He remained standing, turning his hat in his hands.
Muscles in her throat tightened. “What’s wrong, Matt?”
“There’s no easy way to say this...there was an accident on Highway 10 tonight. Josh was ...killed. I’m sorry.”
Maddie gasped, and her hand flew to her chest. She rose and placed an arm around Sara’s waist.
Sara’s pulse accelerated as though an invisible hand closed around her heart and squeezed. Blessed numbness forced its way through her body, and her knees became too weak to bear her weight. The room swam and faded. She slid into the chair and lowered her head. This couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be. She’d spoken to him less than two hours ago. “A-Are you certain it was Josh?”
Matt nodded, and deep lines formed around his mouth. “I’m afraid so. We found his wallet. It was his car, and I made the identification. I’m sorry...”
To no one in particular, she said, “I spoke to him earlier this afternoon. He said he would be home...” Waves of guilt rolled over her, as she remembered the unkind thoughts when he’d failed to show for dinner.
Matt watched her, his face immobile. “Did he say what he was doing out in the country?”
“He had taken a deposition from a man about an upcoming trial, some conflict with a land title.” Her voice sounded flat in her ears.
“Did he mention the man’s name?”
Sara thought for a moment, then replied. “No. He would have had no reason to tell me.”
“Did he tell you the route he would take home?”
She inhaled deeply, trying to concentrate on the question, and why it mattered. “No...why would he?”
He didn’t answer, but asked another question. “Were you home all evening?”
“Yes, I got home about six o’clock.”
He studied her face with hard eyes. “What time did you leave the office?”
She placed a cold hand to her brow, confused by his demeanor. “I left early, around three. I did some shopping and stopped for gas.”
“Is your car in the garage?”
“Yes.”
“May we take a look at it? Are there any other vehicles on the premises?”
“No…yes.” Her mind whirled. “I mean, yes, there’s another car here. Pete, our gardener, has a truck. Of course, you can look at them. I don’t understand. You said he was killed in an accident. What’s going on, Matt?”
“It was a hit-and-run accident. He was changing a tire when another car struck him and kept going.”
Sara sat suspended in time. “Dear God,” slipped out in a whisper.
Maddie stood to every inch of her five-foot stature, and the frost in her voice brooked no argument. “Matthew Foley, I believe Sara has had enough of your questions for now. She’s distraught. If you need additional information, I suggest you call at another time when she’s better able to assist you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Matt said, and left soon after. Not before, Pete later told her, Matt inspected both vehicles, and checked her gas tank level.
After Matt left, Sara folded into the chair, buried in a sorrow so deep she thought it would crush her.
****
Footsteps echoed down the hallway and jerked Sara back to the present. Matt stood in front of her. “Looks like you ran afoul of our deranged sprinkler system.”
She tried to smooth her slacks. “After being drenched twice in recent days, I’m beginning to think all sprinklers are deranged.” She was determined to remain poised, despite her disheveled appearance. “Actually, this is the latest fashion trend. It’s called the wet look.”
He laughed and motioned for her to follow him. “I’d say you nailed it.”
When they reached his office, Matt held the door open and allowed Sara to enter first. She stepped inside, uncomfortably aware of her appearance and the squish her shoes made.
Matt pointed her to a chair in front of his desk and stepped into the bathroom. He returned and tossed her a white towel. She caught it and began to wipe the water from her hair.
Self-conscious under his scrutiny, she asked, “Do you have another towel you can spare? That might help absorb some of the water from my clothes.”
He returned to the bathroom and tossed her another one. “We might be able to find you something dry in one of the lockers.”
She shook her head. “This will work until I get home. Before we begin, I need to ask a favor. If you can’t help me, that will be okay, but I thought I’d ask. The worst you can say is no.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth until I’ve heard the request.”
Words tumbled out as she explained about Danny and Poppy. “The kids lived in Arcadia Trailer Park. You know where that is?”
He nodded. “Over on the east side. One of our biggest trouble spots.”
“That’s the one,” Sara said. “The kids’ father is in prison. Their mother, Diane Morgan, has been unemployed most of the time since he went to jail. She’s overwhelmed and struggling to pay the rent—even on the slum-hole trailer they lived in. The children missed church last Sunday. I stopped by today and the park manager told me they’d moved and didn’t leave a forwarding address. I’m concerned about them.”
“Are they related to Grady Morgan?”
“He’s their father. You know him?”
Matt wrote the names on a notepad on his desk. “Yes, unfortunately. Do you think they’re in physical danger? Is the mother into drugs?”
“I have no reason to think anyone would intentionally harm them. I only met the mother twice. She didn’t act like a druggie, just dispirited. The kids loved going to church. I’m frightened they may be hungry and homeless.”
His brow wrinkled and he wore an I’d-rather-not-be-bothered look on his face. “I can’t make it a priority, but I’ll see what I can find out.”
Sara leaned forward. “Thanks. Now, why did you want to see me?”
His chair made a tiny squeak when he leaned back. “We discovered a child’s body at Bay Harbor Thursday, and we’re as certain as we can be, without further testing, that it’s Penny Pryor.”
She nodded. “Lily Pryor called me. Is that what you wanted to see me about?”
He looked up from his notes. “Why did she call you?”
“Penny was my best friend. Lily and Sam have never recovered from Penny’s disappearance, especially Lily. Whoever took Penny destroyed more than that little girl. Lily has never gotten past it. We’ve become very close.” Sara expelled a deep breath. “I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”
“Probably nothing. The Pryors identified the ring and clothing. However, the old case file listed your name. The beat cop interviewed you that night with your parents. I wondered if you could still remember anything that might be helpful. I understand it’s asking a lot after such a long time and you were very young.”
She shivered. “Some things you want to forget but can’t. That’s what a photographic memory does for you. The evening Penny disappeared is etched into my mind. It still haunts me.”
“Tell me what you recall.” He took a tape recorder from the center drawer and placed it on the desktop. “Do you mind?”
She shook her head.
Matt rewound the tape and pushed record, gave the date, their names and asked again if she agreed to the recording.
Leaning back in the chair, her eyes focused on a Western painting that hung on the wall behind Matt’s head. It was a famous canvas of Native American buffalo hunt, but she couldn’t remember the artist’s name.
“We lived across the street from Penny. It was a holiday weekend—Memorial Day. Most of the families in our neighborhood were gone. Penny’s parents planned a camping trip to the lake. It started to get dark, and her dad hadn’t arrived home. Penny and I were playing with her new puppy in their back yard. She’d asked me to keep the puppy while they were away. My mother called me in for dinner, and I told Penny I’d come back after I’d eaten. That’s the last time I saw her.”
“
You never picked up the dog?”
“I came out after dinner, but I didn’t see Penny anywhere. I knocked on her door, and Lily said she was outside playing. I hung around for a minute or two, calling Penny’s name. Then my mother made me come inside. The streets were well lit, but she didn’t want me out after dark. Mom assured me Penny would bring her puppy over before they left. I waited, but Penny never showed up. I figured she decided to take her dog along.”
She glanced down at her hands, the memory still vivid. “Some time later, Lily came over, looking for Penny. When she realized Penny wasn’t with me, everyone became concerned and started a search. Eventually, the police arrived. They found the little dog, but no sign of Penny. I’m sure your records show the rest.”
Matt rubbed his forefinger across his lower lip. “When you went outside after dinner, did you notice anything unusual—out of the ordinary?”
“Not really. As I said, the neighborhood was almost deserted.”
“You said almost. Do you remember which families didn’t go away for the holiday?”
“My family and Penny’s parents were at home, of course. There were probably a few others on the street that didn’t go out of town.” Her fingers tightened on the chair arm, thoughts swirling. “I remember one family packing to leave. I saw a man place a sleeping bag in his truck. I thought at the time it was Penny’s dad, but I later learned Sam didn’t arrive until after the search for Penny began, and her parents didn’t own a van.”
A note of excitement entered Matt’s voice. “Do you recall the color of the sleeping bag?”
She considered the question for a moment. “I can’t be certain, but it reminded me of a shirt my grandfather used to wear when he went hunting. Red plaid, I think.”
Matt leaned forward in his chair. “Can you remember what kind of truck, or the color? It could be very important.”
“It wasn’t a pickup; it was enclosed with a door in the side. I think it’s called a panel truck. It was white with writing on the side.”
“Do you remember what the writing said?”
She massaged her temples with her fingertips, trying to peer into the past. “No, I’m sorry. I was looking for Penny, and it didn’t register. Back then, I was just learning to read.”
“Was this before dinner or after?”
“After,” she said.
“Did you recognize the man? Could it have been Sam Pryor?”
She shrugged. “I can’t be certain. Something about him seemed familiar...but I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“Can you recall which house?”
“The van was parked on the same side of the street Penny lived on, just past Sam and Lily’s driveway. Not in the driveway. Just past it,” she said. “That’s why I thought it was Sam. I’m sorry I can’t be any more specific. I didn’t pay close attention––I didn’t know it would be important.”
He closed the folder on his desk and smiled. “You did well. One more question, and then I’m through. When everyone was looking for Penny, was the truck still there?”
She shook her head again. “No, it had already gone. I didn’t see it when the search began.”
Matt leaned back in his chair with another squeak. “Apparently, you never mentioned the truck or sleeping bag when you spoke to the police. If you did, the cop didn’t make a note of it.”
He still didn’t trust her. Was she being paranoid? His suspicions awakened her insecurities, even guilt when she had nothing to feel guilty about. How dumb was that?
Dredging up old memories exhausted her more than she would have imagined. She handed Matt the towels and shrugged. “Give me a break, Matt. I had just turned six and they didn’t ask me a lot of questions.”
He hiked one shoulder and let it drop. “Did you know Penny’s uncle is Governor Brandt Ferrell?”
Sara nodded. “I met Brandt before Penny vanished. Afterwards, he and Lily’s parents came by almost daily for months. I believe Brandt was just starting law school then. I had a terrible crush on him.”
She rose from the chair, and when she reached the door, she turned. “You still think I murdered Josh, don’t you?”
“As an investigator, I don’t know. Without the car, there’s not enough evidence for me to think anything.” His brow wrinkled and he blew out a heavy breath. “As a private citizen, yes, I believe you used your husband’s considerable resources to arrange for his murder. Not necessarily a hit-and-run. That was probably just a lucky break.”
That stung. She squared her shoulders, and her jaw tightened. “Mary always thought you were so smart. Why do you think I killed him? And if you believe I did it, why haven’t you arrested me?”
His face flushed, and he glared across the space between them. “I must have two things before I can hand a case over to the prosecutor. First is intent. Second, I must place the suspect at the scene of the crime.
“In homicide investigations, there is something we call SMR motives: sex, money and revenge. If the victim was married we want to know if he or she was involved in an extra-marital affair, and if their partner knew about it. Who stood to inherit the victim’s estate?”
He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “Statistically speaking, you are the most likely suspect. Friends or relatives commit most murders. You had motive; he was cheating on you. You inherited everything, including a hefty life insurance policy. Both are motives. I haven’t arrested you because we can’t place you at the scene of the crime. Yet.”
She looked directly into his eyes. “Let me be equally honest with you. Josh cheated on me for the last five years of our marriage. Why would I wait so long? Yes, he left me well off, but he would have been worth more to me alive than dead. His life insurance only equaled ten years of his salary.”
Matt shook his head. “That won’t wash, Sara. If Josh planned to leave you for another woman, you would have lost him and his income.”
“Josh played the field. He didn’t have a mistress. So I’m guessing you never found such a woman.”
He shrugged. “No, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t exist.”
“Did you consider that one of the women in his life might have killed him?”
“Investigating is what I do for a living, Sara. Of course, we checked everyone your husband knew, men and women. They either had an alibi or no motive.”
“I didn’t murder Josh. Perhaps I was no longer in love with him because he’d lost my respect. But I had loved Josh most of my life, and I’d never have harmed him.”
How could she make him understand? “Sometimes, Matt, the statistics are wrong.”
Sara met his accusing gaze and realized she hadn’t changed his opinion in the least.
Deputy Dawg at his most obtuse.
****
Matt stood at the window and watched Sara Bradford drive away. Either she told the truth, or she was an Oscar-caliber actress.
One could never be sure about murderers, though. Ted Bundy had worked a Crisis Hotline while killing dozens of young women in the Northwest.
CHAPTER 11
Twin Falls Police Station
The encounter with Sara still on his mind, Matt returned to his desk. Without knocking, District Attorney Gabriel Morrison strode into the office. He pulled a chair close, placed his feet on the desk corner, and ran both hands over thinning hair, smoothing it down against his perfectly proportioned skull.
“Don’t mind me, Gabe. Make yourself comfortable.”
Dressed in khaki slacks, a green polo shirt, and golf shoes, the DA flashed a grin. “Thanks, I just did. Who’s the wet dish that just left your office? Water boarding one of your new interrogation techniques?”
Matt chuckled. “Sara Bradford, and no, not water boarding. Our sprinkler system attacked her on the way in. The staff has named the control panel Hal. They think it’s trying to take over the station.”
Gabe’s right eyebrow lifted. “Hal?”
“2001 a Space Odyssey.”
The light bulb wh
en on behind Gabe’s eyes. “Oh, yeah. You need to get that thing fixed.”
“We’re working on it.”
“Guess who I received a phone call from an hour ago?”
“My first guess would be Governor Ferrell.”
Gabe’s gray eyebrows raised a fraction. “Good guess. Thanks for leaving me the email yesterday. As you can imagine, the governor has a stake in the Bay Harbor case. What do you know so far?”
“Not a lot. The child vanished long before Ferrell became governor. We’ll have to go back to the beginning and work our way forward.”
“My assistant says CBS and FOX are already camped out in the courthouse lobby. The others will, no doubt, arrive before the day ends.”
The DA removed his feet from the desk, and sat upright. “What are the odds on solving a case this old?”
“Pretty slim. The timeframe certainly makes it more difficult, but we have a few leads.”
“Such as?”
“The body was buried in a custom made sleeping bag. We have Sara Bradford, an eyewitness, who saw someone load a bag like the one from the gravesite, into a truck the evening the girl disappeared. Sara was very young at the time, but the information she gave squares with what we know. The truck was apparently a commercial vehicle. It had lettering on the side. I’ve put Hunter and Davis in charge of the case.”
Gabe’s brow wrinkled. “Hunter and Davis?”
Matt nodded. “Don’t know if you’ve met them. They’re the best I have, maybe the best in the state. However, you need to bear in mind, there’s a possibility the killer or killers may have died or left the area. Twenty-five years is a long time.”
“Or,” the district attorney said, “It was some vagrant passing through. In which case, you’ll never find him.”
“I don’t think it was an outsider. A stranger wouldn’t know about the retreat grounds. Only a local would recognize the location as a great place to hide a body.”
“It could’ve been dumb luck.”
Matt shook his head. “The fact it was a commercial vehicle lessens the odds the killer was an out-of-towner.”
Killer Reads: A Collection of the Best in Inspirational Suspense Page 33
