One Last Breath by Sarah Sutton (macos ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Tara flashed her badge, and the woman shot her head back again with a look of pure terror. “What would you want with my son?”

This was not going to be easy, Tara thought. She needed to tread lightly. “We think he may have some information on a case we’re working on. We wanted to see if he could help us?” The woman was about to reply but then stopped herself, and her mouth hung open briefly. Tara knew she was contemplating whether to let them speak to him, but Tara didn’t want her to think she had the option. “Is he home?”

The woman took a deep breath and slowly nodded. “He’s not in any trouble, right?”

“We just want to speak to him,” Tara replied. It wasn’t a lie. Her reasoning may have been misleading, but they had no evidence against him. They had their suspicions, but they needed to know if the pictures were his before they could jump to any conclusions.

The woman curled her top lip in disgust. She didn’t like the idea, but she had no reason to deny them either. She sighed as she looked toward her front door. Tara knew she was contemplating her options. “I suppose I can understand why he might be able to help you. He does work for the news,” she admitted. It was exactly what they needed her to think. “He should be downstairs.” Her eyes then moved away from the door and fell on Tara, moving between her and Warren. “You can come in,” she finally added. She turned toward the house, Tara and Warren right behind her.

They followed her down a short, paved walkway connecting the driveway to the concrete stairs leading to the front door. She opened it a crack and leaned her head in cautiously. “Ben!” she called, but there was no answer. She waited a moment and called out again, louder. “Ben!” But again her voice was met with no reply. She let out a frustrated grunt as she stepped inside and held the door open for Tara and Warren. “You two can come in, just take a seat in the living room.” The home opened up into a formal dining room with a long farmhouse table decorated with a centerpiece of brass candles. She motioned for them to follow her and led them down a long hallway, which opened into a spacious sitting area. Sun spilled out into the room through large windows that lined the wall and gave view of the backyard.

They took a seat, and she scurried off back down the hallway, only to stop midway, opening a door and disappearing behind it. They could hear her feet descending stairs. Tara looked over at Warren. She was about to whisper. She thought the mother was being oddly cautious, and Tara wanted to see if Warren felt the same. But as she opened her mouth, Warren put a finger to his lips, signaling to keep quiet. He pointed to the ground, and Tara knew exactly what he was trying to say. They were right below them, and even though Tara would’ve whispered, if they were trying hard to overhear, it was still possible they could if they got close enough to the ceiling. Tara looked back in front of her, and a few moments later the door to the basement opened.

The mother stepped out first as she looked behind her, her face tinged with pain.

“I’ll be fine!” they heard a deep voice bark from behind the door. “Just go upstairs,” he ordered her as he stepped out into the hallway. His eyes immediately moved to Tara and Warren, still sitting on the couch, and his face morphed into surprise. He wasn’t expecting them to be sitting there.

“You sure you’re fine?” the mother asked.

He turned to her, his back facing the living room, and he whispered something they couldn’t overhear. Tara assumed he just urged her again that she shouldn’t be there, because after he spoke, she sighed and reluctantly retreated the hallway, heading to the front of the house.

He turned to face them. He was tall, with broad shoulders—the tight hallway making him look even larger. He had deep, sunken eyes with bushy brows that created a shadow under them and made him look rather tired. He walked toward them, scowling, and took a seat on a chair across from them. He leaned forward with an air of confidence Tara thought was strange. He was wearing an oversized zipped-up hoodie and tattered jeans that looked like they had seen better days.

“Well, what can I help you with?” he asked.

Tara could hear his mother slowly ascending the stairs. He heard it too, and he looked in that direction and rolled his eyes.

Tara reached into her pocket and pulled out the memory card in the plastic evidence bag. She slid it across the coffee table between them. “We were wondering if this happens to be yours.”

He looked down at it, scooped it up in his large hand, and let out a grunt. He slid it back across the coffee table. “How the hell would I know,” he barked. “That could be anyone’s who has a camera like mine or similar.”

“So this does work for your camera?” Tara asked as she placed the card back into her pocket. He had revealed something she hadn’t even touched on yet, but it was exactly what she needed to know. He looked startled at her question, realizing he said too much. “Do you use C-Fast cards often?”

“I, uh…” He sat back in the chair, a less confident stance than the one he held before. But then an angry redness seeped to the surface of his skin. “What is this about, exactly? You haven’t even told me why you’re here.”

Tara could hear the floorboards creak above them. The mother was clearly listening, trying to be discreet, but she was anything but that. “We’re just trying to figure out who it