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I head toward the sink and take a clean glass from the top shelf of the dishwasher, then slowly filling it, I scan the mail on the counter. The calendar on the wall. The photos on the fridge.
Finding nothing that pulls my interest I switch off the tap and head back toward Fletch’s calming voice.
Stepping into the living room, I find the pair sitting on the couch, Fletcher on the edge, and his hand on Mrs. Boyd’s shoulder, while Mrs. Boyd cries into her hands in an almost silent—and somehow more heartbreaking—way.
Setting the water down on the coffee table, I back away to sit on a single recliner and wait.
“Tell me what happened.” Sniffling, she accepts a wad of tissues when Fletch offers the box from the table. “I don’t…” Shaking her head, she slowly brings her eyes up. “I don’t understand how this happened.”
“We found her, Mrs. Boyd.” I sit forward. Engaged. Give the woman all of my attention, like that’ll somehow make this easier for her. “Late last night, Melissa was found dead in City Park. But she didn’t have ID on her. We had no way of knowing who she was until that piece on the news. As soon as we got her name, we came right over.”
“Was it…” She searches my face. Then Fletch’s. “Was there an accident?”
“No, Mrs. Boyd.” One blow. Then another. “We believe Melissa was murdered.”
I hate how cold I have to be. How clear I have the say the word. It’s cruel to find out your loved one is dead, only for the cops to then hammer those words home over and over again.Dead. Murdered. Dead.
“She’s with the medical examiner’s office right now, and we expect to receive a formal cause of death soon. But initial investigations lead us to believe this was not accidental.”
“We were hoping to ask you a few questions,” Fletch murmurs. “Get some more information about Melissa.”
“L-like what?” The woman chokes on her breath. “What could I—” Then she gasps. “The baby! Oh my god, the baby!” She clutches Fletch’s hand and sobs. “Mel was due to have her baby soon.”
“Well…” I clear my throat and drop my elbows to my knees. Because how the fuck does someone explain this stuff to a grieving woman? “Uh… the medical examiner’s office has informed us the baby was born.”
“The… what?” She swings her bloodshot eyes across to me. “No. That’s imp—”
“We believe the infant was born in the moments surrounding Melissa’s death. Perhaps she died as a result of the birth, or she died soon after.”
“But that doesn’t make sense! It doesn’t make sense.”
“Whatever happened,” Fletch gently pats her hand, “whatever went down last night, we’re trying to understand it. You could help Mel by helping us.” He’s gentler at this than I am. Kinder. “Can you answer a few questions for us?”
“The baby was born?” Mrs. Boyd floats in her mind as shock slows things down. “So the baby is okay?”
I swallow and toss down another grenade. “The infant is missing.”
She swings her angry eyes back my way.
“Whoever hurt Melissa, whoever left her in City Park, we believe they have the child. Our primary focus right now is to find your grandchild, Mrs. Boyd. To find him or her and bring it home. By doing that, we’ll also solve our case and bring a killer to justice. But we don’t know Melissa like you do. We don’t know the things about her life the way you do.”
“Was it Stan?” She brings her wad of tissues up and dabs at her face. “Did Stan do this to my baby?”
“Who is Stan?” I take out a pen and a small notebook from my back pocket. Then I start writing. “Stan who?”
“Stanley Mathouson.” Her breath catches. “He’s her… he’s the father of her baby.”
“Is Stanley also her ex-husband?”
“No.” Weak, she drops her elbows to her knees and crushes the pads of her hands to her eyes. “Anton Creed is her ex-husband. But he…” She shakes her head. “He wouldn’t hurt her. He loves her, Detective.” She breaks the seal of her hands on her eyes and glances up. “He still loves Mel, even though it didn’t work out.”
Jealousy is a tried-and-true motive for killing a woman.But I don’t say that out loud. “Does Mel have any enemies?” I ask instead. “Anyone she might’ve upset, either inadvertently or intentionally?”
“No, she…” A deep V forms between her brows. “Mel was a gentle soul. She was kind to everyone, and the further her pregnancy progressed, the kinder she got. It’s like…” She looks at Fletch. “It’s like, the closer she came to bringing another human into the world, the more aware she became that she needed to make the world a better place.”
“Any business rivals?” I ask the question, but I don’t like that angle; my intuition says whoever killed Melissa was a man she had a relationship with. But we have to explore every avenue. “A competitor in the beauty world? Her boss?”
“Trudy?” She looks down and fusses with her tissue, pulling it into lengths and tearing little ends off. “Mel is self-employed and rents her salon space, which means she doesn’t exactly have a boss. But Trudy Janus owns the building.” She tears another strip from the tissue and rolls it into a ball. “She’s not the friendliest person in the world, but it’s a business relationship that works well. Trudy collects rent from Mel and a couple of other stylists who have the same setup.”
