Damaged

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

“PLEASE SIT DOWN, DETECTIVES.” Forty-six-year-old Susan Crawford showed Winston and Connie into her den. “Can I get you something?”

“Nothing for me, thanks.” Connie took out her notepad as she sat on the floral couch.

“Me either.” Winston smiled, sitting beside Connie. “We appreciate you taking the time to speak to us.”

“I can’t believe Prisha’s dead.” Susan sat in the yellow armchair that brought a sparkle to the drab, brown floating throughout the room. “I spoke to her a week ago.”

“Let me get this straight.” Connie read over her notes. “You let Prisha stay here for a while?”

“Yes.” Susan crossed her legs in wrinkle-free, beige slacks. “We became online pen pals.”

“Did you know people thought she was missing all this time?” Winston asked.

“She told me she’d been traveling because she needed to get away.” Susan stroked her straight, sandy-brown hair. “Said she’d been to Minnesota to see her father. Prisha was a very private person, and I didn’t pry. We had a lot in common. She needed someone to talk to, and I needed to escape.”

Connie noticed the blue bruise on Susan’s wrist underneath her long sleeve. “What do you need to escape from?”

She shrugged with a plastered smile. “Just life. Sometimes I feel like no one understands me.”

“You let Prisha live here when she got back in town.” Winston leaned forward. “How long?”

She rolled her eyes skyward. “She’s been back for about three months and lived here with us a short while.”

Connie jotted. “When did she leave?”

“About a week and a half ago.” Susan bobbed her foot. “She’s staying at the Bay Bridge Boarding House.” She sighed. “Or at least she was.” Her face twisted as she turned red. “Who would hurt her? She was so sweet and kind. Would do anything for anyone.”

“We’re going to do our best to find out who did this.” Winston half-smiled. “Now you said she moved in with ‘us’. Who else lives here? Your husband or—”

“I’m not married.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “My husband died seven years ago.” She swallowed, straightening her shoulders. “He had a car accident. His brakes gave out.”

“I’m so sorry,” Winston said.

“Thanks.” She grabbed tissue from the box on the round dining table. “Sometimes it seems like only yesterday. Um, I live here with my son Travis Crawford. My boyfriend, Charlie Gere, stays over a lot but doesn’t live here. We’ve been together three years.”

“How old is Travis?” Connie asked.

“He’s twenty-five.” She flinched. “Loves computers and anything technical.”

“Did he get along with Prisha?” Winston raised his hand. “I’m just asking.”

“Yes.” Susan switched her eyes left and right as if avoiding Connie’s gaze.

Connie smiled. “What about Charlie?”

“He’s a carpenter. He has his own business.” She cleared her throat. “He can fix anything.” She smiled. “Very handy.”

Connie glanced at Susan’s bruise. “Any issues between you and Charlie?”

“No.” Susan dropped her hands from the armrests of the chair. “Why would you ask that?”

“Just wondering. He doesn’t have a temper or anything?”

“Detective Wilks, Charlie didn’t kill Prisha if that’s what you’re leading up to.”

“We’re just asking questions, Ma’am. Anything you’re honest about will help us.”

Susan’s dusty-green eyes got wider. “I’ve been honest.”

The front door slammed followed by keys being thrown on a table.

“Ma!”

“Oh, that’s Travis.” Susan sunk her hands into her lap. “In here, sweetie!”

“Whose car is that outside?” Travis asked as he turned the corner. “Oh.” He stumbled when he saw Winston and Connie. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Travis?” Susan beckoned him forward. “This is Detectives Wilks and Lewis. They’re on Prisha’s case.”

“Hey.” He rushed to Connie and took her hand. “How are you?” His messy brown bangs hung in his forest-green eyes. “I’m Travis Crawford. Nice to meet you.” He shook Winston’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Winston nodded, shaking Travis’ hand. “We were asking your mother about when Prisha lived here.”

“Oh, yeah.” Travis backed up and stood by his mother’s chair. “Prisha was cool. It’s horrible what happened to her.” He scratched through his short, round haircut. “Anything you need to help solve this let us know.” He leaned on the chair, slipping his arm behind his mother.

“I think we have enough for now.” Connie stood, smiling. “We’d like to speak to Charlie. Could you tell him to get in touch with us as soon as he’s able?”

“Sure.” Susan stood as Travis patted her back. “I’ll show you out.” She walked them to the front door. “Have a nice day, Detectives.”

“You too,” Winston said as he and Connie exited.

Susan smiled as she closed the door.

“Did you see that?” Connie asked, heading toward Winston’s white Acura on the street.

“What?” Winston got out his keys.

“My trained detective eye went straight to the big bruise on her wrist.”

“Huh?” He unlocked the car with the remote and opened the driver’s side. “I didn’t notice a bruise.”

“Well, I saw it plain as day. Your mother was abused for years so I thought you of all people would pick up the signs.”

Winston got in the car as a breeze blew through his chocolate curls. “Is that why you asked her about her and Charlie?”

She nodded as she closed the car door.

He put the keys in the ignition, those amazing blue eyes sparkling. “You think he’s beating her or something?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced back at the white, two-story home as she put on her seatbelt. “I get a funny feeling there’s secrets in that house.”