His expression tightened, lines forming around his eyes.“What’s she done now?”
“She’s been murdered,” Kate said bluntly.
“What?”
He sounded shaken — genuinely.Looked it, too – that early incomprehension of the hardest fact to bear.But then again, Marcus thought, people who run non-profits are good performers.They have to conjure up money from thin air, and that takes drama.
"Murdered in her office sometime Monday night," Marcus added."With photographs of her parents prominently displayed."
“We understand,” Kate said carefully, “that you had a strong disagreement with Ms.Hayes some months ago.”
Shepherd let out a breath through his nose — controlled, measured, but simmering.He snapped the elastic band once.Thwap.
“Yes,” he admitted.“Jennifer Hayes stood for everything I fight against — abandonment, neglect, the idea that age makes a person disposable.When I learned she hadn’t seen her father in years, I was furious.I won’t pretend otherwise.”
“Furious enough to confront her,” Marcus said.
Shepherd nodded.“At a gala.Publicly.I said things I regret.I raised my voice.I may have embarrassed her.But I did not threaten her.And I certainly did not harm her.”
His tone was righteous — too righteous — but there was something else beneath it.Shame, maybe.
“Mr.Shepherd,” Marcus said, “you have a history of… physical reactions.We know about the demonstration.And the incident with the dog.You broke the guy’s jaw.”
Shepherd winced, looking down at his hands."I won't justify either.I have anger issues.Serious ones.I've been in therapy for four years.That's what—" he lifted the elastic band, "—this is for.To stop me before I boil over.It works most days."
He sat finally, folding his hands tightly.“I hate cruelty, the active kind and the absent kind.I react badly to it.But my advocacy?My work?It is lawful.Always.I use persuasion, pressure, protest.Not violence.”
Kate studied his face.He wasn’t sweating.His eyes didn’t flicker evasively.If anything, he had the chastened look of someone who’d already yelled at himself before anyone else got the chance.
“Did you know Leo Hayes also passed away last night?”Kate asked.
Shepherd closed his eyes briefly.“No idea at all.I’d hoped — honestly — that Jennifer would reconcile with him first.I wrote her an email months ago.Offered to mediate.Offered resources.Encouragement.Forgiveness, even.”
“You wrote to her,” Marcus repeated.
“Yes.Kindly.I can forward it to you.”Shepherd reached for his laptop.“I wanted her to see him again.For both their sakes.”
He typed quickly, earnest fingers striking earnest keys.A moment later he said, “Sent.Three attachments — the email, her auto-reply, and the timeline.”
“Thank you,” Kate said.“Did she reply?”
“What do you think?”Shepherd said, drily.
“I could flip that and ask, what did youexpect?”
“I had no expectations, only the firm belief that it’s always worth a try.If I didn’t have that, I wouldn’t havethis," Shepherd said calmly, gesturing to the room, the posters, the cause.Kate sensed he was being truthful, but she didn't change her expression.
Marcus flipped to a new page in his notebook.“Where were you last night between, say, seven p.m.and midnight?”
Shepherd sat back.“Dinner at my adopted sister’s house.Natalie Crowe.In Cambridge.Her husband cooked.We opened a bottle of wine.Then another.I stayed overnight — I was in no condition to drive.”
“We’ll need to confirm with them.”
“Of course.I’ll give you their details.”
Kate turned her head slightly, catching Marcus’s eye —Well?
He gave the smallest of shrugs —Not him.Or not obvious.
