“What are you talking about?” I said.
“We figured Roth was trying to find Finn—but Rory Gannon seemed to be in town for the same reason.”
“Did you ask Hilary about Gannon? Had she contacted him recently?” I asked.
“She says no,” Candace said. “She has no idea why he had any interest in Finn.”
I blinked several times, considering this. “So we’ve got an unstable man who hasn’t seen his kid in who knows how long. But when Finn runs away from home, Gannon heads here and practically stalks everyone who’s had a conversation with Finn. Weird. I hope these phone logs help answer how Gannon knew Finn was here.”
Twenty-Four
The following morning, I walked into Belle’s Beans hoping for more than a cup of coffee—though coffee was something I desperately needed after staying awake most of the night worrying about Finn and Tom. Even though Candace asked for the BOLO from her cell phone, it had since been picked up by many police officers all over the county and subsequently did get on the police scanner. I was sure people in town were talking about more than the newest murder and a missing adolescent. Maybe someone had seen Finn last night—or better yet, this morning. I sure hadn’t heard a word from him—nor had I heard from Tom or Candace yet today.
I forced a smile when the Belle of the Day greeted me. I ordered a large coffee with an extra shot of espresso and doctored it with half-and-half and plenty of sugar. I felt as if my brain was about as functional as a plate of scrambled eggs. Nothing made sense; nothing seemed logical. I couldn’t even remember everything Candace and I had talked about last night, but I did recall we both still couldn’t figure out how Rory Gannon found his way to Mercy in the first place.
The crowd in the coffee shop all seemed to be staring at me as I wound between tables and took a spot right in the middle of the room. A few people smiled and nodded. If anyone knew anything about Finn or about Gannon’s death, I might be able to overhear their whispers.
Belle Lowry, the kind and savvy owner of Belle’s Beans, swooped to my table from out of nowhere and sat down across from me. She said, “Whatever have you gotten yourself into this time, sweetie?”
As usual, her snowy hair was perfectly coiffed and her coral lipstick had been applied in a straight line on both lips. At least she hadn’t missed below her lips like I’d seen her do at times. Her familiar and kind presence had a settling effect.
“Nothing good, Belle, that’s for sure,” I answered.
“Did you really find a stranger dead in Tom Stewart’s backyard?” she said.
“I did. I was searching for poor Dashiell and got more than I bargained for,” I said.
“Is the young man involved? Tom’s stepson?” she asked.
She was fishing for information, but I was the one who needed to do the fishing. I tried to change it up by saying, “What have you heard? And don’t be shy. I’m sure it’s plenty.”
She laughed. “Me? Shy? No one’s ever accused Belle of such a thing.” She leaned toward me. “Everyone’s talking about Tom and Karen, two of the most private people I’ve ever known. Not to mention Tom’s brother. What’re the odds of Bob Cochran showing up the same time as Tom’s stepson? I can’t hardly figure out what’s going on with that family.”
There it was. Out of Belle’s mouth often came the most obvious observations. I’d never even considered the timing of Bob’s arrival, but Belle was right to wonder whether it was coincidence. Hoping to mine more gold, I said, “You know Bob’s name. What have you heard?”
“Oh, I know Bob. He lived with Karen for a short spell before Ed came into her life. Never had two pennies of his own to rub together, so Karen let him stay with her. Something happened about five years ago and he up and left. An argument is all the grapevine could glean.” She smiled. “Glean was one of my crossword puzzle words this morning. They say use a word three times and it’s yours. Got two more times to go.”
“I see. No one ever mentioned him, so I was surprised when I met him,” I said.
“You mean Tom never mentioned him,” she said. “He was none too happy about Bob leeching off their mother. When Bob left, Tom was singing a happy tune, I tell you. Fresh off his divorce, he’d been pretty mopey beforehand. She’s here, too. Hilary. Been in here drinking coffee several times. She’s a lovely-looking woman but there’s something about her. You are a much better match for our Tom.”
I felt the heat of a blush. Tom and I hadn’t exactly made our budding relationship public. Before I could reply, Belle’s face lit up.
She said, “Speak of the devil, look what the cat dragged in. A man who needs a serious coffee fix.”
It was Tom, looking completely exhausted and defeated.
Belle rose and worked her way between tables to the counter. She patted Tom’s arm and then pointed my way. Tom looked at me, but couldn’t seem to muster even a small smile.
He bought his coffee and came to my table. “You haven’t heard anything or you wouldn’t be sitting here alone,” he said. “I had no luck either. He’s simply vanished, Jillian.”
I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “He’ll turn up once he thinks things through. But where have you been?”
“At every convenience store, gas station and truck stop within a fifty-mile radius.” He withdrew his hand and sipped his coffee, set the cup down and stared into the black liquid. “I plan to make flyers with his picture when I can get back into my house. Finn didn’t feel safe here, and that’s my fault. I have to make him understand how much he means to me.”
“He knows how much he means to you. He’s scared, that’s all. Wouldn’t you be? He didn’t want to talk to Hilary when she showed up and maybe he couldn’t even stand to hear her voice,” I said.
Tom’s eyes met mine. “Why did Hilary have to tell him about his father by shouting about his murder through a locked door? I know she’s cold, but come on. No wonder he ran.”
“She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who thinks things through,” I said. “She wanted to talk to Finn and thought she could get him to open the door with some shocking news. It was a little selfish.”
“A little?” He laughed contemptuously. “As for not thinking things through, I’m afraid you’re wrong. She thinks everything through. She knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted him to feel guilty and she succeeded. I know how Finn thinks. He’s out there somewhere beating himself up for refusing to talk to his father before the man died.”
“I’ve had such little contact with her I was trying not to be judgmental,” I said.
Finally he smiled. “Because you think things through in a far different way. You give folks the benefit of the doubt. Wish the cop left inside me would allow me to do the same.”
“You had no luck out on the road?” I said. “No one has seen anyone who might possibly be Finn?”
He shook his head. “The only thing I accomplished was buying a new phone. Give me yours and I’ll program in the number. If Finn calls looking for me, you can give him this.”
I took out my phone and handed it to him. While he started adding the details to my contact list, I said, “You think Finn will call me and not Karen?”
He looked up briefly. “He loves Karen, but he’ll call you.”
With Tom intent on his task and me watching, I was surprised when a uniformed Candace arrived at our table. Unsmiling, she pulled out a chair and sat down.
Uh-oh. What’s wrong? I thought.
Looking straight at Tom, she said, “When were you going to tell me?”
“What are you talking about?” he said, handing me my phone and clipping his new one to his belt.
She said, “A little birdie at the bank called me up. Told me there’s something I should know. Don’t make me dial Liam’s number and get him to go all legal on you, Tom Stewart. Tell me why you gave Finn money.”
Tom looked at her. “I didn’t exactly give him money.”
Keeping her voice low, she leaned in and said, �
��We have your picture at the ATM, standing with Finn right next to you. Last time I checked, those machines don’t spit out chocolate bars.”
“You think I bankrolled him?” Tom said. “Gave him enough money to get out of town? If I did that, why did I spend all night looking for him?”
Candace’s face relaxed and her brows came together in thought. “Sorry. Guess that’s true. Why would you?”
I said, “Maybe Finn needed a little cash, Candace. When’s the last time you walked around without any money in your pocket?”
Candace looked at Tom. “So Finn needed a few dollars in his pocket because… well, just because?”
Tom took a few seconds and then sighed. “He lost his wallet somewhere between North Carolina and here. Lost his phone, too. He wanted to buy a new one. What kid can live without a cell phone these days?”
This jibed with what Candace told me last night—and Tom was right. Every teenager owned a phone. I remembered Finn playing with my phone when we were at the diner, recalled how content he seemed.
“You say you were giving him a gift?” Candace said, sounding skeptical again.
What isn’t she saying? She must know something more, I thought.
Tom ran a hand through his hair. He looked so worn out and rundown. “Not a gift. The money was his. I’d set up a joint account with him when I split with his mother. Hilary didn’t know anything about it. For every dollar Finn earned cutting lawns or doing odd jobs, I matched it. And yes, his asking for cash yesterday doesn’t look good.”
“You went to the bank yesterday?” I asked softly.
He nodded. “We stopped at the ATM right before we came to your place.”
“Anything else I should know?” Candace said.
“You already know what’s important,” Tom said. “He’s a frightened kid. He ran because he heard Rory was dead and he couldn’t face it.”
“Jillian and I looked at the security videos last night and we came to the very same conclusion,” Candace said. “But after talking to Hilary this morning, I’m beginning to wonder if Finn might have left before Hilary came by.”
“Why are you wondering?” I said. “The time he left seems to match up with when she said she was talking to him through the door.”
“Because,” Candace said, “I asked her at the station if she heard Yoshi barking when she was talking to Finn through the door. She said no.”
“Ah, yes. He would have barked,” I said. “What does this mean?”
Tom folded his arms and seemed to draw into himself. He said, “What it means is that Hilary is a liar. She wants you to believe Finn was already gone. That way, she can try to make us all believe nothing she might have said made him run. Lets her off the hook.”
“Tom, you have big issues with your ex—and probably for good reason. But you should know I checked her alibi for the day Nolan died and for the days before,” Candace said. “She was at a job fair in North Carolina at the time Nolan Roth was trying to beat information out of you concerning Finn. Plus, she went to several interviews the day Roth died.”
“What about an alibi for the time Gannon was killed? Where was she then?” he asked.
“I have her statement,” Candace said. “I will talk to people and verify her second alibi. I don’t know the woman, and please don’t believe for a minute I’m about to take her word for anything.” None of us spoke for several seconds and finally Candace continued. “I’m here at this table talking to you because I’m your friend. If you know where Finn is, if you have any idea at all, you need to tell me right now.”
“Like I was telling Jillian, I’ve searched everywhere I know to look. He’s disappeared. That’s why I need to be at home, in case he calls or shows up. Is the crime scene cleared?”
She nodded. “We just finished up. Didn’t find a thing.”
“Good. You know where to find me.” He stood, pushed his chair away and walked toward the exit.
He didn’t make eye contact with me before he got up, but even so, I could almost feel his sadness penetrating my skin. I looked at his back and then at Candace.
She said, “Go after him, silly. The man’s hurting inside.”
I caught up with Tom before he reached his van. “He’ll come back. I’m sure of it.”
He looked down at me. “I want to believe you’re right. But right now, hope seems like a scary thing. Mind if I talk to you later? I need sleep. Maybe I can sort this all out in my head after I recharge my battery.”
I reached up with both hands and brought his face to mine, kissed him right there on Main Street for everyone to see.
His lips lingered for a moment and then he was gone.
Back inside Belle’s Beans, I rejoined Candace, who was ordering a coffee to go.
As she waited, she said, “How’d it go?”
“He’s exhausted,” I said, “and I know he’s still blaming himself for leaving Finn behind when he divorced Hilary.”
“He set up the joint bank account and kept in touch with Finn. What more could he have done?” she said.
“Nothing,” I said. “But he doesn’t see it that way right now.”
“We didn’t get any tips on Finn,” Candace said. “What bothers me most is I went to the Pink House and talked to Hilary Roth this morning, and though she asked about Finn, she never called the station once during the night to see if we’d found him. I’m not a mother, but I’ve known moms whose kids ran away. Most of the time they’re frantic with worry.”
“Maybe she didn’t seem frantic because she knows where Finn is,” I said.
Candace cocked her head. “Hmm. Interesting theory. Hadn’t considered the possibility. Maybe she and I need to have another little chat.” Candace nodded toward the table where we’d been seated. “Want the rest of your coffee?”
“I need the rest of my coffee,” I said.
Candace’s cell rang and as she answered, my mind began turning over possibilities. If Hilary knew where Finn was, it wouldn’t be because he told her. Was her story about telling him about Rory Gannon’s death true—or was it a lie, just like Tom said? I didn’t know. But just the mere idea that she knew where Finn might be gave me goose bumps.
Candace disconnected from her call. “Got word the complete tech reports on both phones are in. Maybe they’ll give me a lead on who killed these men,” she said. “Check with you later.”
After she was gone and I was headed for my minivan, I asked myself why Candace hadn’t considered the possibility Hilary might actually know where Finn was. Or was she trying not to tell me something police-related, hoping I’d figure it out for myself. If so, what?
I took a long sip of my coffee, which was quickly going cold, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon. Fumbling for my keys in my back pocket, I realized I’d parked right by one of Mercy’s forest green coin-operated newspaper boxes. I found change as well as my keys and bought a paper. The giant, block-letter headline read: more death.
I read quickly, but found nothing in the story I didn’t already know. The byline belonged to Kara, and I decided to call her and see if anything new had come to her attention since she wrote the story. When I reached her, she said she was on her way to take tile samples over to her property and maybe I could meet her and help her decide what she should put in her new kitchen.
Sounded like an excellent distraction.
Twenty-Five
The sunny days seemed to be over as dark clouds clustered in the west. I carried my umbrella up the new stone walkway leading to Kara’s soon-to-be front door. She greeted me before I could even knock.
We hugged and she glanced out at the sky. “Another cold front on the way, I expect.”
Once inside, she led me to the back of the house, where about ten different ceramic tiles were laid out on the kitchen floorboards.
Her hair was in a ponytail and she was wearing a big flannel shirt and blue jeans. She stood, hands on hips, looking down at the tiles. “What do you think of these?”
; I let my eyes travel over the tiles, some big, some small and all earth tones. I pointed a toe at a large mottled beige and brown tile. “This one would complement the brown granite you picked out for your countertop.”
She nodded, still looking down. “Making all these choices—tile, brick, stone, appliances, paint colors—is proving harder than I thought.” She looked at me then. “But in a good way. Your tough times aren’t good at all. You okay after last night?” She rubbed my upper arm sympathetically.
“I’m worried, Kara. Finn ran away again. Tom drove around all night looking for him, but no one has seen or heard from him.”
“Shondra, my girl who monitors the scanner, told me she heard something about Finn disappearing. Did he go before or after he heard about his father’s murder?” she said.
“Apparently it was after.” I explained how Hilary had told Finn about Gannon’s death.
Kara cocked her head. “What is wrong with her? Though I suppose someone who marries two men who went to jail and who later ended up murdered might not be too competent at thinking through her choices and examining possible consequences.”
“Don’t forget she also married Tom, who is a far cry from the likes of Nolan Roth or Rory Gannon,” I said.
“She slipped into a period of good judgment, then ruined it by cheating on Tom,” Kara said.
“You’re right,” I said. “But after meeting her and talking to her, those mistakes don’t seem to match up with what I’ve seen. She seems, well, nice. Karen really likes her and believes Tom has been way too hard on her.”
“Karen loves Finn. I’m willing to bet she’d do anything to keep him in her life—even kiss up to a woman who did wrong by her son.” Kara’s attention returned to the tiles.
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