Gone After the Wind

Chapter 28: Cleared Out

When they returned to the station, fatigue was starting to take shape both either in Cara's body and mind. Not to mention that the throbbing wound was being irksome again. Going on a battle with her nerves, and swallowing every last shred of her energy. She didn't want to give in to the temptation as they were already half-through the investigation, and it would be a waste to let the opportunity of meeting the victim's spouse slip from her hands. But the pain was so intense and demanding that her vision was no longer steady and her legs were getting wobbly. She was barely functioning when they found the review room, and boisterously went inside its small space, Agent Rose on the lead.

"Where is he?" asked Agent Rose as she slipped past Cara, the tone of urgency made all of the heads turn in their direction.

Faucalt stood behind the two tech guys, arms folded over his chest, and eyes glued to the mirror in front of them. He produced a subtle nod to Agent Rose as an acknowledgment of her presence. He jerked his chin towards the adjacent room, now widely transparent, thanks to the human-size mirror serving as the wall.

"In there.Having his best time, clammed up and shitting on us," he answered, not even looking at Cara as she followed behind the agent who slowed as she went further into the room.

"Who's that?" Agent Rose asked sternly, noticing the woman who had just entered the interrogation room, folders, and papers clipped under her armpit. Cara's head c****d to the side as she recognized the young woman.

Isn't that the rookie? Why is she... oh, no, you've got to be kidding me.

"I've never seen her before."

"Oh, that's Moore." Only then, did he glance at Cara, smirking and taunting. He shrugged. "I asked her to do the job since you're both not around. You don't mind, do you?"

When Agent Rose cast a concerned look at Cara, he opted to continue, this time, he was addressing her. Though not so properly as her rank required. "Don't need to fret, Black. Moore can do it better. Any minute now, that suspect will surrender and this case will be closed. Just wait."

Cara's eyebrows furrowed, wanting so badly to lash out at him. If only she was not gradually slipping away from consciousness, she would have corrected him for two things that he said wrong. One, she wasn't in fret. Nor afraid of the rookie's lack of experience. She knew the girl had potential when she inquired in the conference room days ago. She was witty, and smart, for someone so new at the job. But her skills could have been better at something within her ground. She was questioning a potential suspect, for Pete's sake, in a major big case. One wrong move and it would go downhill.

And last, she wasn't going to wait. Not when Tyrone Sykes looked to be saying the magic word anytime soon. She'll give Moore a chance to prove herself. But once she's done, she's done.

Not giving the reaction Faucalt wanted, Cara turned to the monitor, forcing herself to stay focus, and keeping her patience in tact. Her body fumed silently, and as much as it begged for justification, and something to be put out, she couldn't mutter a word. Her breathing was getting shallow, and she doesn't want to waste her saliva on insisting logic in Faucalt half-made brain.

"Out of respect, Lieutenant, but you just don't appoint someone available to take over. How good or bad she may be," Agent Rose asked, as Moore took a seat across Tyrone, crossed her arms and started her way of questioning.

"She may be new but I assure you, she can handle this just as you might. You're underestimating my choices, Agent, and I don't like how it sounds to me," Faucalt sneered. "Aren't you grateful that I—"

He wasn't even halfway the sentence when a loud thud blasted from the speaker, accompanied by a disturbing shout that immediately sliced off every noise in the room.

"Admit it now, Mr. Sykes!" Moore's scream that echoed awkwardly on the speaker. The thud was apparently her palm slamming down the table. She was now out of the chair, inclined over the table as her seething eyes glared at Tyrone who was otherwise stunned at the rookie's behavior.

Raising up his hands, he leaned back on the chair. "What are you talking about? I did nothing to her—"

"I've been in this job for so long, Mr. Sykes. I have seen and witness every face of criminals so it's already easy for me to say if you are lying or not. So tell me now, did you or did you not kill your wife?"

"She's doing it wrong," Cara blurted out, shaking her head in disappointment. "She's jumping to conclusion and it would not do us any good. I'm pulling her out. I'll go in by myself."

"Black—" Faucalt's thundered voice drowned as Cara shut the door behind her.

So much for proving I'm inadequate at this job. Seriously, does that man ever cared for anything other than boosting his ego? Cara thought, not in the least pissed off by Faucalt newfound tactic to get onto her nerves. If anything, she was disappointed.

She knew exactly why he involved that rookie.

Guess he had improved. From constantly undermining her abilities, he moved up into something more complex and dubious. As though submitting to Meredith whims wasn't bad enough, he's now resorted to exploitation, taking advantage of the rookie's ambition and unconcerned by the damage it might cause to the case. All to infuriate Cara, and made her quit. Just... look how petty he can be.

Not bothering to knock, Cara propelled inside, swinging the door open. "Ms. Moore, can you step outside?" she said promptly.

Aghast by her entrance, Moore backed away from the table, her long black hair swaying around as she turned. Her mouth twitched in annoyance, and her eyebrows furrowed, eyes flaring as she looked at the mirror, searching for refuge. "What for? I'm in the middle of something rather important, Detective—"

"Out in the hallway, Ms. Moore. Now," Cara said firmly. "Faucalt's calling you. I'll take it from here."

Cara thought mentioning his name would do the trick but she stilled, looking torn between believing Cara or ignoring her. She turned back to the mirror again as though pleading for anybody to take Cara out. When her internal battle was over, she sighed in defeat, collecting the folders and her pad as she prepared to go.

"This doesn't change anything," she murmured, glaring at Tyrone. Then, like a storm done causing damage, she walked out quietly.

Ill-tempered and aggressive. Nice choice, old man.

Collecting all her thoughts at once and calming her system, Cara slowly went towards the table and took a seat. She nodded subtly to Tyrone in which the latter made no respond. He just stared at her, utterly confused what was another detective doing in front of him.

She saw a range of emotions from Tyrone Sykes during the seconds she sat there in silence, waiting for his turn to speak after the short introduction they had exchanged with each other. From confusion as to why another detective was preparing to interrogate him, Cara witnessed how it changed into disbelief and then fear. In that moment, Cara knew instantly that her gut feeling was right. That this is not the man they were looking for.

The proudness on the murders should reflect to its creator. Such genuine emotions are logically incompatible for a murderer who killed innocent women. Their perp wouldn't mask such weak level of emotion but a prideful one. If Cara would have a face to face chance with that man, he will surely admit and take credits of the murders with full honesty because that's what he's striving for. Appreciation and attention to what he did.

And judging to the events last night, she should have seen a flicker of recognition in his eyes. But such passing of emotion failed to appear.

"Are you alright?" Cara asked, genuinely concern.

"No. What kind of question is that?" Tyrone said, pulling his jacket. His eyes were red, and mushy. "My wife was just found dead. And instead of mourning for her, I'm here, being assaulted by your... your kind, insisting that I killed her without even any solid basis! That's accusing, you know! You're lucky I haven't called out my lawyer yet!"

"Well, that's very kind of you, Mr. Sykes. And we appreciate that. I'm sorry for the awful appraisal earlier. Can we get even, and start this all over?" Cara offered, trying to be civil. Sighing heavily, she topped one leg over the other, and leaned casually on the chair. "I know you want to get out of here as soon as you can, and we're kind of in the same page. I want to see you out in this building right away, and I want to be out of your hair. I hate to be wasting time. Don't we all, by the way? So cooperate with me, and try to be transparent as needed. Can you do that?"

Tyrone scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air. "Miss, that was what I've been doing since they brought me here but that courtesy wasn't well-received because you all thought immediately that I was the one who did it!" His chest bobbed up and down, his eyes watering as he grabbed a handful of his hair, frustration oozing out like a steam coming out from a chimney. "I could... I could never done that. Yes, I stalked her, and we haven't been okay for months but I'm not a psychopathic bastard. I could never..." he trailed off, a sob erupting from his mouth.

Cara went silent, staring at him with cold eyes. Though she knew grief when she see one, and this certainly belonged to that, she couldn't feel any sympathy. Not when he was guilty of something else unacceptable.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, Mr. Sykes. You have my condolences," Cara said, forcing the words out.

Tyrone nodded, wiping the tears away. "Thank you..."

"Tell me about her and your relationship," she said, clicking her ballpen and opening the pad of paper.

Tyrone swallowed hard, his gaze casting downward. "It's not much like a fairytale. Not the one that you can involve love in all aspects. Florence was five years older than me when we got married, so it was understandable that we can't relate to each other in some ways. I'm conservative, while she's extremely liberated. Not a day goes by that we didn't argue. The marriage... was originated by the choices of our both families. Not ours. We really didn't have that spark or connection from the start. Which is why, it had been easy for us both to explore... the forbidden side of our marriage."

"Do you have a child, Mr. Sykes?" she asked.

"No... I, uh... well, almost," he said with a frown. "She became pregnant but she decided to abort our child. Said she wasn't ready to raise one. I became distant to her for that ever since. I lost interest in our relationship. And so I..."

He squirmed on his seat. "I'll be honest with you, I was never comfortable at being around the block, sleeping with other women behind her back. It was fun but I was never attached with it. Never put my feelings on it. My thoughts always goes back to her... about the things that I could have done with her instead. I want to make her happy. Be the husband that I should have been. But she just never cared, you know. She was always distant, always eager to avoid me like I'm just a freaking piece of furniture. I tried to patch up our marriage, the relationship. Everything that needed to be fixed. But Florence dismissed my attempt. I was enraged. I didn't know what to and so..."

"...you continued committing adultery like a sought career."

He swallowed hard, a flicker of extreme guilt and embarassment shadowed his face. "Yes, and I'm regretting that I did. If only I didn't succumb on my way of coping with our broken relationship, if I tried so hard to get back at her, Florence might've been..."

Cara kept her mouth shut, pretending to scribble on the pad, getting uninterested little by little at his narrative. Just the typical strained case of two souls tied together by a marriage of convenience. No love had been present, that's why the consistency was never felt. Still, better things could have happened if they both tried enough and dealt with the problem like grown up people.

"What happened, then? What ticked you to suddenly get interested at her own side of fun?" Cara pressed on.

"Because it was wearing me out. Rumors are getting ridiculous and ridiculous as our arrangement stayed longer. Florence's reputation will be tarnished if word got out in the school she worked. I don't want that. So I tried to tell her about it. I warned her, forbid her to take a break from... everything she was doing. When she laughed it off, I finally had it. My hope was lost for us. And so I filed for divorce. Guess you could think that she was happy about my decision but she wasn't."

There was a pause again. And as Cara wait for him to resume, she discreetly took him in, noting how his appearance defied the age he had in the profile that was provided.

Tyrone Sykes was a good-looking man, his pushed back brown hair had shown his pleasing face naturally. He has aquatic eyes that would struck anyone as attractive. Despite his age, his built as a man wasn't too sturdy and hard. It was an average one. Even he was wearing a dark blue hoodie jacket with plain white shirt inside, Cara could tell that beneath those shirt, a full-pack abs are hiding.

He took a deep breath. "Florence was having an affair with one of her student. They have been seeing each other behind my back for so long now. And I want to make her stop, confront her at the act so I could end our relationship and parted with our own lives."

"Thus, the stalking..."

Sykes nodded, encircling his arms around himself.

"Did she have any idea?"

"Yeah, she sure do. I have not been exactly secretive about it for days that I've done it."

Cara reclined on the chair, letting her feet suspended in the air as she looked through the mirror, using her eyes to communicate that she had been right. All along. And it might not be the only theory that was in reality, a fact. This man might be worth of suspicion but murder wasn't included in it.

"On the night you stalked her, did you notice anything that was out of place? And where were you after she reached the crossover bridge? It showed that you didn't pass there. Why did you stop stalking her?"

"I stopped because I chickened out. When she reached the heavy traffic at downtown, I chose to back down on my plans and visit my... mistress instead. I couldn't pick up the courage to confront her. It has been like that ever since we got married and that night was the evidence. I know the tables will turn afterwards. She knew about my affair, too. So I retreated and chose another way." He sniffed. "In terms of something peculiar, I have nothing to tell you. Nothing struck me as odd when I was stalking her."

"Are you sure? Even a single detail that could tell that someone is stalking her, too? Some stranger that happened to be in the same line in a*****e or in the parking lot."

Sykes shook his head. "Not that I can think of. There was a truck in between our cars so I didn't catch what was exactly happening to her."

Cara's heart raced. A thump echoed across the room as her feet fell on the floor again, leaning forward. "This truck... was it green? A pick-up?

Sykes nodded, confused. "Yes, it was. How did you know—"

"Describe that to me," she said urgently.

Sykes scratched his chin, unconvinced of its relevance in the questioning. "For one, it wasn't something that would attract attention. Old and worn-out, that's all I could say. I didn't catch the plate number because it was erased. As of the driver, all I know is that he was wearing a brown jacket and there were some... pile of woods behind his truck. Why? Did you think that man in truck was the one who abducted Florence?"

Cara couldn't say anything, her thoughts continued to swirl inside like persistent breeze across a desert. All the information inside her head had started to overlaid with one another. Her head pounded, and she felt as though the walls were closing in. Suffocating her. Blinding her. All she could hear was nothing but the strange loud beats of her heart.

She swallowed hard, immediately aware of what was happening. Panic attack...

"I'm asking you, Detective, was that truck the one that carried Florence away?" Sykes asked, his raising tone told Cara that he had asked that for a second time.

Brushing off the question, and gripping the table for support, she puffed a sigh. Damn it. Not now. "You said the plate number was erased, how come you knew that?"

"Because only the numbers were tampered with. Not the city where it was registered. It was in Maryland, Maine."

Pumped by that piece of information, she hastily wrote it down, desperately praying not to fall on the floor. If he was telling the truth and, that car hadn't been stolen, then we have nailed another piece of the puzzle.

Cara shook her head. She exercised her hands to ease its trembling. "One last question, Mr. Sykes... was your wife ever fond of marionnettes?"

Tyrone looked shocked after she said that. Cara remembered Hupman's reaction was the same, too. And Sykes might have had the same answer, too.

"Well... yes," he answered. "Not in a way that she would collect every version of them. She found them pretty. That was the reason why she chose not to have a child because she thought of marionnettes as her own."

"Did she ever buy one in the past? Or went into a show that involves them?"

"Not that I know of." Sykes shifted on his seat uncomfortably. "Wait... are you saying that some sick fucker killed her just because she liked marionnettes?"

Cara swallowed hard, her system was debating if she must tell it or not. "To clear things up, for procedures, tell us where you were on the night your wife had been last seen."

"I was at my mistress, didn't I tell you that? I can provide her contact to vouch for me. And on the following days... I was grilling Davis—her boytoy—to bring her back."

She stood up, her chest felt heavy and her mind felt refreshed. "You could go, Mr. Sykes. We've interviewed you enough." She stormed out of the room before she could even hear his protest.

Just in time she closed the door behind her, Agent Rose went out of the review room. Behind her was Faucalt whose scowl was deep as his wrinkles and Moore who was half-glaring her. Licking her lower lip, she strode towards them, bracing herself for Faucalt's another episode of nastiness. Agent Rose approached her, while the two remained, conversing in hushed tones. Faucalt made a dismissive gesture, and off Moore went the other side of the hallway.

"That was fast," Agent Rose said, smirking. "Didn't expect it'd be done in only minutes."

"Sorry, I don't think it's necessarry to keep the conversation going wherein it was clear that he hadn't done it. For me, that is."

"No, you're absolutely right. While you were there, Detective Eric checked his alibi and it was airtight as it can gets. We have his phone, and nothing seems suspicious came out so far. That one with Davis was real, too. He visited him for more than two times. The kid had some alibi, too, that we can't rule out as worth questioning."

Cara sighed. "And we're back to zero."

"Not entirely. Come on, don't be like that." Agent Rose laughed, patting her arm. "We've got pretty good leads. Thanks to you, our guy didn't wish of his lawyer. We've got the name of the state, and we confirmed the case about the green truck. From those pieces of information, we could gain a lot. Not to include that we can see a clear pattern in the victims now."

Cara nodded, her hope resurrecting. "The marionettes, and the way they handled maritals are something—"

"Black," Faucalt called from behind.

Flinching, Cara peeked through Agent Rose's shoulder. "Sir?"

"Let's have a word," he said and before Cara could show her disagreement, he was already walking past her, opposite to the direction Moore had chosen.

"Are you gonna be alright?" Agent Rose asked.

Cara smiled a bit. "Don't worry, I can handle him. I wouldn't still be here if I can't."

"I'll be in the lobby, then," Agent Rose said. "Tell me if he did something. It might be time that he needs proper training for his behavior."

Sighing, she nodded curtly before following Faucalt, unwilling to the simple gesture. She had little time to waste. And to see herself spending those minicule minutes with someone not willing to cooperate with her, it was getting under her skin. And she didn't like that he was pulling such reaction from her.

This is so ridiculous.

Faucalt at the end of the hallway, where no one passed by. His arms were folded over his chest, his grumpy and steely eyes tailing Cara as she walked near. His face was scrunched up, to put it mildly, and he was utterly pissed. The level of his irritation showed at the way his chest moved, and his jaw clenched in harmonized repetition.

Though seeing him like that felt elating, she knew the awful scenarios that will happen after their little meeting would be something more intense than that.

"What is it?" Cara asked, hurriedly.

"I didn't like what you did," he said. "You treated him like a sugar coated celebrity wherein he was the main suspect as of the moment. You just gave the man the confidence that we shouldn't be feeding off to him!"

"With all due respect, Sir, he had been cleared out, so there's nothing to—"

"I'm not yet done talking!" Faucalt bellowed, raising a finger to him. She fought the urge to grab and twist that bulging and disgusting finger out of her sight. "If you could have just stayed silent, this will all have been cleared up—"

"And what? Throw an innocent man into jail—"

"Oh, shut up. Do you think we'd be like you?"

Cara felt a strong surge of rage hitting her.

"You're not just bringing this case down, you're also sweeping away the help from someone more adept than you! How hard it is for your ego to let her for once, huh? I appointed her to handle the interrogation but you ignored my order. It's a clear sign of insubordination!"

"Your baby was taking things badly! You know that! It was obvious! If I didn't butt in, Syker would have called his lawyer even before we could extract important details from him—"

"She was handling this pretty well! And it would've resulted to something even better if you just didn't interfere!" Faucalt hissed and Cara was dumbstruck by his tone. She couldn't believe that a man in a position like him has no clear vision of what's happening before him. He jerked his chin up. "Your actions can't be ignored. Chief must know this. And Senator Meredith wouldn't shrug this off."

Cara almost rolled her eyes before him.

"And by the way, he wants to speak with you," Faucalt informed. "He wants to know every damn reason why you haven't caught this killer. Be prepared, Black. Because I heard he could be an asshole with anyone. Especially to you."