Detective David Brown rubbed a hand absently over his stubbly cleft chin. He’d been awake for over twenty-four hours trying to find leads in a case involving a person he hadn’t heard anyone talk about since the late nineties. At first, he had wondered why anyone would want to kill Taylor Hanson, but then he remembered his sister listening to that ridiculous song of theirs over and over, and thought that such a thing might have been enough to push any sane person over the edge.
Despite the levity of that thought, a serious crime had been committed, and it was his job to find the perpetrator. It had seemed for awhile that he would be able to go home and catch a few hours sleep, but then he’d gotten a call about some Facebook group made up of three girls who apparently wanted Hanson dead. And, of course, one of them lived in the city. So here he was, running on caffeine and fumes, watching Vivian Carter through the interrogation room’s two-way mirror.
She didn’t look like your run-of-the-mill perp, but that didn’t mean anything. Normal, nice looking people were every bit as capable of committing crimes as those who looked the part of a criminal. Maybe even more so.
Detective Brown watched her closely, the way her long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, the way her full lips drooped ever so slightly into a hint of a frown, but most importantly, the way she kept both hands clenched tightly into fists in her lap. This girl was nervous, and she had every right to be.
After taking a long breath, he crossed the distance to the door and let himself out, mentally preparing for what was about to happen. It was time to ask Miss Carter some questions, and hopefully get some truthful answers quickly so he could finally go home, get some sleep, and forget the name Taylor Hanson for at least another decade.
Her eyes turned to him when he entered, but she remained otherwise unmoving in her chair. Slowly, deliberately, Detective Brown walked to the large metal table, pulled back his chair, set down a folder, and made a show of sinking onto the worn, faux leather, keeping their gazes locked the entire time.
“Miss Carter, can I get you anything?” he asked, his deep voice filling the room. It always amazed him how powerful he sounded in that small space, but if it intimidated Vivian, she didn’t let it show.
“Yeah, a drink,” she said.
“I can get you some water.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know, but that’s the best I can do,” Detective Brown told her. She shook her head lightly, and he opened the file under his hand to continue. “If you could please tell me the nature of your relationship with Mr. Hanson, I think that would be a good place to start.”
“Mr. Hanson,” she snorted lightly, rolling her eyes and leaning back further in her chair. Her right leg crossed over her left, her ankle resting on her knee. “Well, I’m a photographer. I do contract work for several local magazines, mostly covering concerts. Last January, I was hired to take pictures at a Hanson show. I didn’t even know they were still making music, and I wasn’t excited about it at all. Not that that’s anything new.”
“Don’t really like your job?” he asked, surprised by how comfortable she now seemed as she was speaking. Her hands had relaxed, and she was talking to him like she was telling the story to one of her girlfriends.
“Don’t like listening to shitty bands trying desperately to be relevant, or edgy, or sound like Dave Matthews, who sucks by the way,” she said, making a face of mild disgust before continuing, “But anyways, I went to the show, took some pictures, and was amazed by the fact that they weren’t completely awful. I was even more amazed by how good Taylor looked. Christ, I know that sounds so stupid and girly, but he’s gorgeous. Even though my job was done, I lied, saying I needed posed pictures, and due to my clearance got to go backstage.”
“So, why exactly did you want to go backstage? To get a closer look?” Detective Brown asked.
“I had to meet him. I felt this gravitational pull. Again, I know it sounds stupid. I’m never that kind of girl, the one who gets all droopy and gooey around a good-looking guy. I’m around them all the time, but he was different,” she explained, letting out another little snort, “As soon as I got backstage, I ran into him, and the lie I’d told about needing more pictures just flew out of my mind. All I could do was introduce myself and tell him how much I’d enjoyed the show. Now, I knew that I was so enamored I was in danger of drooling all over myself, so I focused and kept my cool. But, somehow he could tell that I found him attractive. I should have known then that he was bad news, but he was so charming, so flirtatious, so humble–at least in that moment–that I just kept talking to him.
“He wanted to know about me, and before I knew it, we were sitting on a couch in his private dressing room talking for what felt like hours. Eventually, Zac came in and interrupted. Taylor asked for my number, and I gave it to him. It had been years since I’d met someone and felt a connection the way I did with him. Talking to him was easy, and after years of being the cynical girl who was convinced that all guys were heinous douchebags, it felt great to meet one who wasn’t. Or so I thought,” she trailed off.
“When did you see him next?” Detective Brown asked.
“Later that night. He called me a few hours later. I told him I was at my place, and he asked if he could come over. I should have said no, but I didn’t. So, he came over and we were just talking for a long time. He told me all about how rough the road could be, how hard it was to not have the general public’s respect when it came to giving them another chance, and how hard it was to find a girl who would want him for him. Well, I couldn’t handle him feeling so sad anymore, and this part of that might’ve had to do with the several glasses of wine we’d had while talking, but I kissed him then.
“One thing led to another, and he stayed with me all night. In the morning we ate breakfast, and he told me that he’d never met anyone like me. He liked how I was sarcastic, how I spoke my mind, but also how he could see past all that. I bought into all of his bullshit, just like all the stupid girls I’ve always hated would have. But, that’s just the effect that Taylor has on people,” she said.
“Was that the only time you saw him?”
“No. They’ve been in New York a lot in the last year, and every time they were, he would stay with me instead of in a hotel. That, and he called or e-mailed me every day. I went out to eat with him and his brothers, he told me how much he cared about me, but…” she trailed off, but kept looking at him.
“He never told you he loved you?” Detective Brown asked. Viv finally dropped her gaze from his and shook her head, “But you loved him.”
“I thought I did, but I was just infatuated. And then last month, all of that went away, because I found out what kind of guy Taylor really is. Whatever feelings I had for Taylor are gone, and now, I just hate him for what he did to me. To us.”
“And what did he do?” Detective Brown leaned forward on his elbows, looking at her until she finally made eye contact once more. Her confidence was back, and he knew that the good stuff was finally coming.
“Before I tell you, I’m going to need that water.”