In the Shadows (The Outsiders Book 1) (13 page)

Maurelle pulled the
bedcovers over her head and tried to get back to sleep, but her stomach growled, forcing her wider awake. She groaned, threw off the covers, and opened her eyes, letting in the pinkish-gold light coming through the pink sheer curtains. Glancing down at the unfamiliar blue flannel nightgown she was wearing, she felt disoriented but as she turned over and looked around the cozy room bits and pieces from yesterday’s events came back to her.

Dave had helped her back to the car
. He barely spoke as he drove back towards Reynier. She thought he was taking her to the Gendarmerie, but she had been too tired and worn-down to care. Somewhere along the way, she drifted into a half-sleep and awakened only when he stopped the car. When she saw Fabienne’s house, her heart sank and yet at the same time she felt comforted, her body relaxing.

Dave had whisked
her upstairs and helped her to lie down on the bed, with Fabienne standing nearby watching, anxiety etched in her wrinkled face. Turning to Fabienne, Dave said something, though the words were a blur in Maurelle’s mind. Later, a woman who had introduced herself as Sandrine Fortier, a nurse and friend of Fabienne’s, examined her and told them that Maurelle had bruised ribs and a bruised right shoulder, but was otherwise unharmed physically. Sandrine had given her an herbal remedy, which enabled her to sleep through the night for the first time in several days, but now left her foggy.

She tried to sit up, intending to get out of bed, but sharp pains jabbed at her upper torso,
causing her fall to back on the soft duvet. Determined, she tried again, this time preparing herself for the pain and bracing herself with her arms.

When she managed to sit on the edge of the bed, she was surprised to see her duffel bag on the chair in the corner of the room, in the exact spot where she had left it. Confused,
she wondered if she’d somehow overlooked the bag when she’d previously left empty-handed. She wobbled over to the chair and unzipped the bag. Her clothes were neatly folded as she’d left them, only not in the same order. Digging down to the bottom, she pushed the contents out of the way and lifted the false bottom. It was empty. Frantically, she searched through the main compartment. Her clothes, toiletries, books were all there—the things she didn’t care about.

She threw the bag onto the floor and sat in its place on the chair
. What had Dave done with her cash and identification? Reaching down, she pulled the bag back to her and yanked out a pair of jeans, a gray blouse, a bra, and knickers. After dressing and combing her ratted hair, she opened the door and stepped out of her room, smacking right into Dave.

He grabbed her arms to steady her
. “I was coming to check on you. How are you feeling?”

“Better.”
She wanted to ask about her money and ID, but decided to not confront the topic immediately, hoping for a good,
please let there be a reasonable
, explanation.

“Good.
Are you ready to eat something?”

Maurelle nodded.

They walked together down the hallway. At the top of the stairs, Dave took hold of her arm and carefully led her, like one would a small child, down the stairs and into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair for her at the table, where an omelet plate was already waiting.

“Thank you,” she said.

Fabienne handed her a steaming cup of coffee, which she gladly accepted. Dave and Fabienne sat at the table, and after a quick round of ‘bon appetit’, they all ate together, then shared the task of cleaning up the kitchen.

“Well, I’m off to see Jeannette,” Fabienne said
, surprising Maurelle.

Maurelle
and Dave watched her from inside the kitchen, where they had a clear view of Fabienne as she hastily donned her shoes, grabbed her handbag, and left. As soon as the door closed, Dave turned around. “We need to talk.”

She nodded
. Without thinking, she stiffened her shoulders, forgetting her bruised right shoulder, the movement instantly sending lancing pain through her.

Dave was watching her intently
and must have noticed her flinch in pain, but said only, “Let’s go in the living room.”

She nodded
, and walked with stiff dignity into the living room.

Dave sat in
the chair across from Maurelle. “I need to know the details about the case against you.” He paused, searching for the right words. He’d rather not sound like he was conducting an interrogation if he could avoid it. “It must be difficult for you. I can’t imagine all that you’ve been through. I’d like to believe you and help with your problem. I’m trying, but we need to trust each other a little, first. You didn’t even tell me your real name. I had to find that out on my own.”

Her body stiffened. “You went through my duffel bag. You
took my passport and wallet—and my money.”

Dave leaned in. In a controlled voice he said, “You are in no position to take such an attitude with me. You are the criminal here, not me.”

She drew back as though he’d slapped her in the face. “I’m not a criminal.”

“You’re guilty of running away from a murder investigation. That alone makes you a criminal. I’m trying to figure out whether or not you’re guilty of anything else.”

“I would never kill anyone. I would never steal either. I’d rather starve than stoop that low.”

“You nearly killed a man yesterday.”

She opened her mouth, closed it and re-opened it, without saying anything. She sank back against the sofa back. “That was self-defense.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I know you want to help.”

“I did take your things,” he admitted, “but I don’t want them. Let’s just say I’m holding onto them for now—until I
– until we decide what needs to be done.”

She nodded.

“Talk to me, Maurelle. Let me in, please. Tell me what happened before and after the murder. How long ago did this happen?”

He
actually knew when it happened, and where. He knew the victim’s name and age, his parents’ names, where his body was found, and some of what had led up to the murder. He’d found out a lot of details in news articles online. But he needed to hear it from Maurelle. More importantly, he needed to watch her body language and listen to her voice. He needed to read her the way he’d read hundreds of other suspects. 

“It was about five or six weeks ago
, I think,” she said. “I’m losing track of time. I already told you some of it. The victim was Jared Raybourne, a sixteen-year-old pupil. It was rumored that I was involved with him. But I wasn’t—not ever. Not romantically.” She looked straight into Dave’s eyes. “He wanted us to be, but I refused and told him to leave me alone.”

“But he didn’t?”

“No. He persisted. I had no choice but to move out of the Raybournes’ house. Elizabeth didn’t want me to leave—she needed the extra income. But she wouldn’t do anything about her son’s obsession.”

“Why did she need the income? Why did you rent from this woman?”

“She needed money to help cover her mortgage. I needed a place to live, and she needed money, so she offered to let me rent the room which helped both of us.”

He nodded, and leaned forward. “You talked to her about Jared?”

“Yes. I tried that first, before I decided to move out.”

“What did she say when you talked to her?”

“She said that her son was merely going through adolescence, and that it was common for teenagers to develop crushes on their teachers. He would quickly get over it and move on. She assured me it wasn’t a problem, and that I shouldn’t worry.”

“But
he didn’t?”

“No. Even after I moved out he continued chasing me, sending me emails, calling me on my mobile. He even told his friends and classmates that I was his girlfriend. I changed my phone number and my email address
, but he somehow got the new ones.”

She stopped and closed her eyes.

Dave patted her on the hand, prompting her to continue.

“Jared had emotional problems. I wish I’d known sooner. I could have referred him to the school’s counselors who might have helped him. I had been teaching for a few years, but lacked experience in that sort of problem—crushes and infatuations
—which was a good thing, and yet that meant I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

“What did you do?”

“I talked to Pauline, Jared’s aunt.”

“And
that didn’t help?”

“Not really. She told me she had a pupil like that years ago, and it passed without incident. It usually did, she said, but she wasn’t convinced this one would blow over. She talked to her sister about Jared, but she couldn’t get through to her either.”

“What happened next?”

“Over the next couple of weeks—this was after I moved out of the house—Jared was spreading
rumors around the school. The headmaster heard about it and talked to me. I was placed on suspension, pending a hearing. I believe Jared was suspended from school, but I’m not certain.”

She fell silent.

Dave again reached out and covered her hand with his. “It’s okay. Take your time and tell me what happened.”

“As I said, I told you much of it when we were in the cave. Most of the rest is kind of a blur. I was so stunned by Jared’s death that I don’t think my brain really registered everything.”

“If I remember right,” Dave said, “you told me that people immediately considered you the prime suspect. Is that correct?”

Maurelle nodded.

“But you weren’t there in the house that day?”

“No.”

“Did you have an alibi? Where were you the night of the murder?”

“That’s just it,” Maurelle said. “I was at home, alone, watching the telly. No one could verify it. I’m a homebody. I don’t go out on lots of dates or to parties or out with friends.”

Dave nodded. “Did Jared have any enemies? Or maybe a girlfriend his own age?”

“I don’t know about enemies. He had
a girlfriend, Penny Miller, but they had already broken up.”  

“What else do you remember? Tell me more about his mother.”

“She said he was reacting to his parents’ divorce and that he would get over it. That lots of children go through emotional upheavals when their parents fight or get a divorce.”

“She found him dead?”

She nodded. “The news reports said that she found him on the floor in his bedroom the morning after the murder.”

“If she was at home, how could she not have heard anything? How could someone come into the home and murder him without her waking up?”

“All I know is what I heard on the television and read in the newspapers. They said that Elizabeth had been out for the evening. When she got home, it was late and she went to bed straight away without seeing her son.”

“
Seems odd that a mother would not check on her son when she got home. Did the police rule out the mother as a suspect?”

“I can’t imagine a mother doing that to her own son. What reason could she have?”

Dave said, “I’ve seen everything. People do things that boggle the mind. Were you close friends with the mother?”

“No, not really,” she said. “She wasn’t the easiest person to get to know. She was a little bit strange.”

He quirked his eyebrows, questioningly. “How so?”

“I don’t know how to explain. She was moody, often depressed. I suppose that’s normal right after a divorce. The ex-husband was sometimes difficult from what I could tell, and that didn’t help.”

“What caused their divorce?”

“I don’t know. The ex-husband has a girlfriend, but I don’t know if that relationship
began before or after the divorce.”

“Did the two women get along with each other?”

“No. Definitely not, from what I could tell.”

“What did Elizabeth do when she wasn’t working?”

“She spent a lot of time in her bedroom, or sometimes she went out and left her son alone.”

“Was the kid involved in drugs or gangs?”

“Not that I know of. I didn’t see or hear anything to suggest that.”

“Did the police consider anyone else a suspect: the ex-girlfriend, one of the parents, a neighbor, a classmate?”

“I don’t know. As I told you last night, I left at the beginning of the investigation.”

“Who else might have killed him? Do you know anything about the family, their friends, the boy’s friends, his enemies?”

“Only a handful of people ever visited the Raybournes while I was there—Jared’s aunt and uncle, his father, his father’s girlfriend, and a few neighbors.”

“Who are the neighbors?”

“Well, there’s Nick and Jenny Hallowell from a few doors down, Ian Waitley from across the street, Rob Carsters from the next street over, and Sally Kavanaugh from the corner house.”

“What about next door? Didn’t they get along with those neighbors?”

“They were polite to each other, but they didn’t really associate.”