I raise my eyebrows. “Everything?”
“You don’t know, then.” She lets out a little moan. “I thought you could look on the computer or something and find everything out.”
“What did she tell him?” I ask.
“I have to say it out loud?” She takes a deep breath. “It was my ex-husband, Simone’s stepfather. He used to do it when I was at work and they were alone together. Starting when she was eleven or twelve.”
The pulse in my temple starts to pound.
“They said I was wrong not to believe her, and maybe I was. The school counselor ended up reporting it, and they took him away to jail. After that, though, whenever there was a man in my life, I was always afraid, you know? That something might happen or she might say that something did. She could be very manipulative. She was always very mature for her age.”
“And this went on for how long?” I ask, my voice dry.
“She was fourteen, I think, when they arrested him. She moved out when she was sixteen, into a foster home out in the suburbs. Those people had a lot of trouble with her. After high school, we kind of lost touch for a while. I used to have a substance abuse problem, but I got that sorted out.”
“Were you arrested?”
“For the drugs?” She shakes her head. “I fell in love is what happened. I met somebody and we were together awhile, and we both ended up going to rehab.” She starts counting on her fingers. “That was eight and a half years ago. The relationship didn’t work out, but once I was clean, I stayed that way. Got myself some work, a place to live, and I never looked back.”
“Okay. So Simone told Jason about all this, and as a result he wasn’t your biggest fan. But you said he was good for her?”
“At first he was. They were so happy before. They had them a nice house, he bought her a new car. I remember on Saturdays, after they were out shopping, they would pull up in my driveway and she’d come in and show me all the things she got. It was sweet, like she was my little girl again. He would wait in the car, listening to the radio or something, but that was fine. I didn’t have a problem with it.”
“What changed then?”
“He got so strict with her. So controlling. She would call me on the phone because he said I was a bad influence. She couldn’t visit me no more. Then he started taking things away from her. He took her credit cards. He even sold her car, and she loved that car. But I would tell her maybe he was right. She was raised without any discipline, so whenever there was discipline, she always bucked.”
“Your daughter had separated from Jason, is that right? Was it a legal separation?”
“She just left, that’s all I know. It was after a big fight. The other thing, in addition to how controlling he got, was he started getting religious, too. He started telling her how she had to dress and who she could be friends with. She couldn’t have any men friends. It was getting scary. Every time she called, I kept expecting her to say he’d hit her.”
“Did she say that?”
“No. She never said it to me, anyway. But she wouldn’t have, because one of her things was that she always wanted to look successful in my eyes.”
“To make you proud,” I say.
“It was more like a competition. Since I failed in life, she was showing me that’s not how she was gonna end up.” Her face goes dead a moment; then she forces a smile. “But like I said, I could understand that. I wasn’t a perfect mother.”
“She never told you what the fight was about, then.”
“All she said was, ‘I outgrew him.’ That was it. She changed jobs and moved in with that professor woman-and that was a terrible decision, too. That woman, Joy is her name, she was just as bad, just as controlling. That’s what Simone said. Always wanting to know her comings and goings, always trying to squeeze more money out of her. I told her she could come live with me if she wanted. But she didn’t. It was habit by then, being used by people. That’s what they all did; they used her. He did, that woman did, everyone did. I was the only one. . She should have come to me, shouldn’t she? This would never have happened.”
There’s clearly no love lost between Candace and Joy Hill. Through the window I can see Bascombe leaning over Aguilar’s cubicle to confer. I need to get into that interview with Jason Young, but first I need something I can use, a lever to pry him open.
“Mrs. Walker,” I say. “According to Dr. Hill, your daughter recently had a falling out with Jason over a loan he promised to make-”
“Oh, that.” She pounces on the subject, eyes brightening. “What a scheme that was. It was all the professor lady’s fault because of the rent being behind. She wanted money from Simone or else. So she put the thumbscrews on her, and what could she do? Jason has lots of money-he works three different jobs, did you know that? — so of course she goes to him. And he says fine, I’ll give you the money, but there’s something you have to give me first. She had to sleep with him again. So he was paying for it, basically, like she was some kind of street hooker.”
“And when was this exactly?”
“That was maybe two, maybe three weeks ago? It was before Thanksgiving, I know that.” She shrugs. “Simone told me about it afterward. She was very upset. She didn’t know what to do without that money, and she couldn’t get him to pay up.”
“Did he come around after that? To Dr. Hill’s house?”
She pauses awhile, thinking the question over. “He’s the one.”
“Did she ever tell you that he’d been to the house? Maybe she saw him outside on the street? Maybe he came to the door?”
“Yes.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes, she told me. He would go to the house and try to come in, but she wouldn’t let him. She told him to go away. Go away or she’d call the police.”
“You’re sure about this? You’d testify in court?”
A pause. “Yes, I will. So help me God, I will.”
I get up and go to the door, signaling the lieutenant.
“Detective,” she says. “It’s not right this happening to her. My girl wanted one thing in life, and that was to be happy. She at least deserved that.”
CHAPTER 3
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 6 — 11:09 A.M.
Jason Young watches me from across the table, the familiar hunted look creeping into his eyes as I unpack one stack of papers after another: my notes from the scene, the preliminaries from the ME, transcripts of the statements Dr. Hill made last night to Aguilar and Mrs. Walker just completed with me, the photos from the scene, facedown on the table. And a lot of unrelated paperwork to pad it all out. I’m sending a message through this bit of theater. We have everything. We know everything. Tell me a lie and I’ll see through it because the facts are spelled out right here.
I square up a fresh legal pad in front of me, pen poised. “Now. Mr. Young. Why don’t we start with some basics? Where you live, where you work, that kind of thing.”
He glances from me to Bascombe, who sits to my left a few feet back, arms crossed. The wheels are turning. He’s trying to work out how much we really know. All I’m after for now is to get him talking, though. I need a baseline read on the man, to see what he’s like when he tells the truth. That way it will be easier to spot the deception later on.
“Don’t you already know that stuff?” he asks.
“These are just preliminaries we have to get out of the way.”
He sits back in his chair. “What was the question again?”
“Let’s start with your address.”
He gives me the street address of the apartment where Aguilar and I first spotted him. I write it down like it’s new information.