papers."

Something in her eyes lights up like a match spark. Happy Lucy's leaving him? Angry? I can't tell, and other than trembling, which could be for any number of reasons, Ellen Quarry's holding her cards close to her chest.

"How did you meet him? Let's start there."

She looks down, ashamed. "Jalen's work party. He was so…charismatic."

I smile and prop my leg on my knee in a relaxed pose, trying to put her at ease. "You wouldn't be the first to say so. His wife indicated that he could charm the birds out of the trees when he felt like it."

My phone vibrates in my hand, and I swipe the red phone button to send Mitchell to voice mail. Can't the man take direction? I told him I was handling personal business and couldn't be bothered.

"I met Beck during a bad time in my marriage," Ellen says, her face reddening and her eyes filling with tears.

"Bad how?"

"Jalen and I were, well, we were trying to have a baby and couldn't. It wasn't anyone's fault. It just wasn't happening for us. Sex was just…" She trails off and clears her throat again, waving her hand in front of her face. "I'm sorry. It's odd to talk about my sex life with a strange man."

"I understand. Believe me, it's nothing I haven't heard. We're all adults."

"Sex with my husband would only happen when we were trying to have a baby."

"I see." And I do. Cynthia and I went through our phases when the bed was cold. Trying for Ruby was hard, and it definitely lost its luster after the eighth month of sex and Cynthia keeping her pelvis propped on a pillow after I came.

"Suddenly, Beck was this shiny toy with good hair. He was handsome and said all the things my husband wasn't saying to me. I'd lost weight from depression, which probably wasn't helping anything, but Beck was there with a text or a funny meme to cheer me up. He made me feel…special."

"Did you know he was married?" I ask.

She nods. "I'm a horrible person for that, but I knew Lucy from the work picnics and everything. Beck treated her like shit, but I couldn't stay away. Some perverse part of me liked that he was giving me attention and not giving any to her. It's probably the way a lot of side-piece women feel. I was down on myself and not getting what I needed for my self-esteem. In some sick way, it felt good to take it from another woman." She pinches her nose, and a tear falls down her cheeks. "I realize how awful that sounds."

"It actually makes a lot of sense, Ellen. Can I call you Ellen?" She wipes her nose and nods. "When was the last time you saw him?"

Her eyes darken and she goes still, not even a tremble from her hands. "I told Beck I was pregnant."

Holy fucking shit.

I cough to hide my shock and the gurgle that comes from my throat. "Forgive me, but I have to ask. Who was the father?"

"I don't know." She looks at me with a dark, pleading look. "I didn't know then and I still don't. I told Beck, and he left. That's the last time I saw him. Part of me thinks he may have disappeared because he was scared I'd take him for child support."

"Would you?"

"Why should I answer that?"

"I apologize. It's just that I need to know how scared he was. If he wasn't happy about being a father, it may have spooked him bad enough to make him disappear."

"I would have zero intention of ever letting the world think that child belonged to anyone but my husband, Sheriff."

I look at her thin frame. If she's pregnant and Beck left months ago, she either lost the baby, aborted it, or was mistaken. A quick glance around the room shows no baby toys or blankets. "I assume you're no longer pregnant?"

Another tear dribbles down the other cheek. She reaches for a tissue from a box on an end table this time. "I aborted. I couldn't live with what I'd done. Jalen never knew I was pregnant. I couldn't do that to him. Fuck, can you imagine if it came out looking like his work colleague? How would I explain it? I also couldn't risk it if he got suspicious and asked for a DNA test."

I tap a few things on my phone. I have more questions, but she's getting upset. I'm not sure how much more time I have with her before she's a blubbering mess. "Did he seem upset when he left? Like he was upset about the baby?"

Her lips twitches like she wants to spill something important, but she takes a deep breath. "He wasn't happy."

"I don't suppose he mentioned where he was going?"

"No, sir." It's stiff. Her voice straightens where it trembled before. A lie? Just reiterating that she can't help? It's hard to tell with her.

"Mrs. Quarry, I know I've upset you today, but I need to talk about something with you. Beck Lenin's wife has accused Beck of abuse. Do you know anything about that?"

She bites her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, and a line of clear fluid drips from her nose. "He was a cruel man," she says before bending into a crouch position and pulling the collar of her t-shirt over her face.

I'm out of my seat and sitting on the couch with her in a few short seconds, and she allows me to get close, obviously convinced I won't hurt her now. I rub her back in small circles like I've seen some of the female officers do for women down at the station. I'm unsure if I should be touching her, but she obviously needs comfort. I can't just sit there as she sobs.

"Did he hurt you, Ellen?"

She doesn't answer, but her head nods from the spot between her knees. She doesn't volunteer information or push my hand away, so I pat her, waiting to see if she'll talk more. For now, I let her cry.

We sit there for minutes as sounds of life go on outside. The block is tightly packed together, and sound carries from the intersection a few houses down. Loud trucks and motorcycles go by, gunning their engines. Somewhere a few houses down, what sounds like a UPS truck stops. A group of kids play on a porch at a neighbor's house, and the silence is interspersed with shrieks. City living is loud, and it's impossible not to know your neighbor's business here. Hell, Beck and Ellen must have met in a hotel to avoid everyone knowing.

Eventually, she raises her head and accepts another tissue from me. "It's OK if you don't want to tell me about it, but I'm listening if you do. He's no friend of mine."

She wads the tissue in her hand. "It started with a slap on my hands when I grabbed his hand in public. I didn't think anything about it at first. I thought he was joking since it was such a weird thing to do. I passed it off as him not wanting someone to see us holding hands and it getting back to Lucy. The next time it was a shove. Not too rough. Just enough to stumble into the wall. I guess I should have walked away then. Maybe he would have understood I wouldn't put up with it."

"Did he hit you?"

She takes a deep breath. "Lucy had him riled up about something. He took it out on me. Slapped me so hard I had to tell Jalen I ran into a door."

"Punching or kicking?"

She ignores the question, and her eyes darken. I'll take that as a yes, but she doesn't say yes or no. She stares out her picture window like she's just noticed it's daytime and a beautiful day. Like she wants to go outside and play in the sun now that she got this off her chest. "Do you know where he is, Officer Dwyer?"

"No, ma'am."

"Do you think you'll ever find him?"

"I hope so."

She doesn't respond. Something about her expression, the side eye she gives me, tells me I'll get no more from her today. My phone vibrates with Coleson's number again, and I reject the call, muttering a cuss word under my breath.

"Officer Dwyer, I need to do some work before my husband gets home. I also need to calm down. I haven't been sleeping well or eating much since all of this happened. Work has been the only thing that keeps me sane these last few months."

"Of course," I say, pulling my card out of my other pants pocket and handing it to her. "If you don't mind me asking, what is it you do for work?"

Ellen rises from the couch, and I follow. She grabs the crumpled tissues and the teacup before facing me. "My grandfather died last year and left me a campground. RV hookups. Tent spots in the summer. It doesn't get traffic this time of year, but I have maintenance we do in the winter. I arrange work orders and take reservations for the summer. Planning music festivals and routine landscaping keeps me busy."

"That sounds interesting. Is it possible Beck Lenin knew about it and is hiding there?"

Ellen snort laughs, and it's a foreign sound to me. She's only cried since I've been here. "Hell, no. I have a ranger that checks things every few days. He'd tell me if someone was squatting on the land. I wouldn't let him stay on my property."

That kind of breakup, huh?

"I'll leave you to it," I say just as another call from Mitchell comes across my screen. For fuck's sake. "Excuse me, it's work," I say, holding up a finger to Ellen.

Walking over to a corner of her living room, Ellen moves back like she doesn't want to intrude on my conversation in her own house and pulls her sweater tight over her chest.

"What is the problem, Mitchell?" I bark as soon as the call is connected. "I told you I had personal business to take care of and not to bother me unless you had another dead body for me to look at."

Mitchell pauses so long that I think he hung up. When he does speak, the younger man's voice cracks. "Well, uh, that's the thing, sir. We found another body. Coleson's on the scene and asking for you. You need to come in."