Gone After the Wind

Chapter 14: Sandy Hupman

If the exterior display of the house was already impressive, the inner part was even more astonishing in all aspects. Although it was literally an open space now, Cara could tell by its appearance how it had been the comfort of a once completed family. From the beige-colored walls down to the carpeted floor, all were the conspicuous signs that it was neither neglected nor had been left unattended, not even once. The presence of motherly care toward inanimated objects was impossible to disregard. Cara's skin prickled as she imagined that only days ago, this was the home of Sandy Hupman. She was here, roaming around this four-corner area, unaware of the bleak future she was about to encounter.

"You can sit anywhere you like," Ryan said, gesturing to the sofas nonchalantly. "It's going to be moved out eventually, so..."

"You're selling the house?" Cara asked, aiming to sit on the single-seater couch.

"That's our only option, isn't it? There's no reason for us to stay here anymore. I don't think it's reasonable to keep the house with all that happened. We'll just remember how she..." Ryan trailed off, his voice squeaking on a low pitch. He cleared his throat to hide the emotion that obviously smashed off the strong facade he masked earlier. Too late, Cara had already foreseen that before he could even permit this conversation.

Cara let him take his moments to compose himself. But as if everything was already meant to be worst, the next thing her eyes fell into was the pile of boxes sitting at the center, sorted out carefully and by the classification of each object. Judging by the colors and styles, the owner was a woman, and Cara didn't have to guess because atop of it was a frame, caging one candid shot of Sandy Hupman, lively and smiling widely.

Cara couldn't help but cringe at the sight of it. She looked away.

"We're taking it back to her parents," Ryan blurted. The sympathy must've been so apparent on her face that Ryan didn't need words to guess what was in her mind. "They volunteered to keep all the stuff she touched and used to commemorate her memories. It's been years, after all, since they last saw her. Though I disagree with it, I must compromise. It's the least I could do to comfort them." He shook his head.

"Was she close to her family?"

"Not too much," Ryan answered. "Sandy was a runaway, you see. She left their family when she was only sixteen years old. She chose to abandon her lavish life with them because his father was extremely manipulative and controlling. Almost everything Sandy loves to do in her life is bad for them. His father had other plans that were way too different from Sandy's goals. When she escaped, she found this town and eventually called as her new home. They just reconciled a few months ago. That's why it had been so hard to accept that she was..."

His voice croaked once again. This time, the intensity of his emotions was defined well. He couldn't say a damn word to continue it as his eyes already brimming with unshed tears. Struggling to maintain a straight face, he turned away.

"I'm so sorry for your loss..." Cara said solemnly.

Ryan nodded, his head hung low. "She was... an amazing woman, you know. Our family may not be the best and ideal, but we're happy. Even though Sandy was always busy at work, she never forgot to make time for us. She's lively and very optimistic. I can't believe someone could do this to her..."

Cara didn't say anything, letting Ryan savor the silent moment to sate the need for his grief. She felt a pang on her chest as she watched him weep silently. She knew well how hard it is to be in that position, eager to answer all of the questions and, at the same time, buried in extreme anguish. She had been in the same state before, and could assure that it wasn't pleasant to bear. It was almost as if your feet were submerged into the deep, chilling ocean, pulling you deeper into its darkest depths.

For years she dealt with numerous grieving families; she learned the very best way to console their aching hearts was to stay silent. Interrupting their moment would be a disprespectful move. It has been proven effective before. Not only from the family of the past victims she encountered but mainly from Eloisa and the Black family as well.

"You said you have questions for me," Ryan finally spoke after some considering moments. He wiped the side of his eyes using his thumb. "I take it that it is worth asking. I still need to arrange her funeral this afternoon and meet her parents. I don't want us to waste both of our time."

"I understand." Cara cleared her throat. With the conviction she found in his voice, she readied herself and recalled the questions she assembled while driving. "I'm going to ask you only a few questions. Some might sound odd. But the majority of it has probably been voiced out by my fellow officers. You don't have to answer everything. Just treat it as a recap of the requisite process we've already carried out. We can stop anytime you like," Cara explained, taking out the small notebook from the right side pocket of her pants. She withdrew a deep sigh and pushed herself onto the edge of the sofa, setting her gaze intently on Ryan. "Mr. Hupman, did your wife say anything about being followed or threatened within the weeks before she disappeared?"

"No, not on one occasion," Ryan answered, robotically as if that question had already been aired in his ears so many times. "As I've said earlier, Sandy is very optimistic. She could gain a smile from anyone without a sweat. No one has ever expressed any dislike for her. She seldom gets involved in a trouble. In her own circle or in her work. I can't deny I've had enemies from the past, but it all had been settled legally. My nature of work doesn't require socialization, so I can't name anyone who'd have the intention to harm her or our son."

That made Cara stop writing. It was very abrupt that the tip of the ballpen almost ripped the paper open. Stunned, she looked up. "Son? You have a son?"

"Yes, his name's Jason. He's not here, though."

Cara swallowed hard and looked down at her notes, suddenly getting off-track from the line of thoughts she was only following before she heard that. She found it rather disappointing and appalling that her initial profile of the killer had been shattered with one single word. Before, she was utterly certain that misconceiving was a thing for the killer, which might have been the reason behind the urges for the murder. Nelia Rasco didn't give birth. She hated children as much as anyone would loath an insect flying across the room.

According to her husband, she hated the thought of having a small infant crawling across the house and requiring for their care. Nelia's lack of compassion for kids had made her relationship with her husband go astray. They were divorced months before the murder occurred. It had led Cara to believe that Nelia had become the subject of the killer's ritual because of that. The murders emit a strong sort of revenge element, and Cara was firm in believing that that could be the starting point and connection there.

Not to mention that he poses her victims as marionettes.

That was the reason why she had been extra confident to take the lead in this interview.

She was clinging badly to that assumption.

"But according to the reports, you had no child," Cara noted, her eyebrows furrowed, not letting the idea go that the connection between the victims is still there.

"Oh, about that..." Ryan's face twitched with annoyance as if Cara had just touched a controversial subject. "Jason's papers haven't yet fully completed. We can't call him as our own without the approval from the court."

"He's adopted?"

"Yeah," Ryan answered, a bit flustered and embarrassed at the admittance. "We decided to have one after... losing Amery, our biological child, in an accident some years ago. Sandy couldn't accept that. To aid the pain of his death, I consulted an agency and took a risk. Fair enough, it went successfully. We found Jason and Sandy have never been so happy."

Just as she began to regain the confidence that their parental status was a contributing factor to the killer's selection, her hope was smashed violently by that. The disappointment seething through her body was improbable to cleanse away.

Head clouded with anxiety, Cara chewed on her lower lip, finding the right time to continue the questioning. How could she do that, though, if one of the connections she firmly believes to be involved in the crimes turned out faulty? She didn't see this happening. She strictly confided in the reports, thinking that it was firm and accurate. She was wrong to believe too much about that.

"About your wife's job, did she experience some mistreatment from the customers? Or did she has any problem with the job itself?" Cara asked dryly, not so enthusiastic as the time she stepped inside the house.

"Not that I can think of," Ryan answered, thinking deeply. "She never complained anything about her job or the people around. The owner is close to us, and almost all of the waitresses there are Sandy's friends. Everybody just loved her."

"Besides being a waitress, did she have any place to be where she could meet random people? Perhaps an organization or a club that requires her to be actively present?"

"No. Although she's amiable, it never occurred to her to extend the degree of her socialization. She's contented having a small circle of friends."

"So she's home most of the time?"

"Mm-hmm. The only moment she'd go out would be about work and nothing more."

"Even for basic errands?"

"I do it all. The grocery shopping, driving Jason to school, and the weekly update on the court. Sandy's main focus is on Jason. To contribute, I insisted on taking over those small responsibilities, so Sandy could give her full attention to nothing but Jason."

If she's not that outgoing, how the hell did the killer know she would be the next victim? Her husband controls everything in the outside world of their house, so how did she become a target? Was it through that diner?

Was our killer traveling when he met her?

She mentally leafed through the details embedded in the case files and compared them to the notes she created now, searching for any gap she could fill. After minutes of examining it, she got nothing. All seems to be in the right place. Nothing was missed, apparently, and that completely sucks. She came here ready for new clues worth pondering, and now, it looks like she'd be going home with nothing but more questions to follow.

Feeling the need to end it quickly, she mentally wrapped the interview up. She closed her small notebook, sighing and frustrated. She was about to stand up and express her goodbye when Ryan Hupman spoke through the moment.

"I do remember one issue that bothered her for a week," Ryan revealed, caressing his chin. His eyes squinted as though his brain was having a hard time recollecting that certain memory. "It happened during her night shift. She was preparing to go home when she caught a man wearing her own dress and uniform inside the locker room. She was horrified and creeped out, as she indicated. She didn't know how to handle such a scenario, so she called the owner. The guy wasn't a regular customer, so it had been tough to identify why and how did he end up there. Anyway, Sandy let it pass because she thought it was just a waste of time and maybe the guy was sexually confused. Not until weeks later when she caught the same man again ogling her at the bus stop where she usually waits. That's when she finally consulted the police. The man wasn't arrested, but they put a restraining order against him."

"When did this exactly happen?" Cara eagerly asked.

"About two to three weeks ago? I'm not really sure of the date."

"And it bothered Sandy Hupman?"

"Every woman would absolutely be bothered by that, Detective," Ryan answered with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I prohibited her from going to work since then. It boils my blood just imagining she would go back there. But she had been so stubborn, insisting that it's not worth the attention."

"Did she bring it up again preceding her death?"

Ryan's face crumpled, and Cara could already see a harsh comment formulating inside his mind. But comforting him would be the last thing in her priorities now. That incident may not be aligned with the profile she created, but it still must be looked upon.

Two weeks... it fits the timing. That's enough to build an immaculate plan where he could be invisible after the crime. This could be our guy.

"No."

"What's the name of this man?"

"Kyler Santine."

Cara nodded, scribbling it swiftly on her notebook.

"Do you happen to know his address?"

"I'm afraid not, and I'm glad I didn't because I'd certainly end up in jail if that happens. You can ask Felia, however—the owner of the diner. She knows about it more than I allowed myself to."

Cara nodded, her desire to bring this case to a close one had reigned inside. The given name could be a potential suspect. He had done weird things to her, and it could be that his pervertedness resorted to something brutal as this. The husband has already been crossed out from her list. Based on the report, he was with his son that day, preparing for the birthday party, when Sandy didn't show up. Many had vouched for him, and Cara has no interest in questioning that.

He looked genuine at his grieving earlier, and because it wasn't a new thing for Cara, she knew how to spot a real one from a fake lying husband.

And she has a name now. It's not a case with no direction anymore.

"One last question, Mr. Hupman," Cara said and looked up to him once again. "Has your wife expressed a particular dislikeness or the opposite towards marionettes? Had she watched a puppet show, or had she been in a*****e before?"

"No," Ryan answered abruptly, his eyes widened at the question. "She never bought one or watched a show... why, is that essential in this?"

"As of now, we're trying to exhaust all avenues, so even if it wasn't that necessary, it needs to be covered."

Still confused and skeptical, Ryan shifted on his weight and looked away. "She wasn't a fan of dolls, puppets, or anything connected with that. She hated it. Just a sight of a mere puppet, and she would throw tantrums all of a sudden. It reminds her of our daughter we lost years ago, and I understand her completely, the same reason why instead of adopting a daughter that would remind us Amery, she chose a boy instead. She didn't want to be in that phase again, so since the death of our daughter, she avoided any places or circumstances connected with those wooden dolls."

Cara's heart pumped louder, going on a pace that was almost as rapid as her thoughts. She may have not yet confirmed whether Nelia Rasco navigated the same stand against those wooden puppets, it's a connection, nonetheless. And that just proved she was right. Marionettes are somehow included in the killer's motivations to carry out these murders.

"I'm not taking this any longer, Mr. Hupman," Cara said, still in the haze of accepting what she heard. She stood up, eyes distant. "If you have any concerns regarding this, you can call me." She fished out her cellphone number from her pocket and handed it to him. "Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Hupman."

"You're welcome," Ryan mumbled. "By the way, if you wish to know more about Sandy's past, you should probably drop by to her parent's house. They're more willing to cooperate with you. His father is very influential and powerful. You might want to use that to your advantage."

"We'll take that into consideration. Can I have their identifications, though?"

"You don't have to," Ryan said, shoving her calling card into the pocket of his polo. "Their names are everywhere in this state. Howard Meredith, the current state governor, the father of the Albreska citizens, and Sarah Meredith, his spouse."

Cara blinked profusely while looking at him, incredulous. "The Howard Meredith?"

"The one and only."

Still baffled at the previous revelation bombed at her, Cara could only nod unconsciously, that name constantly echoing in her ears.

Meredith is her father? Are you kidding me? Of all the people that could be the victim's family, I'm entitled to deal with that man?

"I'll be going now. Again, I'm so sorry for your loss," Cara said that didn't sound as sincere as she wished it to be. Without further delay, she aimed for the door and bid farewell for the second time. But before she could leave, Ryan Hupman hinted he had something to say.

"He has done this, hasn't he?" he asked with a trembling voice that shook Cara. "Sandy wasn't the first one who suffered such horrible violence. I saw the news two months ago, and you're that detective who handled it, aren't you?"

Cara's mouth hung open. She felt her body going rigid as though someone splashed cold water on her face. Her heart started to beat faster and harder by seconds the silence lasted.

"Are you really going to catch him this time?" Ryan asked in a hopeful voice that Cara had recognized in all the widowed families of the victims before. "I know I'm not in the position to plead, but I'm begging you, do what you must do to catch this guy. Not just for Sandy but for us who had lost her."

You don't have to beg because that's my resolve. I will catch him, not just for everyone who had suffered the vileness of his monstrosity, but for myself, as well.

Nodding in silence, she went straight out of the door. As soon as she felt the fresh air damping her face, she dialed Eric's number. She walked hastily across the lawn, the sole of her boots marking the dusty driveway. Few rings scolded her, and the line went on.

"Detective Sautney—"

"Why didn't you tell me Sandy was Meredith's daughter?" she asked, opening the car and sliding her body in.

"I was planning to, but things just went out of hand. It slipped my mind. I'm sorry."

Cara battled not to scream at him. "How could you forget such important detail? People like Meredith don't usually go out of anyone's mind. He's a nobody, Eric. One look around, and you literally remember all the things he's involved with. Especially this one wherein he's on our radar!"

"I know, and I'm sorry, alright? I also didn't want you to back out, that's why I didn't dare to mention him. I know what he's done to you before, and I'm afraid you'd do a head-on battle with him again."

"Am I that stupid to you?" Cara scoffed. "I'm not a nut head to do that, Eric. I lost my job the last time I opposed him. And I'm fully aware of that. I never forget it. You know me. I don't like to repeat the same f*****g mistake. That's why I'm yearning for information that could help me avoid that. And you stripped that chance off."

"I admit that was an insane move. But in my defense, I was just thinking about you."

"Well, it has been done now. No matter how long we'd discuss that, it won't do any change."

Eric went silent for a moment. The thickness of the air indicated that he was struggling. Whether to formulate a reply or to patch up the small argument, Cara doesn't intend to know. She's pissed, and nothing could mend that.

"How did it go?" Eric asked, more cautious now.

"Worthless," Cara informed, strapping the seatbelt across her body. "Although I have a name to look on, the husband didn't give off exceptional information that we could use to catch the bastard. She's not fond of dolls or marionettes, and she had a son. The connection between them is a bit faulty. It's not all aligned with our first profile, Eric. I couldn't see that coming. Or I didn't look carefully. I'm getting rusty."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Eric advised. "You'll be back on your track soon. Take it easy and slow down. Nonetheless, you have a lead, and that already saved the case from going cold."

Cara only sighed.

"And I heard the agent was a living legend. Had solved many of the infamous cases we've heard in the academy. Was a pioneer in the BAU's development for a whole decade. She's one of the agents that the feds have been very proud of to have," Eric added in a lighter voice as though it would make Cara's personal worries go away. Little did he know, the pressure only intensified more, and the list of people she must prove herself to just expanded. The feeling of excitement rose fairly, but it didn't overpower the doubt she wished to burn.

"Thanks for the reminder," Cara retorted. "You've just made my feeling much worse, Eric."

The latter only chuckled in return. Cara shook her head. She wanted to say more to feed on her frustration, but in the end, she found herself smiling and leaning toward the positive side of the matter. With nothing more to say, she ended the call and pressed hard on the accelerator. She drove off the street, shooting the house with one final glance. Their interview may not be as successful as she planned it to be, but she didn't consider it as a failure. Nor herself. There were some moments that she behaved and thought like a rookie, but with the small clue that she acquired after staying there for only twenty minutes, the case has more potential now than it has ever had before. And that's enough to silence the scream of her demons and look forward to everything that was going to happen, be it small or big like the agent Eric was pertaining to.