In the wing chair angled toward them, Julius’s father wavered between a stunned look of utter disbelief and helpless sorrow.
Mr. Northcott rubbed both hands down his face, leaving red marks on his skin. “You’re sure it’s Julius?” The question sounded robotic. His voice didn’t hold any real hope.
“As I said before, the medical examiner hasn’t issued an official ID yet, but you can help.” Bree tapped on her phone. Matt could see the photo on the screen, a close-up of the crescent-shaped birthmark on the victim’s neck. The image was carefully cropped to not reveal the condition of the body. “Does Julius have any distinguishing birthmarks or tattoos?”
“He has a strawberry mark on the back of his neck. Looks like a quarter moon.”
She turned the screen toward Mr. Northcott. “Is this it?”
Mr. Northcott glanced at the screen. His face crumpled, and he buried it in his hands. His shoulders shook. Silent pain radiated from him like fog from dry ice.
Bree glanced at Matt. Her eyes reflected Mr. Northcott’s suffering. More than anyone, she would empathize. Matt had no doubt she was reliving her sister’s death. He pressed his shoulder to hers. By mutual agreement, they’d agreed that public displays of affection were not acceptable while they were on duty. But he hoped the small amount of physical contact brought her some comfort. Her eyes softened with gratitude before she turned back to Mr. Northcott. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”
The man’s shoulders gave a quick shudder. “How did he die?”
“The medical examiner hasn’t issued a cause of death,” Bree said.
Mr. Northcott paused, as if he wanted to insist, then changed his mind.
Matt knew Bree didn’t want to tell the father the horrors that had been inflicted upon his son. Julius’s last moments had been terrifying and cruel. He’d been tortured. His father didn’t need details he’d relive every time he closed his eyes. No doubt he’d learn some of those details in the coming weeks. But there was only so much misery a person could absorb in one moment.
Mr. Northcott sat up, wiping his face with his sleeve. “You’ll find the person who did this?”
“We will do everything we can.” Bree’s voice hardened.
Mr. Northcott read her face and nodded. “I believe you will.”
Bree leaned forward. Connecting with victim’s families took a huge toll on an investigator. But Bree would never shy away from the most difficult of tasks. She was all in, no matter what the personal cost. “But we could use your help.”
“Anything.” Mr. Northcott’s chin jutted forward, terrified but determined.
Matt said, “Some of our questions might be difficult for you to answer, but we need to know as much about your son as possible in order to find the person responsible. Don’t hold back.”
Mr. Northcott nodded once, hard, his face set.
Matt began. “What did Julius do for a living?”
“He sold cars and trucks.” Mr. Northcott’s eye took on a faraway look. “He loved pickup trucks. The bigger, the better. He’s one of the top salesmen in the dealership. That’s why he scored that monster demo to drive.” Fresh tears welled in his eyes. “He was so excited to get that truck.”
“Did Julius have plans last night?” Bree asked.
Mr. Northcott lifted a helpless shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Did Julius have friends?”
“He has some guys from work he hung around with once in a while to watch a hockey game or grab a beer, but I wouldn’t call them best friends.” Mr. Northcott waggled a hand. “Julius preferred to spend his time with women. He used to say he didn’t have time for a sausage fest.” He closed his mouth quickly. His gaze darted to Bree. “I’m sorry if that was inappropriate, ma’am.”
“I need to hear the truth, Mr. Northcott,” Bree assured him. “Trust me. I’ve heard much worse.”
“I guess you have.” Mr. Northcott scratched his stubbled jaw.
“We’ll be talking to his coworkers,” Matt said. “What about hobbies?”
Mr. Northcott shrugged. “He went to the gym, stayed fit. We watched hockey together. That’s about it.”
Bree frowned. “What about a girlfriend?”
Mr. Northcott sighed. “He had lots of them. My Julius is—was—quite the ladies’ man.” A hint of sad pride edged his voice.
“But no one special?” Matt pressed.
“He was still playing the field.” Mr. Northcott shook his head. “He wasn’t ready to settle down. He was having too much fun.”
“Did he mention any specific women recently?” Bree asked.
“Not really.” Mr. Northcott pursed his lips, as if solving a difficult math problem. “He talked about his dates, but he didn’t mention names very often. There were too many to keep track of anyway.”
“Did any of the women have things in common?” Bree asked.
“Julius only dates—dated”—his voice hitched—“beautiful women.” More of that masculine pride edged Mr. Northcott’s voice.
“Did you meet any of them?” Matt asked.
“No.” Mr. Northcott shook his head. “He showed me pictures on his phone. He used dating apps.”
And there’s the link, thought Matt. “Do you know which apps?”
“No.” Mr. Northcott snorted. “Julius tried to get me to use them, but they’re not for me. I’m just learning to use the camera and get directions on my phone. I’m not tech savvy like Julius. He used to come over here and fix my Wi-Fi once a week.” His gaze drifted to the tightly closed blinds, his expression confused. “I keep forgetting he’s gone. How can I forget?” His eyes went lost.
Bree cleared her throat. “Did anything unusual happen recently?”
Mr. Northcott lifted one palm. “I can’t think of anything. Like I said, he didn’t want to settle down. He didn’t like to stay with any one woman long enough for her to develop expectations.”
“Expectations?” Bree cocked her head.
“Some women think if they go out with a man a few times, he owes them something.” Mr. Northcott jerked his eyes away from Bree, then back again. “Not all women, but some. A man has to be careful.”
Matt thought that was bullshit, but he didn’t say it. Fred Northcott was on the brink of shattering like an ice sculpture. Matt wouldn’t be the hammer. Deep down, he knew that Northcott’s grief would break him.
“Do you know the passcode for Julius’s phone?” Matt mentally crossed his fingers. They could save a day or two if they could directly access Julius’s apps and other phone data.
“Yeah.” Mr. Northcott sniffed and ran a hand beneath his nose. “He used my birthday.” He recited six digits.
Bree pulled out her notepad and wrote them down. “That’s going to be a big help.”
Mr. Northcott rapped a fist on his knee but didn’t respond. Matt could hear the sorrow rattling in the man’s chest.
“When did you last see Julius?” Matt asked.