Or could Webster have been telling the truth all along?
* * *
“Miranda, here’s your salad.” Adam lifted the cover from the large bowl of greens topped with slices of grilled chicken and offered Miranda a seat at the round table near the windows. “And Kendra, for you, and against my better judgment, I might add . . .”
With a flourish, he lifted a second lid.
“A hamburger, rare. Onion rings. Fries.”
“Lots of fat, lots of fried. Just the way I like it.” She tried to smile but failed. “You’re entirely too good to me.”
“I do my best.”
The trio made small talk while they ate, tension hanging over them like a storm cloud. They all knew it was about to burst, but ignored it for as long as they could.
When they’d finished eating, Adam leaned back in his chair, and asked Kendra, “Have you had any thoughts about who might have had access to your brother’s watch?”
“Ian must have dropped it somewhere, maybe on the trail. And someone found it.”
“That watch is sterling silver. It would have tarnished if it had been laying out in the elements for any length of time. It was in perfect condition. And it’s still running, which means that not only has it been taken care of all these years, but someone’s been changing the batteries.”
“Maybe someone found it shortly after Ian lost it.” Miranda poured a cup of coffee from the large carafe and offered it to Kendra, who accepted gratefully. This night promised to be a long one.
“That camping area was swarming with law enforcement and search parties for a week after the boys disappeared,” Adam reminded her. “I find it hard to believe that someone would find something clearly marked with the initials of one of the missing boys but would fail to turn it over to the police or the FBI.”
“Maybe someone wanted a souvenir,” Miranda added with a shrug.
“Maybe someone had taken it from Ian and held on to it all these years.”
“And then accidentally dropped it under the body of a woman he’d killed a few days ago? Are you suggesting that the same person who killed Ian and Zach might have killed these women?” Kendra made a face, shook her head. “I don’t believe it. The man who killed my brother and my cousin was tried and convicted of the crimes. I sat in the courtroom every day during that trial. I believe Webster was guilty of many, many things. Including the murder of my brother and my cousin.”
“Tell me everything you remember about that summer. Start at the beginning of the summer, earlier if you think it’s relevant. Tell us about Ian’s trip.” Adam rose and opened his briefcase. “If you have no objections, I want to record this, so we have something to rely on other than our own memories. Unless you object?”
“No, of course not. It’s a good idea.”
“And maybe we should move over to the sitting area, where you can be more comfortable. Come on,” Adam held out his hand. “Take a seat there on the sofa and put your feet up. Miranda, I’d be forever grateful for a cup of that coffee, if you wouldn’t mind fixing it for me while I put a new tape in the recorder. . . .”
Kendra sat in the far corner of the sofa and toed off her shoes. It did feel good to relax. She sipped at her coffee and watched Miranda add cream to a cup, which she handed to Adam before pulling a club chair closer to the table, kicking her shoes off, and taking a seat.
“Let’s start with the beginning of the summer, shall we?” Adam said after identifying the parties and the date, time, and place of the interview for the tape. “And for the record, what summer are we talking about?”
“This was the summer of 1990. Ian had just turned eleven,” she began.
“How old were you, that year?” Miranda asked.
“Twenty.”
“So you were nine years older than your brother?”
“Yes. I wasn’t home a lot that summer. I came back from college in May, spent a few weeks at home, then visited my roommate in Maine for a week. We did some hiking with a group from school. I didn’t arrive at home until the middle of July. Zach was already there when I got home.”
“That’s your cousin, Zachary Smith,” Adam stated for the record.
“Yes. He’s the son of my father’s sister, Lorraine.” Kendra smiled wryly. “Excuse me, Sierra.”
“You’ve mentioned her before. I take it you and your mother were not close to her?”
“Sierra wasn’t close to anyone. She certainly wasn’t close to my father. But when the boys were about eight or nine—Zach was a year older than Ian—Mom started having Zach come East for a visit every summer, and Sierra reciprocated by having Ian out at her ranch. Mom felt strongly that the boys should know each other. Regardless of what she may have thought of Zach’s mother, my mom felt a responsibility to Zach.”
“In what way?”
“She thought Zach should be aware of his heritage, should know his family. He was my dad’s only nephew.”
“What about Zach’s father? And his family?” Miranda asked.
“We never knew who Zach’s father was,” Kendra said as she shook her head. “No one’s ever talked about him. When Sierra was young, she was a bit . . . free-range, my mother called her once.”
“Promiscuous?” Miranda offered.
“I think that may be an understatement, but we’ll settle for promiscuous.” Kendra’s jaw hardened visibly. “At one time she lived a really free and easy lifestyle.”
“Of which your parents disapproved?” Adam asked.
“I don’t think they cared what she did with her own life, but I think they felt that she should have provided more structure for Zach.” Kendra curled her legs beneath her and settled back into the sofa cushions. “I should explain here that both my father and my aunt came into a great deal of money when they each turned twenty-one, then more when they turned thirty-five. Sierra used a bit of hers to buy the ranch in Arizona. Free spirit that she was, she had a steady stream of visitors, some who stayed for months, years, maybe.”
“And she supported this group?” Miranda asked.
“Yes, food, shelter, and later, we found out, all the drugs they could consume.”
“Sounds like a commune from the 1960s.” Miranda put her feet up on the end of the table.
“Except there was no contribution from anyone except Sierra,” Kendra said. “Several of the women who showed up had children of their own, and my aunt supported them, too. Most of those kids, we learned at the trial, were younger than Zach. All in all, I think he was a really lonely kid.”
“He must have had friends from school,” Adam noted.
“Zach was home-schooled.”
“I guess he must have looked forward to coming to stay with your family in the summer. If for nothing else, the change of scenery,” Miranda said.
“Yes, as much, I suspect, as Ian looked forward to going to Arizona. He was fascinated by the terrain, by the culture. The lure of the Old West.” Kendra smiled, remembering. “Ian was always fascinated with the whole cowboy thing. Wanted to live a rugged life on a ranch, like his cousin did. In a way, I think he envied Zach as much as Zach envied his lifestyle.”
“If your aunt was doing drugs, as you say, why would your mother permit him to go there and stay for two weeks every year?”
“At the time, Adam, we had no idea. Sierra had sworn that she’d been clean and sober for years, and was just living the simple, natural life in the hills,” Kendra told them. “She was apparently fine whenever my mother spoke with her on the phone. If Mom had known the truth, she never would have permitted Ian to go.”
“Did they communicate? Sierra and your mother?” Miranda asked.
“Only by phone. And then only when they were making arrangements for the boys’ trips. After the trial, my mother washed her hands of my aunt completely. Once she found out what had really been going on out there—the drugs—my mother severed ties completely. It sickened her that she’d let her son go there, year after year. She never forgave Sierra—or herself
, for that matter—for what happened.”
“And your brother never said anything about what was going on out there?”
“Not a word. You know, my mother really believed Sierra had cleaned up her act. Afterward, we figured both boys had probably agreed not to tell Mom the truth, because they knew she would put an end to Ian’s visits out there.”
“So they got along really well, Ian and Zach?” Miranda asked.
“As far as I could tell. They were close in age, and there was a strong resemblance between them. People often thought they were brothers. I’m assuming they got along well. I spent as little time as possible with them,” Kendra explained. “After all, I was a college junior that summer. Adolescent boys were beneath my notice. Except for the second week that Zach was at our house, I barely saw them at all.”
“Let’s go back to early in the summer.” Adam glanced at a notebook upon which he’d obviously prepared some notes. “You had mentioned once that Ian had been having trouble in school that year.”
“Yes. He’d been defiant . . . his grades had been poor. He was in real danger of not being permitted to return in September.” Kendra rested her elbow on the arm of the sofa. “My mother was at the end of her rope. She’d told Ian she was sending him to some kind of boot camp instead of Arizona and he changed both his behavior and his attitude practically overnight. I think that was when we first realized just how much those weeks in Arizona with Zach meant to him.”
“What do you suppose the attraction was?” Miranda leaned forward. “What was it, do you think, that mattered so much to him?”
“I always thought it was the freedom. The hiking into the hills, the sleeping out under the stars. So different from life out here. And Ian was really into Native American artifacts. He had several things that he found in the hills, plus some items he bought with birthday money every summer.”
Kendra paused, then added, “As a matter of fact, that last summer, he’d taken quite a bit of cash with him. Zach had told him about an old man who lived in the hills who claimed to be a descendant of Cochise and who was getting ready to sell some of his ancestor’s things. Ian thought he’d be able to buy something really terrific—like a bow and the quiver that Cochise kept his arrows in. I gave him money to buy something since I’d been away on his birthday.”
“How much money did he have with him?”
“I don’t know. Whatever Mom gave him, plus his allowance, plus what I gave him.”
“A hundred dollars?”
“More than that, probably. I gave him fifty dollars toward the bow and quiver. Mom usually gave him spending money. And I have no idea how much of his own money he took.” Kendra looked at Adam. “Ian could well have had several hundred dollars with him.”
“None of it was ever found?”
“No,” she told him. “At least not that I know of. Of course, it could have all been in his backpack when they left for their camping trip.”
“So your cousin was here for a two-week visit after which time your mother put the two boys on a plane to Tucson,” Miranda reiterated. “How long were they there before they disappeared?”
“Less than a week,” Kendra told her. “Ian apparently was anxious to meet the old man and see what he had for sale. I think it was the fourth or fifth day that the boys set out on their hike.”
“The plan was to hike up into the hills, buy some things from this man, then hike back down? How long had they planned on being away?”
“Adam, from what I remember, my aunt said they left on a Tuesday morning. Early, like six or so. Before the heat of the day. They would have walked several miles to the foothills, then camped someplace overnight. I think we were told that the old man’s cabin was up in the hills someplace.”
“And no one saw them after they left the ranch?”
“No one. Except Edward Paul Webster,” Kendra said bitterly.
She paused, then added, “And Christopher Moss.”
“Who is Christopher Moss?” Adam asked.
“Christopher was one of the kids who lived on the ranch, the son of one of Sierra’s friends who’d come for a weekend and never left. He was younger than Ian and Zach, maybe seven at the time.” She looked up at Adam and added, “I think at trial it came out that he suffered from fetal alcohol syndrome, he had a lot of problems. Anyway, he had seen the boys leave, and followed them. Several of the other kids said that they’d seen Chris sort of sneaking along behind the boys. Apparently it was something this boy did often. Just follow behind the other kids.”
“How had he escaped the murderer?” Miranda frowned.
“Actually, he didn’t. The police pulled Webster over because the car he was driving had been reported stolen; Christopher was in the front seat. That’s how the police first realized something was wrong. The boy was sobbing hysterically and babbling incoherently. The police ran a check on Webster and learned that he’d only been released from prison three weeks earlier. He’d served eight years for assaulting a child.” Kendra got up and poured herself a glass of water. “Once the police realized that Chris had followed the boys, they started searching for them.”
“And they were never found,” Adam noted.
“Not a trace. And Christopher couldn’t help a bit. He had a breakdown and was placed in a home for children with severe emotional problems. Webster said he’d found Christopher wandering by the side of the road, crying and talking garble, and that he’d picked him up and was taking him to the next town. Which was, incidentally, eighteen miles in the opposite direction.”
“So Webster’s credibility was in question from the start. What evidence had been presented against him, I wonder,” Adam murmured.
“I don’t recall, frankly. I attended the trial, but so much of it was a blur. The only thing I remember is that Ian’s jacket was on the front seat when the police pulled Webster over. He said that Christopher had had it in his hands when he picked the boy up, but no one believed that.”
“And Webster is still in prison?”
“Yes.” Kendra nodded.
“Well, it’s obvious that there’s some connection between the deaths of those two boys and the killer who’s trying so hard to get Kendra’s attention. Ian’s watch showing up after all these years can’t be an accident. The little hair clips in the victims’ hair that are identical to those Kendra wore, the gold crosses . . .” Adam leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. “Someone’s getting real personal with you. The question is who? And why? Kendra, how do you feel about a trip to Arizona? Starting with a trip with your aunt?”
“I’m not sure I could even find her ranch,” Kendra admitted. “I’ve had no contact with her in over ten years.”
“It’s well documented in the FBI file, and we should have a copy of that by seven tomorrow morning. The Bureau has booked two seats on a flight to Tucson that leaves at ten from Philadelphia. Miranda, maybe you’ll do the honors and drive Kendra and me to the airport?”
“You’ve got it.” Miranda stood up. “Come on, Kendra, it’s almost three A.M. You don’t want to have dark circles under your eyes when you see your aunt for the first time in, what’s it been? Ten years?” Miranda tucked her shoes under her arm and started for the door. “Thanks for dinner, Adam. We’ll be back at seven for breakfast and a look at that file before you take off with it.”
Chapter
Fifteen
“I thought I remembered there being more desert.” Kendra looked out the window as Adam sped onto the interstate. “I don’t remember there being so many hills.”
“There’s plenty of desert. But Arizona has its share of hills, too,” he said, checking his rearview mirror before hitting the gas and jolting the rented sedan up to seventy-five miles per hour, twenty miles over the speed limit on this section of Route 10.
The rental car had been awaiting their arrival at Tucson International Airport, and while the sedate model would not have been his first choice, Adam was determined to make it to Bisbee in as close to an h
our as possible. The sedan would just have to rise to the occasion. He had an agenda.
“It’s getting late.” Kendra glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Are you sure this sheriff . . . what was his name?”
“Cole Gamble.”
“If that doesn’t sound like a western sheriff, I don’t know what does.” She leaned back against the headrest and grinned. “Can’t you just see him, in a wide-brimmed hat and dusty boots?”
Her voice dropped an octave or two.
“Howdy, ma’am. Sheriff Cole Gamble at your service.”
Adam laughed, wondering when she would begin to react to the fact that the last time she’d made this drive from Tucson to Bisbee had been for the trial of her brother’s murderer.
“Are you sure Sheriff Gamble will wait for us?”
“He said he’d be there. He was really intrigued by my questions, and seemed to be willing—eager, might be a better word—to meet with us.”
“I wonder why.”
“He said he grew up in the area, and remembers the boys’ disappearance, Webster’s arrest and trial. He knows the area well, and will take us wherever we want to go.”
“I wonder if he knows where my aunt’s ranch is.”
“I’d bet on it.” Adam took advantage of a long stretch of road to increase his speed. “You’re going to stop there, aren’t you?”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to, though I’m not looking forward to seeing her. On the one hand, I feel obligated. On the other hand, I haven’t heard from her since the trial, not even when my mother died. It’s hard to believe she didn’t know about Mom’s death. The story made the news everywhere. I received cards from all over the country.” She added with a touch of sarcasm, “The suicide of a senator is big news, you know.”
Until Dark Page 18
