"D-D-Dead?!" Lauren Wilson finally got out.
"That's right," Lloyd started. "Her body was recovered a few blocks from your house."
"I-I-I..." she began.
"Do you mind coming back with us to the station and answering a few more questions?"
"Y-Y-Yes, let me grab my coat," she stammered.
Lloyd and Hanson placed her into the back of their squad car, and we all drove off back towards the station.
When we arrived, Hanson took Lauren Wilson and placed her in an interrogation room. Lloyd, Parker and I marched towards the Chief's office with a purpose.
When we got there, Lloyd took out his glasses and notepad and began reading the notes that he had written following our encounter with Lauren Wilson.
This turn of events seemed to shock even the Chief.
"Do you think she had something to do with this?" the Chief asked.
"She seemed genuinely surprised that her friend was dead," said Lloyd. "But she obviously is lying about something."
"An honest witness around here is an oxymoron," Parker whispered to me. "Everybody in this town's got something to hide."
"You two," the Chief motioned to us to come forward.
We took a step forward.
He started to chuckle a little bit.
"I've been doing this a long time, right Lloyd?" he asked.
Lloyd nodded his approval but did not seem to share his same enthusiasm.
"Now, maybe my memory is failing me, hell, most days I can't find glasses when they're right on my face."
He laughed again; Parker began laughing along with him.
"However," he began, suddenly changing moods. Parker froze and stood up straight.
"I don't remember telling you to accompany the detectives to the residence. In fact, I remember ordering you back here."
He was angry.
"We just went as back-" Parker began before being interrupted.
"I don't want to hear it. When I give you an order, you follow it!"
The Chief's bald head began turning red with rage.
"Yes, sir," Parker and I declared.
"Now, I've got some paperwork here for the two of you to file. And where are those reports that I asked you to get to me?"
He was fuming.
"They're right there on your desk," Parker said, pointing down to a stack of papers.
"They're on your desk, sir!" the Chief corrected, angrily.
"Yes, sir," Parker said.
"Say it!" the Chief shouted.
"Say what?" Parker asked.
"Say what, sir!" the Chief shouted again, irate.
"Say what, sir?" Parker repeated.
"They're on your desk, sir!" the Chief repeated.
"They're on your desk, sir!" Parker reported.
I was getting dizzy.
"Don't let it happen again. Understood?!" the Chief asked.
"Understood" Parker said.
"Understood, sir!" the Chief corrected again.
"Understood, sir," Parker said.
"Now, you are dismissed," the Chief said.
We turned and moved quickly out of Chief Davis' office.
"Douchebag," Parker mumbled.
We walked over to the corridor outside of the interrogation rooms and turned to the room which now housed Mrs. Wilson.
I looked through the mirror and there she sat, Lauren Wilson. I remember thinking earlier that she couldn't have been older than her late 20s, but at this moment she looked like she was about 50. She sat nervously biting her nails.
Lloyd entered the interrogation room, sat across from Lauren Wilson and started in.
"Mrs. Wilson, can you explain to me why you lied to my partner and I?"
"Rachel told me that if anyone asked to tell them that she was staying with me last night."
"And why would she do that?" Lloyd asked.
"S-Sometimes she had me cover for her with Ralph so that she could get out of the house. Is she really dead?"
"So, this wasn't the first time you've lied to cover for her. Is this the first time that you've lied to the police? You know that lying to the police is a felony."
"I-I didn't know that she was dead. If I had known that I would have told you the truth."
"So, what exactly is the truth then, Mrs. Wilson? When was the last time that you saw Rachel Walker alive?" Lloyd stood up from his chair, glaring down at Lauren Wilson.
"The truth is that I never saw her last night! I haven't seen her in a few days. Sometimes she just liked to get away from Ralph for the night, that's it!"
"So where did she go if she wasn't staying with you?"
Lauren Wilson began to cry.
"Did she tell you why she liked to get away from Ralph?"
Lauren Wilson continued sobbing.
"Mrs. Wilson, answer my questions! Where were you last night?!"
"I never left the house," she finally was able to get out.
"Can anybody vouch for this?"
"My husband," she said through tears.
"Anybody else?" Lloyd asked, seemingly irritated.
"No," she said.
"Well how convenient for you, Mrs. Wilson," Lloyd snarked.
Lauren Wilson's husband had arrived shortly after she had and demanded to speak to the person in charge. The Chief sat down with him and explained what was going on and why she was there. Mr. Wilson was shown into the hall and pushed past all of us congregating outside of the mirror. He looked in and saw his wife, a blubbering mess of tears seated at the interrogation room table and Detective Lloyd drilling the screws into her.
"What the hell is going on?" he demanded.
"Mr. Wilson," the Chief began. "Can you verify your wife's whereabouts last night between the hours of 7 and 9 pm?"
"She was home all night! What is this about?"
"Did she leave the house for any reason last night?"
"Of course not! Where would she have gone?! Would somebody tell me what this is about?" he pleaded.
"Mr. Wilson, your wife's friend, Mrs. Rachel Walker was found dead last night. Your wife lied to the police when she was asked if she had seen Mrs. Walker."
"This has got to be a mistake." Mr. Wilson started. "I want to see a lawyer."
"How fortunate for you," chimed in Hanson, "The bag of human waste is still here from earlier."
Almost as if he had heard a crisp dollar bill dropping to the floor, Thomas Anderson appeared in the doorway.
"Gentlemen," he began. "I would like to have a word with my client."
"You've got to be kidding me," Parker mumbled.
◆ ◆ ◆
"She's never gotten so much as a parking ticket. Do you really think that she murdered her friend and took her finger as a trophy?" the Chief asked.
"Of course not," Lloyd said. "But something in her story certainly doesn't add up. Why would she tell us that Rachel Walker left her house this morning when clearly, she did not? And why would Rachel Walker ask her on numerous occasions to cover for her to her husband?"
"Was there any evidence that Rachel was being abused?" the Chief asked.
Finley flipped through the case file.
"The bruising is not consistent with a repeated pattern of abuse. There also isn't any suspicious scarring to skin or bones from previous injuries," he stated definitively.
"Then what could it have been? Was she seeing somebody else?" Hanson asked. "How was their marriage?"
Anderson waved Lloyd back into the interrogation room, as if he couldn't even be bothered to stand up and come to the door himself.
"Let's see if Mrs. Wilson can answer any of that," Lloyd said and walked back into the room.
"Mrs. Wilson," he began. "Did Mrs. Walker ever express any negative feelings about her marriage?"
"She did say that ever since his father died, Ralph had seemed a little preoccupied." Lauren Wilson was sniffling, fighting back tears.
"Was she dissatisfied with the state of her marriage?"
"Nothing like that, I don't think."
"Did she ever mention that she was seeing anybody else?" Lloyd asked.
Mrs. Wilson glanced over at her lawyer nervously. He looked back at her.
"Go on, you can answer the question," he said.
"I-I really don't think that Rachel was the type to do something like that."
"Mrs. Wilson, do you have any idea why Mrs. Walker would ask you to lie to her husband, or did you ever think to ask?"
"R-Rachel was a free spirit. She sometimes liked to be alone. She never told me why she wanted me to cover for me. I wanted her to trust me, so I never asked."
"Do you recognize any of these numbers?" Lloyd asked, holding up the cellphone records that belonged to Rachel Walker.
Lauren Wilson stared at the records and then said, "No, I really don't think so, no."
Lloyd put the sheet of records back into its folder.
"Alright, Mrs. Wilson," he began, standing up. "You sit tight."
"That's it?" Anderson asked as Lloyd collected the rest of his papers and headed for the interrogation room door.
"That's it," Lloyd said.
"Well, is my client free to go?" Anderson asked.
"I think we're going to keep her here a little while longer, Mr. Anderson. We don't appreciate being lied to."
"What kind of goose chase is this? Would you clue me in on what is going on here?" Anderson implored, following him out.
"Why don't you just wait to ask our next suspect and you can represent them." Hanson said, meeting Anderson at the door.
◆ ◆ ◆
It was now about 11 am, Charles and Clearwater had reported back to the station, unable to report on anything suspicious. The eight of us that were on-duty gathered around the main room to debrief.
"So." the Chief began. "Let's look at the facts. Rachel Walker's body was discovered, beaten to hell and missing a finger, presumably with a wedding ring attached to it which is also missing. Cellphone records show that she had made and received calls from several unknown numbers, two. One of which she received shortly before her time of death. Her car is missing. Her husband, Ralph Walker, claims that she was supposed to spend the night at the residence of a Lauren Wilson and that he was gone throughout the night."
"Well, Lauren Wilson gave us nothing," Hanson started.
"Not necessarily," said Lloyd. "We know that Rachel Walker left the house last night for some unknown destination and that she probably frequently went there to get away from her husband and had Lauren Wilson cover for her. What we don't know is where she was headed or if she ever even made it there."
"Do you still think that Lauren Wilson is hiding something?" Hanson asked.
"She might be," Lloyd started. "It seems that everyone's got in them to hide something from the police today."
"She probably knows more than she let on. Just goes to show, you can't trust 'me. Women are always hiding something," Charles stated.
"Come off it, Charles," Hanson said.
"We should at least start by identifying the destination that Rachel Walker was actually headed to that night," the Chief said, ignoring them both. "We'll need to get Rachel Walker's other contacts together to see if one of them could potentially help to answer any of these questions. There's also one more lead that I want to follow up on."
Throughout the rest of the day we chased down dead end after dead end. We had been able to get a warrant for Rachel Walker's personal effects to assist in the investigation.
When we arrived at the house, Ralph Walker greeted us at the door and had obviously been drinking. We could not get a warrant for anything else in the house or anything that belonged to Ralph Walker. We had no physical evidence or probable cause to tie him to the crime other than pure speculation. His alibi was airtight for the moment. However, we were able to track down a few of Rachel Walker's other acquaintances through phone and personal records, but they were of very little use to the investigation.
The next day, the Chief decided that it was time to involve the public. He alerted the local media that we would be holding a press conference at 10 am regarding an "urgent police matter."
We set up the conference room and reporters as well as a couple of news crews began to file in throughout the day. Apparently, they had caught wind that this was going to be a big story. While the rest of us stood to the side of the podium, the Chief marched right up to it as cameras flashed. He cleared his throat and began.
"The body of a woman was found in the early hours of yesterday morning at the Little Falls town landfall."
The crowd was silent except for the clicking of cameras.
"The victim was a Mrs. Rachel Walker. Anyone with information is asked to call the police tip hotline at 1-800-555-8833."
Reporters rose to their feet and began shouting.
"We are not taking any questions at this time," the Chief said. "Again, that number is 1-800-555-8833."
When he had finished, he walked off and past all of us to his office and barricaded himself in there.
The reporters and news crews were thrown into a frenzy.
The next few hours were filled with tips about bigfoot sightings and the Loch Ness Monster. One tipster even suggested that she may have been abducted by UFOs. He said that he himself had been abducted and that he had been "probed and experimented on."
Once the hype had died down and all the interesting theories had been sorted out, the tips finally stopped coming in. None of them leading to anything fruitful.
The hours soon passed and turned to days. The days went by without any new leads and turned to weeks. Ralph Walker's alibi had remained rock solid through this whole time. None of his employees came forward saying that he had slipped out of the party that night. He was seen all night coming in and out of the kitchen. Our prime suspect seemingly couldn't have committed the crime. The trail had gone ice cold.
It was early one morning when we thought we had finally caught a break. Parker was out on a doughnut run and I was sitting, pouring through the case file at my desk. I couldn't look away from it, I was engulfed in it. When I read through it, it was like I was right back at the crime scene, and Rachel Walker was right there with me.
Suddenly, I was yanked back into reality by the phone on Parker's desk ringing. I thought that was odd because the phone on either of our desks never rang. I stared down at it momentarily before finally picking it up on the fourth ring.
"Hello?" I said.
"Call for you," the other end of the line answered. "Says he's got a tip, wanted to speak only to you."
"To me?" I asked.
"Harrison Parker?" the voice asked.
I looked around. I had forgotten that I had picked up Parker's phone. He was nowhere in sight.
"That's me," I said.
"Hold while I connect you," the voice said.
There was a brief click and a dial tone. Then there was silence on the other line.
"Hello?" I asked again.
There was silence still.
"Hello?" I tried for a second time.
There was still no answer.
"Is this a trick?" I asked. "Hanson is that you?"
There was nothing but silence.
"I'm hanging up now, bye!" I said.
Suddenly, a voice on the other line interrupted me. It was a deep voice, almost as if the man (and it was certainly a man) on the other line was trying to disguise it.
"I have information that you might want," the voice said.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"Do you want the information, or not?" the voice said.
"What is this about?" I asked.
"Rachel Walker."
I suddenly froze and looked around again. The call was meant for Parker after all.
"What do you have for me?" I asked and clicked a pen to write down the information.
"I want you to meet me," the voice said.
I was now skeptical.
"Uh-uh." I said. "Not going to do that. You can give me the information over the phone if you've got any at all."
I was beginning to think that this was another UFO sighting.
"Meet me," the voice said.
"Goodbye," I said and started to hang up the phone.
Suddenly, the voices tone changed, and I thought I could hear him shout something just before the phone hit the receiver. What I thought that I had heard was bone chilling.
"What did you just say?" I asked, almost shaking at this point.
The voice responded coldly.
"The Queen of Diamonds."
That was what I thought I had heard. My mouth suddenly began dry. How could the voice have this information? We never released it to the press. I couldn't respond. I could barely breathe.
"30 minutes, Ontario Street," the voice said. "Number 93."
I fumbled the pen in my hand then wrote the address down furiously.
"Do you want me to come alone?" I asked.
The voice on the other end laughed a, quite surprisingly, childish laugh.
"The more the merrier!" he said and hung up the other line.
I was left with the dial tone.
I sat there, shell-shocked for a moment before finally coming to my senses. I grabbed my jacket and ran to the Chief's office. The door was closed but I pushed it open and saw him fiddling with something in his hands.
"Chief, I just got a call," I said, winded.
He quickly shoved what he had been fiddling with into a drawer in his desk and shut it.
"What is it?" he snapped. "I'm very busy."
I explained to him the information I had been given. About how the voice on the other line had mentioned the Queen of Diamonds. His eyes seemed to light up at the mention. I quickly gave him everything.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked. "Take Potter and the two of you get over there!"
"You mean Parker?" I asked.
"That's what I said! Now go!" he said.
I began to turn around when I suddenly remembered that Parker was out on a doughnut run and had taken the car.
"Parker's not here at the moment," I said, turning back.
"What do you mean he's not-," the Chief began, growing angry but quickly changed directions. "Never mind, you and Charles go on this one together."
I nodded my head.
"Charles!" he yelled, and Charles came to the office door.
The Chief quickly filled him in and the two of us were off.
◆ ◆ ◆
We began the trip in silence. It would take us nearly 10 minutes to get to Ontario Street. and time was of the essence. Ontario Street was one of the furthest streets on the edge of Little Falls. At one point in time, this was a prominent area that had flourished during the industrial years of the booming steel industry. However, when the steel factory had closed, this area was the first for the residents to flee and the addicts to move in.
Charles finally broke the silence.
"What are you here for?" he asked.
"Sorry?" I asked, somewhat surprised by this sudden question.
I glanced over at the man driving the car whose gaze remained fixed on the road ahead. Officer James Charles was clearly a man who was past his prime. His slick backed, jet black hair had receded into his head and he was barely able to fit into his uniform. I had heard that he was, at one point, an officer with a lot of promise. He was being groomed to become a detective on the force. I wondered what had happened to that man.
"What do you expect to get out of this?" he rephrased.
"Out of what?" I asked, still unsure as to what he meant.
"Do you want to be hero? Is that it?"
He had turned bitter.
"I guess I just-," I started.
"Because that ain't going to happen, kid. Not by a longshot," he interrupted.
I could see that this was going to become a lecture. We were silent for another moment.
"I was a lot like you once," he started again.
"What happened?" I asked.
He laughed a little bit at the question.
"I ask that to myself every day," he said.
He was quiet again for a moment.
"Let me tell you something about women, kid."
Here we go, I thought.
"Women are only out for one thing," he said. "Well actually, make that two things. They just want your money, and they want your soul."
"Is that what happened to you?" I asked in a somewhat sarcastic tone.
Charles didn't seem to notice my sarcasm.
"You're damn right that's what happened to me," he said.
"If you want some advice," he started.
I could already see where this was headed.
"Take it from me." he said. "Life is already a cruel bitch, kid. Don't end up marrying one too!"
He laughed, heartily at his own joke before his laugh turned into a hacking cough.
Luckily for me we had arrived at our destination.
Charles pulled the car to the side of the road and I glanced out the window at the brick building in front of me.
The windows of the building were all boarded up and the grass was completely overgrown. There were large chunks of brick missing from the sides. I looked down the street and saw much of the same.
You could tell at one point that these houses had been owned by only the wealthiest. Now they served as a squatter's paradise.
We got out of the car and proceeded to the front door, or at least where the front door used to be. All that remained now was the doorframe.
"Careful now," Charles began. "Lot of crazies around here."
I couldn't help but laugh at the irony.
Crumbled bricks littered the entrance of the building. Charles took the lead. He pulled out his flashlight and we entered.
Even though the day was breaking outside, the boards on the windows made it very dark and you could see nothing other than the light from Charles' flashlight.
"Hello?" he called.
There was no response.
We proceeded deeper into the building. A rat scurried by in front of me.
"Hello?" Charles called again.
No answer.
"I guess there's nobody home," Charles said turning the flashlight towards me.
Suddenly, I saw a shadowy figure appear in the doorway behind Charles and move quickly to the left behind him.
"Charles!" I shouted and pointed.
Charles turned quickly and for a moment, the light from Charles' flashlight reflected off something that the figure held at waist level, but the figure quickly ducked out of sight.
The next thing either of us knew, the figure had grabbed Charles from behind and put a knife to his throat.
"Hello, friends!" the figure said, rather cheerily.
I reached for my gun.
"I wouldn't do that unless you want your partner's blood splattered all over the walls." the figure now hissed.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Just simply an exchange of information," he answered.
"Alright," I said.
"Now, put your gun on the floor and kick it over to me," he then turned to Charles. "You, hand me the flashlight."
Charles handed the figure the flashlight as I slowly unclipped my holster and dropped my gun to the floor. It was too dark in there to take a shot anyways; I might have hit Charles. I still couldn't make out the figure's face.
Charles was silent.
"How did you know about the Queen of Diamonds? We never leaked that to the press." I said.
"Psssh, people talk," the figure said, dismissively.
"So, somebody told you about it?" I asked.
"Does it really matter who told me about it? If I told you that I traded some junkie a baggy of Special K for that information, would that make you happy?"
"Is that what you did?" I asked.
"Are you going to kill me?" Charles suddenly asked.
I couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded shaky. He was scared.
"What if I told you that he told me?" the figure said, indicating to Charles.
I could see the glimmer of the knife press against Charles' neck and he whimpered.
"Did he tell you?" I asked.
The voice laughed childishly.
"I'll never tell!" the figure said flirtatiously while still giggling.
His personality was seemingly in eight places all at once.
"What do you want?" I repeated to him.
The figure sighed as if disappointed that I wasn't engaging in his fun.
"I guess we'll get down to business," he said. "What do you want with Ralph Walker?" he asked.
"Ralph Walker?" I asked. "What concern is he to you?"
"I don't think you are understanding how this works," the figure said, growing irritated. "I give you information, then I ask a question, and you give me information. It's like a game!" he shouted this final sentence in excitement.
"But you never gave me any information," I said.
The knife pressed again to Charles' neck.
"I don't think that you're in any position to be making demands." the figure said, suddenly furious.
"Alright!" I said. "We've been talking to Ralph Walker about his wife's death."
"Where are you in the course of the investigation?" he asked.
"Uh-uh, I get to ask you a question now," I said. "Let's start with who you are."
"Just a concerned citizen!" he giggled. "Rachel and I go wayyyy back."
I winced at the mention of Rachel Walker.
"What do you know about the Queen of Diamonds?" the figure asked.
"What do I know about the Queen of Diamonds?" I asked, confused. "What do you know about it? You're the one that called me here!"
The figure laughed.
"So, you know nothing?" he asked.
"What is this about?" I shouted.
The figure began laughing hysterically.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"Tell me, Officer. Do you like spooky stories?"
There was a sudden clicking noise and the light from the flashlight was shined directly into my eyes.
"I know a good one about two officers that were sticking their noses in someone else's business and got themselves killed for it!" he shouted.
He turned the flashlight up under his own chin and revealed a devilish grin under a thick, gray beard and old, wrinkled skin. He had a large scar just under his left eye that went almost down to his jawline.
He suddenly clicked the flashlight off and began giggling again.
"Charles!" I shouted.
I heard the noise of a body falling to the floor.
"Go after him!" Charles responded.
"After him where?" I said. "Where did he go?"
The figure had apparently released Charles from his clutches, throwing him to the ground. I ran through the doorway from which I first saw him emerge. I could make out that this room was the kitchen. I saw a faint glimmer of light coming from another room to the left and I felt my way to the doorway and ran through. I hit my knee hard on something and tumbled to the ground. I winced in pain but got back up to my feet and continued.
When I finally got to the source of the light, I could see that it was peering in from a hole in a board in front of me. I began to kick the board and it finally gave way, flooding the room with an almost blinding light. The board had been blocking another doorway and I ran through it to the backyard outside. I looked around but there was nobody in sight.
Charles ran through the doorway close behind me.
"Did you get him?" Charles asked.
I shook my head. My knee was throbbing.
"Dammit!" Charles shouted.
Charles ran back to the car and called it in. Before long, Hanson, Lloyd, Parker, Clearwater and the Chief had showed up to the scene.
We searched the inside of the house but found nothing.
When we arrived back at the station, we informed the Chief of what had happened. The Chief decided that it was particularly interesting that the figure had mentioned Ralph Walker by name and decided that it was probably time anyways that we bring him in for some further questioning.
As we left the office and headed to our desks, I turned to Charles.
"Who do you think that was?" I asked.
"Probably just some dope head." he answered.
"How did he know about the Queen of Diamonds?" I asked.
Charles shrugged.
"Probably like he said, people talked."
I watched Charles as he sat down at his desk, he had clearly been shaken up. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was just some lunatic.
It was late on one evening in November 1998 when Ralph Walker came to voluntarily answer a few of our questions.
◆ ◆ ◆
When Ralph Walker arrived at the station, he appeared obviously, yet again, inebriated. His hair was disheveled, and his shirt was only half tucked into his pants. His beard held crumbs from meals past. Was that spaghetti and meatballs I smelled? He and Thomas Anderson were led into the interrogation room.
As Detective Lloyd entered, those of us present once again gathered around the mirror to watch the spectacle that was sure to unfold.
"Mr. Walker." Lloyd began. "Do you know where your wife was headed on the night of September 25th?"
"Already asked and answered. Move on, Detective." Anderson replied, seemingly bored and annoyed.
"Alright, so you want some fresh questions?" Lloyd asked. "How would you describe the state of your marriage, Mr. Walker?"
Ralph Walker's face contorted in anger as he sharpened his gaze on the detective.
"My marriage was solid," Ralph Walker stated.
"Do you think that your wife was ever unfaithful?"
"Of course not!" Ralph Walker emphasized.
"Is it possible that she could have been unfaithful? On that night, is it possible that she could have been heading to the home of a lover, Mr. Walker?"
"I told you before. She went to see Lauren Wilson," he gritted.
"Well, Lauren Wilson claimed that she never saw Rachel that night. As a matter of fact, she claims that Rachel lied to you on multiple occasions and that she never went there at all on those occasions. Where do you think she was going all those times, Mr. Walker?"
"She doesn't know what she's talking about," Ralph mumbled angrily.
"Is that so, Mr. Walker? Then where do you think she was going?"
"I don't know," he stated flatly, evading eye contact with the detective.
"Isn't it possible that she could have been heading to the home of a lover, Mr. Walker?"
"No!" Ralph Walker spat rising to his feet and gazing down angrily at the detective. The holding room chair slammed to the floor behind him and the light above the table began to sway.
Lloyd took a moment and wiped off some spit from his shirt.
"Mr. Walker, have you been drinking today?"
"Is my client being charged with anything?" Anderson interrupted.
Lloyd turned his attention now to Mr. Anderson.
"Not at the moment," he stated.
"Then what is with the inquisition? Am I to assume that he is a suspect?" Anderson asked.
"This isn't your first case, Anderson. I'm sure you can understand that your client is a person of interest since he is the last person that we have come across who claims to have seen Mrs. Walker alive."
"My client came here of his own recognizance to help you with your investigation. He wants to see the killer brought to justice more than anyone else in this station and yet you continue to treat him like he's done something wrong."
"Mr. Walker." Lloyd began again calmly, ignoring Anderson's previous statement. "Do you recognize any of these phone numbers?"
Ralph Walker sat down again. His gaze was fixed on the detective. He slowly released his gaze and glanced down briefly at the phone records belonging to Rachel Walker on the table.
"No, why should I?" Ralph Walker asked, staring hard back at the detective.
"Your wife received frequent calls from these numbers, Mr. Walker. She even received a call from this number the night that she was found murdered."
"Then maybe you should talk to the person on the other end of that phone number, Detective," Anderson interrupted again.
"We are trying to locate this individual as we speak," Lloyd said. "Mr. Walker, please look at these numbers again. The individual who this number belongs to could have information vital to your wife's case."
"I don't recognize them," Ralph Walker said without breaking eye contact.
"Can you look at them?" Lloyd asked.
There was a tense moment of silence between the two, neither of them refusing to look away. Lloyd sat there, calm and collected while Ralph Walker sat gritting his teeth, looking like at any moment he might just lunge across the table and pop Lloyd's head clean off his shoulders.
"Gentlemen," Anderson broke the tension. "We came down here to help you with your questions. I believe that my client has been forthcoming and has provided you with all the information that he knows. I believe now that we are done here." He signaled to open the door.
"We have a few more questions for your client," Lloyd said.
"Well we are all out of answers. There is nothing else that my client can help you with."
Anderson stood up from his chair and took Ralph Walker by the arm.
"What connection do you have with 93 Ontario St?" Lloyd asked.
Anderson and Ralph ignored the question and continued to head towards the exit.
"Anderson!" Lloyd called.
"Good luck with your investigation!" Anderson waved back to Detective Lloyd.
Ralph Walker glared at the detective the entire way out of the room.
Anderson walked him right passed us in the corridor and Ralph Walker brushed shoulders hard with Parker. Just like that, they were gone.
"What was that about?" Parker asked, rubbing his shoulder.
The weeks passed and turned to months with no additional leads or information. We were no closer to finding the location of Rachel Walker's car and we still could not identify the mystery phone numbers.
As time passed, the people in town seemed to forget about Rachel Walker and move on with their lives. Only I could not. I couldn't let go of the thought of her. It was like it haunted me everywhere I went. The only time I could find any semblance of peace was when I could be alone. I would go to the waterfall outside of town. The noise from the falls was enough to block out the thoughts in my head, even if only for a moment. I soon found myself here every day.
The rest of the police force seemed to move on too with no closure, focusing their efforts on whatever mundane crime happened that week. Every morning, I read through the crime report of the case. I was obsessed. Even Parker seemed to move on. He had met a girl and they were getting serious. Parker never seemed like the type that I would think could ever be tied down. It was now June of 1999.
Parker and I were settling into our roles as the enforcers of the law in town. Considering the welcome we had received in our first week on the force, the crime in the town was dry. However, we began to rack up an impressive arrest record, nonetheless. There was the occasional noise complaint, occasionally, a dope head would be yelling at a fire hydrant, or rogue vandal, usually some local teenager who was bored and looking for something to do. Other than that, nothing exciting ever really happened here.
I passed my time by visiting the falls or taking long walks around town all the while obsessing over every detail of the case. One thing remained constant; she never left my mind. When I slept, she was there. When I woke up in the morning, Rachel Walker was there. She was a shadow on the wall or a creak on the staircase.
It was early on the morning of June 15th, 1999. I needed to pick up some milk, so I left my house and had begun walking to the local grocery store.
As I walked down the cracked sidewalk, I closed my eyes and I could feel the warmth of the morning sun on my face. Then my mind inevitably drifted to her. I felt like she was walking right next to me. It almost felt good. Like everything seemed right. But the feeling didn't last, and I was soon woken from my daydream after I stumbled over a particularly large crack.
I arrived at the grocery store, walked over to the dairy aisle and picked up a fresh gallon of skim milk and I walked to the counter. I stood in line behind an older woman who was slowly placing her items on the counter. I closed my eyes again and there she was.
I thought about the look in her eyes and the secrets that she was keeping. I thought about her husband and I thought about Lauren Wilson. I thought about what role they had played.
When I finally opened my eyes, the older woman was gone, but Rachel was still there.
I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes, but the vision did not disappear. She was right there, in the flesh. It was as if I was seeing a ghost. There in front of me, at the local grocery store was Rachel Walker. She smiled at me. All I could do was stare back.
It was almost as if I could hear her trying to speak to me. My ears were ringing. It started as a muffled voice but gradually grew louder. It seemed like she was miles away from me but so close. Then all the sudden, the ringing in my ears ceased and the voice came through much louder and crystal clear.
"Sir! Can I help you?" she asked me from behind the checkout counter.
If anybody could help me, it was her.