“Well, we’ll talk to Clarissa and check your alibis. If we can determine your whereabouts within twenty-four hours of Alfred Lawnbrook’s death, you’ll be free to go. It will have to be airtight, though. You have to understand how bad this looks for you, right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “But I swear…it wasn’t me. You know…even if you can’t come up with an alibi between me and Clarissa, there might be something on my computer. You guys can track log-ins and log-outs, right?”
“We can. Why do you ask?”
“The forum I met Clarissa on…I’m on there a lot. I’ve been trying to make some connection to maybe write articles for people. About spiders and things like that. Some obscure online nature mags pay pretty good for that kind of stuff.”
Avery recalled seeing the beginnings of a few articles on his coffee table. It wasn’t an alibi by any means, but it was at least something that added up.
“We’ll look into that,” Avery said. “In the meantime…can you remember anything Alfred ever said that might make you think he had enemies? Someone who really had it out for him?”
“No. He was a quiet dude. I mean, he was afraid of what his mom would think if she knew he was in a gay relationship but…no, nothing like enemies.”
“And do you know of anyone else that knew of his intense fear of spiders?” Avery asked.
Again, Stefon put some actual thought into his answer before slowly shaking his head. “Not that I know of. He seemed to be embarrassed about it, though. So I guess he wouldn’t really have shared it.”
“And have you told anyone else about his fear?”
“I told Clarissa. But that was right after I saw that he had died. Me and her, we got in a fight about that. She said it would be a good way to go and I thought it was insensitive.”
Avery nodded, relaxing a bit. She was pretty sure Stefon Scott had nothing to do with the murder of Alfred Lawnbrook. Even though the trail pointed there, it was all in his demeanor and his willingness to have them look into his computer records and speak to Clarissa.
“We’re going to need you to stay here until your alibis are checked out,” Avery said, getting to her feet. “In the meantime, I suggest you do your best to be polite to anyone else that asks you questions. Do you understand?”
He nodded, finding it hard to look at her. “You know,” he said. “There’s one thing about Alfred that I found a little weird…but it only just dawned on me right now.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“He was open to the possibility of facing his fear of spiders. I think that’s really the only reason he kept seeing me. He wanted to get over the fear. And I know I didn’t kill him, even though you aren’t convinced. But…if he wanted to get over a fear that badly, I couldn’t be the only one he told, right? Someone else had to have known. Someone he trusted.”
It was a good point. Avery had considered it already but the way Stefon put it added a new twist.
He wanted to get over his fear of spiders.
She felt like it meant something, but she wasn’t sure what just yet. But she thought Stefon was right: if he was set on overcoming his fear, he likely told more than one person. And if it had not been his mother, then who?
It was a good question…and one she thought they needed to find an answer to as soon as possible.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Abby Costello found her mind racing in some strange directions as her body was jostled and shaken. As a huge movie buff, she had seen far too many movies where someone is captured and put into the trunk of a car. She’d always thought that it was unrealistic—that a full-grown person could not bend in a way that would allow them to fit inside.
It was ironic, then, that she had found out just how wrong she had been. Only, ironic wasn’t the word. Horrifying was a better word.
It was a fitting word, for sure. She was blindfolded and had something wrapped tightly around her mouth. She was pretty sure it was a ball gag. And she was indeed in a trunk. And with the exception of an ache in her knees where her legs were bent, it turned out that she had fit inside it easily enough.
She wasn’t quite sure how she had gotten here. She’d been a little excited when her date had asked if she wanted to try something different. And when he had pulled out the straps and blindfold, her mind had gone two ways: one, excited and a little turned on; two, a very quiet and creeping unease.
Abby knew she was a good-looking woman. She’d known since high school when three guys had asked her to the prom, something that had been reinforced in college when not only one but two fights had erupted at frat parties over her. She’d never had problems getting a date or the attention of men. Therefore, she had always had full control of her sex life. She could have it when she wanted and was okay turning it down, knowing that it would come along again whenever she had the need.
She’d felt a slight need when she’d met her date that night. She knew she’d eventually sleep with him. He was cute and he treated her like a queen. But now she was gagged and blindfolded in his trunk. Now she was smelling the car’s exhaust and something that smelled like dust and mothballs in the trunk.
It was even scarier when the car came to a stop. She figured he had been driving her around for about half an hour. She tried to roll over onto her back, hoping to somehow escape when he opened the trunk. But, as it happened, she could not manage to get off of her side. When he popped the trunk open a few seconds after killing the engine, she felt the cool air and would have given just about anything to see where they were.
She tried speaking to him, asking Where are we and why are you doing this? But all that came through the gag was a muffled noise.
She felt his hand grab her wrist, which was bound behind her back with the straps she had seen an hour ago and assumed would be tied to a headboard. He yanked her up easily but not with the gentle hands that she’d allowed to caress her breasts the few times they’d met before. He was rougher now and not at all interested in her most secret areas.
“We’re here,” he told her as he helped her to stand.
She felt the car’s bumper against the back of her legs. Without her eyes, she could only use scent and sound to determine where they were. Neither of those senses helped much; the night was quiet and her nose was still cluttered with the smell of exhaust and the inside of his trunk.
“Come on,” he said, his voice in her ear.
She tried pulling away, lunging hard to the right. He yanked her back, his grip like a vise now.
“Try that again and I’ll break your arm,” he said. His voice was calm and almost reasonable.
She began to sob through the gag, a sound that was like the mewling of a wounded animal. She was shaking as he led her forward. Three steps, then six, then ten, then twenty. She was pretty sure they were on grass and then hard-packed dirt.
And then she heard and felt wood beneath her feet. A few more steps and the wood seemed to shift slightly under her feet—almost like it was wobbling.
Then she heard the very light sounds of splashing—of water under the wood.
No, she tried to say, but it came out in a muffled whine against the gag.
Just thinking of water made her lungs ache. Blind panic seized her and she suddenly found it very hard to breathe.
God, no. Please…
She froze in place and fought against him again. Let him break her arm. She didn’t care. She had to get away. Her blood was flooded with what felt like acid as terror spread its arms wide through her body.
A dock—I’m on a dock. There’s water…a body of it. But where? Oh God…
Still, she fought to breathe. The fear was like some vise around her lungs. There was not a single drop of water on her, yet she felt like she was drowning.