Listen by Rene Gutteridge
Damien held up a finger, trying to retrieve the thought that had just passed through his mind. He turned to Kay. “I think . . .”
“What?”
“Is the computer on?”
“I think so. Why?”
Damien hurried into the study, dropping into the chair while reaching for the keyboard. He quickly typed www.listentoyourself.net.
“What are you doing?”
“Hold on,” Damien said, using the mouse to scroll down until he found the last conversation recorded. “Read this.”
Kay leaned in.
“Hey, yeah, give me another.”
“You’re a bourbon and Coke man?”
“I am these days. Might even drop the Coke.”
“Bad day?”
“Bad week. Month. Life.”
“Me too. Lost my job.”
“About to lose my mind.”
“Then there must be a woman involved.”
“Do they make anything stronger than bourbon that I can stand to drink?”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“Yeah, I guess. I was seeing a woman. She sort of freaked on me. Threatened to . . .”
“What? Hey, slow down there. Drink it too fast and you’ll puke or pass out or both.”
“Gimme another.”
“So, your woman freaked?”
“My woman threatened to tell my other woman.”
“Oh. Ouch.”
“Yeah. And see, that can’t happen. It won’t happen.”
Kay stood upright. “Okay, what? I’m not following.”
“This is the last conversation on the Web site, the one Frank was supposedly reading.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Maybe this conversation is about Angela. The woman, one of them, might be Angela.”
“So you think Angela was seeing someone and he was cheating on her?”
Damien peered at the screen. “Or Angela was the woman whom this guy was cheating with.”
Kay studied the words again. “The woman that was going to tell the other woman.”
Damien pointed. “‘It won’t happen.’”
“Sounds like he’s desperate.”
Damien clicked Print.
* * *
Damien waited near the interrogation room, watching a small, very fuzzy closed-circuit television. Angela sat in a small chair and fidgeted with her blouse. The camera angle made her look small and insignificant.
Detective Murray entered, dropping his jacket onto the corner of the table, which was no bigger than a card table. “We wanted to talk to you about Frank’s murder.”
“I didn’t do it,” Angela said, sniffling.
“We have reason to believe you are not being totally forthright with us.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You told us that you weren’t seeing anyone.”
A drawn-out pause. Her fidgeting could even be seen on the small screen.
Damien glanced at the captain, who nodded. “We got her.”
Angela spoke. “I was seeing someone.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?”
She looked down. “Because I was embarrassed.”
“About?”
“He’s married. We didn’t . . . we didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Did Frank know you were seeing someone?”
“I talked to Frank one day about it, because this man . . . he started acting strangely and I was afraid.”
“Strangely how?”
“His temper was out of control. He was always yelling at me. I told him I thought the stress of the affair was too much, but he said he could handle it. I didn’t think so. I wanted to break off the relationship, but he wouldn’t let me.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he said that wasn’t going to happen. Then I told him that if he didn’t back off, I was going to tell his wife. I had to threaten him because he wouldn’t . . .” She broke down in tears.
Detective Murray waited patiently, without sympathy. “So,” he said after a moment, “you told Frank about this guy.”
“Yes. I don’t think Frank . . . I mean, I think he was fed up with me. And for good reason. He didn’t see how he could help.”
“What happened after you told this man you wanted to break it off?”
“I didn’t hear from him.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Four days before Frank was killed. You don’t think . . . ?”
“What is this man’s name?”
Angela shook her head.
Damien glared at the television. “How could she not tell us this before?”
“Ma’am, we need this man’s name. We have good reason to believe he could be involved.”
“What? No, no. You’ve got that wrong. He’s a moody guy, but he’s not a murderer.”
“We believe he had intentions to harm you.”
Angela’s stunned expression was clear even through the grainy television.
“The Web site that’s wreaking havoc on Marlo recorded a conversation that could be linked to you.” Detective Murray pushed a piece of paper across the table to Angela. “This page was up on Frank’s computer the morning he came to your apartment. We believe that Frank may have believed this conversation was about you.”
Angela picked up the paper, read it, and slowly put it back down. “Are you saying Frank came to my apartment looking for me? because he thought I was in danger?”
“We can’t say for sure, but it looks as if Frank walked in, startled this guy, who was there intending to harm you.” Detective Murray leaned forward. “We need that name. Now.”
26
Damien rode with Captain Grayson to Mike Toledo’s residence. His wife said that he was at work. They arrived at his work a little after noon, and his supervisor said that he was on lunch break but was planning to do some Christmas shopping at the town square, specifically at RadioShack.
The captain parked his car in an empty space near RadioShack. Three patrol cars accompanied him, pulling to nearby curbs.
Grayson gathered them on the sidewalk across the street from the store. “Murray, I want you to go in easy. Let’s not spook this guy. Tell him we just want to bring him in and talk to him about what he knows. Guys, let’s stand by, out of line of sight.”
Murray pointed. “That’s his car, right? The red one?”
“Yeah. Looks like our boy is in there. All right, let’s go in. Damien, wait by the car.”
Damien nodded and got comfortable leaning against the door, trying to ease the adrenaline that was pulsing through him. He watched Murray and Grayson cross the street toward the store, which was lit up with signs declaring all kinds of Christmas sales.
He loved the little town square with its tower clock and its swept streets. Every store glowed with holiday lights and festive decorations. Shoppers traveled from store to store, managing their shopping bags.
A heavy thought hit him. Frank’s Christmas gift. He’d gotten it online a month ago. It was some gadget that projected movies from a tiny device onto any surface. The guy at the store said it was the hot new gadget for the holidays.
Frank spent every Christmas with them, bringing over loads of presents for the kids and thoughtful ones for him and Kay. What was Christmas going to be like without Frank there?
He blew out the sorrow and watched the men approach RadioShack. The front door opened, and a man fitting the description of Toledo came out, zipping up a lightweight navy coat.
He glanced up, noticing Grayson first, then Murray. Damien took a couple steps forward, hoping to hear at least part of the exchange.
Grayson waved at the man. “You Mike Toledo?”
Suddenly the man bolted, dropping his bags and racing the opposite direction.
Damien couldn’t help himself. He took off in a run as Grayson called for backup and Murray chased Toledo. Barely dodging an oncoming car, Damien made his way across the street, abou
Toledo knocked against shoppers as he raced toward an alley. More shouting from the police and Grayson. Damien rounded the corner after Murray.
Toledo had hit a fence and was scrambling up the chain link when Murray caught the bottom of his pants and dragged him off. Toledo fell against the concrete with a thud and rolled over, groaning. Murray accosted him, followed shortly by Grayson, who drilled a knee into his backbone. Within seconds, he was cuffed.
“Something you want to run from?” Grayson growled, yanking him to his feet.
* * *
Edgar laughed heartily, slapping his hands against his desk. “Whew! It just doesn’t get any better than this.”
Damien crossed his arms, trying to keep his hands from fidgeting.
“An eyewitness account,” Edgar continued, smiling. “This is stellar. The way you put in these details, it’s like I’m right there. Any new information since the story broke?”
“No. They’re pretty quiet over there right now. They let me stay for the interrogation of Angela because I brought the conversation to their attention. I’m assuming they’re interrogating Mr. Toledo and probably getting a warrant to search his premises.” Damien sighed. “Frank was always my inside guy there, so I don’t know anything more than that.”
“That’s okay. This is good for now.” Edgar’s smile faded. “Listen, um, why don’t you shut the door for a sec.”
Damien hesitated, then shut it. “What’s going on?”
“First of all, I know this has been a hard few days for you. Frank’s death was an incredible tragedy for this town but most especially for you.”
Damien agreed.
“But this is a newspaper, and we’ve got to run with the story.”
“I understand. Of course we’ve got to cover this. I’m glad you let me write it.”
“There’s another side to this story, Damien.”
Damien searched Edgar’s face. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” Edgar waited. “That Frank might’ve been the person behind the Web site.”
Damien slammed his fists against the chair he stood behind. “What are you talking about? It’s only a rumor! Frank is not behind it.”
“The story presents it as an angle, just like the police are doing.”
“You wrote it?”
“I assigned it to Bruce.”
“There is no evidence pointing to Frank.”
“You’re his friend, so I understand that you’re not seeing this clearly.”
“There is nothing to see except speculation.”
“He had motive.”
“Edgar—”
“Hear me out,” Edgar said, his voice rising. “He had motive. It was no secret he was never able to let his wife go. He wanted to keep up with what Angela was doing. And now a source at the police department says there was a sister who attempted sui—”
“Don’t you think it’s a little elaborate to have this entire Web site full of people’s conversations just so he can listen in on Angela’s life?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he was more desperate than anyone knows.”
“Circumstantial. That’s all it is.”
“His rookie shed some light on his state of mind.”
“Meaning what?”
“We have him quoted as saying that he believes Frank could’ve been a part of it, that he disappeared sometimes for no reason, with no explanation of where he’d been.”
“What a guy. Really knows how to wear that uniform.”
“The posts have stopped. There hasn’t been one since Frank died.”
“There is also no evidence on Frank’s computer that he was involved.”
“There are theories attached to why that is.”
Damien walked to the door and opened it. “I’m sure there are.”
“I know this is difficult. And believe me when I say that we’re not presenting it as fact. It’s not proven yet. But it is a story that Marlo has a great interest in.”
“Marlo? Or you? Because as far as I can see, this isn’t hurting you any, is it?”
Edgar flinched but seemed dismissive of the accusation. “If it was Frank, it would solve a very big mystery.”
“Or cause harm to a man’s reputation, a man who can’t in any way defend himself.”
Damien tried to read Edgar’s expression, while filtering it through the utter disgust he felt. But Edgar didn’t say anything else. He only stared at his desk.
Damien walked out, slamming the door behind him.
* * *
Kay barely heard the phone ringing over the vacuum. She shut it off and hurried to the wall phone. She grabbed it on the fifth ring. “Hello?”
“Mom?”
Kay’s heart skipped a beat. The voice sounded urgent. “Jenna? What’s the matter?”
“Mom, I just . . . I wanted to call.”
“You sound frantic.”
“No, I’m okay. I had a break between classes. What are you doing?”
“Vacuuming. You don’t sound okay.”
“I’m. . . you know, it’s a lot to . . . It’s just one of those days. Maybe it’s all hitting me.”
“Do you want to come home? I’ll come get you.”
“No. It’s fine, really. Listen, that’s the bell. I gotta go. See you after school. Let’s get a movie tonight, okay? Pizza?”
Kay smiled. “Of course.” The line went dead and Kay hung up the phone. She unplugged the vacuum and was wrapping the cord up when the doorbell rang. Hunter had been expecting a box from Amazon.
But it wasn’t a box on her front porch. “Jill?”
Sobbing, Jill collapsed to her knees. Her wail echoed off the concrete porch. Kay hurried outside, kneeling in front of her and grabbing Jill’s wrists. “Jill? Is it Natalie?”
Jill shook her head. “It’s Mike. They’ve arrested him. For that police officer’s murder.”
* * *
Damien fled to his desk, not knowing what to do with the anger he felt. Part of him needed to leave, take a walk, maybe a vacation. Just get out.
But no. Not with all this hanging over Frank. He knew his best friend, and he knew he wasn’t behind this. Frank would never knowingly cause chaos in this town. And what would be the point of listening in on people’s conversations?
He rolled his fingers around on his temple, then dialed Lou Grayson’s cell phone.
“Grayson.”
“It’s Damien.”
“I need to call you back. We’ve got—”
“No. Listen to me. Your rookie is talking to the press. The Gavin kid.” Damien could hear Lou breathing. “Giving theories about Frank’s involvement with the Web site.”
The captain cursed. “They probably ambushed him at home. Doesn’t he know there’s protocol for this sort of thing?”
“I guess Frank hadn’t gotten to that yet,” Damien said flatly. “I want to know something. What is your investigation finding in regard to how these conversations are being recorded?”
A pause. “Off the record?”
“Yeah. Okay. Off the record.”
“We’re looking into the possibility that someone is using a laser listening device. They sell for hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars but ironically can be built fairly cheaply.”
“Built? What do you mean?”
“I gotta go. Google it, and you’ll see what I mean.”
The line went dead. Damien googled “build a laser listening device.” Within seconds, he was reading step-by-step instructions on how to do it.
He scrolled down, trying to figure out how it worked. He learned they didn’t use a microphone. Instead, a change in light was measured by the way it reflected off a surface, usually a window. Wading through the scientific jargon, Damien read that basically the laser light reflected off the glass toward the operator would be shifted, continuously changing. By detecting this shift, the vibrations returned to the operator as sound.
Or something
But what Damien found particularly interesting was that these types of devices could record conversations from a long distance without access to the space. All that was needed was a window. Because infrared laser light was invisible, detecting the device would be almost impossible.
Damien tried to think back to the conversations he read on the Web site. It seemed most of them would be conversations one would have indoors. It was impossible to prove, but the scenario was playing out better than anything else.
He continued to search, finding instructions on how to make a homemade device. It was mostly over his head, but anyone with even the slightest bit of interest in electronics or technology could probably pull it off.
Damien sat back in his chair, pondering it all. He’d considered bugs in phones and in homes but never a device like this.
But for Damien, the more important question was why. What was the purpose of this madness?
He slid the mysterious crossword from his briefcase. He reread the messages hidden there. Whoever was doing this knew Damien or at least knew of him. Knew that he constructed crossword puzzles.
And was still out there, no matter what anybody said.
The question was, why did he or she stop?
Damien withdrew from his file drawer the heavyweight paper he used to construct crosswords. The paper already had the lightly penciled boxes ready. He just had to color in the black spaces and make his puzzle.
Except this puzzle would hopefully solve another puzzle.
It was time to send a message in return.
27
Damien arrived home a little before 9 p.m. Kay, Hunter, and Jenna sat crowded on the couch in front of the big screen. Movie credits rolled.
Damien kissed the top of Kay’s head and clapped his kids on their shoulders. “What are you doing?”
“Just a little movie and hang time.” Kay stood and turned to him. “We saved you some pizza.”