Chapter 11
Investigating cases of death was never fun but when the victim was a 16 year old girl from a rich, well-respected family, it got about ten times worse. Maria felt like her every step was being watched and each breath she took judged, the media was having a field day, throwing around rumours and speculations, and the her new partner, Helmut Zemo, was being an incompetent ass.
“I bet it was Barnes,” he said after the last interview.
“Yeah? And why is that?” Maria challenged without looking at him. They had just arrived in the small kitchen and she was dying for some coffee and maybe a chocolate bar or –
“He fits the profile.”
“We don’t have a profile,” Maria reminded the man and turned around. She didn’t like him. Zemo reminded her of a rat, small and dirty, and on second thought, rats were rather cute and really didn’t deserve to be associated with something like this.
“I still wouldn’t put it past him.”
Oh that’s it…
“Well, lucky for us then, that no investigation is based on what you would or wouldn’t put past a person, isn’t it, Zemo?” she snapped and dropped her files on the table. Something was missing…Something…or someone…
“What was he doing at the party anyway? I can’t imagine he was invited,” Zemo interrupted her train of thought.
“Steve texted him, asked to be picked up,” Maria answered without taking her eyes off the files, “Sharon died between midnight and 1 a.m., Peggy said she was home by half twelve, her grandmother confirmed that story. Peggy, Barnes, and Steve sat outside the house for at least half an hours, none of them would have had the opportunity to drown Sharon the pool. The twins left around eleven, and we have security footage of them both in a McDonalds at half eleven, their parents confirmed that they were home by midnight. Tony Stark had a Skype call from his girlfriend at eleven which went on until well past 2, and Natasha Fury and Clint Coulson comforted Sam Wilson after the fight with Sharon until they all fell asleep.”
Zemo was quiet for a moment and Maria was almost getting her hopes up that maybe, just maybe, he’d let her think about all this proper –
“I still think it was Barnes. Or maybe Rogers. He seems the type.”
- ly
“I find it awfully fascinating how set you are on Barnes to be the culprit,” Maria gritted out, “I wonder why that is?”
“It fits, doesn’t it? Angry young man, with no money and no future. Boyfriend dumps him for someone better. He’s got a criminal record too!”
“He stole strawberries and chocolate sauce when he was fifteen and got caught.”
“My point still stands.”
Maria took a deep breath, collecting herself before calmly saying, “Zemo? I will have you removed from this case because of compromising prejudice and general assholery, if you want to file a complaint with the Captain, please feel free to do so, until then, get out of my way so I can solve this case.” Zemo looked utterly floored and lost for words. Not that Maria cared particularly much, there was a line and he had crossed it several unprofessional remarks ago. “Have a nice evening, partner.” She stood up and walked over to her desk, mind already back on the case.
Though I saw somethin’ for a second. Dark shadow. Didn’t really pay it much attention but…now I hate myself for not checking what it was…
I blame myself, really. She was just watching out for her friends, just as I was just watching out for Pietro. There’s nothing wrong with being protective over the ones you love.
I found her the next morning just lying in the pool. Of course I was shocked. I was there! I could have done something, helped her, saved her…someone came into my house and killed my friend.
She was upset. Kept talking about all these secrets we supposedly had but there was more to it, I could tell. If I had just left her finish…if I had just asked her what was bothering her…maybe she’d still be alive.
I kinda wish we’d have just told her what was going on. I mean…it was none of her business but…Natasha told me what she said at the party. She was just trying to help.
I regret not telling her the whole story. I regret not seeing that something was wrong. I’ve known Sharon almost all my life and she was smart. She was a good person. But she was also stubborn and I should have helped her.
That night she seemed a bit crazy, you know? Crazy and drunk. And then she asked Steve that question and I just thought, ‘well…didn’t see that coming’. Now I think I should have made more of an effort to get to know her.
I’m not even angry at Sharon that she said what she said. She had point. She had a right to be angry with me. I’d brushed her off and then went and slept with her sister. It wasn’t right. I knew it wasn’t right. But I also think that that wasn’t the only reason why she got so drunk that night…or at least I hope that that wasn’t the only reason.
Sharon…Sharon’s always been too smart for her own good. We both have. But the difference between us was I knew when to stop digging and she…didn’t. She’d keep going. We weren’t on speaking terms before the party but I knew something was wrong. That she found out something. Now I wish I had asked her.
“Mister Pierce, excuse me for the early disturbance.”
Alexander Pierce considered her for a few seconds before smiling politely, “No worried, detective. How can I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to your son.”
“Whatever about?”
Choosing her words carefully, Maria returned his smile, “A young woman died, Mister Pierce, I have to speak to everyone who might have information and Brock spent a great deal of time with her. He might know something that could help us solve this case.”
“Very well.” Pierce stepped aside, allowing Maria to enter the house, “Brock! Get down here, now!”
As she waited, Maria took in the house. It was big and pompous, with old portraits on the walls and thick curtains covering the windows.
“What is it, father?” Brock appeared at the bottom of the stairs, still wearing his pyjamas.
“Detective Hill here wants to speak to you about Sharon,” Pierce informed his son, “And I have to get to work. I trust you can show yourself out when you’re done here.” He was gone before Maria could even consider a response, left alone with Brock Pierce who eyes her sceptically.
“Brock,” she indicated at one of the old leather sofas with hand and sat down.
“Why are you here?” he asked as he took the other sofa.
“One of your classmates was killed. Your friend nonetheless. I’m currently speaking to everyone who knew her to find out what happened and I’m hoping you might now something, the others didn’t.” Brock nodded, relaxing slightly. “How close were you and Sharon?”
Brock shrugged, “We grew up together,” he grumbled, “Dad wanted me to marry her.”
“Did you want that?”
“She was pretty enough.”
Maria blinked, fighting with herself not to let her thoughts show.
“So, would you say you were close?” she asked again.
“Of course we were close,” Brock snapped, “I was gonna marry her.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Maria said carefully, “She was dating Sam Wilson, was she not?”
Brock snorted, shaking his head, “Didn’t mean anything. She always same back to me in the end.”
“Brock,” Maria sighed, “I know that you got into a fight with Sam over Sharon. That you threatened him.”
“Not my fault if he can’t keep his hands of my girlfriend. Besides, what’s this got to do with anything? Wilson’s not dead is he?”
“He is not,” Maria agreed, “But Sharon is. Tell me, Brock, where were you at the night of Tony Stark’s party?”
Brock frowned, “Jack’s,” he answered, “We played X-Box and ordered pizza like every Friday.”
Maria nodded, “See, the thing is, I talked to Jack, and he told me that you cancelled last minute.”
“Then he’s lying,” Brock exclaimed almost frantically.
“Is he?” Maria countered, reaching into her pocket to pull out a plastic bag. “Do you recognize this phone, Brock?” The phone in question was fairly new with a glittery sliver case. Maria watched as Brock’s eyes grew wide in realisation. “This is Sharon’s phone. She forgot it in Tony Stark’s kitchen. Do you want to guess what we found on it?” Brock remained silent, his shoulders tense in anticipation. “We found pictures of documents that incriminate your father with embezzlement as well as wilful neglect, or to put in simple terms, your father took money from the company to buy a house in Florida and a new car, money that was supposed to go into the built of the 107th High School, making the company use subpar materials which led to the collapse of the school.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“You’re right, I can’t,” Maria admitted, “But these documents and the responsible department can.” She gave the boy a moment to process her words, letting him come forward by himself. He didn’t. “Did you go to Stark Manor that night, Brock?” She asked eventually.
Brock opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “I just wanted to talk to her,” he said eventually, “Sharon’s got a key for this place but we changed the security code since she was last here. She didn’t know. The alarm went off but she was gone by the time the police got here and nothing was stolen but I knew it was her. She’d been asking questions about dad and the company. I just went there to ask her what she wanted.”
“Tell me what happened, Brock,” Maria demanded gently, leaning forward a bit as to not miss anything he would say.
“I knew she’d be at the party, so I told Jack I wouldn’t come…”
He could hear faint music coming from inside the house, meaning the party had be in full swing, meaning he’d have to wait. There was no doubt that if he walked in there now, he’d be thrown out.
A car pulled up the driveway and Brock recognized Rogers’ boytoy, or maybe it was other way around – his hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he was wearing the usual cheap clothes that Brock wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Sinking further into the shadows, Brock watched as the other guy walked up the stairs that led to the pool past the house, watched as he entered through the glass door, watched as…he came back out? Brock frowned slightly as the guy – Barnes? – came back down the stairs, looking like he‘d seen a ghost, eyes wide and skin pale. But instead of getting into the car, he simply slumped against it, taking a few deep, deliberate breaths before sliding down to the ground and lighting a cigarette.
Brock cursed silently.
This was not going like he thought it would.
“And then, what?” asked Maria.
“I waited.” Brock shrugged. “The twins came out and left. Then Peggy. She sat down with Barnes and they talked. Rogers came and joined them. I overheard what they were saying and apparently Rogers got Peggy pregnant? I don’t know…it was fucking pathetic is what it was. They left eventually.”
“And you?”
“I saw Sharon outside by the pool…”
“Sharon.”
The blonde girl jumped and turned around, nearly losing her balance.
“What are you doing here?”
“I just came to talk.”
“Talk?” she repeated, her eyebrows arched, “Talk about what?”
“I know you broke into my house,” Brock informed her and stepped closer.
Sharon stood her ground, looking him dead in the eyes. “I did no such thing,” she said.
Brock smiled maliciously. “You’ve always been a good liar.”
“Not as good as you.”
“Sharon, what did you see in the house?” Brock asked, choosing to ignore her comment.
“Brock,” Sharon began, “The last time I was in your house was six months ago, remember? When you told me you loved me and called me a fucking waste of space in the same breath?”
“I –”
“No,” Sharon cut him off, “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything from you ever again. I know you think I’ll come crawling back to you, but that’s not going to happen. Consider yourself officially dumped and get over it.”
Brock grimaced. “Oh, you’ll come back,” he muttered, taking another step, “You always do. And you’ll be begging for forgiveness.” It was a sweet image, one he was already looking forward to. “But that’s not why I’m here. I know it was you who broke in and I want to know what you saw.”
There was a moment in which Brock was sure Sharon would continue to deny everything, was already prepared to turn to more drastic methods, when she took a step back and smiled coolly.
“Why don’t you ask your father,” she said.
My father? “Why would I do that?”
“Ask him about the 107th High School,” Sharon continued as if she hadn’t heard him, “Watch him as he tried to explain what happened to the money that was supposed to go into the structure of the building.”
Brock let out a frustrated groan. “What the hell are you talking about, Carter?”
“I know what he did, Brock,” Sharon hissed, “I know who’s responsible for the collapse.”
So?
“You can’t prove that.”
“Can’t I?” Sharon shot back and Brock could feel a cold shudder running down his spine.
“What did you do?”
Sharon let out a snort. “Nothing you could undo,” she said and turned around, undoubtfully to go back inside, and before Brock knew it, he had already grabbed her wrist.
“What. Did you. Do?”
“Let go of me,” Sharon snarled, glaring at the hand around her wrist, and Brock knew – he knew – that the only reason why it wasn’t broken yet, was because Sharon was drunk and probably hadn’t quite realised what was happening just yet.
“Tell me what you did and I will,” Brock promised.
Sharon gave him a dirty look and tugged hard but Brock was stronger, always had been, always would be, and he held on, pulling her back. It was a sudden movement, hard and quick, throwing Sharon off balance who let out a barely audible yelp and stumbled and –
“And what? What happened Brock?”
“I let go,” Brock muttered, “She must have hit her head because there was blood and she was lying in the water and she wasn’t moving.”
“What did you do then?”
“I left.”
“Brock Pierce,” Maria began and slowly stood up from the sofa, “I’m arresting you for the murder of Sharon Carter…”