“Didn’t want to say nothin’ with that other feller listenin’.”
“Go on.”
“Maybe I do recognize that girl in the picture.”
This wasn’t what I’d expected. “How’s that?” I snapped.
“She used to meet up with some other girl near the river. They favored each other a bit. Both had long black hair and skinny little bodies . . .” He abruptly clamped his mouth shut, as if realizing he’d incriminated himself.
“How do you know what their bodies looked like?” I asked stiffly. My early sympathy for the man had been misplaced. Once a sex offender, always a sex offender. After all these years, I should know better.
“Well, er, I mean, you can tell they was skinny girls just by seein’ ’em with their clothes on.”
He was way too obsessed with their bodies. With my daughter’s body. “You ever speak with Ainsley Dalfred?”
He shook his head, long tendrils of matted gray hair flapping against his cheeks. “Nah, I just seen them together a few times at night.” He shuffled his feet. “Skinny-dipping.”
Fucking pervert. “Let me get this straight. You’d hide out behind some tree and watch them strip down and go swimming.”
“I weren’t hurtin’ ’em,” he whined.
This Peeping Tom had seen my daughter naked. Many times. My hands tightened to fists. Then an even worse thought struck me. Only years of training kept my face neutral and my voice flat.
“What else did you see out there in the woods?”
“One night I heard ’em fussin’. Weren’t close enough to make out the words. They climbed up the cliff, still snappin’ at each other. I figured they was headin’ on home since they weren’t havin’ no fun. So I left. They ain’t never come back again after that night, neither.”
I hardly dared breathe as I studied his face. Was he telling the truth? Because if he’d seen something he shouldn’t have, this was a big problem.
“You sure you didn’t see anything more?” I pressed. “Was anyone else out there in the woods besides the two girls?”
“No, sir. And now I done told ya the truth. The whole truth. I never laid a hand on them girls.”
I studied him. Fool me once . . . “Maybe you’re telling the truth. Maybe not. Don’t leave town, Stedmyer. You understand?”
“Yessuh.” He nodded vigorously.
I strode back to the car and wordlessly buckled my seat belt.
“What did Dinky want?”
I didn’t answer right away, wondering the best way to play this. “What do you think?” I said at last. “The guy wanted an assurance that we aren’t going to return later today with an arrest warrant.”
“If you’d let me have my way, I might have gotten him to confess.”
“It would never hold up in court. You know that.”
A confession that would never stick. There was no physical evidence to tie Stedmyer to the murder. If only.
Back down the dirt road we went, bumping and careening every inch of the way. At last, we left the backwoods behind and pulled out onto a paved county road.
“You shouldn’t have interfered,” Josh said flatly, staring straight ahead at the road.
“You’re still pouting? Gerald Stedmyer had nothing to do with that girl’s death.”
“You can’t know that for sure,” he argued. “I’d say there’s a high probability he did do it. For God’s sake, Kinky Dinky is a convicted sex offender, and as the crow flies, his cabin is less than a quarter mile from the Dalfred and Henderson houses.”
“Which makes him a suspect, but we’ve no grounds to arrest him. If I’d known you were going to harass the guy, I wouldn’t have humored you by driving you all the way out here. Now just look at our car.”
“Humor me?” Josh gave a bitter laugh. “You’re jealous because Chief Thornell asked me to step in and review the old investigation.”
I neither denied nor confirmed his accusation. At the moment, the rookie’s opinion of me was the least of my problems.
“It almost seems as though you don’t want this case solved,” he continued.
My fingers clenched the still-hot metal steering wheel, and I kept my eyes focused on the road.
“Are you protecting someone? Like that Violet Henderson woman?”
I didn’t dare answer. If he ever guessed Violet was my daughter, I’d lose any shot of protecting her from suspicion.
“There’ve been rumors about the Henderson family. The dad’s a mean, crazy alcoholic; the oldest child, Delaney, has a wild, slutty reputation around town; and Violet’s evidently as nuts as her father.”
“Considering the short amount of time you’ve lived here, you’ve managed to pick up quite a bit of gossip.”
“I’ve heard even more,” he bragged. “A few people have speculated that Violet and Ainsley’s friendship was too intense to be platonic. Did you consider that angle when Ainsley Dalfred first disappeared?”
“Of course. You’re not telling me anything new.”
“It’s really weird,” Josh continued, drumming his fingers on the file in his lap.
He left it at that, and the silence got under my skin. I finally broke down and asked, “What’s weird?”
“The mother—Hyacinth, was it?—dying so soon after the scandal. There’s been talk that she was having affairs and was about to leave her husband.”
Holy crap. My gut twisted, as if I were walking along a cliff, inebriated and clumsy, in danger of tumbling off the edge. I ground my teeth together, bracing myself in the here and now. “So what? Shit happens. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”
“And sometimes it’s an overlooked clue. You never considered that Mrs. Henderson’s husband might have rigged her car to catch fire?”
“There’s no evidence of that.” I had to throw him off course. Quick. “Believe me, every angle, every possibility, was thoroughly explored. The chief asked that you look over the case with fresh eyes. Doesn’t mean he expects a rookie to waltz in and solve it. Trying to strong-arm Gerald Stedmyer into a false confession was a dick move.”
Josh stiffened, his face and neck exploding with crimson. He had much to learn about patience and self-control. I pulled into the station and navigated into the reserved spot marked INVESTIGATOR. Before I came to a complete stop, Josh huffed out the passenger side, slamming the door. By the time I exited the vehicle, he was already in the building.
Fine by me.
I should have simply put my foot down when Josh had insisted on interviewing Stedmyer. It had been a fool’s mission from the get-go. Humoring the rookie had certainly done me no favors. With any luck, my trainee partner would leave after his six-month probationary period, seeking better grounds for advancement in a larger city. The only other investigative position in Normal was mine, and I had no plans to leave. Although I met the age requirement for retirement, I needed to work at least ten more years. We’d finished paying off our house last summer, which had allowed me to squirrel away more money for retirement. After all the shit I’d put Ellie through, she deserved the tropical travels of her dreams one day.
I took a quick photo of the damaged fender and trudged into the station, not looking forward to writing the incident report on the vehicle mishap. Andy Bushnell, the department’s procurement officer, laughed his ass off when I showed him the photo.
“What the hell? I’d expect this out of some new guy, not you, old man,” Andy said, typing away on the keyboard. “What was the approximate time of the accident?”
“About ten fifteen a.m.”
A few more cursory questions, and he rolled his chair back as the printer churned. “Done,” Andy pronounced, picking up a stack of paper. “Sign and date the forms in triplicate, and email me that photo on your cell phone.”
“You got it. Thanks.” Overall, that had been painless. I’d drop off the completed report on Dan’s desk whenever he left for lunch.
“How’s the new partner working out?”
“Hmm,�
�� I replied, reviewing the report.
Andy laughed. “That good, huh?”
I merely shrugged. Andy was a friend, but I’d been around long enough to know that walls had ears. Anything said in the station was liable to be repeated to everyone.
He winked. “Better stay on the good side of the kid, considering Thornell is his great-uncle.”
His what? My face must have betrayed my surprise.
“You didn’t know?”
“Nobody ever said a word about it.”
“I think they were trying to keep it on the down low, but I heard it from Glenna, who heard it from Margie in Personnel.”
And didn’t that just explain so much? “Thanks for clueing me in, buddy. Want to grab a burger in an hour or so?”
“Yup. Ring me when you’re ready.” Andy picked up a file and set back to work on whatever he’d been doing before I’d interrupted.
Back in my office, I kicked up the computer and set to puzzling out my latest problem. Could this day get any worse? At least, for the moment, Josh wasn’t at his desk, and with any luck, he was off on his own, pursuing another futile tangent. That or he was holed up somewhere on his cell phone, already speaking with Thornell about our disastrous morning with the fender damage and the failed interview with Dinky. Thank God that Stedmyer hadn’t mentioned his Peeping Tom activity in front of Josh. As things stood now, Josh thought I had been too lenient with the suspect, too soft in my approach. It was in my best interest that both continue to harbor that belief. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and I guessed it was probably Josh returning to his desk.
Quickly, I placed a call to the social service worker our department worked with from time to time, inquiring how to aid a mentally ill person who was, essentially, homeless. As Josh entered and slipped behind his desk, I made no effort to hide my notes or disguise my business.
“Appreciate your recommendations,” I told the social service worker, scrawling down names and numbers. “Most likely, this person will refuse to leave his run-down shack of a home. I get that. It’s his, and he enjoys the isolated location. Still, he obviously suffers from mental health issues, and he should have the opportunity to decide between his current residence and a state facility where he’d be provided sanitary conditions and three square meals a day.”
I didn’t have to look up to know that Josh stared at me in outrage. I felt his burning glare like the sun’s rays blistering my skin. After exchanging a few pleasantries with the social worker, I hung up the phone.
“What the hell? Now you’re trying to help Dinky get in a nuthouse? He gets declared mentally incompetent, and our number one suspect is out of reach.”
“He might be your number one suspect, but he’s not mine.”
Josh pursed his lips, as if to cut off a further outburst, and cut his gaze to the paperwork on his desk. He had plenty to say, but evidently, he recalled my earlier warning about crossing the line and acting with insubordination. Of course, I’d threatened that before I’d known his connection to the chief.
As if on cue, Thornell’s door opened, and Josh went to him, saying something in a low voice that I couldn’t overhear. Josh shook my boss’s hand, and I caught the conspiratorial understanding that flashed between them. Hell, now that I looked closely, I saw the similar coloring and a certain something about the mouth and jaw that marked them as kin.
Josh returned to his desk, shooting me a smug smile. No wonder he was so confident. Must be nice having an uncle in the chief’s position.
“A word with you, please,” I said to Thornell, picking up the vehicle incident report and walking around my desk. I needed his signature on the report to facilitate getting the repair work done quickly.
He frowned and glanced at his watch. “I was about to head out.”
“This won’t take but a minute.” I strode into his office, determined to have a word in private. The man was always leaving the office for some Rotary Club meeting or what have you. Good thing he was a mere figurehead, because politicking left him little time for real work.
Thornell shut the door behind me and then sat across his desk from me, a jovial smile pasted on his face. “What can I do for you, Boone?”
“Sign off on this.” I shoved the report across the desk. “I’m sure your nephew has already clued you in about the accident.”
“Ah, so you heard.” He signed his name with a flourish and then leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands together.
“C’mon, Dan. It’s only a matter of time around here before news like that slips out. Why didn’t you tell me to start with?”
“Wanted to give Josh an opportunity to prove himself on his own merits. How’s he doing?”
What was I supposed to say? Tell my boss that his nephew was an arrogant kid who was more concerned with making an arrest than seeking the truth? I saw now where Josh got his ambitious streak. Besides, anything my partner had reported on our strained relationship was bound to portray me in an unflattering light.
“He has a lot to learn.”
“Of course. We all start green. And it will do us good to have a young person employed with a fresh perspective.”
What a crock.
“You know, Boone . . .” He leaned forward with the affable, practiced smile he flashed at his numerous public speaking events. “You and I are getting on up there in age. It’s our responsibility to train those who’ll take our place one day.”
“Plenty of time for that. I don’t know about you, Dan, but I plan to stick around at least another ten years or more.”
His smile wore thin. “That long? At your age, you’re already eligible for retirement.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” Ellie and I had started relatively late in life having children, but I’d never regretted waiting until we were more financially stable, even if it meant another decade dealing with Dan. Josh—not so much.
“I see,” he said slowly. “Well, you never know. If the economy improves, maybe the county could offer you an early-retirement incentive package.”
Now that was a deal we could both appreciate.
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
I was almost out the door when Dan spoke up again. “Train him well, Boone.”
“Yes, sir.” He couldn’t have made his position more clear. He wanted me out and his nephew in. I was to teach my replacement how to fill my shoes, and then my services were no longer wanted.
“And Boone?”
I stopped, one hand frozen on the door handle.
“You do think my nephew has got a ton of potential. Right? Josh was an honor roll student at Alabama, majoring in criminal justice. Plus, he got a good report from his internship at the Tuscaloosa Criminal Justice Center, and also at the Huntsville Police Department.”
“There you go, then.”
With that ambiguous answer, I left. At my desk, I collected my car keys.
“Going somewhere?” Josh asked.
“Lunch.”
I didn’t invite him to come along.
The conversation with my boss weighed on me all afternoon. Despite the dangling carrot of early retirement, I was edgy and moody. Josh and I sat at our respective desks, not saying a word to one another and avoiding even accidental eye contact. The moment I could make my escape, I did, arriving home a good two hours earlier than usual.
Snappy music hit my ears as I crossed the threshold. From the TV set in the den, a breathless voice urged viewers to burn those buns in an annoying, high-pitched tone that exuded fake enthusiasm. Ellie halfheartedly kicked her legs in time to the beat. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her slightly oversize hips were stuffed into a pair of old gym shorts. A ring of sweat stained her white T-shirt, an old castoff of mine that no longer fit.
“Ellie?” I called out.
Her head snapped around. Surprise widened her dove-gray eyes. She gave a self-conscious laugh and wiped a hand across her sweaty brow. “What are you doing home so early?”
Her annoyed inflection subtly communicated that she’d rather I weren’t. I’d messed up her routine. Usually after an hour of dancing to an aerobics tape, she’d shower and then start putting supper together.
“Nothing much shaking at work. Keep going,” I said, nodding at the TV.
She grabbed the remote and shut it off. “Never mind.”
“No, really. I’ll get out of your hair . . . I can hop in the tub and read the paper.”
Oh shit. I’d said exactly the wrong thing in mentioning the newspaper. Every day, it was full of stories on the discovery of Ainsley’s remains and the reopening of the old disappearance case, now upgraded to a murder investigation.
“Oh, sure! Read all about the Henderson case.”
Ellie marched to the sofa, grabbed the paper, and practically stuffed it in my gut. The bold-font headline jumped out: Speculation Increases on Old Mystery of Teenage Murder. I folded it in half, a late, futile attempt to evade the subject.
“Thanks.”
“And don’t use up all the hot water.” Her lips compressed into a thin line, a sure sign she was upset.
“Honey.” I laid a hand on her shoulder. Her muscles tensed beneath me, and she shrugged off my contact. The reopening of Ainsley’s case had apparently dredged up old hurts. “This will all blow over eventually,” I offered.
“Like hell it will. It’s starting all over, a repeat from eleven years ago. You’re obsessed with the case again, obsessed with her.”
I, of course, knew immediately that by her, my wife meant Hyacinth. The person who must not be named.
“She’s dead,” I stated flatly. “And I’m not obsessed with the case. I’m home early, aren’t I?”
Ellie did a slow clap. “First time in your career.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
Unwittingly, I recalled the early days of my career. Before children, before Hyacinth. I’d rush home as soon as possible after work and sometimes even come home for lunch. And by lunch, I meant having a quickie with my hot wife. What had happened to us?
“It’s not like you want me hanging around anyway,” I ruefully noted.
“Not true.”
Cold Waters (Normal, Alabama Book 1) Page 18
