“You saw the way she was acting,” Reyes told him. “That look like she wasn’t coerced to you? And he saw her do it. He double-checked. If he’d been a bystander, why wouldn’t he call that in? Wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t anyone?”
“You got a point,” Will conceded.
“I checked the footage every day for the next week and a halfandtwo weeks prior to this date. This guy never returns to the bridge. He’s not just a walker.”
“Okay,” Will said. “So now what?”
Reyes leaned back in his chair. “Now we’re investigating a murder, not a suicide.”
His partner looked nonplussed. “Of course, we are.”
“Also, I found these in the purse.” Reyes picked up a pair of matching post office box keys. “They were tucked into the lining. I’m gonna swing by in a couple of days and check it out.”
“You think her mail is going to tell you something?” Will asked him.
Reyes shrugged. “Maybe. You never know. Why keep both in one place? Besides, it’ll take more evidence than this grainy video to indict him.”
Will shook his head. “You’re like a dog with a bone. You need to listen to me, Emil. I know this woman means something to you, but you need to keep your head no matter what it looks like.”
Reyes jolted back. “What are you saying? You saw the same thing I did on that screen.”
Will exhaled. “Just… don’t go off the deep end, okay? You have a way of getting overinvolved. And this…thisis personal. You shouldn’t even be on this case.”
“So?” Will was being overly pragmatic. It didn’t matter how Reyes knew her, how he felt. The truth was the truth, and it was staring them in the face.
“So… we need a body,” Will said. “Convicting someone of murder when there’s no body is harder than threading a needle with a shoelace, video or not.” He pressed his mouth into a shrug and tapped Reyes’s forehead. “Just keep your cop brain on, okay? Promise me. Don’t let the lizard brain take over.”
Reyes swatted his finger away. “Whatever. I know what I’m doing. We need to be careful,” Reyes told him, a serious edge creeping into his tone. “I don’t trust this Davenport guy, but we need his cooperation. If we let on for a second that we suspect him, he’ll try to cover his tracks. Maybe run. You find out anything on that substance from the note and the bridge yet?”
“They’re a match,” Will confirmed. “Something called pokeweed. The berries contain multiple deadly toxins and organic chemicals including phytolacca, saponins, and lectins, which cause significant GI distress. People in Appalachia have tried to use pokeweed as a folk remedy for decades, which results in hospitalizations and deaths every year. Vomiting is among the side effects. Historically, it’s been used for dye.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Reyes asked.
“I don’t know, Emil. I’m generally scared of whatever you’re thinking.”
Reyes laughed. “I think it’s time to pay Mr. Davenport another visit.”
WILL SUGGESTED CALLINGfirst, but Reyes thought it would be better if they caught him off guard. It was a golden afternoon—a Saturday, so they could be sure he was home. The house practically shimmered in the sun it was so white. Reyes had a feeling that if asked, Henry would say white was his favorite color.
The door opened, and Henry Davenport stood before them ina pressed shirt and slacks, a neat leather belt at his waist, black loafers on his feet.
“You going somewhere Mr. Davenport?” Reyes asked. “Did we catch you at a bad time?”
The man’s mouth fell open, but he quickly shut it. “No. I was just preparing to eat lunch. What can I do for you, officers?”
They had, as a matter of course, informed him that his wife’s body had yet to turn up. But Reyes assured him they had confirmed her jump from the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge. “We’d like to take another look around if that’s okay. Maybe collect a few more items.”
“I don’t see why,” Henry spat. “She’s dead. You said so yourself. She jumped. Must we continue this charade of an investigation?”
Will took a step forward. “Mr. Davenport—may I call you Henry?—we’re just doing our jobs. We have a couple of small things we’d like to follow up on. Some…questionshave arisen as to the nature of your wife’s death. Nothing to concern you, but we’d be remiss if we didn’t perform a routine follow-up. You understand?”
Will always had a way with the difficult ones. His baby face and Pillsbury Doughboy build made him appear softer than he really was. People tended to trust him, or at least feel less threatened. Reyes, on the other hand, ran three miles every morning and lifted in his time off. His square jaw signaled high testosterone and his eyes had a penetrating quality that made others uncomfortable, as if he could see through them. He’d been working on turning down the intensity of his personality to do his job more effectively, but pairing him with Will was one of the best decisions their chief of police had ever made.
“Questions?” Henry looked intrigued, his right eyebrow lifting.
Reyes saw an in. If they led him to believe they were investigating the possibility she wasn’t dead rather than the possibility she was murdered, he might be more forthcoming. “We can’t confirm anything just yet,” he said softly, almost in a whisper, like he wasbringing the man in on a confidence. “But, between you and me, it’s entirely possible a body won’t turn up. We just… we need to investigate a little deeper to know for sure.”
Something behind the man’s eyes shifted, a flickering shadow that slithered away. He cleared his throat and lifted his chin. The door swung wide. “Please, gentlemen. Come in,” he said.
