by J A Whiting
“Was there anyone who disliked Cheryl enough to hurt her?” Claire asked.
Jason was about to shake his head, but then he looked at the investigators. “I wouldn’t trust Lisa Richardson. Like I said, she had a thing for Jackson. She was phony to Cheryl. I don’t think Lisa liked Cheryl at all. Have you talked to Lisa? She always seemed as hard as a rock. Lisa didn’t seem like someone with loads of empathy. I don’t like her.”
When the interview was over and Ian and Claire were walking to the car, Ian asked, “What did you think? What do you think of Jason Spencer?”
“I think he’s lying.”
“About which thing?”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “About a lot of things.”
10
It was early evening when Claire and Ian joined Pastor Michael Rogers on the front porch of the house next to the church. A warm and friendly man, Pastor Michael, in his early seventies, was short, round in the waist, and had a bald head. He served tea and cookies to his guests after giving them a tour of the church and his house, and then they settled in rockers on the porch.
“I’ve been here for a little over thirty years,” Michael said biting into a chocolate chip cookie. “I love the town, love the people. I guess you’d call it a city now, not a town. The area has grown and grown. So many changes.” The man paused and then said, “Cheryl was a lovely person. I know some folks stereotype business people as greedy and ruthless, but Cheryl was kind and grateful and generous. She helped out with gatherings here at the church, she helped organize food and clothing drives, she served at the food pantry. I honestly could not believe it when she went missing. I held out hope that she’d simply gone off for a while. Maybe life had become hard and she needed a break and would come back after a week or two.” Michael’s eyes filled with sadness. “I’m afraid it didn’t happen that way.”
“So Cheryl was a member of the church?” Claire asked.
“She was indeed.”
“What about her husband, Jackson? Was he a member?”
“Not Jackson. He’d come along to some events on occasion, but he wasn’t an active member.”
“What did you think of Jackson?” Ian asked.
Michael took a breath. “I’m going to speak plainly with you. Cheryl was annoyed with her husband one evening. We were setting up the hall for a children’s play. Jackson was going to help with the set, but he didn’t show up. Cheryl was angry and said a few words that made me think Jackson could be difficult to live with. I don’t recall the exact words she used, but she seemed fed up with his behavior. It sounded to me like it was nothing new for him to disappoint Cheryl ... it seemed like Jackson didn’t really pull his weight in the relationship.”
“Do you remember when this happened?” Ian asked.
“Cheryl was pregnant with John at the time, so it was a little more than three years before she went missing.”
“Did Cheryl ever say anything more about Jackson?” Claire asked.
“She never complained about her husband around me again.”
“Did you ever hear that someone was angry with Cheryl? Do you know if she had a run-in with anyone?” Ian asked.
“Not to my knowledge. I never heard anything like that.” Michael passed his hand over his face and cleared his throat. “I don’t like gossip and what I heard back then was not presented to me as gossip, but a couple of people suggested to me that Cheryl’s friend, Jason Spencer, was not content to have only a friendly relationship with her. He wanted something more. He came here to the church occasionally to help Cheryl with some volunteer things. It was clear to me that the man had more on his mind than being her friend. You could see it in the way he looked at Cheryl.”
“Why do you bring Jason Spencer up?” Claire asked. “Do you think he might have acted on his hopes?”
Pastor Michael folded his hands in his lap and spoke carefully. “I have no idea if he did or he did not, but it crossed my mind more than once if Jason might have been angry about not having the relationship he wanted with Cheryl.”
“Do you suspect him of having something to do with her disappearance?” Ian asked.
“I don’t suspect anyone of anything and I try to think the best of everyone, but I’m human and I understand that some people have impulses they can’t control,” Michael explained. “It isn’t my place to investigate or speculate. That kind of work is the domain of law enforcement.”
“Okay.” Ian knew the pastor was trying to convey some worries without specifically saying them out loud. “Can you tell us about the night Cheryl went missing?”
Michael’s breath seemed to stick in his throat for a moment. “It was early January and bitter cold. There was a good amount of snow on the ground. I had been inside the church checking on the decorations that were still inside from Christmas. There were red and white poinsettias all around the altar. I was checking they had been watered enough. We had another weekend of services and I hoped the flowers would last. I was leaving the church and stopped at the front door to pick up some of the church weekly notices that had blown off the table in the foyer. I opened the door to leave and I was tugging up the zipper on my winter jacket. I saw Cheryl’s car in the street. I wondered if she was coming to stop by for some reason, but she went right past and down the road.”
“It must have been dark outside, wasn’t it?” Claire asked.
“It was dark, but from my position at the door of the church, I could see the passing vehicles quite well.” Michael stood up. “Come over to the church. I’ll show you.”
The three of them crossed the lawn of the house, walked across the parking lot, and climbed the steps of the church up to the front door where they stopped and faced the street.
“See.” Michael pointed. “See how you have a good view of the passing cars? We’re elevated here and looking down at them. The street is also very well-lit. See the streetlamps? And see how well you can see the drivers as they go by?”
Claire and Ian were surprised by how good the view from the front of the church actually was.
Claire said, “It’s easy to see the cars and the drivers, but it would have been dark that night making it more difficult to see as well as we do now.”
“That’s very true,” Michael agreed. “But the angle of the car and the light from the streetlamps, I could see it was Cheryl’s car. She had a dent in the right front passenger side. Not a big one, but it was visible. When her car came along, I was sure it was her. The dent was in exactly the same place as Cheryl’s car’s dent. She drove a dark sedan. I was sure it was her car.”
“Could you see the driver well?”
“Not well, no. Cheryl had blond hair and the light lit up the front of the car. I could see the light-colored hair on the driver. I couldn’t make out the woman’s features, but she had the blond hair and the same kind of hat on that Cheryl wore.”
“What kind of hat was it?” Claire asked.
“A knitted hat. Not a stocking hat and not a ski hat. It was more of a beanie, you know the type? It was about this big and it sat mostly on top of the head and then hugged the sides of the head over the ears.” Michael gestured the size of the winter hat.
“So the car had a dent, the woman driving had light hair and she was wearing a hat similar to the one Cheryl always wore?” Ian summarized.
“That’s correct.”
“She went right past the church?” Ian asked.
“She did. She went down the street. She was driving too fast, over the speed limit for sure. It seemed out of character. I never noticed Cheryl driving like that.” Michael stroked his chin. “The other odd thing … if I happened to be outside and Cheryl drove by here, she always took a quick glance over and she would wave. She didn’t look over here that night. She went by like a rocket and didn’t, not for a half-second, glance over. That bothered me. I considered us friends. The way she drove by seemed abrupt.” Michael shrugged his shoulders. “It made me feel … I don’t know, odd somehow.”
; “Odd in what way?”
“Like a friend had left me in the dust. I know that’s silly, but for a moment, I wondered why she hadn’t bothered to look over like she always did.”
“You said she was driving fast?” Claire asked.
“Yes, she was. Like she was trying to get away from something, or get to somewhere as fast as she could. I do remember wondering if something was wrong. Was someone in her family in the hospital? Was Cheryl trying to get to the emergency room? The hospital is about a mile down the road.” Michael’s shoulders slumped. “That was the last time I saw her.” The man turned to face Claire and Ian. “Could someone have been in the car with Cheryl? Was that person forcing her to drive somewhere? If I’d been closer to the road, I might have been able to see inside the car. I might have been able to see the person who….” Michael’s face was lined with concern. “You think she was killed, don’t you?”
“We haven’t made any determinations yet,” Ian said. “Cheryl could have left town and driven far away. She might have decided to change her life. Maybe she was feeling something that she’d kept hidden from everyone.”
“Cheryl didn’t kill herself, if that has crossed your mind,” Michael said. “She wouldn’t have done that. I’d bet a million dollars on it. I also know that some people leave their family and friends and take off with no explanation and never contact them again.”
“Do you think that’s a possibility in this case?” Claire asked.
“I don’t. Cheryl wouldn’t do that, and there’s a reason why she would never do such a thing.”
Claire looked at the man with a questioning expression.
“Cheryl would never leave her children behind. She worshipped those kids. There’s no doubt in my mind, if she went somewhere without them, she went by force.”
11
The house in Arlington that once belonged to Cheryl and Jackson and their two small kids was a large white Colonial with a towering maple tree in the front and a small, neat, lush lawn in the back.
“Whoever Jackson hired to care for the place is doing a good job,” Ian said.
Claire asked, “Do you think it’s odd that Jackson still owns the house? Why hold onto it? The man is a billionaire. He doesn’t need the rental money.”
“Maybe he’s sentimental.” Ian eyed Claire.
“He doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type.”
The property manager, Bill Kneeland, and Ian’s friend, Detective Glenn Anderson, came around the corner of the house and introductions were made.
Bill said, “The couple who are renting won’t be home for hours. They’ve given permission for you to look around. Do you want to start inside or out?”
“Inside,” Ian replied.
The group went back to the front of the place and entered through the main door into a large foyer. A living room was to the left and a dining room to the right. A hall led to the kitchen and family room at the rear. The kitchen had been professionally updated with new cabinetry, wood flooring, and high-end countertops.
“It didn’t look like this twenty-five years ago,” Glenn told them. “The house was very nice back then, too. The kitchen dining alcove hasn’t changed much. This is where the little boy was eating his dinner. The parents had the fight on the other side of the kitchen.” Glenn stepped through the space describing what was where. “There was another small table right there that had an overturned flower vase on it. Jackson Wilby told us Cheryl fell down right here in this spot, over in the corner.”
Claire and Ian looked at the kitchen carefully.
“Where’s the room they used as an office?” Claire asked.
“It’s down this hallway.” Glenn led them a few steps from the kitchen to a small room that was being used as an office by the present occupants. “I guess it’s supposed to be a bedroom, but it’s really too small for anything other than a tiny den or an office. The Wilbys had a crib in here so the baby could be near them when they worked or could be close by when the parents were in the kitchen.”
A shiver of anxiety rolled down Claire’s back as she stood at the threshold to the room.
Back in the kitchen, Glenn pointed out the door at the side of the room that led to the garage. “Jackson said he thought Cheryl was unconscious after she fell. He took the son from the eating alcove into the living room and told him to stay put. When he returned to the kitchen to tend to Cheryl, she was gone. She must have gotten up, gone to get her coat, and then took off into the garage.”
Claire rubbed at her forehead. “Why would Cheryl do that?”
The two detectives turned to stare at her.
“What do you mean?” Ian asked.
“Why would Cheryl run from the house?”
“She must have been afraid of Jackson,” Glenn offered. “He knocked her to the floor. She might have feared he would attack her again so she grabbed her coat and took off.”
“From what people tell us about Cheryl, John and Kimberly were the lights of her life. Would she run off when John and the baby were still in the house with their father?”
“Maybe she panicked,” Ian suggested. “Maybe all she could do was think to get away.”
“I’m not convinced,” Claire said.
“How do you mean?”
“I’m not convinced Cheryl left the house on her own.”
“You think Jackson forced her?” Ian asked.
Claire shrugged. “Maybe she was dead after hitting the floor. Maybe Jackson killed her, then he put her in the car and drove her away.”
“Isn’t it suspicious to leave the little kids alone in the house?” Glenn asked.
“The baby didn’t know what was going on, but John might know if his mother got carried into the car and Jackson drove away with her,” Claire said. “Maybe Jackson hoped John would fall asleep and the baby would stay asleep while he drove Cheryl away. Everything happened fast. Jackson probably wasn’t thinking straight. He did what seemed the best option at the time.”
“But the pastor saw Cheryl drive by the church,” Glenn pointed out.
Claire sighed. “Did he though? A similar car might have driven by and the pastor thought he saw Cheryl driving it.”
“There’s the daycare woman, too,” Ian said. “She claimed to see Cheryl driving by as well.”
“That’s right.” Claire moved slowly around the kitchen. It really wasn’t the same in the room as it was when the Wilbys fought. It had been updated and the furniture was different, but still.
Leaning against the counter, adrenaline suddenly shot through Claire’s veins and she felt the urge to duck or jump to the side to avoid something. She forced herself to stay still. Her heart pounded wildly.
Ian noticed the look on her face and stepped closer, but he didn’t say anything not wanting to bring Glenn’s attention to Claire’s distress.
“Shall we walk around the rest of the house?” Ian suggested and Glenn moved into the hallway to continue the tour.
“Are you okay?” Ian whispered.
Claire nodded and they followed Glenn to the other rooms, and then to the backyard.
Glenn told them, “There was a brick patio in this spot and a sandbox over there in the corner. There was snow in the yard, but the sun had melted it on part of the patio and when we saw the lump in the snow over in the corner, we shoveled it off and found the sandbox.”
A new stone patio had been installed and the perimeter of the yard had flowering bushes and perennials put in over the years.
“It’s mid-June now, so the yard looks a lot different than it did in January twenty-five years ago,” Glenn remarked.
Claire felt jumpy and uncomfortable and couldn’t tell if her feelings were due to being in a place where someone who lived there went missing and was presumed dead, or if she was picking up on sensations from long ago.
“Can we go in the garage?” Claire asked out of the blue.
“Yeah, sure,” Glenn said.
The large two-car garage was attached to the Co
lonial and a door led inside to the kitchen. As Claire stood with her back near the door letting her eyes roam around the space, she could feel her throat begin to tighten and she coughed to try and clear it. For a few moments, her vision sparkled and dimmed and she reached for the short banister near the three steps leading into the house.
Images and sounds flashed in Claire’s brain. A man. A woman. Heaviness pushed on her chest making it hard to breathe, and then a bolt of light flamed so bright that it blinded her for second. Suddenly, all of the sensations stopped.
Claire blinked and glanced around, disoriented.
“Claire?” Ian asked.
“What? What did you say? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Claire still held tight to the railing.
“We thought we’d go sit at the patio table for a few minutes and talk about the case,” Ian explained.
“Okay, good idea.” Claire took a small step to make sure she felt steady, then she and the men went around back and took seats on the patio under the shade tree.
“We went in circles when we were investigating,” Glenn recalled trying to find clues twenty-five years ago. “Jackson was a prime suspect, but nothing stuck. He claimed to be driving around looking for his wife. He told us Cheryl left the house before he could stop her. Even though he acted like he was upset, something seemed off about his reaction. He kept saying Cheryl probably needed to get away for a while and when we asked why, he said things about the business and the baby. When we asked him if they’d been having marital issues, he looked shocked by the question and told us no they weren’t. The guy was sort of abrasive and arrogant. None of us felt like he was being upfront.”
“Did you think Jackson was having an affair?” Ian asked.
“We thought so, but Jackson Wilby was smooth. We couldn’t figure out who he was seeing. There was an accountant, Lisa Richardson, who worked for Journey. We suspected she was the one Jackson was seeing, but we never found any proof.”
“Did you look into where Lisa was on the evening of the disappearance?” Claire asked.
