If She Ran
“By all means. Help yourself.”
“And could you get the contact information of those that decided to leave?” DeMarco asked.
“Certainly.”
Kate and DeMarco ventured out into the workspace of cubicles, large desks, and rich coffee. But even before they had spoken to a single person, Kate got a pretty good feeling that they were going to get more of the same. Usually, when more than one person described someone else as being very plain and uneventful, it usually turned out to be true.
Within fifteen minutes, they had spoken with the eight other workers currently in the office. Kate had been right; everyone described Jack and sweet, kind, not one to rock the boat. And for the second time that morning, someone referred to Jack Tucker as boring—but in a good, non-offensive way.
In the back of her head, Kate felt something stir, some memory or saying that she had heard somewhere along the roads of her life. Something about watching out for a bored wife or spouse—how the boredom might make them snap. But it wouldn’t come to her.
After stopping by Hiroto’s office one last time to get a list of the people who had elected to leave work, Kate and DeMarco headed back out into the gorgeous New York City Saturday morning. She thought of poor Missy Tucker, sitting under the weight of this beautiful day, trying to adapt to a life that, for a while anyway, might not seem so beautiful at all.
***They spent the rest of their morning visiting with the ones who had decided to leave work. They encountered many tears and even a few who were enraged that a man as innocent and as kind as Jack Tucker would have been murdered. It was exactly the same as speaking to the others in the office, only not as stifling.
They spoke with the last person—a man named Jerry Craft—shortly after lunchtime. They arrived at his home just as Jerry was getting into his car. Kate parked behind him in his driveway, catching an irritated look. She stepped out of the car as Jerry Craft approached them. His eyes were red and he looked quite melancholy.
“Sorry to bother you,” Kate said, showing her ID. DeMarco stepped up beside her and did the same. “We’re agents Wise and DeMarco, FBI. We were hoping you might have some time to speak with us about Jack Tucker.”
The irritation quickly left Jerry’s face and he nodded and propped himself up against the back of his car.
“I don’t know what I could offer than what I’m sure you’ve already heard from everyone else. I assume you spoke with Mr. Hiroto and everyone else at the office?”
“We have,” Kate said. “We’re now speaking with those that left today—as it would seem they had a closer connection with Jack.”
“I don’t know if that’s necessarily true,” Jerry said. “There were only a few of us that ever really hung out outside of work. And Jack usually wasn’t among them. A few of them probably took Hiroto up on his offer just to get a day off.”
“Any idea why Jack wasn’t one to hang out after work hours?” DeMarco asked.
“No reason, I don’t think. Jack was something of a home body, you know? He’d rather be at home with his wife and kids in his free time. The job had him working crazy hours as it was—no sense in hanging at a bar with those same people you just left work with. He loved his family, you know? Always doing extravagant things for birthdays and anniversaries. Always talking up his kids at work.”
“So you also think he had the perfect life?” Kate asked.
“Seemed that way. Although, really, can any of us have a perfect life? I mean, even Jack had some strain with his mother from what I know. But don’t we all?”
“How’s that?”
“Nothing big. There was this one day at work where I heard him talking to his wife on the phone. He was out in the stairwell for privacy, but I was using one of the older workstations right by the stairwell door. It stands out because it was the only time I heard him speaking to or about his wife with anything but happiness in his voice.”
“And it was a conversation about his mother?” Kate asked.
“Pretty sure. I sort of teased him about it when he came back in but he wasn’t in a joking mood.”
“Do you know anything about his parents?” Kate asked.
“No. Like I said, Jack was a great guy, but I wouldn’t really call him a friend.”
“Where are you headed right now?” DeMarco asked.
“I was going to go grab some flowers for his family and drop them by their house. I met his wife and kids a few times at Christmas parties and company barbecues, things like that. A great little family. It’s a damned shame what happened. Makes me a little sick, you know?”
“Well, we won’t keep you any longer,” Kate said. “Thank you, Mr. Craft.”
Back in the car, Kate backed out of Jerry’s driveway and said: “You want to grab Jack’s mother’s information?”
“On it,” DeMarco said a little coldly.
Kate again found herself fighting to stay quiet. If DeMarco was going to draw out her little irritation about last night’s events, that was her choice. Kate sure as hell wasn’t going to let it affect her progress on this case.
At the same time, she also found herself having to bite back an ironic smile. She had spent so much time wrestling with whether or not her new position was keeping her away from her family yet here she was, working with a woman who reminded her so much of Melissa at times that it was scary. She thought of Melissa and Michelle as DeMarco was bounced back and forth along the departments within the bureau, searching for information on Jack Tucker’s mother. She thought of how Melissa had behaved and acted the first time she, Kate, had been so enthralled in the Nobilini case. That had been eight years ago; Melissa had been twenty-one, still slightly rebellious and pretty much against anything her mother wished of her. There had been one stretch of time where Melissa had tried out coloring her hair purple. It had actually looked quite good but Kate had never been able to bring herself to say it out loud. It had been a trying time in their lives, even when Michael, her husband, had still been alive and there to help her do the parenting as Melissa had gotten older.
“That’s interesting,” DeMarco said, pulling Kate out of her trip down memory lane. She was setting her phone down and looking ahead with an excited little sparkle in her eyes.
“What’s interesting?” Kate asked.
“Jack’s mother is one Olivia Tucker. Sixty-six years old, lives in Queens. A squeaky clean criminal record, but with one minor ding.”
“What’s the ding?”
“She had the cops called on her two years ago. The call was placed by Missy Tucker, on the same night Olivia Tucker was trying to force her way into their house.”
They shared a look and in it, Kate could feel some of that tension between them start to melt away. Good leads, after all, had a tendency to bring even the most estranged partners together.
Feeling as if she was finally getting somewhere, Kate turned the car around and headed toward Queens.
CHAPTER FIVE
Olivia Tucker lived in a basic run-of-the-mill apartment in Jackson Heights. When Kate and DeMarco arrived, she was being visited by a local preacher. It was the preacher who answered the door, a tall black man who looked very somber and sad. He regarded the agents skeptically and sighed softly.
“Can I help you ladies?”
“We need to speak with Mrs. Tucker,” DeMarco said. “Who might you be?”
“I’m Leland Toombs, the pastor of her church. And who might you be?”
They went through the usual routine of showing their IDs and introducing themselves. Toombs took a tentative step back and gave them a disapproving look.
“You understand she is in a very distressed state, right?”
“Of course,” Kate said. “We’re trying to find her son’s killer and we are hoping she might be able to shed some light to help.”
“Who is that?” a shaky voice called from elsewhere in the apartment. A woman stepped into view from another room and started for the door.
“It’s the FBI,” Leland told her. “But Olivia, I’d suggest you take a moment to think about if you are ready to speak with them.”
Olivia Tucker came to the door looking an absolute mess. Her eyes were bloodshot and it looked like she was even having trouble walking. She looked at Kate and DeMarco and then placed a reassuring hand on Toombs’s shoulder.
“Yes, I think I need to,” she said. “Pastor Toombs, would you give me a moment?”
“I think maybe I should be here when they speak with you.”
She shook her head. “No. I appreciate it, but I need to do this part on my own.”
Toombs frowned and then looked at Kate and DeMarco. “Please be kind. She is not taking this well.” He then gave Olivia one final look and stepped out of the door while calling over his shoulder, “Please call me if you need anything, Olivia.”
Olivia watched him go and then slowly closed the door behind her. “Please, come on into the living room.”
Her voice was soft and ragged and she still walked as if her legs weren’t quite sure what they were doing.
“Did you know,” she said as they entered the living room, “that the cops called me and told me what had happened a full six hours after his body was found?”
“Why so long?” Kate asked.
“I suppose they assumed Missy would call and tell me. They told her first, of course. But it was later, after Missy had refused, that the police finally called.”
“Are you sure she refused?” DeMarco asked. “Given the nature of what happened, do you think she simply forgot?”
Olivia shrugged, but not as an I don’t know gesture. It was more of an I don’t care.
“Do you mean to tell me that you think Missy would have done something like that on purpose?” Kate asked.
“Honestly, I just don’t know. The woman is vindictive as hell. I wouldn’t put much of anything beyond her. She probably forgot so she wouldn’t have to speak to me or, God forbid, see me.”
“Want to tell us why you seem to dislike her so much?” DeMarco asked.
“Oh, I never liked her, not really. She was quite charming at first, when she was trying to earn my good graces. But the moment Jack put that engagement ring on her finger, she became some other person. Controlling. Manipulative. She has never appreciated the plush little life she has. She may have loved Jack deep down in some sick, twisted way—I don’t doubt that. But she never appreciated him.”
“Can you explain that a bit more?” Kate asked.
“She was always wanting something else—wanting more. And she made no secret of it. Everything she had, no matter what it was—kids, wealthy husband, beautiful house, you name it—it was never enough. Nothing Jack ever did was good enough for her.”
Kate noticed the look of absolute venom in Olivia’s face as she spoke. She believed every single word she was saying. But from the little bit of time Kate had spent with Missy Tucker, she found it all very hard to believe.
“Do you know if Jack felt this way about her?”
“God, no. He was so blinded by it all. By her and her little act.”
“So you’d comfortably rule out the idea of him being involved in an affair?”
Her look of shock was all the answer Kate needed. But Olivia had some choice words, too. “Given what I’ve been through the last few hours, how dare you ask such a stupid question? Are you trying to be insensitive and rude?”
“I ask only because that would at least give us somewhere to start looking. If he was involved in something like that, it would give us a series of leads to pursue. Because quite frankly, as of now, we have no witnesses and no suspects.”
“Suspects? Honey, I’ve already told you who did it. It was his hateful wife.”
Kate and DeMarco shared an uneasy glance. Whether Oliva Tucker’s statement was true or not, this case was going to get quite awkward before it was brought to a close.
Kate let the comment hang in the air for a moment before going on. When she did, she was sure to use her words carefully, choosing each one with great purpose.
“Are you sure you want to make such a bold statement?” Kate asked. “If you’re serious about that, I have to consider it a lead and start pursuing Missy Tucker as a potential suspect.”
“You do your job the way you want,” Olivia said. “But I know that woman. She wanted something different. She wanted out, but without the risk of losing everything in the process. Now you tell me some easier way to go about doing that than killing your husband.”
Throughout all of her career, Kate didn’t think she’d ever met anyone who was so blinded with hatred for someone else—in-laws, estranged siblings, and so on, she’d seen it all. But Olivia Tucker took things to a whole different level.
“I have to point out,” DeMarco said, “that a great deal of time on our trip out here was spent going over everything there was to know about both Jack and Missy. While we don’t have full reports by any means, there was more than enough to see that there was no marital discord strong enough to ping any legal issues.”
“That’s right,” Kate said. “Additionally, there were no financial troubles, no marks on her criminal record, nothing like that. You, on the other hand, do have a slight mark on your record. Do you want to tell me about the night Missy had to call the cops because you were trying to get into their home?”
“Jack was having a hard time at work. He’d had a panic attack. I called to check on him and to talk to my grandkids, but Missy wasn’t allowing it. She told me that Jack was too nice to say anything, but that I was part of the reason for his panic attack. She hung up on me when I called so I decided to go to their house. We had it out and she shoved me out the door, refusing to let me into the house. After that…well, I let my temper get the best of me and she called the police.”
“If we need to, we’ll look into that,” Kate said “But honestly, there is nothing we have seen and nothing in the records to indicate that Missy would have had any reason at all to kill her husband. There’s no motive that we can see.”
“Well, if you’re that convinced, why the hell are you even here to speak with me?”
“Honestly?” DeMarco said. “It’s because your name came up. One of Jack’s co-workers overheard him having a heated conversation with his wife about you. We checked your records just to cover our bases and found out about the police call.”
Olivia smiled the sort of smile often seen on tired villains in movies. “Well then, it seems you already have your mind made up about me.”
“That’s not the case at all. We just—”
“If you ladies don’t mind, I’m going to politely ask you to leave. I’d like to properly grieve my son.”
Kate knew that their time with Olivia Tucker was over; if she kept pressing, the woman would only shut down. Besides that, she had been useless for information—unless the vile feelings she had toward her daughter-in-law could be seen as truth. And Kate doubted there was anything to it.
“Thank you,” Kate said. “And we are truly sorry for your loss.”
Olivia nodded, got up, and walked out of the room. “I’m sure you remember where the door is,” she said, before disappearing elsewhere into the house.
Kate and DeMarco took their leave, no closer to a solid lead but having been thoroughly rattled by Olivia Tucker’s views on Missy.
“You think there’s a shred of truth to any of it?” DeMarco asked. She seemed to be coming out of her funk, apparently motivated by the case.
“I think in this moment, while she’s searching for answers to what happened, she thinks some of it is true. I think she’s taking little nuggets of fears she’s had over the years and amplifying them just to have some object to place her blame and rage on.”
DeMarco nodded as they got into the car. “Whatever it was, it was ugly.”
“And I think it rules her out of any foul play. We may want to keep an eye on Missy, though, just to keep her safe. Maybe even let local PD know how unhinged Olivia seems to be.”
“And then what?”
“And then we regroup. Possibly over a glass or two of wine back at the hotel.”
It sounded like a good idea but Kate continued to think of Missy Tucker and how her world was now very much an empty shell of what it had once been. Kate remembered all too well what it felt like to lose the man you loved, the man who knew you like a book he’d read millions of times. It was heartbreaking beyond words and drained the life out of you.
Revisiting that feeling in that moment, as she headed toward the hotel, made her more motivated that ever. It made her reach back into her memories to where details of the first case rested, back where the Nobilini case had started.
Her mind tried to latch onto a name—a name she knew well but that had faded into the deeper regions of her memory. It was a name she was reminded of earlier in the day, when they had met with Jack Tucker’s friends at the yacht club.
Cass Nobilini.
You know there are answers there, Kate thought.
There might be. And she’d go looking for them if it came to that.
But she really hoped it wouldn’t. She hoped she could make it the rest of her life never seeing Cass Nobilini again. But she also knew the chances of that were very slim—that she may, in fact, be seeing her sooner rather than later.
CHAPTER SIX
They settled in at the hotel’s bar just as the dinner rush started to pack the place out. While the prospect of a glass of wine was indeed promising, Kate found that she was a bit more excited about the burger she ordered. Usually when on a case, she’d somehow forget to eat lunch, leaving her ravenous at the end of the day. As she sank her mouth into the burger for the first bite, she saw DeMarco giving her a small smile. It was her first authentic smile of the day.
“What?” Kate asked through a mouthful of burger.
“Nothing,” DeMarco said, picking at her grilled chicken salad. “It’s reassuring to see a woman of your size and age eat like that.”
Swallowing down the bite, Kate nodded and said, “I was gifted with an amazing metabolism.”
“Oh, what a bitch.”
“It’s worth it to be able to eat like this.”
A brief silence passed between them, which was shattered by both of them laughing together at the exchange. It felt good to be able to lower her guard around DeMarco after the tense day they’d shared. DeMarco seemed to feel the same way, based on what she said after sipping from her glass of wine.
“Sorry I was so bitter all day. The whole thing of breaking news like that to a family…it’s hard. I mean, I know it’s hard, but it’s especially hard on me. I had this thing happen in my past that jarred me. I thought I was over it, but apparently, I’m not.”
“What happened?”
DeMarco took a moment, perhaps considering whether or not she wanted to delve into the story. With another large sip of wine, she decided to go ahead with it. She let out a sigh and began.
“I knew I was gay when I was fourteen. I had my first girlfriend when I was sixteen. When I was seventeen, my girlfriend Rose and I—she was nineteen—decided that we were going to go ahead and come out. We both had kept it a secret, particularly from our parents. So there we were—about to break the news. I was supposed to meet her at her house and we were going to tell her parents, who, I might add, assumed that Rose and I were just really good friends. I was always at her house and vice versa, you know? So I’m sitting there on her parents’ couch when I get a phone call. It’s from the police, telling me that Rose was in a car accident and that she had died right away, upon impact. I was called rather than her parents because they found her cell phone and saw that I took up about ninety percent of her call history.
“So I break down right away and her parents are sitting there, wondering what the hell happened—why I’m suddenly in tears, on my knees in the floor. And I had to tell them. I had to tell them what the policeman had just told me.” She paused here, poked at her salad a bit, and then added, “It was the absolute worst moment of my life.”
Kate found it hard to look at DeMarco; she was delivering the story not as an emotional part of it, but as if she were a robot, reciting back a series of events. Still, the tale was more than enough to explain DeMarco’s attitude the previous night when she, Kate, had volunteered them to break the bad news to Missy Tucker.
“If I’d known any of that, you know I wouldn’t have volunteered us,” Kate said.
“I know. And I knew it then. But my emotions strangled any reason or logic. Quite honestly, I just needed to sit and stew in it for a while. Sorry you caught the brunt of it.”
“Water under the bridge,” Kate said.
“Have you done that a lot in your career? Breaking news like that?”
“Oh yes. And it never gets easy. It becomes easier to detach yourself from it, but the act itself is never easy.”
The table fell into silence again. The waiter came by and refilled their wine as Kate continued to work on her burger.
“So how’s your man?” DeMarco asked. “Allen, right?”
“He’s doing good. He’s just about to the point in the relationship where he worries about me still being involved in the FBI. He’d prefer that I take a desk job. Or stay retired.”
“So it’s getting serious, huh?”
“It feels that way. And part of me is excited for it. But there’s a small part of me that feels like it would be a waste of time. He and I are both quickly approaching sixty. Starting a new relationship at that age feels…odd, I guess.” Sensing that DeMarco would latch onto the topic if she was allowed to do so, Kate quickly redirected the conversation.
“How about you? Has the love life picked up at all since the last time we had this awkward conversation?”
DeMarco shook her head and smiled. “No, but that’s by choice. I’m still enjoying the Land of One-Night Stands while I still can.”
“Does that make you happy?”
DeMarco seemed genuinely shocked by the question. “It sort of does. I don’t need the responsibilities and requirements that come with a relationship right now.”
Kate chuckled. She had never been in the Land of One-Night Stands. She’d met Michael while in college and married him a year and a half later. It had been the kind of relationship where she had started to understand that they would spend their lives together as soon as their first kiss.
“So where’s the next step in this case?” DeMarco asked.
“I’m thinking about revisiting the initial case rather than just using it as a reference. I’m wondering if there’s new information that might have come up within the Nobilini family. But…well, like your story about your girlfriend being killed while you sat on her parents’ sofa, it’s not territory that is easily ventured back into.”
“So more awkward visits and conversations tomorrow?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”
“Is there anything worth filling me in on before I step blindly into it?”
“Probably. But trust me…it would be better saved for the morning. Going into it right now is only going to keep us up late and screw with my sleep.”
“Oh. Those kinds of stories.”
“Exactly.”
They finished their current glasses of wine and paid their checks. On the way up to their rooms, Kate thought about the story DeMarco had just told—of that sad glimpse into her past. It made her very aware that she knew very little about her partner. If they were working in a normal relationship, seeing one another nearly every day rather than once or twice every few months, that would certainly be different. It made her wonder if she was doing her part to truly get to know DeMarco.
They parted ways at their rooms—Demarco’s directly across the hall from Kate’s—and Kate felt the need to say something. Anything, really, to let her know that she appreciated DeMarco’s willingness to open up.
“Again, I apologize about last night. It’s dawning on me that I don’t know you well enough to be making decisions like that for both of us.”
“It’s fine, really,” DeMarco said. “I should have told you about it last night.”
“We need to be intentional about getting to know one another. If we’re trusting each other with our lives, it’s kind of necessary. Maybe outside of work sometime.”
“Yeah, that would be nice.” DeMarco paused here as she opened her door. “You said you had some thinking to do…about the old case. The Nobilini case. Let me know if you need someone to ping ideas off of.”
“I’ll do that,” Kate said.
With that, they entered the rooms, ending the day between them. Kate kicked off her shoes and went directly to her laptop. As she booted it up, she called Director Duran. As she’d expected, he did not answer his phone but the line was then redirected to his assistant director, a woman named Nancy Saunders. Kate put in a request to have digital copies of the Nobilini files sent to her email as soon as possible. She knew that DeMarco had brought a few, but it was just the overview of the case. Kate felt the need to get back into the grittiness of the case, right down to the finer details. Saunders committed to getting it done, letting her know she’d have them by nine o’clock the following morning.