Page 10 of The Hardest Hit
“Officer Sanchez! You got my purse! How nice of you!”
The officer mutely held out the bag and she accepted it, plunking it down on the table, and opening it.
“It does look like everything is here,” she said. “I hope you’ve arrested Glen?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“The district attorney’s office will be in touch,” said the female cop again.
“Great,” said Olivia. “I just hate the idea of him being able to do that to somebody else.”
“Yes, ma’am,” agreed the female officer. “I’m here to drive you home.”
“Um, thank you so much,” said Olivia. “I appreciate it.” She finally turned and looked up at him. “Well, thank you so much for all your help, Evan.”
She held out her hand for a handshake and it was all he could do to not laugh.
“Anytime,” he said, shaking her hand.
The two police officers escorted her out the door. He raised his hand in an ineffectual wave as she looked back over her shoulder. It was only after the door closed that he realized that he didn’t know her last name or how to find her.
5
Evan – The Storage Unit
The Deveraux storage unit was crammed to the rafters with things that Eleanor Deveraux couldn’t quite bring herself to get rid of. Evan’s childhood bedroom furniture was over in one corner, along with those of his uncle and father. The first few times Evan had been in the room everything made him cringe. He could almost understand the furniture—much of it was antique, but he couldn’t fathom why she would hang on to any of the boxes of clothes, books, and bits of paperwork. Now, although he barely saw any of it, he had come to believe that his grandmother was a secret hoarder who was fortunate enough to have Theo, the family butler, and staff to compensate for her. The saddest box he’d found was one from his grandmother’s childhood. It contained a much-worn ragdoll and a photo album. Someone had gone through and ripped her father’s head off many of the pictures. His therapist had nodded as though that were the least surprising thing she’d heard about Eleanor. She said it pointed to a history of family trauma. Evan thought it also pointed to the ability to carry a grudge over multiple decades.
Evan stared at the whiteboard. It felt like picking at a scab. His therapist thought it wasn’t healthy. She was right, of course, but like so many things, that didn’t stop him from doing it. He consoled himself with the fact that it wasn’t drugs. He went back to the wicker couch and sat down, the woven white reeds creaking under his weight. After the third month of coming to the storage room, he’d started organizing. His anxiety couldn’t take the disorganized mishmash, and he’d discovered that he found the sorting oddly soothing. He might be no closer to discovering any answers, but he could at least say that he’d sorted all the hats and now had someplace to sit down.
The whiteboard contained the Deveraux family timeline. It started with the death of his grandfather Henry Deveraux from cancer twenty-five years earlier. Then there was his grandfather’s proper funeral, followed the same evening by the riotous wake thrown by Randall and Owen. Then came the second autopsy report commissioned by Randall—the one that had thrown Evan’s hard-won sobriety and closeness with his cousins into a tailspin.
Unusually high levels of cyanide. Results are inconclusive, but indicative of a medication overdose.
He hadn’t been looking for the report. It had tumbled out of a box of records he’d been trying to put back. But having found it, he couldn’t un-see it. And he couldn’t stop himself from asking the same question that Randall asked: had Eleanor killed her husband?
But that led him to further questions—questions that mattered to him far more. Was there any evidence? And who else had Randall told? Evan had no doubt that Randall had told Owen. The brothers had shared everything, including the parenting of Evan, so whatever Randall knew, he had surely told Owen. But had they told their sister Genevieve? And had they ever confronted Eleanor?
Evan had spent close to a year attempting to discover more about that autopsy report. He’d been through every single box in the storage unit. He’d gone through all of the paperwork he had from his father. He’d found the receipt for the work and he’d eventually tracked down the doctor who had performed the autopsy. Unfortunately, Evan had tracked him to a local cemetery—the pathologist had died two years earlier. Then he’d gone out to DevEntier, the company his grandfather had co-founded and where Randall and Owen had worked.
Reluctantly, Evan opened the dingy box that contained the last items that DevEntier had held onto from Randall and Owen. They hadn’t asked why Evan had wanted them. After the mess with the Zhao family and Charlie MacKentier a year earlier, they assumed it had to do with the legal case and handed everything over. He’d already looked over the previous night after Olivia left, and this morning—when Olivia still hadn’t called him—he’d decided to take it out to the storage unit.
The fragments of paperwork he’d found indicated what Evan already knew—that Randall had been investigating his mother. Randall had pulled the contracts for Henry’s care and there were references to witness statements, although Evan hadn’t found any. Eleanor had been in charge of her husband’s care. She had seen to the nurses, but she had been the one to administer night medication. She had been the only one Henry had trusted.
Evan wasn’t sure why Randall and Owen had cared if Henry had been killed. Henry had been an abusive asshole who had tormented everyone in his life, including Randall and Owen. Owen, while being an abusive father in his own right, had always taken great care to never leave Evan alone with Henry. Evan thought that simple fact spoke volumes on Henry’s character, and having had a year to ponder it, he’d decided that if it were true, he had no personal qualms about Eleanor hurrying Henry out of life. It had probably been the best thing she could have possibly done for herself, for the family, and for the rest of humanity who had to exist in proximity to the man. What Evan did care about though was the aftermath.
If there was evidence that could harm Eleanor, then he had to find it and get rid of it.
Evan looked at the board again. There, on the right side, was the final defining moment—the plane crash that had killed Randall, Owen, Genevieve, and her husband. Genevieve had hated her abusive brothers. All of them had questioned, at one time or another, why Jack and Genevieve would get on a plane with Randall and Owen. Now Evan couldn’t help wondering if it was because Randall had asked them to, with the intention of telling them about Eleanor and Henry. Particularly after he’d found the printed-out email from Randall to Genevieve dated three days before they all took their fateful vacation.
We need to talk.
Were there any more ominous words in the English language? Evan was inclined to think not. He hadn’t been able to find a response though—-even after going through every single piece of paper in the storage unit.
If there was something to be learned there, Evan thought it ought to be uncovered. Aiden and Dominique deserved to know. It was entirely possible that Randall and Owen had tried to talk to Jack and Genevieve about Henry’s death and that was the reason they were all together. Evan couldn’t decide what he wanted to be true, but he’d decided that he couldn’t take not knowing anymore and Aiden and Dominique deserved to have an answer. But Eleanor had done a complete sweep after the crash. There were no records to be had. Nothing except newspaper articles that he’d printed out from back issues online. Everything else would require a public records request and he wasn’t sure he wanted to go on record as having even asked about the crash.
Evan sighed and looked down at the three metal blocks in the DevEntier box. Three hard drives. Three potential pieces of evidence that he couldn’t ignore and he also couldn’t access without help. He’d considered asking Jackson for help. Jackson had the resources, but it would mean revealing everything to him and Evan wasn’t sure that Jackson wouldn’t tell Eleanor.
Evan checked his phone again. Still no message from Olivia. He squelched a feeling of bitterness and pulled open the email with the address to the computer expert who had agreed to take a look at the hard drives.
