Page 48 of The Couple's Secret
Slowly, they ascended the steps to the second floor. Framed photos adorned the walls of the hallway. They told the story of Tobias’s sons. Jackson’s youngest moments were of him as a toddler. They were similar to the ones that Josie had seen in Riley and Jackson’s home. Him playing with toys, messily eating ice cream, dressed as a superhero. In many, it was Tobias who held him, hugged him, and played with him. Josie stopped in front of a photo of the two of them sitting on the floor of the living room they’d just come from. Jackson wore a paper birthday hat with the number two emblazoned on it as he rested in Tobias’s lap. His small hands clutched a brightly wrapped gift. In the upper right-hand corner of the image something caught her eye. A sliver of an object. Was that brass? All she could see of it was a small section that looked conical, narrow on one side and flaring slightly on the other before it was out of frame. Below it was a flash of bright Kelly green. Something about it plucked at her subconscious. What was it?
“This is my room.” Zane’s voice came from several feet away where he was opening a door to allow Gretchen entry.
Josie moved on, taking in the rest of the pictures as quickly as possible. There were none of Rachel Wright, which made sense. Seeing her face each time he walked down the hall would have been devastating for Tobias and likely very confusing for a young Jackson. The next set of images were of Tobias and a woman with sandy hair, big blue eyes, and a nose ring. She had the smooth, supple skin of a woman ten years younger than him. Everything about her was luminous and vital. Soon, Jackson joined the pictures, looking about seven or eight years old, standing between his father and this new woman. Vacations, picnics, parties. In each one, the woman’s hand curled protectively around one of his thin shoulders. Then she was in a hospital bed, cradling an infant while Jackson lay next to her, peering down at his baby brother.
This was Gabrielle Lachlan, Zane’s mother.
More photos of her and the two boys growing up followed. Then she was gone and it was only Jackson and Zane, both looking sullen and sad. Until Cora and Riley came along. A small ache formed in the pit of Josie’s stomach. It had been a long time coming but the two women had breathed life back into this house and the lives of the three lonely souls who inhabited it.
Then everything came crashing down.
Josie was aware that Gretchen had been following Zane in and out of the rooms while she surveyed the visual history of Tobias Lachlan’s life.
“This was their room,” Zane said.
Josie tore herself from the last of the pictures and joined him and Gretchen at the threshold of the door at the end of the hall. He pushed it open and gestured for them to enter but stayed just outside. The layer of dust on every surface in the room was twice as thick as that in the dining room. Here, the musty scent was much stronger, the air close and thick. Daylight strained against translucent curtains browned with age. The queen-sized bed was rumpled. One nightstand had a clock, a box of tissues, and a phone charger on it. The other was barren. It must have been Cora’s since Riley had removed her mother’s personal items. On each side of the bed was a dresser. The closet door was shut. In the corner of the room was a laundry basket half filled with clothes. Time had stopped in this room. The entire tableau was sad and creepy in equal measure.
The only thing out of place was the glass gun cabinet. It was nearly six feet tall, made of solid oak. Its tempered glass was covered in dust but Josie could see three long guns. At the base of the cabinet was another glass enclosure the size of a small drawer where a pistol rested. From the doorway, Zane said, “The key is on the top if you want to look inside. When Dad and Cora went missing, the police went through the cabinet. Didn’t take anything.”
Somewhere downstairs, a door slammed. Josie straightened up and turned back to Zane. “Did you or Jackson ever use any of your dad’s guns?”
“Nah, no reason to. A lot of kids we knew liked to hunt but Jacks and I were never interested in that.”
There was a crash below them. Glass shattered. Zane spun on his heel and raced toward the stairs. Josie and Gretchen jogged after him. They were halfway down the steps when they heard Jackson’s voice, tortured and pleading. “Ri, you’ve had too much.”
“I haven’t,” she answered but her words were slurred. “It was an accident. Zane will forgive me.”
Zane stopped just inside the kitchen with Josie and Gretchen at his heels. The tile floor was covered in broken plates and wine glasses. A thick ceramic mug with the At Your Disposal logo on it lay split in half. Scattered among the debris were several pieces of flatware. A dishrack was upside down at Riley’s feet. She clung to the kitchen counter, legs wobbling. Jackson was at her back, an arm looped around her waist, holding her upright.
Zane stepped toward her, but Jackson stopped him with a glare. “You’ve done enough. Come on, Ri. Let’s go home.”
Twenty-Six
An hour later, Josie and Gretchen walked into an interview room at the Brighton Springs Police headquarters, trailed by Detective Meredith Dorton. Like the rest of the building, it was modern and new. The taupe-colored walls were pristine. The thin carpet showed no signs of wear. Even the metal table was sleek and free from stains, scars, and scratches. The smell of greasy food, body odor, and cigarette smoke wasn’t yet present.
Gretchen stopped inside the door and looked around. “Swanky.”
Josie sipped her much-needed fourth coffee of the day. “Now this is taxpayer money going to good use.”
Meredith hid a smile behind her own cup.
“Hey.” Dalton Stevens glared at them from the other side of the table. “Can I leave or what?”
“You’ll have to ask Brighton Springs PD about that.” Gretchen turned to Meredith. “Detective Dorton, can he leave or what?”
Meredith took a seat across the table from Dalton. Since Josie and Gretchen were in Brighton Springs’ jurisdiction and in their stationhouse, one of their own was required to sit in on their interview.
“Or what,” Meredith muttered.
“There you have it,” said Gretchen.
Dalton rolled his eyes. “Can’t ever get a straight answer out of you bitches.”
Josie sauntered toward him, took a moment to study him, and then glanced at her colleagues. “Hey, bitches, this guy wants a straight answer.”
Meredith sighed. “Mr. Stevens, you were booked for simple assault. You’ll be arraigned by a duty judge later today so no, you can’t leave yet.”
Since he hadn’t yet been arraigned, he was still wearing the clothes he’d had on at the funeral. Minus his jacket and tie. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, revealing thick, hairy forearms covered in tattoos.
