Chapter Nine
It's funny how things are never how they seem. Nothing illustrated that point better than crime-solving. The most likely candidate for the murder of Jack Moyer had turned out not only to be innocent, but to be a pawn in someone's deadly game. The man who appeared to have a loyal bond of brotherhood with Jack had been the one to kill him.
And there was some woman lurking in the shadows, pulling all of the strings. He imagined that this woman had lured Jack into the cafeteria, where Freddie had been waiting, to have their private conversation. Jack had probably never been aware of Freddie's presence. Nick wondered if the intention had been to kill Jack all along or if his death was determined by the result of their conversation. If it was the later, Jack might still be alive if he had given the desired answer.
Nick wondered who this puppet master was.
Was is Victoria Winston? She certainly seemed cold-hearted enough to order Freddie to get rid of Linton, but could she order the death of the man she loved? What motive would she have that would be strong enough for her to do such a thing?
Was it Stella Barnes? Sure she was flighty and self-centered, and she seemed to have no loyalties to anyone but herself. She didn't seem like the murdering type, but looks could be deceiving.
Nick's internal musings were cut short by Warrick.
"I want to thank you for what you did back there." Warrick said as his hands guided the steering wheel.
They were on their way to see Rebekah as Nick felt that they had an obligation to let her know that she had been right about Linton. Warrick agreed, but he was more interested to see if she had any information regarding Daniel Motz.
Both Nick and Warrick felt an intense desire to make amends for their near-fatal mistake. Both men knew how lucky they had been to make it out of that situation unscathed, physically and professionally. For this reason, Warrick remembered the promise he had made while Freddie was holding him hostage and wanted to make sure his friend knew how much he appreciated him.
"Which part? The part where I let the suspect knock me down, the part where I let him take you hostage, or the part where I let him commit suicide?" Nick asked bitterly as he glared out of the window.
"The part where you kept me calm. I was seriously freaked, but you stayed so calm, so confident, and that helped me more than you know. I knew that you were going to do whatever it took to help me. There's nothing like knowing your partner's willing to lay it all on the line for you." Warrick said gratefully.
Nick smiled in appreciation. "I just did what you would have done if the situation had been reversed."
"It's funny you should say that. I guess now I know what it's like to be you." Warrick said with a hint of amusement in his voice.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Nick asked, shifting his eyes from the passing scenery to look at Warrick.
"Well, you're usually the one being threatened by the suspect." Warrick allowed a tiny fraction of a smile to cross his face.
"Very funny." Nick replied sarcastically. "Welcome to my world."
"I guess I'd never thought it'd happen to me." Warrick admitted. "I don't plan on getting used to it."
Nick turned his head in order to resume his scenery-gazing.
"You never get used to it." he whispered, speaking more to himself than Warrick. Even though it had not been him being held at gunpoint this time, fear had still gripped his body. He had not let it master him, but it had still been present. He hated that feeling.
Warrick wisely did not respond to this confession. He suddenly realized how lucky he had been to have Nick present throughout the entire situation. There had been no one there when Amy Hendler had pulled that gun on him, when Nigel Crane had tossed him through that window, or later when the man had crashed through his ceiling and forced Nick to endure his twisted mind games.
He hoped his friend would never have to be alone like that again.
Once again, Nick and Warrick found themselves knocking on the door of the Prescott residence. This time, however, they were coming with more answers than questions.
Rebekah opened the door and when she saw then, bid them entrance somewhat apprehensively. "I assume that you have an answer for me."
"Yes, ma'am." Nick nodded as he sat down.
Rebekah sat rigidly in her chair and looked at him grimly. "Well, go on. I'm ready."
"You were right. Linton did not kill himself nor did he kill Jack." Nick informed her.
Immediately, her posture slackened as if an invisible weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She smiled wistfully, resting her head in her hand. "I know it might sound odd, but I'll rest easier now. Poor, sweet Linny. I knew he wasn't capable of murder."
Nick continued with his news. "Freddie McFarlane killed Linton. He was trying to frame him for Jack's murder, which he committed."
The weight that had been lifted from Rebekah's shoulders slammed down upon her once again with full force.
"What?" she asked incredulously. "Freddie killed Linton and Jack? I can't believe it! Has he been arrested yet?"
Nick glanced at Warrick before continuing. He wasn't sure how many details to give Rebekah, but he figured that she ought to know what happened to Freddie. "He shot himself after confessing to both murders."
"He what? So you're saying he's dead? Jack, Linton, and Freddie are all dead?" she asked, her face clouding with intense grief.
"Yes. I'm sorry." Nick apologized, hanging his head a bit.
They gave Rebekah a few minutes to absorb all of this. Learning that a former high school friend had been responsible for the death of two other friends was quite a lot to take in. Nick could tell that she was doing her utmost to remain calm and in control of herself.
Finally, she asked, "Did he tell you why he did it?"
Warrick leaned forward. "Freddie made reference to someone named Daniel Motz and indicated that there was a connection between him and Jack's death. Do you know who Daniel is?"
"Daniel? Yes, I know who he is but I can't see how there'd be a connection between him and Jack's death." Rebekah said with a bewildered look on her face.
"Why do you say that?" Warrick asked.
"Daniel's been dead for fifteen years. He committed suicide just before graduation." Rebekah told them.
Warrick and Nick exchanged another look. What did a fifteen-year-old suicide have to do with a present-day murder?
"How did he die?" Warrick asked.
"He threw himself off Lover's Leap." Rebekah said, dropping her head.
Lover's Leap was a high sort of cliff that overlooked part of the lake. About seventy years ago, a pair of star-crossed lovers had thrown themselves off the cliff and into a watery grave. People took to calling it Lover's Leap for this reason and the name had stuck over the years.
"What can you tell us about Daniel?" Nick asked.
"He was one of those loner types." Rebekah said. "He didn't have very many friends and he was very quiet. I don't know much about him other than that. I think we had maybe two classes together throughout our time in high school. I'm sorry, but I don't recall him having much interaction with Jack at all."
Back in the car, Warrick asked, "You think we should have told her that Freddie was someone's hangman?"
Nick shook his head. "What good would that have done? I don't think she knows anything. Anything she said in response to that would have been speculation and the only thing I'm interested in now are facts."
"Hey guys. Heard you had a close call with a suspect." Sara said by way of greeting. She wedged herself between Nick and Warrick who were heading down the hallway.
Nick furrowed his brow. "Grissom spill the beans?"
"No." the brunette said with a tiny smile. "I ran into Brass last night. He was still quite upset. Can't say I blame him."
"We got lucky." Warrick admitted. "In more ways than one."
"Well, I just wrapped up my own robbery investigation, so I'm ready to lend a hand if you need one." Sara told them.
Nick smiled at her offer. Sara was a classic workaholic, always putting in for overtime and loving every minute of it. "Actually, we could use some help. We need to look into Freddie McFarlane's financial records."
"You want me to search financial records?" Sara asked, a touch of irritation in her voice. It was clear that she had been hoping for a more important assignment.
"Someone paid our murderer to kill Jack Moyer and we need to find out who that person is by examining his financial records. As of now, it's our only link to our criminal mastermind." Nick replied, trying to placate the young woman.
Sara arched her eyebrow in wonder and her eyes began to sparkle with intrigue. "So I could be searching for the casebreaker?"
"Oh yeah." Nick said with a knowing smile. He knew the right words to say in order to please Sara Sidle.
"I'm on it." she promised, brushing past the two men with an enthusiastic sense of excitement.
"Let us know what you find!" Nick called out to her retreating back. Sara responded by throwing up a hand in acknowledgment.
After assigning the task of searching Freddie's financial records to Sara, Nick and Warrick headed over to the home of Marsha Motz. They weren't sure what they were expecting to find. As Daniel had been dead for fifteen years, would it even be possible for them to find a connection between him and Jack after all these years by sifting through Daniel's things? Of course, that was assuming that his mother had kept some of his personal belongings. In all actuality, they were most likely chasing another dead end.
"Can I help you?" Marsha Motz opened the door, wearing a flour-covered apron. They appeared to have caught her in the middle of baking.
"Hello Mrs. Motz. Sorry to bother you. My name's Nick Stokes and this is Warrick Brown. We're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab and we'd like to ask you a few questions about your son, Daniel." Nick told her.
She looked as if Nick had struck her. Clutching the door for support, she whispered, "My Daniel? Why? What could you possibly want to know about him? He's been dead for so long."
"We believe that his death is connected to a murder that took place a couple of days ago. The victim was Jack Moyer, a former classmate of your son." Nick confessed.
Somewhat absentmindedly, she stepped aside and indicated with a wave of her hand for them to enter.
"I don't know if I can be of any help, but I'll try." she said as she lead them to the couch.
Nick spotted a picture sitting on the coffee table. It was of a teenage boy with dark eyes and eyebrows hidden behind thick-framed glasses. He had the faintest trace of a smile on his face that crept up into his eyes, making it appear as if the photo was taken seconds before he burst out laughing. He wasn't sure how or why, but Nick got the impression that Daniel had been a young man with very deep thoughts, the kind of person who sat around contemplating the meaning of life.
Marsha caught Nick staring at the photo and she grabbed the photo and handed it to him so he could have a better look. "That's my Daniel. This is one of my favorite photos of him. It was taken the summer before he died." she smiled tearfully as she recalled a happier time.
"What can you tell us about the night he died?" Part of Nick always hated asking these kinds of questions. He hated having to force people to relive painful memories, but sometimes pain was a necessary part of uncovering the truth.
"I'll never forget that night. He told me he was going out, which was unusual for him. At first, I wasn't going to let him go because I knew he still had some homework left to do, but he just seemed so happy that I didn't have the heart to tell him no. I hadn't seen him smile like that since before his father left. He was practically beaming. I wish now that I had told him no. Maybe things would have turned out differently." Her voice trailed off as she played with the apron she was wearing.
Nick's heart ached for Marsha Motz. It was clear that her grief was still very close to her heart, and he couldn't help but feel that by coming here, they had ripped open the wound once again.
"Had he made any previous suicide attempts before that night?" Warrick asked gently.
Marsha shook her head. "He was a poet, one of those romantic types, and he could be rather moody and depressed at times, but I never knew him to contemplate suicide or death. That's why it came as such a shock to me. I thought he was happy. In his own special way, that is."
"Do you happen to have any of his personal belongings, like a journal or something, that he might have wrote down his thoughts in? We're looking for anything that might give us a connection to our current murder investigation." Nick leaned forward as he asked this, trying to keep his voice sympathetic and yet focused on the task at hand.
She stood and walked over to a bookshelf and pulled out a tattered-looking, red journal. Walking back to her seat, she handed it to Nick. It was worn with years of use and its pages were full of the same meticulous printing.
"This belonged to my Daniel. He wrote in this everyday. Most of his poems are in here, along with some general thoughts he had. He put his heart and soul into his book. He took it everywhere with him." Marsha told them.
"Thank you. We'll take good care of it. I will to get it back to you as soon as possible." Nick promised.
"Please," Marsha pleaded, grabbing a hold of Nick's hand. "If you find out anything else about my son's death, please tell me. I've asked myself repeatedly where I went wrong. Was I a terrible mother? Did I drive him away like I did his father? Did I not listen enough to his problems? Did I not understand him? If you stumble across anything that will help me understand why he did what he did, promise that you will let me know."
The look in her eyes was so pitiful. It was the look of a woman who was a hollow shell of grief, unable to move on and unable to forget. Not breaking eye contact with her, Nick adjusted his hand so that he was holding hers. He squeezed it gently.
"I promise."