CHAPTER TWENTY

Never one to wait passively around while waiting for others to come up with answers, Avery headed back to the precinct. She had already formulated a plan of attack in her head, most of it requiring good old nose-to-the-grindstone research and digging. She figured she could do that while she waited for results from forensics and a final report from the coroner.

Without a proper office to call her own, she borrowed a laptop from the PR department and set up shop in one of the smaller conference rooms. Kellaway joined her and together, with coffee and donuts fueling them, they started working together like a well-oiled machine. Avery found that Kellaway took instruction well and never argued. She was legitimately happy to help in any way she could, even when it was to run basic records requests or doing simple Google searches.

The first thing they did was run database searches on Alfred Lawnbrook and Abby Costello. Aside from two speeding tickets on Alfred’s end, they both came back clean. Kellaway then called Amy Dupree and asked about any hobbies or interests Abby enjoyed. The only answer was cooking and reading—neither avenue providing much in the way of research.

The trail didn’t really start producing results until Avery decided to make a call to Phyllis Lawnbrook. She answered almost right away, still sounding worn out on the other end. After introductions and apologizing for dragging the pain of the case on, Avery got to a question she was starting to feel was important.

“Mrs. Lawnbrook, I wonder if you might remember what started Alfred’s severe fear of spiders. Was there maybe some childhood incident that scarred him in some way?”

“Not that I can remember,” she said. “I think it was just one of those natural things, you know? I always assumed he got it from his father…his father was deathly afraid of praying mantises. Even as a grown man, he’d leap back like a frightened child if he ever came across one.”

“Do you recall the age when Alfred might have first started expressing a fear of spiders?” Avery asked.

“I don’t know for sure. Maybe eight or so? It might have been as old as ten, but I’m not exactly sure about that.”

Avery thanked her and ended the call, looking thoughtfully into her cup of coffee.

“You latch onto an idea?” Kellaway asked.

“Not an idea, exactly. Just…a thought. We know for a fact that Lawnbrook was at least working towards getting over his fear of spiders. And he went to some pretty extreme measures to get it done. And we also know that while Abby Costello was terrified of open bodies of water, she’d at least get into the shallow end of a pool. I don’t know if that constitutes facing your fear or not. But…if these cases are linked—and I’m inclined to think they are—I’d be interested to see why their fears made them targets. I was hoping that if I could find out where the fears originated from, there could be pay dirt.”

“But Abby’s fear came from a freak water-skiing accident. How could anyone even know about that?”

“It’s a good point. Still…it makes me wonder if there is anything that might link them? Why did the killer select them?”

“So you think it might be worth finding out if Alfred Lawnbrook and Abby Costello knew one another?”

“Exactly,” Avery said, pulling out her phone again.

She called Larry Costello first. The phone was answered by his wife, who claimed that Larry had been a blubbering mess for most of the morning. Avery asked if it would be okay if she sent them a picture of someone to see if Larry recognized the face. After getting permission from the wife, Avery texted a picture of Alfred Lawnbrook, the candid picture that had been used in most newspapers over the last few days.

“Another thought for you,” Kellaway said. “Amy said that Abby never really settled down. But she dated guys quite often. It makes me think there was a lot of dinners out for her. And if guys took her out to eat pretty often, she had to have a favorite place, right?”

“Right,” Avery said, impressed with the logic behind the idea. “So if we can find a place that she frequented, maybe someone would have seen her last night—with her date.”

“I’m on it,” Kellaway said, pulling up Amy Dupree’s number one more time.

Avery listened to Kellaway’s end of the conversation, restraining herself from interjecting. It was nice to watch Kellaway at work; she had a way of communicating with people that didn’t make them feel pressured or uneasy.

While she listened to the conversation, she received a text on her phone. It was from Larry Costello (or his wife). It read: I don’t know this guy. Should I?

Avery replied back with a no, thanking them again for their help.

Less than a minute later, Kellaway ended her call. Avery could tell by the look on her face that Kellaway was getting excited. The thrill of the hunt had pretty much the same look whether on the face of a rookie or a seasoned pro.

“Mudslide Grill,” Kellaway said. “According to Amy it was not only one of their favorite places during college, but it remained one of Abby’s go-to places. She’d even use it as a scale to see if a guy was worth dating or not—whether or not the guy liked the food. And get this…Amy is pretty sure Abby had requested her date take her there last night.”

Without another word, they both got up from the conference room table. As they hurried down the hallway and out into the parking lot, Avery was a bit ashamed that she had even considered the idea of using deer hunting as a lame substitute for the thrill that was currently racing through her.

***

It was barely ten o’clock in the morning when they pulled into the empty lot in front of Mudslide Grill. The hours of operation on the door read 10:30 – Midnight. Avery tapped on the door, attracting the attention of the hostess who was helping to set the place up for the day’s business. The hostess rolled her eyes and pointed to a nonexistent watch on her wrist. Avery tapped the glass again, this time showing her badge and giving her eyes their own little roll.

The hostess hurried over and unlocked the door. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I had no idea you were a cop. We get some weird people that try to get in here early for those morning drinks. It’s a little sad.”

“It’s okay,” Avery said. “How many people are here with you right now?”

“Just three others. Two first-shift waitresses and my manager.”

“Could you please gather them up for me and meet me at the bar area? I have a few really quick questions I need to ask about a woman that we think might have been here early last night.”

“Sure thing,” the hostess said. She took off toward the back of the restaurant quickly, excited to be in the center of what could potentially be some juicy drama and gossip.

Avery and Kellaway entered the bar area, freshly cleaned from the night before. Yet it still held the smell of spilled beer and stale over-sprayed cologne. A sign over the bar boasted that the place offered the best Mudslides in the country—apparently where the name of the place came from.

The hostess and the other three employees all arrived together. Avery could spot the manager right away; he was the upright-looking thirty-something leading the pack. There was worry and panic on his face whereas the expressions of the others—two women in their twenties and a male who looked fresh out of high school—were ones of excitement and curiosity.

“Are you the manager?” Avery asked the thirty-something leading the little pack. The name tag on his shirt read DAN.

“I am. What’s this about?”

Avery showed him her badge and then pulled out her phone. “We’re trying to determine if a certain woman was in here last night. Her name is Abby Costello and we have a fairly solid lead that makes us think she would have been here. Were any of you here last night after six in the evening?”

The hostess and the young-looking guy both raised their hands. “I was here until closing,” the hostess said. Avery saw that her nametag read BRITTANY.

“I clocked out at ten,” the young man said. His nametag read DEMARIUS.

Avery pulled up a picture of Abby that she had found on Facebook. The photo had been uploaded just three days ago, so it was very recent. “I know you see a lot of people in here every day,” Avery said. “But if you could really try to remember this woman, I’d appreciate it.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Brittany said. “Yeah, I saw her. She was really nice. Very chatty.”

“And was she on a date? Was there a man with her?”

“I think so,” Brittany said. “I served them at the bar. The guy was sort of all over the place. He sat next to her but not for the whole time.”

“And do you know what time this might have been?” Kellaway asked.

“Well, I remember them so well because it was pretty early—before it gets really busy for the dinner and drinking rush. I’d guess they were here around five thirty or so.”

Avery then looked to Dan, the manager. “If I give you a debit card number, could you look through the evening’s transactions to find out when it was used?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Kellaway, can you pull the card number from the files and set him to it?”

Kellaway nodded right away, thumbing through her phone with expert proficiency. She and Dan headed over to the register behind the bar.

“Brittany, this is very important…do you think you could identify the man she was with? Can you describe him?”

“He was tall. Maybe right at six feet…maybe a little over. Dark hair, good-looking in an unshaven sort of way. He was very intense, just the way he talked to people, you know? He was flirty with me when I served him but not in a gross way.”

“And how did the woman seem to you? In a good mood? Something bothering her?”

“She seemed uptight at first, when the guy was with her. I caught her rolling her eyes a lot, like wishing he’d go away. That kind of thing.”

“You said when the guy was with her. Was he not here with her the entire time?”

“No. I missed what happened but the guy left after a while. When he was gone, I saw the woman looking around nervously. I’m pretty sure she asked the woman beside her if she could use her phone at some point. I remember that because I thought it was weird that she didn’t have a phone. Everyone has a phone, you know?”

“Did anyone else come in to meet her after her date left?”

“No. Not that I saw. I’m sorry…that’s when it started to pick up. I barely remember her paying her check. I felt sort of sorry for her. I got the feeling that her date bailed on her.”

“Do you know how long she was here after her date left?”

“No idea. Maybe half an hour.”

From behind the bar, Kellaway called out. “Got it. Abby Costello paid her tab at six thirty-two yesterday afternoon. Two drinks, one shot, and a burger.”

Avery considered the time for a moment and then added: “Brittany, do you remember Abby and this man maybe having harsh words at the bar?”

“No. Like I said, though…it was clear that she was annoyed about something.”

Avery nodded, her head putting the scenario together. So maybe they had an argument and the guy left…but then abducted her afterwards. Or, if Abby wasn’t into serious relationships like Amy claims, maybe she met up with someone after the guy left. Maybe her date here last night is not the killer. But if it is…we at least need to check it somehow.

She opened her mouth to start asking about the date that had left Abby, but her phone rang before she got the chance. She nearly ignored it but then thought it might be the coroner with some other interesting finding from Abby’s autopsy.

When she saw that the number was one she didn’t recognize, she nearly ignored it. But it was at that moment where something more than gut instinct kicked in. She’d experienced it maybe three times in her career, the urge to act one way or another based on nothing more than sheer feeling. It was almost supernatural in the way it washed through her. She knew she needed to answer the phone.

So she did.

“One moment,” she said to the gathered Mudslide Grill employees. She turned her back to them and answered the call. “Avery Black,” she said.

 “Mrs. Black…this is Janell Mitchell calling with Boston Rescue and Emergency Services. I’m calling because I just got a call from one of our ambulance drivers stating that they are on the way to the hospital with your daughter.”

Avery felt the world freeze all around her. Her mind seemed to refuse to accept the words she had just heard. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You said my daughter?”

“Yes ma’am. Rose Black. She should be coming into the ER within the next five to seven minutes.”

“I don’t understand…what the hell happened?”

“We don’t have full details yet, ma’am. But the driver and the medical attending to her seem to believe that it was a suicide attempt.”

“A…what?”

The woman on the other end responded, repeating suicide attempt again, but Avery barely heard her. She was already running to the doors of Mudslide Grill in a half stumble. When she called over her shoulder to let Kellaway know what was happening, she was hardly aware of it. She felt like she was floating outside of herself, watching it unfold from some haunted place outside of this world.

When she pulled the car out of the lot, she saw Kellaway at the door but didn’t acknowledge her. She had already started to cry and in some very dark place within her heart, wondered how she might herself commit suicide if she lost her daughter.