“Wait. What?” I could feel my blood rushing to my feet as I slumped onto the sofa.
“The police came to my shop at about three o’clock. Regina’s body was found in a lake, off Guyton Road, very close to where I live. Dumped there, they think. She’d been shot.”
“Oh, God.”
“I told the detectives we would meet them at the station off Valleydale Road at five-thirty.” He checked the digital watch on his wrist. “So we have to get going.”
I went to LaReesa’s room and told her I had an urgent errand to run with Grant, and that I’d be home a little after six-thirty, hopefully. Her gaze was locked on her phone and she grunted and waved a hand at me in response. I had a little concern about leaving her home alone, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.
Grant and I got in his van and went to the Hoover Public Safety Center. Hoover is a large city of 92,000 people that spans two counties, and the police station was in Shelby County, south of us and about twenty minutes away. The large, new Center had a front wall of glass and large concrete columns in the front. We entered the station and talked to the officer at the front desk. Two men, one white and one black, came to the desk and introduced themselves as Detectives Graves and Jefferson. Grant and I were separated. He gave me a nervous glance and squeezed my hand before I was shown to a small room with a table and four chairs.
I was with the white detective, Detective Graves, and another man who didn’t introduce himself and was apparently there just to take notes. Graves, like most cops I knew, had the air of an ex-military man; his posture was ramrod straight and his dark blond hair cut into a crew cut. His blue suit was neatly pressed. He began, “Thank you for meeting with me. Your name, and Mr. Summerville’s, came up in the system when we began investigating this case. He’s your boyfriend, correct?”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“We broke up in January. We’ve been spending a bit of time together recently, because of Regina and all her mess.”
He picked up the file and opened it, and I could see the printed copy of the text that Regina had sent Grant last Saturday. Several other copies of police reports were also there. “I understand Mr. Summerville has been having problems with Regina Maynard for quite some time.”
I answered, “It’s really gotten bad these past two weeks.”
“When was the last time you saw Regina?”
“In person, face to face? Hardly ever. She threw a large rock through Grant’s window last night as we were having dinner. I assume you have the note that was tied to it?”
The detective studied the papers. “I do.”
“She was stealing from Grant, and his clients. She has a history of stealing, even back to her high school days.”
The detective’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
I took a deep breath. “Regina Maynard made a false report of child abuse against Grant Summerville. I work for DHS, in the child welfare department, and we have been investigating her case. Where is Dylan, by the way?”
The detective looked alarmed. “Dylan?” he asked.
“Her son. She has a six-year-old son. My colleague and I have been trying to work out where she lives, but have had no luck.”
“The address on her Alabama driver’s license was an apartment at The Falls and Woods apartments.”
“She doesn’t live there anymore.”
“We know.”
“She doesn’t live with her parents, either. They live up in Hayden and have told DHS that they haven’t seen her in six months.”
“I’m going to have to send someone up there to do the notification. Do you have their address?”
“I can probably get it, if I can make a phone call?”
“Make it quick.”
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Russell’s number. He answered, “What’s up?”
“Hey, I’m with the Hoover police and I can’t talk long. Regina Maynard is dead. Do you know her parent’s address, offhand?”
“What? Dead? She’s dead?”
“Her body was found in the lake off Guyton Road. Address?”
He told me the address in Hayden, which I repeated as he stated it. The detective wrote it down.
“Are you still at work?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Can you go update Mac? Tell him I’ll call him later.”
“Will do. Call me later, too, please.”
“I will. Bye.”
The detective focused on me again. “What makes you sure it was her, last night?”
“We saw her car. A little white Kia Rio.”
“We think she was murdered a little after ten this morning. She was shot in the chest and abdomen. The autopsy will be done Monday, at the coroner’s office.”
I asked, “Do you know where she was murdered?”
He thought for a moment before answering me. “We think it had to have been close to where she was dumped, but we don’t know the exact location. We got a search warrant for Mr. Summerville’s house and that’s being executed as we speak.”
“What? Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“But Grant didn’t kill Regina. He wouldn’t do that.”
“But he does own a gun. One he bought recently.”
©Margaret Fenton