by Debra Webb
The tiny fragments of evidence were slowly coming together.
“Thanks for agreeing to have lunch with me,” she said when he continued to stare at the menu. It wasn’t that extensive or that interesting. His continued perusal was about avoiding eye contact and conversation.
Understandable, in view of the fact that he’d been considered and then ruled out as a homicide suspect. The news was enough to unsettle even the strongest guy. Watching this sort of thing on television or in a movie was vastly different from experiencing it in real life.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that in the chief’s office.”
He looked at her then. “I’ve only had one speeding ticket in my life. Nothing else. I’ve damned sure never been suspected of murder.” His head moved side to side as his gaze dropped back to the menu.
She sighed, set her menu aside. She ate here all the time; it wasn’t like she didn’t know what she preferred to order—even if she wasn’t hungry.
“The burritos are the best in town,” she said, deciding to press on. “I rarely eat tacos but the ones here are really good.”
He placed his menu atop hers. “Sounds like the best way to go.”
Spotting their shift away from the menus, the waitress appeared. “Ready to order?”
Liam waited for Halle to go first. She imagined he wasn’t hungry, either. But eating would pass the time, would occupy their hands and mouths. “Veggie burrito,” Halle announced. “No extra sauce, please. Water to drink.”
He requested the same except he wanted the extra sauce. The waitress picked up their menus and hurried away to turn in their order.
“It wasn’t personal,” she offered, though she felt confident her reasoning was skewed. “Like Detective Lincoln said, it was just a routine ruling out of possibilities. Standard procedure. Ms. Brewster had a key to her house. My mother does, as well. I’m sure they both had to be ruled out, too.”
Okay, he seriously doubted the cleaning lady or Halle’s mother were ever considered suspects, but he accepted her attempt to make him feel better.
He made a scoffing sound. “Don’t even go there. We both know this was different.”
Fair enough. “I suppose you’re right.”
The waitress arrived with glasses of ice water. Liam thanked her.
As soon as she was gone, he said, “What was that? I don’t think I heard you.”
Halle rolled her eyes. “You’re right.”
He executed a nod of acknowledgement. “I feel better now.”
She couldn’t help herself; she laughed.
“What now, besides lunch, I mean?” he inquired.
“I’m hoping that by the time we’re done with lunch, we can go inside the Clark home and have a look at personal papers and photos.” She hadn’t told him about the photos she’d found of him after he was abducted. This was something he needed to see with his own eyes. She sensed he needed to absorb these truths slowly, through his own observations.
Or maybe she just didn’t want to be the one to tell him.
Coward.
“I heard you discussing the possibility with the police chief, but I wasn’t sure his agreement included me.”
“I assumed it did,” she fudged. If he was Andy Clark, he should have access to what was rightfully his. “If you don’t mind, we’ll go with my assessment.”
“You’re the boss.” He shrugged. “For now.”
Halle laughed. “You always let me be the boss.”
The words were hardly out of her mouth when she realized her mistake. “I’m sorry. It was just a random voiced thought.”
He held her gaze but he didn’t bother to argue or to refute her words.
“Andy always went with whatever I wanted to do,” she explained, then she smiled. “Not because I was always right or had the best ideas. I think he just wanted to indulge me. Even as a child he was a consummate gentleman. Mom used to laugh and say a good husband always did what his wife asked him to do.” Halle made a face. “She never let me forget I sneaked her wedding dress out of that trunk.”
A smile cracked Liam’s serious expression. “I guess you recognized what you wanted even then.”
“We were kids. I had a vivid imagination with little or no impulse control. What can I say?”
To Halle’s relief the food arrived and keeping the conversation going was no longer necessary.
* * *
REPORTERS WERE HELD back at the end of the block. For now, no one except residents was allowed on the stretch of South High where Halle lived and Mrs. Clark had died. She wasn’t sure how long this would go on, but Chief Brannigan had said she could go into the house and look around now. Looking was the extent of her access. She wasn’t to remove anything from the house. Detective Lincoln would be on hand to bag anything found that appeared connected in any way to Mrs. Clark’s murder.
The chief had passed along that Mrs. Clark’s body would be ready for pickup from the coroner’s office sometime next week. Halle’s mother had already called DuPont Funeral Home to take care of the final arrangements. DuPont’s had taken care of Mr. Clark. Of course his wife would want the same. As it turned out, Mrs. Clark already had prearrangements with DuPont’s. Judith was grateful not to have to make all the selections.
Halle had given Liam one of her father’s ball caps that she kept in her car to wear, in an effort to avoid the prying eyes and cameras of the reporters. She parked in Mrs. Clark’s drive. Halle’s mother was already there with Detective Lincoln.
When Halle shut off her car she turned to Liam. “You ready?”
“Sure.” He reached for the door.
“Just remember,” Halle offered, “sometimes we don’t understand what makes the people we care about do the things they do.”
He held her gaze, his filled with a resignation that made her regret what he would see inside. But there was no undoing what had been done. She only wished Mrs. Clark were still here to explain.
“If you’re trying to tell me something, it’s not really coming through.”
When she didn’t explain further, he got out of the car. She did the same. He waited for her at the porch, always the gentleman.
By the time she reached the porch the door opened and her mother stood there, her face pale, her eyes bright with emotion. Halle went to her and hugged her. The Clarks had lived next door for as long as she could remember. It was like losing a part of the family. It was difficult enough when Mr. Clark passed, but now there was no one left. That era of their lives was over.
Except, she decided as she pulled away from her mother, for the man behind her. And he didn’t want to be here. This was not his life. At least not one that he remembered.
For the first time in twenty-five years, Halle fully comprehended that Andy was lost forever. All this time she had told herself that he was somewhere living a good life. All grown up and probably married.
But she had been wrong. Even if she could prove that Liam was Andy, Andy was still gone. The boy she had known, the best friend she’d had, was gone forever. A new sadness settled inside her.
“Let’s get started,” Judith offered. She smiled at Liam. “It’s nice to see you again, despite the circumstances.”
He managed a smile and a single nod.
Inside, Detective Lincoln waited. He passed around gloves. “We’ve already finished the evidence gathering but it’s best if we wear gloves anyway.”
Latex snapped into place on hands, the sound somber in the quiet house.
“Ms. Brewster confirmed that nothing was missing,” Lincoln explained. “She’s been cleaning house for Mrs. Clark for twenty years. If anything was taken, it was something hidden that she had never seen before.”
Judith nodded. “I walked through the house and I didn’t see anything so much as out of place.”
“Except those
boxes,” Halle pointed out.
“Right,” Judith agreed. “Even those were permanent fixtures in Nancy’s closet. I helped her get one down once when she wanted a box of photos from hers and Andrew’s early life. That one is still in the closet.”
They progressed to the hall, like a funeral party moving toward the cemetery. Halle paused at Mrs. Clark’s bedroom door. “Maybe we should start in Andy’s room. Have a look around before we dig into those boxes.”
Judith looked surprised at the idea.
Lincoln nodded. “Wherever you believe is the best place to start.”
Halle walked to the end of the hall. She wanted Liam in this room before he had a look at those pictures. She doubted he would actually be in a reasonable emotional state once he saw those photographs.
Andy’s room was just as it had been the day he went missing. Superhero posters on the wall. Framed photographs of him and his family, him and Halle, stood on the dresser, another on his desk. That photo included Sparky. The reading book he’d forgotten to take to school that day was on his desk. Halle had been so jealous of Andy’s desk. She had wanted one just like his. She smiled. She’d always wanted to be just like Andy. She’d loved him dearly—as dearly as any seven-year-old could.
Liam touched the school banner thumbtacked to the wall. He wandered around the room, almost restless. Halle found herself watching him rather than inventorying the items in the room. He walked to the closet. Had a look inside at the toys piled into the corner. The sneakers on the floor. The clothes hanging on the old-fashioned rod that extended across the long, narrow space. Old houses weren’t known for large closets. He closed the door and moved to the dresser. Opened one drawer, then the next, studied the contents of each without touching anything or commenting.
He stopped at the desk last. This time his fingers slid across the cover of the book, along the blotter pad covered in doodles. He picked up the one framed photo standing there. A picture of Halle and Andy the Christmas before he disappeared. They were grinning, crocheted caps on their heads, Sparky photobombing. They had been so happy. They’d both gotten bicycles for Christmas. All sorts of adventures had been planned for spring and summer.
Liam abruptly turned around as if he’d realized everyone was staring at him, and it was true. Judith looked away. His gaze met Halle’s and she didn’t hold back the “I told you so” from her eyes.
“Everything in here appears to be in order,” Halle announced.
Her movements a little unsteady, Judith turned and led the way back into the hall. The dozen steps required to reach Mrs. Clark’s room had Halle’s tension twisting tighter and tighter. She wasn’t sure how to prepare for this. Part of her wanted to warn Liam, but the other part—the reporter’s instincts—wanted to see his initial, unbiased reaction.
The bloody bed linens were gone. Likely taken as evidence. The mattress was covered with a clean spread and the blood on the floor had vanished, likely Ms. Brewster’s doing. She walked to the first box, the one with all the stuffed animals. “We should probably go through each box. Just to make sure there’s nothing hidden under things like all these stuffed animals.”
She dropped to her knees next to the box. Judith did the same.
Liam joined them, his expression showing how grudgingly he did so. “Why don’t we just cut them all open to make sure nothing’s hidden inside?”
Halle stared at him. “Is that what you want to do?”
“Are you still playing shrink?” he demanded, his tone bordering on angry. “That’s why you insisted on going through the kid’s room first, right? You hoped to evoke some life-altering or revealing reaction?”
Judith looked from Liam to Halle. “Why don’t we get started?”
“Good idea,” Halle mumbled. She didn’t want to argue with him. The way he said the words made her feel mean and selfish. She didn’t want to be either of those things. She wanted to do this the right way.
One by one they removed the stuffed animals and toys until they reached the bottom of the box. There were no hidden messages or unexpected items. Just Andy’s toys.
Liam hardly looked at any of the items he touched. Rather, he just moved them from the box to the floor.
“I guess we can put them back,” Halle suggested.
“You think?”
Her gaze connected with his, noted the anger simmering there. She had evoked a reaction from him, all right. Hard as she imagined he tried, his raw emotions wouldn’t be contained. She suspected he realized as much, which was why he was angry and immediately looked away after snapping the remark.
Rather than respond, she and her mother began putting the toys and stuffed animals back. Liam hung his head and joined the effort.
The next box was mostly clothes. Again, the process was tedious. Remove, unfold, refold. Then the clothes all went back in. Again they found nothing of interest or that shouldn’t be exactly where it was.
Next was the box with the smaller boxes of photos. They moved slowly through those. Liam paid closer attention now. He studied the boy in the photos. Seemed to analyze the parents shown in each.
“I remember this day,” Judith said as she picked up the next photo. “We’d gone to the beach down in Mobile. What a good time we had.”
Halle smiled as she moved through the other photos from that trip. “Andy and I buried each other in the sand.”
Their attention lingered on the photos for a moment before they placed them back in the box. With that box finished, Halle reached for the one that would change everything. She removed the lid and picked up a photo. Liam did the same. Judith only stared at the ones readily visible on top of the small pile of photos.
“What the hell?” Liam muttered.
Halle looked from a photo to him. “This is you.”
He didn’t respond. She was right.
“Did she have someone watching me?” He shook his head. “This gets crazier by the minute.”
Halle turned to Detective Lincoln. “It appears Mrs. Clark did know Liam. I’m guessing she had someone watching him, sending her pictures.”
“If that’s correct, then it’s possible Mrs. Clark is the one who sent him the article,” Lincoln suggested.
Halle looked to her mom. “I agree. Nancy never said anything to you about thinking the person in these photos was Andy?”
“She never showed them to me. You know after that first year, she refused to talk about him.” Judith shook her head. “This is astounding. I had no idea.” She gestured to the photos. “Someone had to be taking these photos for her. Nancy rarely left home once she gave up on finding Andy. You remember,” she said to Halle, “we’d bring their Christmas gifts to them. Birthday cakes. It was as if this house became their tomb long before either one actually died.”
Her mother was right. “This is something a private investigator would do,” Halle said to the detective.
“It is,” he agreed. “Do you know who she used?”
Halle looked to her mother. Judith shrugged. “I know they went to see more than one but I never knew their names.”
“Maybe it’s time to talk to Mr. Holcomb,” Halle said. “He agreed to see me.”
“I’ll call the chief,” Lincoln said.
* * *
“LUTHER HOLCOMB IS one of those folks who like living off the grid,” Halle explained as she navigated her father’s truck along the narrow road that snaked through the backwoods.
Liam was fairly certain this—he surveyed the thick woods around them—was about as off the grid as you could get and still be in the county.
“The chief says he lives off the land and almost never comes into town.”
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t have an issue with strangers,” Liam said, working overtime at being amenable. He was still rattled by those photographs.
“The chief called him. He’s expecting us.”<
br />
This news did nothing to make Liam feel more comfortable. In fact, he was fairly certain he’d never been more uncomfortable.
How the hell had Nancy Clark gotten those pictures of him? Most were taken at his home in California or somewhere on the vineyard. There was one from his high school graduation and then another from his college graduation. His father and sister had been right there with him in those photos. Penelope hadn’t been in any but that was probably because she’d always been the one doing the taking.
He’d struggled to maintain his composure as they sifted through photo after photo. His emotions had almost gotten the better of him. Being rude or snippy had never been his way and yet he’d been both today in that poor dead woman’s house.
But this was his life they were tinkering with. Causing him to question all that he thought he knew. As much as he had missed his father since his death, he had never wished he were here more than today. He needed him to explain how this was possible. Needed him to make some sort of logic or sense out of all this confusing information.
There was no logic and certainly, no sense to be found.
He was Liam Hart. He was not Andy Clark. Those flashes of familiarity he’d felt in the boy’s room and in that house were nothing more than the power of suggestion.
Halle had him doubting himself. She, her mother and even the chief of police had planted these ridiculous seeds of uncertainty. He needed to go home and hug Claire and Penelope. To anchor himself.
He glanced at the woman behind the wheel. But all he’d wanted to do while they were in that house was hug her. Hold on to her while he rode out this hurricane of emotions.
But he was terrified that she would pull him under. She wanted him to be Andy. There were moments when weakness got the better of him and he wanted to be Andy for her...for the woman who’d collected pictures of him throughout his life...the one who’d possibly sent him that newspaper clipping, maybe in hopes he would come home to her. But he wasn’t that person.
“Here we go.” Halle shoved the gearshift into Park and shut off the ignition.
