A Master's in Murder Page 7

  There had been no escape, no amount of sweet-talking or explaining that could disprove that picture. Reluctantly, she admitted it all to him, trying to rationalize with him, to make him understand.

  He wouldn’t listen. “If you don’t tell soon, I’m going to tell everyone! I’m not going to let you keep lying!” he had spat at her before hanging up with a click.

  She didn’t know what to do. She had been so desperate.

  16

  As Brielle looked around the room, she was at a loss. Could any of these people have it in them to kill Eric? Brielle glanced at each face in the room. Mr. Artimer was quiet, reserved, and seemed to be a gentle man. Could he have an angry streak in him that Brielle had never seen? Mrs. Artimer adored the dust Eric walked on, but she was a slave to propriety. Could anything have caused such a wild departure from the norm to push her to murder her favorite son? Jared was making a life for himself, and seemed to be on his way to become a successful neurosurgeon. But could his jealousy for Eric’s spotlight from his mother still harbor enough resentment to commit such a heinous act? Brielle’s eyes swiveled to the man next to her. Randall was Eric’s greatest friend, but could he even be harboring a hidden hatred for Eric that made him snap?

  Brielle closed her eyes in frustration. Or was it no one in this room at all? Was Mason, like Randall said, so obsessed with her that he would murder Eric? Was there a competing colleague or classmate that had developed such resentment for Eric that he or she wanted him gone? Or perhaps was it truly just a stranger who found sadistic pleasure in killing the innocent.

  Brielle opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on a small mark on the ceiling. The small, doubtful voice whispered again in her ear. Or, could Eric have been living a life I knew nothing about? Could all of this stem from a man I didn’t actually know at all?

  She was jolted back to reality by a gentle vibrating from her pocket. Everyone’s eyes turned to focus on her, and she pulled the phone out just far enough to make out the name: “Mason Dean”. Jumping to her feet, she mumbled apologies before stepping from the room and closing the door behind her.

  “Mason, hi,” she whispered, not wanting to be overheard in the next room. “What did you find?”

  “Hey, Brielle,” said Mason in his slightly nasally voice. “Sorry it took so long, it was a little bit harder to get access than I originally thought. But I got it.”

  “And?” Brielle felt as though she were waiting for her number to be called for the lottery, if the lottery were more doomed and depressing. “Anything?”

  A moment’s silence. And then—

  “Yeah…. Brielle, I think you should get here. You need to check this out for yourself.”

  It had not even been five minutes when Brielle was standing at the door to Mason’s apartment. She had poked her head in the room, said that she had to leave so quickly that the words became jumbled in her mouth, and rushed out of the building without a second look behind her.

  As she lifted her fist to knock, Randall’s words echoed in the recesses of her mind: “No one is above suspicion.” Was she being incredibly reckless, entering alone the home of a person who could be behind Eric’s death? For a moment, Brielle considered retreating. But the pull for information was too strong. Brushing away her doubts, Brielle reached forward and hammered on the door.

  Within seconds, the door swung open to reveal a sweats-clad Mason. He beckoned her in, glancing behind her into the open street. “It’s just you, then?” he asked anxiously.

  “Yes. Mason, what’s the matter?” Brielle asked, slightly alarmed. Mason looked worried, glancing out the windows anxiously as if someone were watching them.

  “It’s fine, but whatever Eric was mixed up in wasn’t,” he said hurriedly.

  Brielle felt the blood leaving her face, and black spots danced in the corner of her eyes. “What is it? What did you see?”

  Mason looked Brielle squarely in the eyes. “It’s not what I saw, it’s what I heard,” he said mysteriously, pulling Eric’s silver phone from his sweatshirt pocket. “I restored the files, and when I did, I discovered there had also been a voicemail deleted. I listened, and… Brielle, I don’t really get what was going on, but it doesn’t sound good.”

  Brielle said nothing, but stared at the phone, waiting. Without another word, Mason pushed the phone towards her and clicked “PLAY.”.

  A scratchy, muffled voice floated out. “Get your nose out of business that doesn’t concern you. Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll shut it…. Permanently.”

  She was speechless. Brielle’s mouth hung open, and she gripped the table so tightly her knuckles turned white. In her ears, the last of her blood roared as it rushed from her face. Swaying on the spot, her knees gave way beneath her.

  “Whoa,” Mason blurted, steadying Brielle and guiding into the closest chair. “Are you alright?”

  But Brielle didn’t hear. The whisper in the back of her mind had escalated to a scream. Do you see?! it shrieked. You didn’t really know him! He had another life, one he kept from you!

  The words pounded against her skull, and Brielle massaged her temples vigorously, trying to mitigate the throbbing. “Was there any clue who that was?” she managed to ask.

  Mason stared at her apprehensively, clearly worried that any further discussion would be more than she could handle. However, after a moment, he said, “The call came from a blocked ID, and without it calling again, I don’t think there’s any way of tracing it back.”

  No one is above suspicion. Brielle glanced up at Mason’s anxious, intense stare. Could Mason be lying? Did he know exactly who made the call? But what would have Eric found out that Mason would want hidden?

  Looking slightly disconcerted at Brielle’s suspicious gaze, Mason added, “You can look at the restored texts and calls, though. You’ll probably understand it all better than I would.” He nodded at the phone, indicating for her to take it.

  Brielle reached over and closed her hand around the silver phone. Sliding it closer, she squinted her eyes in concentration, not wanting to miss a single detail. Slowly, Brielle’s eyes traveled down the screen, scanning each name with its most recent text message.

  Brielle :* Yeah, if I survive this test haha wish me luck!

  Lab Jed we’ll see what Prof Simmons says i guess

  Randall Bauer haha, nothing serious, just some dinner

  Mom Eric please stop ignoring me. Let’s talk. xo…

  Jeremiah Trout image-01.jpg

  Dad Yeah but UNC has no shot of winning th…

  Even with all of the misery she had piling on her shoulders, Brielle couldn’t help but smile. Here in her hand, however small, was a piece of Eric. Looking at each text, she could feel Eric’s warmth and positivity about life shining through. Lab Jed. Brielle sniggered softly. Eric had not heard Jed’s last name the day they met in the lab, and he felt too uncomfortable asking for it after that, so Jed had simply become “Lab Jed.” Brielle had taken every opportunity to tease Eric about it when Jed would text him, and it had become a special joke between them.

  Brielle’s eyes halted on Eric’s “Mom” text thread. Please stop ignoring me. Eric hadn’t mentioned any sort of feud with his mother to her. In general, Eric and his mother had gotten along very well. Unless it was about me, she added bitterly to herself. Curious, Brielle clicked on the text thread. Immediately, light grey bubbles populated the screen. Brielle’s eyes widened. She counted six messages that had come in from Mrs. Artimer, all with no response.

  Eric please stop ignoring me. Let’s talk. xo Mom.

  I know you’re angry, I can explain if you let me. Please don’t do anything rash.

  I messed up, but I love you and our family. Call me, Mom

  It was a mistake, I will make it right. Please let’s work this out. Mom

  It breaks my heart to see you this angry, call me back. Love you Mom

  Eric I am so sorry, this will all go away. Call me? Mom

  Brielle glanced up at Mason, shocked. A milli
on thoughts fought to occupy her mind. This was the first she was hearing about a disagreement with Eric and Mrs. Artimer. He never mentioned it, and she never mentioned it. What had happened to cause such a monumental break between them? Why hadn’t she said anything to anyone about their fight to the police? Could this fight be the reason he’s dead?

  Something else had been unusual about the texts, too, she realized. Returning to the main messages screen, Brielle zeroed in on the name “Jeremiah Trout”. Jeremiah, she knew, was Eric’s childhood friend, but they hadn’t talked in months. They usually only connected when Eric was home for a visit. But Jeremiah sent Eric an image, Brielle thought perplexedly. Brielle clicked. And she gasped.

  The photo depicted a slightly older couple standing on a sidewalk, wrapped in a tight embrace. Even in a smaller thumbnail, there was no mistaking who it was.

  Mrs. Rebecca Artimer was standing locked in a passionate kiss with Bruce Artimer, her husband’s brother.

  Jeremiah had paired the photo with a short message: Was out in town last night and saw your mom across the street. Didn’t know your parents weren’t together anymore, dude, hope you’re doing alright.

  Brielle looked up at Mason, gaping in absolute shock. Mason looked back and forth from her astounded face to the phone clasped in her hand. “What is it? What did you find?”

  Shaking her head, she turned to the door, feeling unsteady. “I—I have to go. She did it. She’s there now. I have to go now,” she mumbled. And with that, she rushed out the door, leaving Mason staring at her retreating shape, looking utterly bewildered.

  17

  He had been buying chips in a gas station as a midnight snack when he heard it. The small television hanging above the drink shelves had been talking about the forecast through the night into the next day when breaking news interrupted:

  “The car accident last Tuesday that killed Eric Artimer, a student at University of North Carolina, may have in fact not been an accident at all, but a premeditated murder. The Durham Police Department put out an APB for Mr. Kevin Trent, who is wanted for questioning in connection to the accident.”

  Swearing under his breath, the man calling himself Kevin Trent’s eyes swept around the gas station. The only other person in the station was the cashier, who was too busy bent over their phone to notice the news. Dropping the bag of chips as if they had burned him, Kevin rushed out of the store, yanking a small, black phone from his pocket. Climbing into his Jeep, he violently clicked “REDIAL” and waited.

  “Have you seen the news?” he asked angrily as soon as the phone connected.

  “Yes, I have,” said a deep, robotic voice. Kevin rolled his eyes. The client was using a voice changer again.

  “That wasn’t part of the deal! You need to fix this!” Kevin demanded irritably as he waited to turn left out of the gas station.

  “Calm down, Theodore,” the deep voice commanded. “We always knew there was this possibility, however slight. Kevin Trent is burned. But without that name, they have nothing. Move on. Before they can bat an eye, Kevin Trent will be history. Within a few weeks, your face will be forgotten, and no one will ever bother ol’ Theo Walters.”

  Kevin had flinched at being called by his real name. “It better be,” he snarled, recovering quickly. “I’m not above talking if it puts you in the chair instead of me.”

  He moved to hang up, but the deep voice had stopped him. “Oh, and Theo… The girlfriend, Brielle Daymon? She may be a problem. It might benefit us for you to… encourage her to give up her vendetta against Eric’s killer.”

  “Understood,” Theo said tersely, no longer hiding behind the disguise of Kevin Trent. He snapped his phone shut.

  Whispering a slew of profanities under his breath, Theo had looked around furtively. He needed to switch cars, immediately. Normally, he would’ve just swapped plates on his current vehicle. He always came prepared for a hasty escape. But they had identified his red Jeep on the news, and a car like that would stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of silver and grey cars that usually traveled the streets here. Theo frowned more deeply as he cursed his terrible luck. At the meager car dealership where he had stopped on the trip here, the red SUV had been the only car available for immediate purchase. Squinting through the darkness, Theo examined each house he passed.

  “Ha,” he had said softly, slowing to a stop in front of a small, unpretentious house. The black-and-blue home stood only one story, nearly hidden behind a gargantuan oak tree. Parked in the shadows of the oak’s branches had been a small white sedan. Even from his own vehicle, Theo could see the shadow of dirt that speckled the white veneer.

  He looked around, taking in the details of the house. It stood in complete darkness, without a single light peeking out through the murky windows. A coat of snow blanketed the driveway and front yard, unspoiled by footprints that would tarnish the quaint scene. Piled at the end of the driveway, barely dusted by snow, had been several untouched newspapers.

  Theo had pulled in to the driveway slowly with a face of grim satisfaction. The owners of the house clearly had been gone for several days. He would likely be out of the state before they ever discovered their car missing. Hopping out of the Jeep quietly, Theo slunk over to the shaded white car and tugged on the door handle. Locked. Without pausing, he walked around the car, feeling around each wheel before proceeding to the next. On the third wheel, he felt a rush of elation. A small key sat in the palm of his hand, glittering in the soft moonlight that snuck through the tree branches above him. Everyone is so trusting, he had thought. So foolish and predictable.

  Clambering into the front seat of the white car, he pulled out of the driveway. He paused only long enough to pull his red Jeep into the shadows of the oak before climbing back into the car and speeding away. One more stop, he thought. He had sped out into the night until, finally, he pulled into a parking spot near Brielle Daymon’s apartment that was well-hidden behind overgrown greenery. With his face plastered all over the news, he didn’t want to take a chance of being recognized at a hotel, even under a different name. So, he reluctantly curled up for a restless sleep, limbs stretched in odd angles across the front seats.

  When the sun glared in eagerly through the window the next morning, Theo stretched, trying to free the knots that tied up his back after such an uncomfortable night. Rubbing his eyes, he squinted through the brush at Brielle’s apartment door across the street. Now he just needed time with her alone, and he could handle things and move on.

  Unfortunately, Theo realized quickly that that circumstance was not going to present itself easily. Cursing under his breath, he watched as two cars pulled up to the little apartment and parked outside. One was a black sedan, and the other, a police vehicle. Instinctively crouching lower, Theo peeked over the wheel to watch two men and one woman he recognized as the Artimer family climb out of the sedan. Frowning, he watched the man he knew to be Officer Corey exit the police vehicle and walk up to the door before being welcomed in.

  Pounding his fists on the steering wheel, Theo cursed again. It was going to take longer for him to get access to the girlfriend. And what’s more, the cop’s right here, he thought crossly. Leaning his forehead against the wheel, he waited. He reasoned to himself that they wouldn’t be there forever, and he was well-hidden in the shrubs.

  After forty-five minutes, Theo saw a flutter of movement by the apartment and looked over eagerly, hoping the guests were leaving. Hurrying down the sidewalk in a navy blue dress, all alone, was Brielle.

  Theo couldn’t believe his luck. Crouching as low to the ground as he could, Theo eased himself out of the car and peeked through the branches. The brown-haired young woman was rushing down the street, looking nervous. Theo could tell that she had lost weight since he had met her in the hospital. The face that had been so warm and full now looked drawn, gaunt. Scurrying after her, Theo darted from tree to tree, careful to remain hidden from eyesight. Almost hopping with glee, he watched as Brielle cut through a long alleyway before
finally running up to a weathered grey door and knocking.

  It was exactly what he needed. Theo watched as she disappeared into the battered apartment before turning around to observe his surroundings. When she comes out of the house, I’ll be waiting in the alleyway, he thought, grinning. It’ll be totally secluded. She’ll be completely blindsided. Turning back to face the door, he crouched low behind the heavy shrubs. All he needed to see was that she was exiting, and he would move into place.

  He did not have to wait long. After about 10 minutes, the door creaked open, and Brielle flew out. Turning on his heel, Theo sprinted to the edge of the alleyway, pressing his back against the brick wall. The slight crunch of footsteps over the wet leaves grew louder and louder, and Theo bowed like a pouncing cat, ready to spring. As the flutter of brown hair floated into view, he jumped.

  As quick as a panther, Theo lashed out and grabbed a fistful of hair, swinging the head around to make a dull thud against the brick. Careful to keep her gaze away from him, Theo wrapped an arm tightly around Brielle’s throat. Quickly, he clapped his other hand over her mouth, stifling the scream that burst from her lungs. Pulling her tightly against him, Theo squeezed his arm tighter on her airway until he heard only pitiful, desperate gasps escaping her mouth.

  Pressing his mouth against her hair, he breathed in deeply. She smelled a little like lavender. “You leave this all alone, or you’ll follow Eric. This is your only warning,” he growled into Brielle’s ear.

  Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his middle finger. Yelping, he pulled his hand away from her mouth, freeing his finger from her clamped teeth. With a final push, Theo slammed Brielle against the asphalt, sending her sprawling face first across the pavement.

  Lunging over her, Theo shot between the bushes, running between houses and under windows until at last he raced up to the driver’s door of his car. As he pulled away, Theo nursed his bleeding, throbbing finger, swearing angrily under his breath. He was ready to be rid of this place.