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If She Heard

CHAPTER THREE

It never got any easier to step into a meeting with Director Duran. He had always been fair with Kate and she even considered him a good friend. But the nature of the call and the way the last few months of her life had gone made Kate think that this was going to be a tense meeting—perhaps a meeting that would put an end to her briefly resurrected career as an FBI agent.

When she stepped into his office, he greeted her with the no-nonsense smile she had come to know and appreciate ever since he had taken over for the director who had overseen the first half of her career. She and Duran were roughly the same age (she had never bothered to ask how old he was because it seemed rude) and had a mutual appreciation for one another.

“Hey, Kate, have a seat.”

She was immediately alarmed that he had used her first name. It was very informal, something he had only ever done in after-hours situations or when conversations had gotten heated.

“Kate, huh?” she asked. She was beyond the point of being nervous around him. She made the comment in jest, as if basically painting the situation for what it was and placing it neatly on the desk between them.

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you’re still on your extended maternity leave,” he said. “Seemed silly to call you agent. However, as you might have imagined, all of that is sort of why I wanted to speak with you.” He let out a deep breath here and looked her straight in the eyes. “How are you, Kate?”

“Good. Confused, I guess.”

“Feeling like the Miracle Mom?”

“I suppose I do fit right in with the celebrity circles, don’t I?” she joked. “I need to hurry this up, by the way. I have a lunch scheduled with Ryan Seacrest right after this.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

Kate shrugged. Humor had never really been a part of their relationship anyway.

“I won’t lie,” Duran said. “It was sort of cool around here. People quick to say they knew you. Sharing links and articles about the Miracle Mom.”

“You know, I only did two interviews. How that turned into more than forty articles, I’ll never know.”

“That’s social media for you. It was nuts. Anyway…tell me, Kate. Has your newfound fame made you think twice about returning to the bureau?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “No. If anything is going to keep me from coming back, it would not be my brush with fame.”

“But something could stop you?”

“Maybe. My baby, for one. My age for another.”

“You’ve been out for three months now,” he said. “A little more, actually. I suppose I don’t need to point out that you’re not getting younger. Still…your body of work post-retirement is pretty impressive.”

“Forgive me for being so blunt and to the point,” Kate said. “But what do you want? Do you want me back?”

“In a perfect world, yes. But there have been meetings here and there. All of those articles not only highlight that you gave birth at fifty-seven, but that you are also still an active FBI agent. You go back out there, I don’t know what that’s going to be like in terms of media attention.”

Kate reclined back in her seat. She hadn’t even thought of that.

“Let’s be real for a minute,” Duran went on. “Yes, I want you back. But that’s being selfish. You’re a great asset and, if I’m being very real, it would do wonders for the bureau. The media loves you right now. You’re like some weird C-list celebrity, right up there with those kids that react to new music on YouTube. But I’m not going to try to sway you. If you want out, you can have out and I think everyone would understand.”

“I miss it, though,” Kate said. She hadn’t even fully realized it until it was out of her mouth.

“I figured you did. So what I can do—for the next few months, anyway—is set you on some low-risk cases. Just some things to keep your mind busy and your focus sharp. That is, if you feel that you’ve had enough time to rest and you’re ready to head back out.”

“I am,” she said. The idea of placing Michael into daycare hurt her heart, but she knew it would be good for him…as well as for her and Allen. Though, if she were being honest, she wasn’t sure she was quite ready for it yet. Before she could get dragged down by those thoughts, she carried on with the conversation. “How has DeMarco been doing? I’ve only spoken to her three times since I’ve been out and every time I asked her about work, she was quick to change the subject.”

“That might be because she’s been quite busy. I’m allowed to tell you because she’s technically still listed as your partner…but she has been involved in two high-profile cases. Three weeks ago, she arrested two men who had been getting heroin out on the streets. A week before that, she single-handedly brought in a guy who killed three people in West Virginia and was on the run, passing through Maryland.”

“Seems she has been busy.”

“And now that you mention DeMarco, she’s just been given a briefing on a case in North Carolina. Seems like a cut-and-dry stalker-type case. Two dead young women, college-aged. DeMarco is on a roll and I’m sure she’d love to have you back. If this one is as simple as it seems on paper, it could be a great fit for both of you, in your different situations.”

“And what is my situation?”

“You know what I meant, Kate. If you want to try to get back into the swing of things, this might be a good case to do it. It is, of course, one hundred percent up to you.”

“It sounds nice, but I don’t want to get in her way if she’s doing well for herself.”

“I’m sure she’d love to have you. And, again sticking with honesty, if we don’t know how much longer you’re going to work, I think it makes more sense to have you paired with someone you know well.”

“Makes sense.”

Duran considered things for a moment before getting to his feet. “She’s due to leave tomorrow morning. Does that give you and your husband enough time to sort things out? If you don’t mind my asking, has it even been a conversation?”

“It has,” she said. “Maybe an unspoken one, but it’s been on our minds. I think he knows I’m not done, but…”

“But what?”

“But that it’s close. That my time with the bureau is coming to an end.”

There was another question on Duran’s mind. She could see him debating whether or not to ask it. But she knew what it was and she was grateful he kept it quiet.

Is this your last case?

She was glad he left it unspoken because she had no idea how to answer it.

***

It was the sole topic of conversation at dinner. Allen took it well, mainly because he’d known it was coming. The moment Duran had called earlier in the day, he had known. The conversation had gone surprisingly well, though there was an underlying tension hovering over the dining room table.

“Here’s the thing,” Allen said, shoving his now-empty plate to the side. He’d made teriyaki chicken for dinner and it had been amazing. It was another of those small ways he treated her well. “There’s a very large part of me that is thrilled you’re going back. The last month or so, it’s been almost painful to watch you stalking around the place, looking like you lost your keys and had no idea where to look for them. I know you miss it and in terms of this case, I’m happy to agree to it. But it raises some questions.”

“A lot of questions,” Kate agreed. “Let’s tackle them.”

“Great. While I am pretty much retired at this point, I will still have to take calls and attend meetings here and there for the next year or so to wrap up those last-minute deals. So I’ll ask that your job not automatically overrule mine. That being said, we need to go ahead and pull the trigger on lining up daycare for Michael.”

“Agreed. Now, for this case, are you open for the next week or so?”

“I am. I have nothing on the calendar for another three weeks, actually.”

“And would you mind being a single father for several days if I take this case?”

“Sure thing. Boy time will be fun.”

“What other questions do you have?”

“I’m thinking of the safety factor. I know you can hold your own and it’s one of the reasons I love you. But I also don’t like the idea of my fifty-seven-year-old wife out there chasing after men half her age that have no problem killing her. It’s not like you’re one of these agents that sit behind a desk or parked in a car.”

“Duran and I talked about that. This case in particular should be a pretty simple one. He’s also aware of the age factor, though he was a bit more pleasant about how he worded it.”

“One more.” Allen leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his wine. He looked over to the bouncy seat Michael had been snoozing in while they ate and smiled. “How long are you going to keep at it? Honestly? How much longer can you push it? I can’t imagine putting your body through the stress of having a child has made it any easier.”

“It’s a difficult question to answer,” she said. “This whole situation…I could have never dreamed it up. A baby at fifty-seven. A supervisor and a partner who still want me active. It’s more than I can honestly wrap my head around and…I just don’t know. I don’t think I will until I get back out there.”

She watched how he thought about it, how the right corner of his mouth ticked down into an almost-frown the way it often did when he was deep in thought.

“Then I think you need to get back out there,” he said. “For now. Maybe we revisit this in three months and see what it looks like. Does that seem fair?”

“It seems more than fair.”

She wanted to tell him how lovely and accommodating he had been through this entire relationship. But he already knew it, because she said it all the time. She knew that it appeared that she chose work over him the majority of the time; if she was honest with herself, that was exactly what she had done. But now they had a baby and the future all but beckoned a marriage. This was her life now, her new life, and she finally had a chance to not let work control it all. She’d done that once before and it had nearly caused a rift between her and Melissa.

She knew right away that something had changed. In the past, she would have wasted no time—she’d leave the table right away and start packing for the trip down to North Carolina tomorrow. But now, following the meeting with Duran and the conversation with Allen, all she wanted to do was sit there with him. He was her future, not her work. Allen, Michael, and Melissa could be the center of her life and that would be just fine.

All she had to do was make sure her heart was centered. To make sure she was able to settle in on a life that seemed so perfect.

And for now, sitting there with Allen, it seemed pretty damn perfect indeed.

CHAPTER FOUR

When Kate and DeMarco met up at the car in the bureau lot, it felt like they had not missed a beat. Still, there was something noticeably different about DeMarco that came down to more than just her appearance, which was pretty much the same as it had been since they’d last seen one another nearly six months ago.

“Agent Wise, it’s nice to see you again,” DeMarco said.

“Likewise.”

They hugged briefly, and that was when, in something as simple as that quick show of affection, Kate could tell that there was something different about DeMarco. It had been less than eleven months since they had last worked together, but the woman had changed in ways that weren’t easily identifiable. It was more than just the time apart and the way Duran had made her seem during their meeting. DeMarco looked different, too. Kate’s first thought was that she looked older, but that wasn’t quite right. She had the look of someone who held her head high, looking upward and forward without the need for someone else to hold her up. In that sense, yes, DeMarco appeared to be older. Having just had a baby, Kate finally figured out a fitting analogy: DeMarco’s shift in appearance had gone from the naïve woman who wants to be a mother to the woman who had just had a baby, had become a mother, and was being guided by maternal instinct.

Another noticeable thing that had changed was the connection between Kate and DeMarco. It was noticeable from the very start—from the moment they tossed their bags into the trunk of the bureau sedan to start the drive to North Carolina. It was nothing negative. They were both ecstatic to see one another again, perhaps even more excited to be working a case again after nearly six months. But there was a sense of leadership change. DeMarco was no longer the subordinate, looking up to Kate and following her every lead. Now there was more confidence in DeMarco. She was an up and coming agent, cracking cases on her own.

Nothing was said—not from DeMarco nor from Duran—but Kate knew even before they were out of DC that DeMarco was the lead on this case. It was an intangible thing that Kate felt. And truth be told, she didn’t care. It actually felt sort of right.

Most of the trip down was spent playing catch-up. There were six hours to do it and it went by far too fast. Kate shared stories about Michael and how it felt to have a newborn younger than her granddaughter. She talked about trying to stay active and to keep a sharp mind away from work when her world had been essentially making formula, changing diapers, and getting every bit of available sleep she could.

DeMarco, in turn, told her about her life. She kept the personal details to a minimum, giving only the bare essentials about a new woman she was dating and a cancer scare her father had lived through. But it was mostly about work. When she started discussing some of the highlights, she did so in an almost embarrassed way.

“There’s no need to be timid about it,” Kate said. “Duran told me how well you’ve been doing, particularly over the past several weeks. Now…when he said you single-handedly brought that killer in, what exactly did he mean?”

“You really want to hear about that?” She sounded surprised but, deep down, a little excited.

“Of course I do!”

“Well, I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging. But yeah…this guy had killed a married couple in upstate New York and then attempted to kill and rob someone in DC. We found out he was here and a manhunt ensued. I wasn’t the lead initially, but the lead came down with the flu and I was sort of forced into the role. I ended up cornering the killer and one of his friends in this old house just outside of Georgetown. I had to shoot the friend. Took out his left knee. Took the killer down in a pretty quick wrestling match. I accidentally dislocated his hip and fractured his wrist.”

“Accidentally dislocated his hip?” Kate asked with a laugh.

“Yes, accidentally. Besides…he was high. Found out later that he was coming down off of some sort of psychedelic. Had he been of sound mind and knew what was going on, it might have ended very differently.”

“Still, that’s incredible. Maybe it’s just the newfound mom coming out in me, but I’m proud of you.”

“What’s this newfound crap? Bitch, you’re the Miracle Mom!”

They both laughed hard at this, setting the tone for the remainder of the trip. By the time they arrived in the small town of Harper Hills, it was almost as if they had not missed a beat. But still, that sense of a power shift was unmistakable. Kate accepted it warmly as DeMarco pulled their car into the police department parking lot, killed the engine, and eagerly opened the driver’s side door.

***

The interior of the Harper Hills PD reminded Kate of what a police department from an ’80s TV show might look like. And not one of those shows that took place in New York or LA. No, this place was just a step or two above Mayberry, something that might be featured in a Hallmark movie where the so-called detective was also a great cook or a children’s book author. There was a central entry area that she supposed was the lobby. Beyond that, there were three desks, only one of which was occupied. Behind those desks was a thin hallway and nothing more.

The desk that was occupied was filled by an overweight gentleman with what Kate thought might be considered a mullet, adding to the ’80s vibe. He nodded at them and got up from his seat quickly. The name tag on his left breast read Smith.

“You must be the agents,” Smith said, hurrying to the lobby to greet them.

Kate took a step back, letting DeMarco know that she had the floor.

“That’s us,” DeMarco said. “Agents DeMarco and Wise. We were told we were to meet with Sheriff Gates.”

“Yeah, that’s right. He’s back in his office.” Smith waved them on to follow him. They did so, tailing him into the hall where he stopped at the first doorway on the right. “Sheriff?” he asked, knocking on the frame of the opened door. “The FBI agents are here.”

“Come on in!” came the response.

DeMarco led the way, Kate following behind. The sheriff got to his feet and extended his hand to greet them. Kate bit back a grin at the idea that she had seen the police department as a few steps above the station from Mayberry in The Andy Griffith Show. Sheriff Gates actually looked like a younger, modernized version of Sheriff Andy from the titular show. He shook their hands and looked them in the eye in a way that told her he was perfectly fine working with women, but that he was also likely going to be treating them with some good old southern hospitality.

“Sheriff,” Kate said, “I figured the station would be jumping, given the nature of this case.”

“Well, it was a while ago. The State PD came in and I had two of my men go out with them. They’re canvassing some of the back roads; there’s a lot of them around here, you know. I stayed behind because I wanted to meet with you.”

“We appreciate that,” DeMarco said. “What exactly can you tell us about the case? We’ve been briefed in DC, of course, but I’d prefer to hear it straight from the source.”

“Well, there’s been two murders in a town that has only boasted a single homicide in the last ten years. Both have been young women—ages nineteen and twenty. The first victim was killed five nights ago, in a bowling alley parking lot. The other was found yesterday morning on the front porch of her mother’s house. There’s no clear link between the girls other than their age and that they were both locals. The latest victim, Kayla Peterson, was home from college for a few days.”

“An in-state college?” DeMarco asked.

“No, somewhere down in Florida.”

“Any links at all in the families of the women?” Kate asked.

“The only thing similar between them is that they both came from families of divorce. But we’ve spoken to all of the immediate family and everything seems to check out in terms of alibis. You, of course, are welcome to retread where we’ve already stepped.”

“Thank you,” DeMarco said. “Do you mind taking us out to the location where the second victim was found?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

Gates slipped on a jacket and exited the office ahead of them. Kate noticed how DeMarco seemed to carry herself differently now. It was a very slight difference, and not anything Kate could actually name, but it was there. She was more confident, more self-assured. It was present in the way she had interacted with the sheriff, even in that brief amount of time. It was also in the way she followed him but also led Kate.

She’s still so young, Kate thought. She’s going to end up being an exceptional agent.

It warmed her heart and made her incredibly glad to be back by DeMarco’s side. More than anything though, it made her happy to be on this case, even though she was now quite sure it would be one of her last.

***

On the way to the latest murder scene, they passed through most of Harper Hills. There were four stoplights in the town and the most recognizable businesses were a Burger King and a Subway, both situated along the very short and mostly non-eventful Main Street. Near the end of Main Street, Gates turned his patrol car onto a back road, and DeMarco followed closely behind in the bureau sedan.

The back road turned into another and that one into yet another. It was a peculiar area, though. Kate had seen many backwoods towns set up in a similar way, but Harper Hills was almost like a rural subdivision without all the fringe, tucked away in the wooded flatlands of North Carolina. The neighborhood Gates led them into was not so much a neighborhood as a collection of wooded lots separated by thick groves of trees.

Kate leaned forward in her seat as Gates turned into a gravel driveway. DeMarco followed, both agents noticing that there was one other car in the driveway. She parked behind Gates and the three of them met one another at the start of the sidewalk.

“This is the Peterson residence,” Gates said. “The mother, Sandra, is currently staying with an old family friend out near Cape Fear. She just couldn’t stand to be around here. I get that, I suppose. She was torn up about it all. Catatonic.”

He then handed DeMarco a manila envelope. DeMarco took it, opened it, and looked inside. Kate peered over her shoulder and saw that it was the case files. They had received most of those files digitally in DC, but not all of them. She always made a point to look at the physical files even when she had the digital ones. Something about seeing the information in print—especially crime scene photos—made the case seem more pressing.

“Were you the first on the scene?” DeMarco asked.

“No, that was Smith. But I was right behind him.”

“Can you walk me through what you saw?”

Kate liked this approach. Rather than instantly looking though the offered files. DeMarco wanted to make sure she was seeing the scene as it had played out on the morning the body had been found. Photographs and notes were excellent tools, but rarely as good as hearing the events told from the mouths of those first on the scene.

“According to the mother, Kayla Peterson was home for a friend’s wedding. She went out with some friends two nights ago and the next morning, she wasn’t in her room. But her car was right there in the driveway. When the mother opened the door to check the car, she found Kayla dead on the porch. She’d gotten so far as putting her front door key into the lock before the killer attacked; they were still hanging from the knob when Smith and I got here. From the moment I saw the body, it was quite apparent she had been strangled.”

“Was she fully clothed?” Kate asked.

“She was. The medical examiner said there was no indication that she had been raped or otherwise sexually assaulted. Seems like murder was the only thing the killer was interested in. Same goes for the first victim.”

“Did the ME have any hints at what was used to strangle her?” DeMarco asked.

“He thinks some sort of cord, likely made of plastic. And the force with which he did it was a lot. The ME thinks the killer must be rather strong.”

“Is that Kayla’s car down there?” DeMarco asked, nodding to the only other car in the driveway.

“It is.” He fished around in his pocket and took out a key fob that had been marked with an evidence tag. He handed it over to DeMarco and said, “Help yourself.”

The three of them trotted back down the porch stairs to the driveway. Kayla had driven a 2017 Kia Optima. It looked exactly what Kate would expect a college girl’s car to look like: fairly clean, the console littered with Chapstick, a half-empty plastic bottle of water, and a phone charger. Other than that, there was nothing of note in the car—certainly nothing that would help them determine who had been following her that night.

Following the car, Gates unlocked the front door. He explained to them that when Sandra Peterson had left town, she’d given Gates the keys to her home to help with the investigation.

“Any chance she’d be a suspect?” Kate asked.

“Even if I had the slightest inkling that she was—and I don’t—it would not explain the first victim.”

“That was three days before Kayla, right?” DeMarco asked.

“That’s exactly right. While there is certainly no way to rule her out for certain, I interviewed every single person that was at the bowling alley when it closed up. Not a single person reported seeing Sandra Peterson. One woman knew exactly who I was talking about and thought it was outrageous that I was even asking. Besides…I go back to what the ME said. Whoever strangled Kayla Peterson was incredibly strong. And if you ever end up meeting Sandra Peterson, you’d have a hard time lining that up. She’d quite waifish. Lost a ton of weight when her husband left. And not by going to the gym. She looks almost malnourished. Sickly, at times.”

Kate and DeMarco looked around the room Kayla had been staying in. It showed signs of the girl she once was, the residue of Hannah Montana stickers on the side of a dresser, faintly faded squares on the walls where posters once hung. They found two packed bags sitting at the foot of the bed. One had clearly been designated as the bag for all things related to the wedding celebration. It was filled with nicer clothes, makeup, and what looked like notes for a toast. The other bag was much less formal, with several outfits tossed in along with a paperback book and some toiletries. But there was nothing at all to help them with the case.

“Have you talked to any of the friends she was out with the night she was killed?” DeMarco asked.

“All but one of them. From what I gathered, there were four of them in all, including Kayla.”

“I’d like to speak with all of them,” DeMarco said. She then looked back to Kate, as if seeking approval. Kate only gave a quick nod of the head, appreciating the gesture of having DeMarco seek her opinion.

“Well, it’s Monday afternoon, and they’re all working. I could make some calls and see what I can do to get them all together. Maybe at the station.”

“What about a bar or diner or something?” DeMarco asked.

Gates looked baffled, but nodded slowly. “Yeah, there’s a bar or two in town. Well, right outside of it, actually. Pretty sure a few of the girls frequent one of them, a place called Esther’s Place. I can have them meet you there at six or so.”

“Make sure they know it’s not optional,” DeMarco said. “If they can’t make it, we’ll come to their house.”

Kate smiled. It wasn’t the path she would have taken, but it was an effective one. She knew what DeMarco was thinking. Typically, when the questioning of witnesses was done outside of interrogation rooms or even homes, the flow of conversation tended to be more natural. Kate had never preferred this approach, as the possibility of distraction became an issue. But this was DeMarco’s show and she was going to let DeMarco run it her way.

The trio exited the house and by the time they reached their respective cars, Sheriff Gates was already on the phone, trying to organize the meeting.

“I wonder why he just let the mom leave like that,” DeMarco said as they got into their car.

“The woman just lost her daughter. Unless there is substantial evidence that she is guilty or knows something worthwhile, there’s no point in dragging her through this. Plus, the case files said she has no family or friends around here. And family and friends is exactly what she needs right now.”

DeMarco chuckled. “Damn, I missed you, Kate. I was beginning to worry I put people’s emotions in the back seat when it came to a case.”

“It’s easy to do,” Kate said. “After a while, as sad as it sounds, it can become easy to stop seeing the people we meet on the cases as actual people. We just have a puzzle to solve and they are the tools to help. It’s a shitty way to think, but I think all agents slip into it at some point or another.”

“I can’t see you behaving like that.”

Talk to Melissa, she thought. She’ll tell you all about how I put the job above everything.

The thought brought a sudden sting of tears to her eyes, which she wiped away. It was one more tug from life, pulling her closer. Yes, she had been a miserable mother to Melissa, usually choosing work over her.

She found herself back there again, only now twenty years later and with Michael. She had a chance to get it right this time.

And as that last thought still stung at her mind, she thought, when it was all said and done, she would get it right.