Page 62 of Little Stolen Memories

Simone took a sip of her coffee and set her mug down on a coaster on the side table. “It wasn’t a long visit, so I may as well start at the beginning and take you through it. Ray answered the door before I even had a chance to knock.”

“What’s he like?”

“Sharp dresser. He was wearing a gray tailored suit. It looked expensive.”

“How would you describe his physical appearance?”

“He’s muscular. Looks like he works out a fair bit.”

“How tall is he?”

“Just over six feet, I’d guess.”

“What does he do for work?” I asked. “Is he still working in the family business?”

“He is, and this is where it gets interesting. He’s the COO of their high-end car dealership. The dealership was opened by Valerie’s father, who had planned on leaving it to Jackson after he retired. When Jackson died, the business was left to Valerie … though, based on Ray’s overbearing personality, I get the impression he’s the one running the show.”

I didn’t even need to meet the guy to know his type—possessive, greedy, arrogant, entitled.

“After Ray greeted you at the door, what happened?” I asked.

“I gave him my name, told him what I do, and I explained I was there because we’re taking another look at the case.”

“How did Ray react to the news that it’s being investigated again?” I asked.

“He seemed confused at first. It took him a minute to grasp what I’d said. I let him know I had a few questions, and I assured him they were nothing major. For a minute, I thought he was going to refuse to speak to me, so I mentioned we were talking to all the families. I thought adding that little tidbit would compel him to be more of a team player.”

“Did it work? Did he agree to talk to you?”

“Under certain conditions. Before I was allowed to step foot inside the house, Ray said he didn’t want me to say anything that might upset his wife, which is … as you know, an impossible request. I was there to talk about the murders. No matter how you spin it, it’s a heavy subject.”

“I’m sure you found a way.”

Simone shot me a wink. “We say what we need to say and do what we need to get through the door, right?”

“Right.”

“I’m assuming you talked your way inside,” I said. “Then what?”

“Ray made a comment about not wanting us to talk inside the house because it was a bit of a mess, which was weird because what I saw of it was immaculate. Everything in its place.”

Some people didn’t like the idea of a stranger in their home, among their personal things, in their personal space. Other people didn’t welcome visitors inside because there was something they were trying to hide.

Which one was Ray?

Neither, or a bit of both?

“I followed him to the back yard, and he told me to take a seat at a patio table,” Simone said. “He left me for a few minutes and returned with Valerie. She was wearing a large pair of sunglasses, which made sense. It was sunny out yesterday. But she was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an oversized sweater. I was sweating in the thin T-shirt I had on.”

“Did she acknowledge you in any way?”

“She said hello. It was so faint, I almost didn’t hear it. After she sat down, she kept tugging at the collar of her sweater, pulling it up like she was trying to cover her neck.” Simone crossed her arms and added, “How do I put this … she reminded me of a frightened little mouse. She seemed nervous and avoidant.”

A woman trapped like a prisoner in her own home, perhaps.

In the time Simone described the beginning of her visit, several things she’d said stood out to me:

Ray didn’t want Simone inside the house.

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