“I know she is…I’ve seen it…just…thanks,” he nodded to the folder. “I’m a little confused on what you’re looking for, though.”
“You have a few minutes?”
“I’ve got time.” He assured her firmly. He watched her open the pack and slide a piece of paper over to him, his eyes sweeping the time line and words with practiced vigilance.
Catherine watched his face. “I can lay down a line that it’ll be easier for us to talk about this because we aren’t emotionally vested, but I’d be lying at this point.”
“I don’t think either of us is the sort to deal with pleasant just because it’s easier,” he leaned back in his chair. “I started all this.”
“Technically, the maternal grandparents started this phase, Carter. And that’s not said to make you feel less guilty. If not you, they’d have found someone else. Probably not nearly as good as you,” she offered with a crooked grin. She paused when the intercom beeped.
“The Austin’s are here to see you, Carter.”
“Ask them to have a seat, Nora, I’ll be a few minutes.” He watched Catherine gaze around.
“Do you have security cams in the outer office?” She saw the answer in his eyes. “Access through here?”
“I can pull it up,” he turned the large monitor and moved his hands expertly over the keyboard, the well-lit reception area coming into view on four different screens. “What do you want, Catherine?”
“A front photo of each of them,” she said simply, watching him manipulate the cameras and produce clear, detailed photos of the man and woman sitting patiently in the outer office. “Can you print them for me?”
“Can I ask why?” But he sent them to the printer and turned his monitor back into position. “You don’t think they have anything to do with this whole thing?”
“I’m a naturally suspicious sort…it goes with the career choice…” Catherine pushed against the arms of the chair and growled as she tried pacing. “God, if I survive this recuperation, it’ll be a miracle.”
“Pacing’s a little tough with a cane,” he commiserated.
“I pace when I think out loud…drives my partner nuts…” She flexed her knee and paced slowly.
“You said ‘this phase,’” he repeated her words carefully.
“I think another phase was the attempt to eliminate them when they were fourteen,” Catherine had to give him credit. He only paled a little at the thought.
“I don’t get what would have been the point. They were kids. They didn’t have money or anything anyone would have wanted from them,” he said, his head shaking in disbelief.
“Why did they wait seventeen years to try and find the twins, Carter?” She kept her voice low and level.
“I asked that. They claim they’ve tried several different agencies.”
“But according to all the news stories I could find, they were dead. They were listed as Aaron and Anna Ellison. They were known to reside there, based on information from the paternal grandparents. Photos and all pertinent information was given to police when questioned. For all intents and purposes, they were dead. I can’t find anything in the police files where any relative pushed or said it wasn’t true. So what made them occasionally hire someone to follow dead kids?”
“The answers I got were…emotional. Something in their gut. Something…” he dragged two hands over his head. “They didn’t have a good answer and to be honest, I thought I was just going to take their money and walk away. But I told them I would try.”
“The DNA test…if you talk them into it…will confirm it, but they are the missing twins. We both know that. How did you trip onto them when everyone else came up empty?"
"Neighbors…people who worked in the library at the time they lived there. A couple who have lived on the street since it was built,” he told her. “And digging through the school records closest to the house. I went through year books and spoke to the oldest people I could find in the area,” he sighed thickly. “No reflection on you, but the police who did the investigation…”
“Were told to ignore a lot of things by superiors, I’ve already done research on that part. Waste of time and department money,” she supplied flatly. “I don’t think it was a gas leak. In one house. At the same time a couple strangers came to visit the house…but…we have information the authorities weren’t privileged to have at that time.”
“You’re talking about a…a mystery that’s almost twenty years old, Catherine,” he shook his head in amazement.
“I know…cold cases are my specialty,” she lifted the cane and slid the photos he gave her into the folder before sliding it all into her pack. “I’ll be in touch. I’ve tried to…I don’t know how to keep them safe, Carter,” frustration showed on her face. “I mean I was on the break-way when the idiots came at Aaron in broad daylight! They were sent after him and I can’t figure out why…yet. I pulled their file and known associates and I’m off to pick up my partner and do a little chatting with people. “
“Anna is working at the house…the landscaping project. I got her to keep someone with her at all times…” He stood up and walked slowly towards her. “I don’t know if I’m helping her, or possibly hurting someone else, Catherine.”
“I know,” she hugged him and inhaled deeply. “I’ll be in touch. Don’t say my name around them, please. Not until I get some answers,” she saw a darkness enter his eyes, his head nodding slowly.
“Be careful,” he said, opening the door and gesturing to the couple waiting for him. His gaze was a great deal more guarded when he closed the door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Catherine dropped her pack to the passenger seat and tapped in her partner’s number. “I’m on my way to pick you up, Bobby.”
“I’ll be in the lot waiting. I’m driving,” he said firmly.
“I got my car.”
“I hate working in that thing, especially where we gotta go. Makes me feel like a pimp,” he taunted, ignoring her laughter.
“Fine. Be there in ten,” she said with a shake of her head. She stepped from the car eleven minutes later, accepting the palm he held out to her with his weight braced. She locked and alarmed the car before sinking into the passenger side of the quiet looking sedan. She gave him the address and read through the file Carter had given her.
“Cold drug case…”
“Not just cold, Bobby…frigid…almost thirty years,” she closed the file and put her head back.
“If you hurt yourself more…”
“What’ll they do, fire me?” Catherine laughed. “You know I can’t handle sitting still. Besides, I’m buying lunch…”
They sat in the sedan outside the nice, suburban house. Manicured lawn, pretty trees and simple yellow and white paint job. “Your investigator got good transcripts.”
“I know…but I want to talk to them myself,” Catherine stepped into the bright sunshine, the cane in her hand and pack on her shoulder. “Impressions…” She said as they walked up the path to the house.
“And we’re going back to the witness why?”
“Because we…being diligent and alert investigators…are in possession of information not known to the previous man asking the questions,” Catherine offering a bright a cheeky grin as she tapped on the front door with the hook of her cane, her free hand reaching into her pocket for her shield.
A woman in her mid-fifties opened the inner door, short, fluffy light brown hair around an oval face and falling on a pair of black glasses. Pale lashes blinked over a pair of alert, curious eyes.
“Can I help you?” She looked from one to the other, but didn’t open the screen door.
“Good morning, Mrs. Davis,” Catherine opened the leather cover and held her badge up. “Catherine Jenkins and this is my partner, Bobby Morris. Would you have a few minutes to talk to us?”
“Of course. Is there a problem?” She opened the screen and looked up and down the quiet street before turning back to them. “I hav
en’t heard anything on the news and I’ve got the radio on all day. Come inside, please.”
“Thank you,” Catherine moved carefully over the step, grinding her teeth and entering the very well lit room. This was a woman who enjoyed her home and wanted others to enjoy it, too. Catherine looked up at the double skylight in the vaulted ceiling, her gaze drifting vaguely to the photos scattered round the large, open room. “I know you’ve spoken with an associate of ours, Carter Shipley? Is your husband home?”
“He’s off on his morning walk with Roscoe, he’s our dog. It’s kind of a routine for them now that Bart retired,” the woman nodded and smiled, gesturing to the chairs. “Have a seat, please. You’re hurt.”
“I’m recovering, but sitting is good, thanks,” Catherine sat on one of the cushioned chairs with arms, her folder on her lap and pen in hand. “Does Bart always take neighborhood walks?”
“Always. Even in bad weather and I’m not so sure it’s for Roscoe as much as for Bart,” she said with a little chuckle. “Bart likes to keep an eye on our neighborhood. Always has…he’s a little nosy sometimes.”
“It’s not really a bad habit to have, ma’am, not in these times,” Bobby Morris told her with a matching grin.
Her head shook ruefully. “It’s sad but I know you’re right. This is about those little children, isn’t it? From so long ago…”
“It is. We’re working a cold case about them. His notes said you saw them often outside.”
“Almost as bad as Bart, no matter the weather,” she nodded, staring at Catherine but mentally off in her memory. “I’d take Jimmy…our son…for a walk in the carriage. We’d just moved here that January. Bart started working for the ship yards and made a very nice income so we thought this was a perfect neighborhood. I’d always go out strolling with him. I suppose I saw them about March for the first time, clearly, that is.”
“Clearly?”
“Oh, well, the house is right across the street. I saw their little heads peeking out the room on the side all the time,” she said, walking to the large bay window and gesturing. “You can see the large room off to the side there. I always thought it was a formal dining area or something.”
“It’s a library,” Catherine answered absently. “Did you know the people who lived there?”
“Never met them, not formally,” she said, standing near the window and staring. “Always lots of people coming and going. A limo now and then…I thought that was odd, but…” she shrugged. “I tried talking to them once…not very friendly at all. Nothing like the children.”
“You spoke to them?” Bobby asked casually, seeing the spark of interest in Catherine’s eyes.
“All the time. Very sweet, amazingly polite and friendly. Trusting. Always together, always holding hands when they walked outside,” she recalled with a smile. “It thought they were adorable.”
“You said lots of coming and going…” Catherine opened the folder and pulled out two pages with the drawings Anna had made. “Did you ever see any of these people? I know it was a very long time ago…” She showed her the six drawings, let her take them to the window. She felt her stomach do a lurch when the woman’s face lit up.
“These are drawings,” she announced as if it were news to her guests.
“They are…” Catherine said slowly, watching Meredith Davis cross the room to the opposite wall and point.
“That adorable little girl made them, didn’t she? She is amazingly talented!” She gestured to a full page drawing she had framed on the wall. The drawing was done in pencil of a much younger Meredith Davis and a baby that probably wasn’t six months old.
Catherine looked at Bobby with a little nod. He crossed the room. “Can we take this down, Mrs. Davis?”
“Oh, of course. We went to the library one very nice late spring day,” she recalled fondly. “The little girl was sitting on the ground outside the library. This big drawing pad on her lap and her brother sitting a few feet away, his nose buried in a book. He was reading Moby Dick…at his age, can you imagine? They couldn’t have been over five…and he was reading!”
“They were four at the time,” Catherine said quietly. “Is that when she drew this for you?”
“Oh, yes…yes…she was drawing roses! The most beautiful, intricate drawings…I swear, I would have guessed they were adults hidden in little, thin bodies,” she shook her head. “I’d seen them often and spoke to them before, usually inside the library or on the streets. Sometimes they would walk with me around the neighborhood. The little boy always asked if it was alright. Very sweet and polite. But this time was the first time I’d seen her drawing. Usually they were stretched out on the floor of the library buried in books and talking with their heads close together. I told her how very beautiful her art was and you’d think I’d offered her the moon! She just lit up with the most adorable smile and thanked me. Then she asked me if I’d like her to make a drawing for her! Well, of course, I said yes immediately and sat on that bench outside the library. She said it wouldn’t take her long…and it didn’t…fifteen minutes later, she kind of tilted her little face…she had this long, long dark hair around her face…and she held it up for me with that smile of hers and pulled it off very carefully and handed it to me. Just like you see it there. I…I was just floored! It’s gorgeous. I laid it on the top of the carriage so it didn’t get wrinkled and took it right home to be framed.”
“You said you’d spoken to them…but never the parents?”
“I tried. Once, outside the house. I guessed that they were the parents because they were the only couple there all the time,” Meredith went to sit across from Catherine, a mother’s concern on her features. “To be honest, I don’t know how the two children I spoke with became so refined and…and dignified,” she said, nodding at her choice of the word. “Yes, they had a kind of dignity that the parents were definitely lacking. I complimented them on their home when walking past once…you’d think I’d said I was going to sic Roscoe on them or something. Grumbled and went inside, slamming the door behind them.”
“The people in the drawings…did you see any of them? I know it’s a long time back but if you’d just see…”
“This one, definitely. He was there a great deal. Drove this…car with fins…and it bounced sometimes when he’d pull up in the driveway,” she nodded, pointing to the drawing of Rod Spencer. “He argued a lot with the man,” Meredith made an ‘OH’ sound and was up and going to a hall behind where her computer sat near the dining room. “After that last man was here…and because Jimmy has been nagging me to…I dug around in the storage area in the garage and found the photos.”
“You have pictures?” Catherine felt her heart begin to thump, nodding to Bobby.
“Let me help you with that, Mrs. Davis,” Bobby loped forward, lifting the box she was dragging along the carpeting and pulling it into the room for her. “Did you want it next to the computer?”
“Oh, yes, then I can scan things like Jimmy wants later after dinner,” she lifted the lid and ran her fingers over the packets of photos that you got from the developer. “I have them labeled with dates…here…these eight…from when we moved in until…they disappeared in July. The children. I watched. Poor dears…coming back from the library, holding hands…and suddenly…adults are all over them,” she felt the return of the anger she felt inside. “Scooping them up and…and shoving them into a limo and just…just going off. I never saw them again.”
“Do you ever go to Alice’s Garden? The nursery?” Catherine decided she had information to share as well as receive.
“I do. I love their plants and there’s a wonderful little place off to the side where you can enjoy the waterfall.”
“The little girl grew up, her name is Anna Carson and she owns the nursery,” Catherine completely understood the flood of moisture into the woman’s eyes, her palm up and covering her lips even as she nodded at Catherine.
“Thank you…thank you so much…I often wondered…they were twi
ns, weren’t they?”
“They still are…her brother is a financial consultant for retirement planning,” she added with a proud smile.
“I remember one time when I first began seeing them in the library…it’d been raining outside…they were in the children’s section of the library, lots of little chairs and pillows but they’d lay out on the floor. Always well dressed…very nice clothing but no one seemed to care much about her hair. She was laying on her belly, feet swinging behind her and one hand turning pages while the other one was always pushing this long damp hair off her face. I had a comb and band in my purse and convinced her to let me fix it for her. I think it was the first time she’d ever had anyone comb out her hair for her…she sat so perfectly still…” Meredith Davis laughed brightly. “Next time I saw them, she had a book out and she was reading instructions to her brother and he was trying to braid her hair for her. But his fingers were too small…” she looked over at Catherine. “Some things you just never forget, you know?”
“Can I see the photos?”
“Oh, of course…” She lifted the packets out and handed them to her. “I’m a little puzzled, though. The man who came to speak with me before said he was trying to find them. But you know where and who they are…”
“Do you know why they were taken off? What caused it?” Catherine handed half the packets to Bobby, her eyes taking in the pictures as she flipped through them.
“There were rumors. You can’t very well miss bold yellow jackets with FBI and DEA across the backs,” the older woman said, her head shaking. “And those children lived there? In that?”
“The room to the side…the library…that was their room. They made it into their own place. We’re still piecing a lot of things together, but the house was supplied by their paternal grandparents, providing the children were well cared for, fed, clothed…”
Meredith snorted loudly. “Idiots never bothered to see if they were loved.”
WindSwept Narrows: #16 Anna Carson & Catherine Jenkins Page 18
