CHAPTER SEVEN
May felt nervous, but determined, as she and Owen headed on the fifteen-minute drive to Maple Vale. The route took them along the lakeside. On this cloudy morning, the waters looked dark and foreboding.
May knew they were going to visit a potential criminal and felt on edge as she wondered how the confrontation would pan out.
"We don't know he did it," Owen said, glancing across at her. "But it seems likely. How are we going to handle this?"
"He's a potential suspect, and we have to treat him as one, and be extremely careful. We need to really listen to what he says and watch his body language. He's going to be nervous, probably defensive. He might get angry or try to lie. There’s a possibility he might get violent. We also need to look for any signs of the murder weapon. Any sign of a long, serrated knife will be an important clue."
May felt sure that Kyle's reaction would tell them a lot, particularly since they would be surprising him, with no warning. This would give them the best chance to see his unfiltered reaction.
She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as they pulled up outside the address she had found.
"This is it," she said.
The house didn't look particularly special. It was a neat, medium sized, white clapboard home, on a quiet, tree-lined street. It seemed like a home that a deputy sheriff might visit to return a lost item of luggage or investigate an argument with a neighbor.
Instead, she was here to question a murder suspect. May knew that her entire career was riding on this interview.
She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and made her way up the path, noticing the word ‘Peterson’ was engraved on a signboard below the mailbox; so now they knew Kyle’s last name.
"I'll do the talking to start," she murmured to Owen, who was by her side. Raising her hand, she rapped on the door.
Her stomach was churning with nerves.
"Let's make sure we get what we need from him," she instructed Owen breathlessly. "We have to get the truth out of him."
She heard footsteps approach and swallowed hard.
A moment later, a blonde woman who looked to be in her forties opened the door.
This must be Kyle's mother, May realized.
"Mrs. Peterson?"
"Yes," the woman replied warily.
"Deputy Sheriff May Moore and Owen Lovell. We're here to ask your son, Kyle, a few questions."
Mrs. Peterson looked even more confused.
"What's he done?"
"We need to speak to him urgently," May said firmly. "Could we come in?"
"Sure - of course." As if remembering her manners, she stepped back.
As May and Owen stepped into the small entrance hall, she asked again.
"I'm sorry. I know I'm being rude, but I'm confused. Why are you here? Has Kyle done something?" Now May could clearly hear anxiety in her voice.
"We just want to talk to him briefly," May reassured her, not wanting to panic her or her son until she had a better handle on the situation.
"Okay," Mrs. Peterson nodded. Then, in the direction of the kitchen, she called, "Kyle, the police are here to see you."
This was it. The moment she'd been preparing for ever since she'd heard about this older boyfriend. May's mouth felt dry as she waited for Kyle to appear.
But he didn't.
Instead, she heard the sound of a door being wrenched open and the fast thud of retreating footsteps.
"Kyle?" Mrs. Peterson called in alarm.
"He's a runner!" Owen cried.
There was no time to lose. With the police on his doorstep, Kyle Peterson had chosen to flee, clearly indicating his guilt.
May gasped as, with a gigantic splash, he landed headfirst in the lake.
Her hands were shaking as she secured the tightest knot she could. Meanwhile, Owen had scrambled safely inside the boat. He killed the engine, before giving the spluttering Kyle a hand up.
Then, they both climbed back onto the pier.
Kyle looked wet and cold and terrified. May was also concerned about her partner. Owen had been in that icy water for far too long and was shivering alongside his suspect.
"Why did you run from us?" she said sternly.