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The thread between Fisher and Sylvia was open on the screen. It went back months, revealing all the messages that Sylvia had deleted from her own phone which had to do with the more intimate aspect of their relationship, like whether or not she was going to sleep over after their dates. As Louis had told them, Sylvia always spent the night at his place, making excuses when he offered to come to hers instead. The day after each sleepover, Louis sent her a text telling her how much he enjoyed their time together; how amazing she was; and that he was the luckiest man in the world to be with her. His gushy messages were always met with something far more lukewarm from Sylvia.
You’re very sweet, Louis.
* * *
I enjoyed spending time with you, too, as always.
* * *
I had a wonderful time.
If there had been declarations of love or conversations about where they stood, those must have taken place over the phone or in person.
The messages were very consistent. They were in touch on a daily basis and saw one another two to three times a week with Sylvia staying over. In the two weeks leading up to the interview, the text messages had grown less frequent. They hadn’t made plans to go to dinner or a movie. Sylvia only spent one night with Louis in that time. The change in their relationship lined up with Louis’s account of seeing her out with another man two weeks before her murder. Any discussions they’d had about Sylvia’s old friend must have been in person or by phone. The only texts that indicated something was amiss were three in which Louis wrote: We need to talk to which Sylvia replied: It will have to wait until after the interview.
“This isn’t exactly scandalous,” said Josie. “Clearly he was way more into her than she was him.”
Josie wondered if Sylvia had kept him at arm’s length for so long because he was so needy. He sought constant attention, like a child who worried his mother would leave if he didn’t remind her that he was there and that he adored her. Briefly, she considered it might have to do with her not wanting him to discover her hoarding but her gut told her it wasn’t that. At least, not entirely.
Turner produced a can of his favorite energy drink from one of his pockets and popped the tab. “Check out his photo gallery. Mr. Soulmate had a little bit of an obsession with Sylvia West.”
She closed out the messaging app and brought up Fisher’s gallery. The first thing that stood out to her was that every photo had Sylvia in it. There were none of friends or pets or coworkers. None of random things people often captured with their cameras like a pretty sunset, an animal they saw in the woods or a funny bumper sticker. On her own phone, Josie had a photo of a frog she’d found at the end of their driveway, a mutant dandelion she’d discovered in their backyard and a T-shirt she’d seen while out shopping that was perfect for Gretchen.
Louis Fisher only had pictures of his older, secret girlfriend. There were several of the two of them together. Most of them were selfies. A handful had been taken by other people and, given the venues, Josie guessed the photographers had been strangers the couple had enlisted to take the pictures. There was one of the two of them having a candlelit dinner at an upscale restaurant. In another, they wore fall clothes and hiking boots. They stood beside a waterfall, Louis’s arms wrapped around Sylvia and her head resting on his chest. A happy smile lit up her face.
Josie kept swiping, finding more disturbing pictures. Sylvia sleeping, often covered by a blanket but a couple of times exposed, wearing only a nightgown that had been pushed up to her waist to show her lower half. There were two taken through what appeared to be a crack in the door, capturing Sylvia as she got dressed in a bedroom. More photos showed Sylvia arriving and leaving her home, taken from several yards away. Sylvia pushing a shopping cart through a parking lot. Sylvia and her granddaughters waiting in line at an ice cream parlor. Sylvia walking into a doctor’s office.
He hadn’t managed to get a photo of her and her “old friend,” unless he’d chosen not to take any. Perhaps having pictures of the two of them was too agitating. By his own account, the very thought of Sylvia with the other man had made him want to drink.
Turner said, “Look at all the pictures from their dates. The university butterfly garden, a state park, a bunch of fancy restaurants. Sylvia looks happy.”
“She’s glowing,” Josie muttered. “Why in the hell did this guy feel the need to go full creeper?”
“Because some people are just creepers.” Turner slugged down what was left of his energy drink and brushed some crumbs from his suit. “Can’t help themselves.”
Josie couldn’t argue with that.
“But he wasn’t creeping when Sylvia was killed,” Josie said, closing out the photo gallery and searching his location history. “At least according to the GPS history, which confirms his claim that he was home on Sunday morning.”
“This guy’s already got a record and he’s working his way up to a black belt in stalking. There’s no way he’d bring his phone with him if he went to Sylvia’s house to kill her.”
“Noah and I can swing by his place in the morning,” Josie said. “See if we can find any neighbors who saw him at home on Sunday morning.”
Turner crumpled the can in his hand and reached for the second muffin. “We need to bring him in. Lock him into a formal statement. Push him a little to see if we can get some kind of admission out of him.”
“I’d like to do more of a deep dive first,” Josie said. “Find out more about his life before his DUI. Where he worked. Maybe talk to his ex-wife.”
“You and the LT should talk to Sylvia’s kids tomorrow,” Turner said. “See if they know anything about this guy other than what they found out at that meeting. I still can’t decide if this creeper is telling the truth about Sylvia having an ‘old friend.’ We should ask them about that, too.”
“He’s telling the truth.” Josie continued searching Fisher’s phone, checking his email and social media accounts as well as his files. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gotten so jealous.”
“Or he’s pretending that he got jealous so he can push blame onto this old friend who may or may not exist.”
If Sylvia had been communicating with another man, they hadn’t found evidence in her phone records, unless she’d deleted it more than thirty days before her death.
“There’s no way Fisher is pretending to be jealous,” Josie argued. “Besides, why would he make up another man to draw attention to himself in the first place?”
“Because he knew we’d be looking at him first since he’s the boyfriend. Secret boyfriend, but still.”
