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“Okay.” I write my notes in shorthand.
We’ll go and meet with Trudy and the other stylists—not because they’re suspects, but because chances are, they’ll know more about Melissa’s dating life than her mother ever would.
“One of the first questions you asked when we told you about Mel was if Stan did it.” I set my pen on the notebook and glance up. “Why do you think Stan could have hurt Mel? Was he violent? Had they been fighting?”
“They’re not together anymore.” Mrs. Boyd reaches out with trembling hands and grabs the glass of water I set down. “It was a…” She shakes her head. “You know. A one-time thing. She had recently divorced Anton, so she started to go out with her friends. To have a little fun or whatever. Not a lot,” she adds. “It wasn’t an issue. It was just a young woman looking to go out and meet new people.”
“And one of those new people was Stan?” Fletch asks.
“Yes. He was at a club one of those nights. They met. They did what they did. They went their separate ways, and Mel didn’t think of him again until she realized she was late and did a pregnancy test.” Swallowing, she brings her watery gaze to me. “They hadn’t parted on bad terms that first time. They both went into things knowing it would be a once-off. I told her to keep the pregnancy to herself. Not invite a stranger into her life like that, ya know? But once that test came up positive, she said shehadto call and let him know. Sh-she wouldn’t feel right not telling him.”
“Was he angry?” I ask. “Was he happy? Something in the middle?”
“He was…” Drawing a deep breath, she lets it out again on a sigh and manages, while her brain works through details and stops focusing on a dead daughter, to bring her tears under control. “Indifferent, I suppose. It was all very amicable. She called him up and asked to meet with him for a coffee. He agreed. They went to this place downtown near her salon, and that’s when she told him.”
“How did he respond?” Fletch murmurs. “Howexactlydid he respond?”
“She said he seemed… neutral, ya know? Bored.” She looks to him. “Bored isn’t the right word, but it’s the closest I can come up with. He heard her out. He discussed with her their options: would she abort, would she keep it, that sort of stuff. Mel asked what he would like, and he said if he could choose, he would have her abort, simply because he was not ready to be a dad, and he especially wasn’t ready to be tied to a stranger for the rest of his life. Mel said she could understand where he was coming from, since she had similar reservations about co-parenting with this man she didn’t even know. Stan went on to let her know that he wouldn’t pressure her either way. He had his wishes, but the choice was hers. But he saidifshe should choose to keep the child, he would likely ask to be excused.”
“Excused?” Fletch’s word comes out a little sharply. “How did he mean?”
Mrs. Boyd shrugs. “As in, he didn’t want to be involved. It was unlikely he would be in the child’s life. He said it all in a very kind, non-confronting way, according to Mel. Maybe he was nice so he could keep the door open for later, in case he changed his mind. Or maybe that’s just who he is: bored and neutral all the time. But he kept his word; he didn’t pressure her, and when she decided she would keep the baby, he didn’t get involved. “She sent him a text every couple of months to let him know things were progressing. She let him know she had been attending Lamaze classes. She texted a week or so ago to let him know she had an induction date, in case the baby decided to stay put. She left the option open for him to ask to be involved again if he wished to, but she didn’t pressure him either.”
“And what did he reply to these texts?” Fletch asks. “Was he still neutral? Excited? Unhappy?”
“He never replied.” She brings her water up and takes a shaky sip. “Not once, in all this time, did he reply. He kept his word and stayed away. As far as I know, she hasn’t seen or spoken to Stanley since that day they had coffee.”
“If that’s the case, why did you automatically go to him being the one who hurt Melissa?” I ask. “If he’s been completely absent for eight months, why assume he’s a killer?”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes well up. “Maybe he changed his mind? Maybe now that the time is almost here, he decided he wants the baby back. Maybe he kept his word about not wanting to co-parent with a stranger,” her voice breaks. “So he removed Mel and got rid of the co-parenting part of all this.”
* * *
“She likes the ex a lot.” As soon as we leave the Boyds’ home and get into the car, Fletch slips the key into the ignition and glances across at me. “Total bias, like she thinks she has to choose one or the other.”
“Yeah, and she’s choosing the ex-husband. Which makes Stan guilty by default.”
“We’re gonna have to talk to them both.” Pulling away from the curb, Fletch moves into traffic and heads toward the precinct. “Let’s find them both, then we’ll rock-paper-scissors to decide which we visit first.”
“Stanley Mathouson.” I type his name into my phone and pull up what I can manage. “He’s thirty-two. Six-three. Two hundred and thirty pounds. Solid guy. He’s got a small rap sheet,” I add when Fletch looks across. “Small-time stuff. Nothing that could make me think he’d be violent toward a woman. He jacked a car when he was eighteen. Another when he was nineteen. Driving without a license twice. Possession once at twenty-one, but he didn’t have enough to entice the arresting officers to take it further. Shoplifting a couple times between the ages of twenty-one and thirty. Never more than a hundred dollars a pop. No jail time. No outstanding warrants. There’s a flag on his file because he hangs with folks who are more interesting to the cops, but he’s stayed out of trouble the last two years. Nothing on his sheet in that time, not even a parking violation.”
“So, old hookup has a slightly dubious youth. Less dubious than yours,” he looks across and smirks when our eyes meet. “Naughty little one-offs that don’t equal time. He hangs with shady folks, but again, he stays straight enough. Two years ago, he cleans it up. Eight months ago, he goes to bed with a beautiful wax tech, knocks her up, has a super chill, thoughtful conversation with said wax tech to let her know he wasn’t interested in becoming a dad. Now here we are; Melissa is dead, the baby was delivered and is subsequently missing, and Stanley hasn’t actually responded to a single text in all that time?”
He casts his gaze back to traffic and slows as we come toward a red light. “Are we sure he’s still alive?”
“Worth a check.”
Backspacing on my phone, I type inAnton Creedand try for the second. Thanks to a handful of speeding tickets—one that ended with a short-lived arrest—I get a pop.
“Anton is closer to Melissa’s age. Twenty-five. He’s a mechanic at an auto-body shop across the city. He’d started a college degree to become a middle school teacher, but dropped out in the second year. He doesn’t have anything on his record that lends toward violence, but he likes to speed. He likes to park in places he’s not supposed to. He usually pays the fines on time. Five feet, eight inches tall. A hundred and ninety pounds. Brown and brown. Married once, divorced once. His folks are both alive.Hmm.His father owns the garage he works out of.”
“Nepotism is the real American dream.” Grinning, Fletch pulls the car around a corner in search of less dense traffic. “Wanted to be a schoolteacher. Didn’t work out for whatever reason.”
“Wanted to be married too,” I murmur. “That didn’t work out either. Is he the sweet, dopey-eyed puppy dog Mrs. Boyd thinks he is, or is he really fucking pissed at the world because his wife left him, had sex with someone else, and ended up getting pregnant?”
“Tip line hasn’t turned either of them up yet. Means they either haven’t caught the news yet, or they don’t care enough to call it in.”
“Or one of them is our killer.” Shrugging, I arrow back to the screen with Stan’s information. “Let’s visit the boyfriend first. He’s the most recent guy in her life. He’s the baby’s father. Anton might be angry about how things worked out, but it’s Stan’s kid who is missing. I wanna see what shakes out on his end.”
