He cleared his throat. “I remember coming up into the driveway and thinking it was odd that the gate to the fence wasn’t closed properly, as it usually was. I walked up and closed it, then thinking it was probably nothing, I went back inside the house and poured myself a glass of wine. My wife doesn’t like it when I drink on weekdays, but because she was away, I thought I could treat myself a little. I ordered a pizza and went to the living room to watch TV. It was once I sat down in the recliner that I saw something in the yard, out the window.”

“What was it?” Tom asked when Mr. Perez paused.

“The lights turned on,” he said, biting the side of his cheek.

“What do you mean?”

“You know I have those sensor-controlled lights in my backyard that will turn on if there is movement out there.”

“So what? I have those too and usually it’s a cat or a possum or a raccoon at that time of night,” Tom said, leaning back in his chair. It creaked with his weight.

“And that’s what I thought it was. We’ve had a racoon living out there underneath our shed, and it had babies, but it keeps going into our trash and leaving a huge mess. They can be so annoying. I wanted to get rid of it, and finally thought I had the chance.”

“So, you bang on pots and pans to scare it,” Tom said. He had come a long way since I first started training him, but he still had a lot to learn. Especially about interview technique and not interrupting the suspect when they were finally speaking. It wasn’t because he was rude, he just got a little overly eager sometimes, I had noticed.

“And that’s what I did. I grabbed a couple of pans, went outside, and started banging to scare them away from my property. And that’s when I noticed something else. A shadow in the window in my shed. A big one. Once I saw it, it disappeared. So, I walked back to the house and grabbed my rifle, thinking it had to be an intruder, maybe some homeless person. I wasn’t going to shoot, just scare them away. I opened the door to the shed and imagine my surprise when I saw what was really in there.”

“Marissa and her child?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Almost correct. It was Marissa all right, and she hadn’t given birth yet. But she was about to.”

“She was in labor?”

He nodded. “Yes. She started to scream in pain. Her eyes were begging for my help. I didn’t know what to do. I had watched my own wife give birth, but that was at a hospital. So, I told her I could take her there, but she told me no. No hospital and no police. I could see on her face that she was bruised badly, so I knew she was running from something, and understood that it was important for her not to be found. Besides, the baby was coming, fast, so there was no time.”

“You helped her deliver the baby?” I asked.

He nodded. “I was so scared, so afraid of doing something wrong, but the baby almost slipped right out of her, and that was it. She took the girl on her chest and started breastfeeding immediately—she knew what she was doing, she was, for want of a better word, calm. I cut the cord, then took them both back to the house, where they got washed up. I had some of Cassandra’s old baby clothes in a box in the closet upstairs, or rather my wife had saved them because she wanted a second child, but we never succeeded. I gave them to Marissa so she could dress the baby. Then she slept in my guest room for two days, and I called in sick for work.

“Once I knew my wife would be coming back, I had to figure out what to do with Marissa and the baby. I still had the house across the street and had been using it for Airbnb. It was empty at this point, so I told her she could stay there as long as she needed to. She told me it was extremely important that no one ever know she was there or that she had a child. She made me promise to never tell anyone and said she would be killed—they both would—if they were found. I felt protective of her, after all I had helped deliver her baby. I wanted to help her out. So, I did. I made sure they got settled in the house, and then went and bought groceries for them and such. Until she started to make her own money. Once Cassandra started babysitting, I suggested her to Marissa, because I knew she struggled with childcare when she was at work. Cassandra was my daughter, so she trusted her that she wouldn’t tell anyone about them.” He exhaled. “It torments me every day that I couldn’t protect them or my daughter. I wanted to tell you about this, believe me I did, but Marissa begged me and made me promise not to. She was so terrified, and she said her life would be in danger if I did.”

“And you have no idea whom it is they are running from?” I asked. “Has anyone come to her house, threatened her, or been keeping an eye out for her? Have there been strange cars in the street, parked there?”

He shook his head. “No. Believe me I have been wondering about the same thing for every day since Emma disappeared, and since my daughter…”

He stopped, tears springing to his eyes. He winced in pain and held his side again.

“Tell me, how did you get that injury?” I asked.

“I was working in my yard,” he said. “I think I just strained a muscle.”

I stared at him, taking note of the fact that this wasn’t what he told me the first time.

“I thought you fell on your bike?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, well, that too,” he said. “I did both, silly me. I just don’t know which one made me bruise my rib.”

Once again, I noticed he wasn’t holding his hand where the ribcage was.

“Can we ask for a DNA sample before you leave?” I asked. “Just a quick swab of your mouth.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you, Mr. Perez,” I said and got up. “We will let you know if we have any more questions.”

He nodded, sweat springing to his forehead. He wiped it off with his hand. “It’s hot in here, huh?”

“Not really,” Tom said and got up to follow me.

“Ah, I guess it’s just me then.”

Tom held the door for him, watching him closely as he walked past him. “I guess so.”

He shut the door, and Scott came to get Mr. Perez and take him to another room where he could do the swab.

Tom came up behind me, and said, “I don’t believe a word that man just said. He is lying faster than a horse can run. Did you notice how he was fidgeting and constantly shifting in his seat?”

Chief Doyle had been listening in on the interview and came toward me, shaking his head. “I ain’t buying it either.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“You’re telling me he helped deliver a baby in his shed and never told anyone, let alone his wife, about it?”

“Marissa asked him to keep it a secret. She was scared. Of what we still don’t know,” I said.

The room went silent, and I looked between the two of them, unsure of what to say. I didn’t really know what to make of it yet, and now I felt uneasy. Doyle had always been the more reserved one, never too quick to come to judgment, and I had respected that. Lately, however, he seemed to have taken a hard line against anyone who lied to the police.

Doyle ran his fingers over his face, shaking his head. “Maybe so, but the whole ‘I was just trying to help’ act,” he said, making quotation marks with his fingers, “is too much. He’s trying to come off as so innocent, when clearly he is not.”

“Was he maybe just trying to help her?” I asked cautiously.

Doyle walked past me, tapping me mockingly on the shoulder. “He slept with her, I’m telling you, Wilde. If you can’t spot him lying, then we need you to go through some more training in interrogation technique. Don’t let him ride you and wrap you around his finger. I thought you were better than that, seriously.”

I sighed and looked down at the ground, feeling my cheeks flush. I hadn’t expected this kind of reaction from Doyle.

I walked to my desk and looked at Tom next to me.

“I think the Chief is right,” he said. “But we’ll know more when the DNA results come in.”

I sat down, looking at my notes. “He did definitely lie to us about how he got his injury. It was a completely different story from last time I asked him.”

I exhaled and decided to go through my notes again. I couldn’t help but feel like something was off about the whole situation. Very off. I was beginning to feel the weight of the case heavy on my shoulders. I needed to find out the truth, no matter how difficult or uncomfortable it may be.

FORTY-FIVEBILLIE ANN

It was late before I went home. I was exhausted, and frustrated with this entire case, to put it mildly. Doyle was pushing for us to look deeper into Cassandra’s dad; he said as of now he saw him as our main suspect, but I wasn’t sure. People lied all the time. It didn’t mean they killed anyone. Let alone their own daughter. I needed to know why. I needed a motive to believe it.

I needed also to find Marissa. I feared she had gone after Emma by herself. I felt certain she knew where she was and just didn’t dare tell me for some reason. I couldn’t stop thinking about her in that shed, giving birth all alone and how scared she must have been. I was worried for both Marissa and Emma now. I feared they were both in great danger.