The 'Burg: Hold On Part 72

This was also good. It was difficult to get statements from sobbing, hysterical people.

Angry people let it all hang out.

Garrett looked to Mike to see Mike's eyes on him.

"Ms. Derian," Ellen called. The woman jerked to a halt and turned narrowed, p.i.s.sed off eyes on Ellen. "This is Lieutenant Garrett Merrick and Lieutenant Mike Haines of the Brownsburg Police Department. They're here to ask a few questions about this morning." Ellen turned to Garrett and Mike. "This is Marscha Derian."

"Thanks, Ellen," Mike muttered.

Garrett caught Marscha Derian's dark brown eyes, held them, and communicated with his own.

So when he said unemotionally, "We're sorry for your loss," even though it didn't sound it, she might understand he meant it.

"Yeah," she spat. "Me too."

She didn't understand he meant it. Nothing was penetrating her rage.

"Would you like to sit down? Get a cup of coffee? If you don't have a pot going, we can make one," Mike offered.

"No, 'cause, see, got three brothers, another sister, and my mom and dad, which means I got a s.h.i.+t-ton of calls to make today and I'm not lookin' forward to any of 'em," she bit out. "So I just wanna get this done and want you to get that s.h.i.+t," she tossed a hand toward her front window, "outta here."

That s.h.i.+t.

Nope, the grief hadn't hit her yet.

Either that or she and her sister weren't the best of friends.

Garrett and Mike exchanged another look, then both of them pulled out their notepads and pens.

"Okay, then, Ms. Derian, we'll get to it," Garrett started, flipping his open. "Officer Fink says you called it in. Did you-"

"Heard the gunshots but didn't know what I was hearin'," she cut him off to declare. "Never heard nothin' like that. Was sleepin', it woke me up, and I just laid there. Just f.u.c.kin' laid there, wonderin' what the f.u.c.k that was." She shook her head. "Nothin' happens around here anymore. Only got four neighbors left on this street, so things are quiet. Couldn't figure out what that noise was. So I just laid there."

Garrett and Mike didn't move even as her last declaration made her face change, her entire demeanor change.

Anger leaking out.

Shock coming in.

This would be followed by the pain.

"You here alone, Ms. Derian?" Garrett asked quietly.

She shook her head sharply like she was shaking herself into shape, and she focused on Garrett. "Yeah."

"You give Ellen a name of someone she can call so you got someone you trust close?" Garrett asked.

"I'm good," she declared.

Mike entered the conversation. "Please give Ellen a name of someone she can call so you got someone close."

Marscha Derian sucked her lower lip between her teeth and bit it.

Then she looked at Ellen, who was hanging back, and gave her the name and number of someone to call.

Ellen took notes, and the minute Marscha was done talking, she stepped out of the room.

"You heard the gunshots," Garrett prompted quietly.

"Shoulda known," Marscha declared.

"Known what?" Mike asked.

She looked to Mike. "Wendy, she likes the bad boys. Always did. Got suspended from high school twice because of s.h.i.+t her boyfriends were into. And yeah, I said boyfriendzzzzz." She emphasized the z's as well as her statement even though neither Garrett nor Mike questioned it. "Went from one loser to another. Not only never learned, they just got worse."

"Are you saying you're aware that your sister was a.s.sociating with someone you considered dangerous?" Mike asked.

"Uh...yeah," she answered with heavy sarcasm. "She was a.s.sociatin' with a lot of f.u.c.kwits that I considered dangerous. So did my brothers. My other sister. Our mom and dad. All her decent friends. And by a.s.sociatin', I mean suckin' their d.i.c.ks and takin' their s.h.i.+t."

Christ.

"Maybe we should get to the gunshots you heard. Then we'll move on to the people Wendy spent time with," Garrett suggested.

"Nothin' to say about those shots since I'm a G.o.dd.a.m.ned idiot. Heard that s.h.i.+t. Just laid there. Just laid there while someone was shootin' my sister outside my G.o.dd.a.m.ned house."

"If you haven't heard the sound of gunshots before, it isn't unusual that you wouldn't immediately know what they were," Mike a.s.sured.

"I shoulda known," she retorted.

"Because the company Wendy kept?" Mike pressed.

"Because the company Wendy kept," Marscha spat.

"Outside the gunshots," Garrett cut in. "Did you see anything? Hear anything?"

She looked to him. "I heard bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Four times. I heard 'em all. They were loud. Woke up laid there. Then it hit me, got up, went to the window, looked outside. Saw Wendy's car, the lights on, nothin' else. She'd been out all night. Didn't tell me where she was or when she was comin' home. Just told me yesterday she was goin' out and then she left. Saw her car and it finally hit me what those sounds were. Ran out there. Saw her sittin' there, starin'. Car was on. She was in it. Just sittin' there, bleedin' and starin'."

Marscha Derian was now shaking.

Garrett edged slightly closer, urging carefully, "Think you should sit down now, ma'am."

She needed no further encouragement. She shuffled back until her calves. .h.i.t the couch and she plopped onto it.

Garrett looked toward the entryway and saw Ellen there. She nodded.

A friend was on the way.

"We're sorry to make you go through this," Mike said. "But we have to get all this down."

Marscha was staring at the carpet. At Mike's words, she slowly tipped her head back and looked at him.

She was losing focus. The pain was pus.h.i.+ng through. It was going to hit any second.

They needed to get everything they could before she succ.u.mbed.

"At this point, what did you do?" Mike asked.

"Stupid," she whispered.

"What was stupid?" Mike pressed.

"I turned off her car," Marscha answered.

f.u.c.k.

"Did you touch anything else?" Garrett asked.

Her head slowly swiveled his way and then she shook it.

"Ran inside, called nine-one-one," she told him.

"You go back out?" Garrett queried.

She shook her head again. "The operator kept me on the line. Told me to stay inside."

"Good," Garrett muttered.

Mike took over. "Is there someone in particular she was a.s.sociating with that you have concerns about?"

"That'd be a long list," she shared. "Though, most recent, even though he'd ended things with her a week ago or whatever, is Jaden Cutler."

Again, Garrett's spine shot straight, but this time his stomach also turned just as Mike's gaze cut to him.

It took a lot, he tried, but he didn't succeed in keeping the harsh out of his voice when he turned back to Marscha and asked, "Jaden Cutler?"

She was way too far gone to process the harsh in his voice.

"Most recent d.i.c.khead douchebag a.s.shole loser that Wendy a.s.sociated with. Also the worst of the lot. Totally. And it was him that broke up with her. Kicked her a.s.s out. She was livin' with me but also livin' in hope he'd take her back. Can you believe that s.h.i.+t?"

"Outside of disliking him, do you have any reason to believe he was a danger to your sister?" Mike asked.

"He's just a danger," she declared. "Mean as a snake when he's in a bad mood. Up his own a.s.s, thinkin' he's G.o.d's gift when he is not. Man doesn't work, but he's got money. How is that? How do you not have a job and have money?" she asked.

"I know several ways, Ms. Derian, but do you know this Jaden Cutler was involved in anything that might lead to what happened to Wendy this morning?" Mike pushed. "Did she say anything to you? Did you hear her say anything to anyone else, for instance, on the phone? Did Cutler say anything in your presence?"

"No. But you got the experience I got with Wendy and her parade of losers, you just know."

She had nothing.

f.u.c.k.

"Did Wendy ever talk to you about Cutler, his acquaintances, or the people they spent time with?" Garrett asked, hoping like f.u.c.k she'd mentioned Carlito Gutierrez.

She hadn't.

"No," Marscha stated and tossed out a hand in irritation. "This is all I was to my sister-a crash pad when she ditched one of her losers, or when one of her losers beat her up or cheated on her and she thought she'd teach him a lesson by takin' off only to go back, or when one of them decided it was time to move on so they dumped her. She was dumped, she didn't take a lot of time finding a replacement because, apparently, she couldn't exist without a healthy dose of a.s.shole in her life."

Garrett braced when she finished her litany and instantly looked to the front window.

It was going hit.

Now.

"Guess she couldn't," Marscha whispered. "Couldn't live without it. Couldn't live with it."

It was then the tear fell. Just one, down her cheek to hit her pajama top.

Then she dropped forward. Face in her knees, her back bucked in a way that looked painful, and her sob tore through the room with such force, it felt like a physical thing.

They'd get no more and both Garrett and Mike had long since learned that when it hit, two cops hanging around, watching or attempting to ease a pain that had no relief other than time, was unwelcome and unwanted.

Their job was to catch the bad guy.

Garrett was already on the move.

Mike was too.

"You'll stay with her?" Mike muttered to Ellen.

"Yeah, Mike," Ellen muttered back.

"Favor, Ellen," Garrett said. "She's got any info on Wendy's friends-names, numbers, anything-get those down. We'll also need access to the rest of the family after Marscha gives them the news. Yeah?"

Ellen nodded.

They exited the house, but Garrett did it with his hand inside his jacket, going for his phone in his pocket.

"Need two minutes," he said to Mike as he moved off the front walk into the yard and not toward the vehicle at the curb, which was now surrounded by five cops, the ME, and Jake, their crime scene guy, who was taking pictures. There were also neighbors. They were hanging back on a sidewalk across the street, but they were there.

"Bet you do," Mike murmured, moving down the walk toward the scene.

Mike, obviously, was in the know about Ryker, Ryan, and Jaden Cutler.

Garrett stopped in Marscha Derian's yard, engaged his phone, and slid his thumb on the screen, vaguely annoyed that today would not be the day he'd have time to get a new phone.

But most of his attention was on what he was doing, not his phone.

It was also not on the beginnings of a homicide investigation.