AN: darn writer's block. Hey, if anyone knows how to get bold and italics
to show up, please tell me - I still can't get it to work! Thanks for the
reviews everybody, especially those of you who have been following this
from the beginning (which probably isn't very many since I take sooo long
to update!!) thanks for reading guys!
Chapter Twenty: Daddy Dearest
"Hello Catherine, how lovely to see you again."
"Hello Kyle," Catherine said flatly.
"In search of some answers, or are you just here for a friendly visit?"
"I'm afraid I have to ask for your help again."
"Don't be afraid!" Kyle smiled. "We don't bite!"
Catherine didn't smile. "We're trying to figure out how the murderer is connected to you. The victims' birth dates are significant to your family, and the killer tried to frame Isabelle. He obviously knows your family well. Any ideas?"
There was a long pause. Kyle and Isabelle sat silently, deep in thought.
"There's another victim," Catherine said quietly, sliding a photograph across the table. "She was killed yesterday in an alley beside the hotel."
Kyle reached for the picture, and hesitated. "Is this a picture of her before...?"
"She was alive when it was taken."
Kyle picked up the photograph, and surprise flickered across his features for a moment. He showed the picture to Isabelle, and her eyes went wide.
"This woman...she looks very much like our mother," Isabelle said in a quiet voice. "If you look closely, you can tell it isn't her, but at first glance the resemblance is uncanny."
"Do you know anyone who could have done this?" Catherine asked.
"No...I can't think of anyone who knew anything about our family. Mother was so private and secretive. Hardly anyone knew the truth about Kyle's eye," Isabelle said.
"Who did know about it?"
"Mother, Isabelle, James, our father, and, of course, me," Kyle listed slowly. "Some of the neighbors, like your family, probably suspected something strange, but no one knew anything for sure. And no one told. It was just another skeleton, swept into the closet."
"Your father? You've never mentioned him before."
The siblings were silent for several minutes. "He left," Isabelle whispered finally. "That night."
"You never saw him again?" Catherine asked gently.
"No. He hated Mother and the way she treated us, but he never did anything more than glare at her," Kyle said, his voice stiff and uncaring. "I guess that night he'd had enough. When we got back from the hospital, he was gone. All of his things, his truck - everything. It was like he'd never been there. We never heard from him again."
Isabelle was staring at her feet. "No, that's not true." Her voice was so low that Catherine could hardly hear her.
"What?"
"A couple of months ago, I got a phone call. When I picked up, I heard was a man's voice saying 'It's all her fault, it's all her fault' over and over again. I tried to talk to him, but he just kept repeating it. I didn't know who it was. Then, a week later, I got another call. It was the same man's voice, but this time just said 'She's alive. She's here,' and hung up." Isabelle was on the verge of tears. "I thought it was just a prank call! You know, some drunk college guys messing around, trying to scare me. I got caller ID installed on my phone because I was getting paranoid. I got a call again, about two weeks before the first murder. He said...he said, 'I'm stronger now. She will pay for what she's done.' My caller ID read the Regal Hotel. I gathered my courage and asked who was calling, and he said, 'it's me, baby, it's me. Daddy's here. It will be all better now. Don't you worry, sweet thing.'" Tears were running down Isabelle's face, but she continued to talk. "I didn't know what to do. I didn't think it was really him...I didn't know if he was alive or dead, but I knew he couldn't have found me. The call scared me, but I didn't think...I didn't know...Then, the night of the first murder, the phone rang, but I didn't pick it up, I let the machine get it. It was him; he left a message. He said, 'I'm sorry, sweet thing, but she isn't gone. She will always be here, no matter what. We can't get away.'"
"Is that the last time you heard from him?" Catherine asked in the ensuing silence.
"Yes."
"Do you have any idea where he might be?"
"No...I mean, the caller ID said The Regal Hotel, but other than that..."
Catherine held up another photograph. "Do either of you know this man?"
"No."
"No."
"Thank you for your help. Isabelle, is the message still on your answering machine at home?"
"I'm not sure. It should be, I haven't deleted it. The caller ID information should be stored as well. You can look if you'd like."
"Thank you," Catherine said, and left the room.
Catherine retrieved the answering machine and caller ID box from Isabelle's apartment. The message was still on the machine, as Isabelle thought, and the caller ID box had recorded one call from The Regal Hotel. Since the caller ID system was very inexpensive, Catherine felt sure it only stored information for a certain number of calls, and then the information was deleted. The message from the machine was being analyzed, but it was faint and they weren't sure they could get anything at all from it. Warrick was trying to get the phone records to see which room the calls were from, and Sara was going over the guest list with Kyle and Isabelle to see if they recognized a name their father might be using.
From Isabelle's information, Catherine felt sure it was the Fieldings' father who had committed the murders, however, she did not know who he was. At this point in the investigation, all the evidence pointed to Travis Conner, the security guard, and yet, there was no apparent reason for him to murder the women. The evidence pointed to Conner, but there was no motive. The person with motive would be the Fieldings' father, but that didn't make sense.
"Unless..." Catherine thought aloud, her mind racing. She jumped up and hurried to the room where Sara was talking to the Fieldings. Sara looked up when she burst in.
"None of the names sound familiar to them," Sara offered.
Without acknowledging the comment, Catherine spoke to Isabelle. "What's your father's name?"
"His name?" Isabelle repeated, her brow wrinkling. "I'm not sure..."
"We only called him 'Father,' and our mother called him 'your father.' He was hardly home, and we were so young when he left..." Kyle added.
"You don't know your father's name?" Catherine asked, incredulous.
"I only know that Fielding was Mother's last name," Kyle said. "When they married, she refused to change it, so he took her name."
"Are you sure you don't recognize this man?" Catherine asked, showing them the photo of Travis Conner again. Kyle took it and looked at it closely before shaking his head. Isabelle did the same.
"Alright," Catherine sighed, and left the room. Sara followed her.
"What are you up to?" she asked Catherine.
"They think it's their father, when almost all the evidence points to Conner. I was just thinking, what if Conner is their father? But they don't recognize his picture at all, so I guess not."
"That's actually not a bad idea," Sara said. "It would explain some things. I can try and find out the name of their father, if you want."
"That'd be great," Catherine said, but she didn't expect much to turn up.
Sara sat at the computer again, for hours, pouring over records. She was looking for more information on Diana Fielding, but so far she hadn't found any. Specifically, she was looking for her marriage license, which would tell her the name of the husband, but she had come up empty-handed. Her eyes were strained and burning from staring at the screen for so long. Stretching, Sara pushed back her chair and went to get coffee.
"Any luck?" Nick asked when she walked into the break room.
"Nothing," Sara said, frustrated, as she pour herself a cup of coffee. "It's like she was never married. I can't find any record of it at all. If she was a model, don't you think there would have been a huge wedding? She was married before her career went to hell, right?"
Nick was silent for a moment, thinking. Sara swore under her breath about the coffee, which was too strong and too cold. "Do you know anything about her husband?" Nick asked.
"Nope. The only thing the Fieldings knew about him was that he was a construction worker, and he worked all the time. He hardly saw his kids." Sara poured her coffee out into the sink and slumped into a chair.
"A construction worker? A model and a construction worker? Surely her parents wouldn't have approved of that. She probably eloped, and kept her marriage a secret," Nick theorized.
"But there's got to be some record of her marriage!" Sara said.
"There probably is, but only in the town she was married in. If you bribe enough people, the paperwork can be filed away quietly."
"I guess, but if she eloped, she could have been married anywhere."
"If you were going to elope, Sara, where would you go?"
"Las Vegas. Thanks Nick," Sara said, and dashed back to her computer.
After another hour of searching, Sara found what she had been looking for. Diana Fielding had been married in a tiny wedding chapel, probably the cheapest and least romantic in town. Listed on the marriage license were the names Diana Fielding and Travis Conner.
Chapter Twenty: Daddy Dearest
"Hello Catherine, how lovely to see you again."
"Hello Kyle," Catherine said flatly.
"In search of some answers, or are you just here for a friendly visit?"
"I'm afraid I have to ask for your help again."
"Don't be afraid!" Kyle smiled. "We don't bite!"
Catherine didn't smile. "We're trying to figure out how the murderer is connected to you. The victims' birth dates are significant to your family, and the killer tried to frame Isabelle. He obviously knows your family well. Any ideas?"
There was a long pause. Kyle and Isabelle sat silently, deep in thought.
"There's another victim," Catherine said quietly, sliding a photograph across the table. "She was killed yesterday in an alley beside the hotel."
Kyle reached for the picture, and hesitated. "Is this a picture of her before...?"
"She was alive when it was taken."
Kyle picked up the photograph, and surprise flickered across his features for a moment. He showed the picture to Isabelle, and her eyes went wide.
"This woman...she looks very much like our mother," Isabelle said in a quiet voice. "If you look closely, you can tell it isn't her, but at first glance the resemblance is uncanny."
"Do you know anyone who could have done this?" Catherine asked.
"No...I can't think of anyone who knew anything about our family. Mother was so private and secretive. Hardly anyone knew the truth about Kyle's eye," Isabelle said.
"Who did know about it?"
"Mother, Isabelle, James, our father, and, of course, me," Kyle listed slowly. "Some of the neighbors, like your family, probably suspected something strange, but no one knew anything for sure. And no one told. It was just another skeleton, swept into the closet."
"Your father? You've never mentioned him before."
The siblings were silent for several minutes. "He left," Isabelle whispered finally. "That night."
"You never saw him again?" Catherine asked gently.
"No. He hated Mother and the way she treated us, but he never did anything more than glare at her," Kyle said, his voice stiff and uncaring. "I guess that night he'd had enough. When we got back from the hospital, he was gone. All of his things, his truck - everything. It was like he'd never been there. We never heard from him again."
Isabelle was staring at her feet. "No, that's not true." Her voice was so low that Catherine could hardly hear her.
"What?"
"A couple of months ago, I got a phone call. When I picked up, I heard was a man's voice saying 'It's all her fault, it's all her fault' over and over again. I tried to talk to him, but he just kept repeating it. I didn't know who it was. Then, a week later, I got another call. It was the same man's voice, but this time just said 'She's alive. She's here,' and hung up." Isabelle was on the verge of tears. "I thought it was just a prank call! You know, some drunk college guys messing around, trying to scare me. I got caller ID installed on my phone because I was getting paranoid. I got a call again, about two weeks before the first murder. He said...he said, 'I'm stronger now. She will pay for what she's done.' My caller ID read the Regal Hotel. I gathered my courage and asked who was calling, and he said, 'it's me, baby, it's me. Daddy's here. It will be all better now. Don't you worry, sweet thing.'" Tears were running down Isabelle's face, but she continued to talk. "I didn't know what to do. I didn't think it was really him...I didn't know if he was alive or dead, but I knew he couldn't have found me. The call scared me, but I didn't think...I didn't know...Then, the night of the first murder, the phone rang, but I didn't pick it up, I let the machine get it. It was him; he left a message. He said, 'I'm sorry, sweet thing, but she isn't gone. She will always be here, no matter what. We can't get away.'"
"Is that the last time you heard from him?" Catherine asked in the ensuing silence.
"Yes."
"Do you have any idea where he might be?"
"No...I mean, the caller ID said The Regal Hotel, but other than that..."
Catherine held up another photograph. "Do either of you know this man?"
"No."
"No."
"Thank you for your help. Isabelle, is the message still on your answering machine at home?"
"I'm not sure. It should be, I haven't deleted it. The caller ID information should be stored as well. You can look if you'd like."
"Thank you," Catherine said, and left the room.
Catherine retrieved the answering machine and caller ID box from Isabelle's apartment. The message was still on the machine, as Isabelle thought, and the caller ID box had recorded one call from The Regal Hotel. Since the caller ID system was very inexpensive, Catherine felt sure it only stored information for a certain number of calls, and then the information was deleted. The message from the machine was being analyzed, but it was faint and they weren't sure they could get anything at all from it. Warrick was trying to get the phone records to see which room the calls were from, and Sara was going over the guest list with Kyle and Isabelle to see if they recognized a name their father might be using.
From Isabelle's information, Catherine felt sure it was the Fieldings' father who had committed the murders, however, she did not know who he was. At this point in the investigation, all the evidence pointed to Travis Conner, the security guard, and yet, there was no apparent reason for him to murder the women. The evidence pointed to Conner, but there was no motive. The person with motive would be the Fieldings' father, but that didn't make sense.
"Unless..." Catherine thought aloud, her mind racing. She jumped up and hurried to the room where Sara was talking to the Fieldings. Sara looked up when she burst in.
"None of the names sound familiar to them," Sara offered.
Without acknowledging the comment, Catherine spoke to Isabelle. "What's your father's name?"
"His name?" Isabelle repeated, her brow wrinkling. "I'm not sure..."
"We only called him 'Father,' and our mother called him 'your father.' He was hardly home, and we were so young when he left..." Kyle added.
"You don't know your father's name?" Catherine asked, incredulous.
"I only know that Fielding was Mother's last name," Kyle said. "When they married, she refused to change it, so he took her name."
"Are you sure you don't recognize this man?" Catherine asked, showing them the photo of Travis Conner again. Kyle took it and looked at it closely before shaking his head. Isabelle did the same.
"Alright," Catherine sighed, and left the room. Sara followed her.
"What are you up to?" she asked Catherine.
"They think it's their father, when almost all the evidence points to Conner. I was just thinking, what if Conner is their father? But they don't recognize his picture at all, so I guess not."
"That's actually not a bad idea," Sara said. "It would explain some things. I can try and find out the name of their father, if you want."
"That'd be great," Catherine said, but she didn't expect much to turn up.
Sara sat at the computer again, for hours, pouring over records. She was looking for more information on Diana Fielding, but so far she hadn't found any. Specifically, she was looking for her marriage license, which would tell her the name of the husband, but she had come up empty-handed. Her eyes were strained and burning from staring at the screen for so long. Stretching, Sara pushed back her chair and went to get coffee.
"Any luck?" Nick asked when she walked into the break room.
"Nothing," Sara said, frustrated, as she pour herself a cup of coffee. "It's like she was never married. I can't find any record of it at all. If she was a model, don't you think there would have been a huge wedding? She was married before her career went to hell, right?"
Nick was silent for a moment, thinking. Sara swore under her breath about the coffee, which was too strong and too cold. "Do you know anything about her husband?" Nick asked.
"Nope. The only thing the Fieldings knew about him was that he was a construction worker, and he worked all the time. He hardly saw his kids." Sara poured her coffee out into the sink and slumped into a chair.
"A construction worker? A model and a construction worker? Surely her parents wouldn't have approved of that. She probably eloped, and kept her marriage a secret," Nick theorized.
"But there's got to be some record of her marriage!" Sara said.
"There probably is, but only in the town she was married in. If you bribe enough people, the paperwork can be filed away quietly."
"I guess, but if she eloped, she could have been married anywhere."
"If you were going to elope, Sara, where would you go?"
"Las Vegas. Thanks Nick," Sara said, and dashed back to her computer.
After another hour of searching, Sara found what she had been looking for. Diana Fielding had been married in a tiny wedding chapel, probably the cheapest and least romantic in town. Listed on the marriage license were the names Diana Fielding and Travis Conner.