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“Of course you were. It’s one of the reasons you were able to get the property for ten percent under what I was asking. It had a history.” I didn’t know, when I sold, that my house would be torn down and replaced with another. I wondered if the house’s notorious past was a factor for the Feehans, or if they’d planned to rip down the house regardless. Had Brie not disappeared, we might very well have taken the same path, and replaced it with something as nice as what the Feehans had built.
I continued: “Without getting into the specifics, Max believes what he saw might have some bearing on my situation. That’s why I’d be grateful if you’d let me see what he saw.”
The look I saw in Brian Feehan’s eyes was one I’d seen before many times in the last six years. What’s your game? he was wondering. What are you hiding? Why should I help someone like you?
“Please,” I said. “It’s probably nothing, but then again, it might be important.”
He studied me for another second, then said, “Wait here.”
He went back into the house and closed the door. He returned a minute later with a touch-screen tablet. He’d already opened an app that accessed his household security system. On the screen were four video boxes, like we were about to have a Zoom chat with a few friends who’d not yet stepped into the frames. In each box was a different view of the property. One showed the backyard, two others offered views down the side of the house, and one was fixed on the driveway and the street beyond.
“I’m scrolling back to early this morning,” he said. “It’s motion-activated, so when something moves into any camera’s field of vision, it begins to record.”
I knew all that.
He had tapped on the tablet to enlarge the feed that scanned the front yard. He dragged his index finger across the bottom of the image, fast-forwarding through the morning. I’d moved to stand next to him so I could watch.
“There,” I said.
The Volvo wagon slowed, turned into the driveway. The car came to a stop, and after a few seconds, the driver’s door opened and a woman got out. Immediately she turned her back to the camera as she went to the rear of the car, and by the time she turned to face the house, she was obscured by the open tailgate.
But then she came out from behind the car and took a few steps toward the house.
And stopped. And dropped her grocery bags.
While there was no audio, she could be seen mouthing some words. At this point, she was looking directly at the camera.
The image, however, was not crisp.
“Can you pause that?” I asked.
Brian did so.
I reached out a hand. “You mind?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he handed the tablet to me. I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then placed my thumb and index finger on the screen to expand the image and enlarge the woman’s face.
It was still a soft image, just bigger. And yet …
“Jesus,” I said under my breath.
Five
Statement of Andrew Mason, June 7, 2016, 4:13 p.m., interviewed by Detective Marissa Hardy.
Detective Hardy: Mr. Mason, thank you for coming in again. How are you managing?
Andrew: How do you think I’m managing? How would you be managing if your spouse had been missing for two days? Not well.
Detective Hardy: I understand. What you’re going through, it’s, uh … it’s a nightmare.
Andrew: No kidding. Tell me you’ve found Brie, or some lead as to where she might be.
Detective Hardy: Rest assured this is a number-one priority for us and we are doing everything we can to find your wife, Mr. Mason.
Andrew: (mumbles)
Detective Hardy: And just to make sure I have all my notes correct, Brie’s maiden name is McBain?
