Read Online Before There Were Angels by Sarah Mathews - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Mathews
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“Zack wasn’t a bully.”
“Stevie and Zack were very, very close,” I said. “Stevie can tell you everything about Zack, and everything he tells you will be the truth.”
“So what do you believe happened?” asked the cop after taking further notes.
“I really haven’t got a clue.”
“Have you ever been threatened?”
“Belle, my wife, Zack’s mother, has. She recently received two death threats, one by e-mail, the other through the mail slot of the front door.”
“Did you report these to us?”
“Yes, a month ago.”
“Where?”
“The local station, here.”
“Do you remember the name of the officer you reported this to?”
“No.”
“Can you describe him?”
I forced a smile. “Don’t cops all look the same …? Thirties somewhere, dark glasses, average build. He told us how to file for a restraining order if we could figure out who it was who was threatening us, at the Court House on McAllister.”
“Could you?”
“The person we thought mostly likely to be sending death threats was my ex-wife because she has threatened Belle before, but she is in England as far as we know. There was also a murder here three months ago, and they … you … haven’t arrested the woman believed to be responsible for those four deaths,” I didn’t mention the dog this time, out of respect, “but what possible motive could she have for killing Zack, even if it were physically possible for her to do so. Zack and Stevie were … are … twelve, but both of them are strong and Zack was headstrong too. Unless she drugged him, I cannot see how she, or any woman, could possibly have done this. Well, I suppose she could, but there would at least be evidence of an almighty struggle. I haven’t looked around the house yet but I haven’t seen any immediate signs.”
“And he didn’t call you on your cell phones? Did you have them with you?”
“We had our cell phones with us, all three of us, and no.”
“Mine was turned off,” Stevie interjected. He pulled it out of his pocket and turned it on. There was a terrible pause while it intoned, ‘Metro PCS, hello, hello, hello. Wireless for all’, and we waited for any pings to announce that there was a message pending.
It pinged.
One missed call - from Zack’s cell phone.
One voicemail.
This was horrific. Macabre.
“I think I had better go and listen to it in another room,” suggested the cop. “Would you tell me your security code for your voicemail, Stevie?”
“1,2,3,4.”
“Thanks.”
The cop got up and left the room.
He came back ashen-face, which I would guess is rare in a cop. “There was a message,” he said. “It was a call for help.”
“Did he say why?”
“No, he only said one word. ‘Help!’”
“And that was it?”
The cop shook his head. “Not quite it but that was the only thing he said.”
“What else was there?” I asked.
“Not now,” cautioned the cop.
Stevie’s eyes were wide open. He didn’t ask to hear what the rest was.
* * *
The cop and I went to the kitchen to listen to the message from Zack, leaving Stevie briefly alone in the sitting room , patting George distractedly as George watched him with concern.
The cop handed me the phone. “Are you sure you are ready to listen to this, Sir?”
“I’m ready,” I replied, steeling myself.
I clicked on the voicemail icon and entered the 1,2,3,4 security code.
Rustling came from the phone, then “Help!” from Zack sounding beside himself, a tone of voice I had never heard from him before, then what sounded like a woman’s voice laughing in the background before the message was cut off abruptly.
I played it again. Was it a woman’s laugh or a girl’s? Could I get any sense as to whether she was American or English, or any other nationality?
I frowned and played it again, and again, and again - fifteen, twenty times.
I could make no sense of it.
I was still re-running the message when the cop we had seen down at
“Stevie and Zack were very, very close,” I said. “Stevie can tell you everything about Zack, and everything he tells you will be the truth.”
“So what do you believe happened?” asked the cop after taking further notes.
“I really haven’t got a clue.”
“Have you ever been threatened?”
“Belle, my wife, Zack’s mother, has. She recently received two death threats, one by e-mail, the other through the mail slot of the front door.”
“Did you report these to us?”
“Yes, a month ago.”
“Where?”
“The local station, here.”
“Do you remember the name of the officer you reported this to?”
“No.”
“Can you describe him?”
I forced a smile. “Don’t cops all look the same …? Thirties somewhere, dark glasses, average build. He told us how to file for a restraining order if we could figure out who it was who was threatening us, at the Court House on McAllister.”
“Could you?”
“The person we thought mostly likely to be sending death threats was my ex-wife because she has threatened Belle before, but she is in England as far as we know. There was also a murder here three months ago, and they … you … haven’t arrested the woman believed to be responsible for those four deaths,” I didn’t mention the dog this time, out of respect, “but what possible motive could she have for killing Zack, even if it were physically possible for her to do so. Zack and Stevie were … are … twelve, but both of them are strong and Zack was headstrong too. Unless she drugged him, I cannot see how she, or any woman, could possibly have done this. Well, I suppose she could, but there would at least be evidence of an almighty struggle. I haven’t looked around the house yet but I haven’t seen any immediate signs.”
“And he didn’t call you on your cell phones? Did you have them with you?”
“We had our cell phones with us, all three of us, and no.”
“Mine was turned off,” Stevie interjected. He pulled it out of his pocket and turned it on. There was a terrible pause while it intoned, ‘Metro PCS, hello, hello, hello. Wireless for all’, and we waited for any pings to announce that there was a message pending.
It pinged.
One missed call - from Zack’s cell phone.
One voicemail.
This was horrific. Macabre.
“I think I had better go and listen to it in another room,” suggested the cop. “Would you tell me your security code for your voicemail, Stevie?”
“1,2,3,4.”
“Thanks.”
The cop got up and left the room.
He came back ashen-face, which I would guess is rare in a cop. “There was a message,” he said. “It was a call for help.”
“Did he say why?”
“No, he only said one word. ‘Help!’”
“And that was it?”
The cop shook his head. “Not quite it but that was the only thing he said.”
“What else was there?” I asked.
“Not now,” cautioned the cop.
Stevie’s eyes were wide open. He didn’t ask to hear what the rest was.
* * *
The cop and I went to the kitchen to listen to the message from Zack, leaving Stevie briefly alone in the sitting room , patting George distractedly as George watched him with concern.
The cop handed me the phone. “Are you sure you are ready to listen to this, Sir?”
“I’m ready,” I replied, steeling myself.
I clicked on the voicemail icon and entered the 1,2,3,4 security code.
Rustling came from the phone, then “Help!” from Zack sounding beside himself, a tone of voice I had never heard from him before, then what sounded like a woman’s voice laughing in the background before the message was cut off abruptly.
I played it again. Was it a woman’s laugh or a girl’s? Could I get any sense as to whether she was American or English, or any other nationality?
I frowned and played it again, and again, and again - fifteen, twenty times.
I could make no sense of it.
I was still re-running the message when the cop we had seen down at
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