The crime scene in front of the courthouse was flooded with paramedics, fire trucks, and police trying to keep the crowd of people surrounding it out of the way. When Hunter approached, he saw a body covered by a dark blanket to keep the onlookers from seeing anything they shouldn’t, and couldn’t help but notice splashes of what could only be brain and blood surrounding the body. Even though it was almost full dark, the crowd of spectators was growing and the media was excited and arguing with police to try to get their stories.
Hunter and Judd had been given the details on the drive from New Orleans—a woman in her early thirties, most likely drunk or high, jumped off the roof of the courthouse, which was an equivalent of eight stories. Construction equipment from repairs to the building were how she got to the roof. Nobody saw her go up, but someone saw her come down and called 911. Unfortunately, the mystery caller either wasn’t there anymore or was standing somewhere in the crowd, protecting their anonymity.
Hunter and Judd were called to the crime scene for one specific reason—the victim had a black rose tattoo on her back. When the paramedics lifted the blanket to reveal her face, Hunter couldn’t give a positive identification, but from what Chloe had told him, and because of the tattoo, he knew exactly who she was.
Judd stepped away to talk to an officer in an attempt to get more information and give Hunter a little space. Hunter’s gaze focused on the roof and the construction equipment, then back to the woman, and wondered if Chloe knew and where she was. She might have heard the sirens and noticed the commotion from her apartment since it was only a few blocks away, but knowing Chloe, she would ignore the drama because she would assume it wouldn’t have any effect on her life. He decided that when he was done, he would go to her apartment and let her know. It was better she heard it from him than somebody else.
He turned and walked toward Judd and the police officer. “Who’s that?”
The officer pointed in the direction of a man being questioned by another uniform, grief and torment written all over his face. “That’s her husband. And the boy who was killed in the school yard this morning?” The officer pointed back to the body. “That’s his mother. Maybe she threw herself off the building because she felt guilty for killing her kid.”
“Collect evidence and photos,” Hunter said with ice in his voice, “then we’ll find out why.”
Hunter went over to Reggie, who was sitting on the sidewalk. From what he understood from Chloe’s description of him, Reggie was a strong man with the resolve of a brick wall—nothing would ever make him fall. A good man with a great sense of humor and a fierce protection of everything and everyone he loved. Now he sat with his head in his hands and his body limp with grief. Hunter motioned for the officers to leave, and as they did, Hunter sat next to him.
“She didn’t do it,” Hunter said quietly.
Reggie slowly raised his head and looked at Hunter in a daze. “Who are you?”
“Hunter Lawton. I’m an acquaintance of Chloe’s.”
Reggie nodded his head. “I know who you are.”
“Your son, she didn’t do it.”
Reggie looked at Hunter with questions in his eyes.
“Alice told you about her past, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know for sure, and this is just between you and me, but my guess is that the past has come back to haunt her, and I’m so sorry to say your son got caught in the crossfire. She’s not the only woman with the same tattoo who has been murdered; my wife had the same tattoo and was killed a few years ago. There is no way Alice would harm her children or throw herself off a building. There’s no way.”
“You think this Parnell guy is here?” Reggie asked. “You think he did this?”
“I do,” Hunter said. “But I need to talk to Chloe. I need more information.”
“Are you going to talk to her as a friend or a cop? Because I get the feeling she’ll only talk to the one who doesn’t look like a threat to her.”
“She came to see me in New Orleans a few days ago about protection for your family, which is going to be granted,” Hunter said, still upset with himself that he didn’t mention that fact to Chloe in all the distraction surrounding her confessions. “The more she told me about herself, the more betrayed and hurt I felt, and I’m still trying to process all the information, you know? But I have to talk to her because she is the only one who might be able to provide the answers you need right now.”
Reggie looked off into the distance in contemplation. “I didn’t know what to think when Alice told me who she used to be. But the more I listened, the more I realized that she lied and kept secrets because it was what she had to do to protect herself. She didn’t do it to hurt me or the boys; she did it because she had to.” Reggie faced Hunter. “She did the right thing and I knew that one day, when she was ready, she would tell me. Go talk to Chloe and find out what you need to so my son and wife can be buried in peace, so that my other son and I can have some peace.”
“She’s going back to Boston,” Hunter said. “She said she was going to help me get evidence to put him away.”
“She’ll fail,” Reggie said with certainty as Hunter gave him a questioning look. “She’ll try, but then he’ll probably kill her too. But I have a feeling she already knows that. No, she won’t get any evidence for you. You’ll have a corpse before you get any evidence.”
From the look in Reggie’s eyes, Hunter knew he was probably right. “Do you need anything?”
“He killed my boy and my wife. I want his corpse.”
There was nothing else to say. All Hunter could do was nod in sad understanding and stand up to leave.
As Hunter turned, Reggie asked, “Do you love her?”
Hunter ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, I do.”
“Then all you have to do is understand and accept, and hope he doesn’t get to her before it’s too late.”