“And she never mentioned anyone hanging around the house? No trouble with any other people who might have been nearby, like landscapers or a repairman?” In reinvestigating the murders at the Stone house, he planned to start at zero, including the idea that Carol could have been the target.
She considered. “There was a gardener, not for the Stones but for the family across the street. He used to whistle at her and make rude comments. Guys like that are everywhere, though, and they don’t go after twelve-year-old boys.”
“You’re right. They usually don’t.”
“Daddy, Daddy, watch me!”
Reed shielded his eyes from the sun to watch Tula flip backward off the monkey bars. He took perverse pleasure in knowing Sarit would have had a heart attack if she’d been watching. “Bravo,” he called to Tula. “A perfect ten!”
“She’s brave,” Lisa said with a trace of wistfulness in her voice. “I was afraid to climb to the top of the jungle gym at that age. In fact, I’m not sure I ever did. Guess it’s too late now.” She faced him. “Do you really think the same person who killed Trevor and my mom could have Chloe?”
“I think we need to examine that possibility.”
“Back then, I missed my mom, but I mostly thought about what happened to him. Trevor. I used to have dreams that someone was coming to put a bag over my head and I’d wake up because I’d literally stopped breathing in my sleep out of fear. If someone could come into his huge house in the nice neighborhood, what was to stop them from coming to mine? Especially now that my mom was gone.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Now I think about her. How she didn’t even worry about herself, just tried to protect him. I wonder what she was thinking when he threw her off the staircase and onto that marble checkerboard floor.”
Reed could almost hear the crack of a skull hitting the floor and he tried not to flinch. He struggled to come up with some words of comfort, imagining what someone could have said to him to make him feel better when his mother’s murder had been unpunished. Nothing, he realized. There was nothing.
Lisa remained quiet for a few minutes as they watched the children play. “I hope you find Chloe,” she said, not looking at him. “I hope she’s safe. I hope wherever she is, there’s someone like my mom willing to fight for her.”
“I hope that, too.”
Lisa Frick left shortly thereafter, and Reed felt a twinge of guilt for having bothered her at all. She and her brother, Bobby, had been too young to have real insight into whatever precipitated the attacks at the Stone house all those years ago, and he’d contacted her mainly because she was geographically convenient. To dig deeper, he’d have to go to Philadelphia to talk to the remainder of the Stone family, Ethan and Justin. Fortunately, he’d hit on a potential opportunity to engineer such a trip.
He took out his phone and called his sister, Kimmy. She was the closest in age to him, the baby of the family before the Markhams had adopted Reed. Being bumped from such a favored status might have upset some kids, but Kimmy took her big-sister role so seriously that their parents would often find toddler Reed passed out in her bed at night, where he’d succumbed to her endless bedtime stories. She was his biggest rival and closest confidante and he dearly wanted to hear her voice right now.
“Hey, ugly brother,” she said when she picked up the line, her voice full of affection. “Have Tula and Ellery made fast friends yet?”
“Uh, I’m working on it.”
Kimmy gave a deep belly laugh. “Oh, honey, you say that like you’re the one who gets to decide.”
“Fine, then. Do you have any sage advice?” Kimmy had married her college sweetheart twenty years ago and they were still blissfully happy, as far as Reed knew. But she did spend her days as a family lawyer, which gave her a window into all kind of mucked-up relationships.
“Focus on whatever they have in common and go from there.”
“Food,” he answered without hesitation. Both Ellery and Tula loved to eat.
“There you go. Lots of meals, then. Maybe make them Mama’s peach cobbler. That’s how I reeled in Beau back in the day.”
“I would try that except we haven’t had much time together.” He explained briefly the situation with Chloe Lockhart, and Kimmy replied with a stretch of silence on her end.
“I’m so sorry for that girl,” she said in the Virginia twang that they both shared. “But Reed, every missing child can’t be your responsibility.”
He chuffed. “Now you sound like Sarit. Besides, it’s Ellery’s case. I’m just unofficially consulting at this point.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. So, let me guess … this isn’t actually a social call?”
He felt his ears go hot as she called him on his true motivation. “I’d like to swing by Philadelphia tomorrow or Tuesday to talk to a couple of people. I have Tula with me, though, and…”
“Save it. You know I can’t get enough of that girl. I’ll bring my two and we’ll all get mani-pedis or something.”
“Thank you,” Reed said with relief. He looked to Tula, who had ceased playing on the jungle gym and now seemed to be making clover crowns for her new friends. Lisa Frick’s parting words rang in his ears. I hope wherever she is, there’s someone like my mom willing to fight for her. “I, ah, I was calling for another reason, too. I may need your professional advice.”
“Oh?”
“Sarit may be moving to Houston, which would mean taking Tula with her. She hasn’t said anything to me directly, but Tula indicated Sarit has been house-hunting there recently. I gather her boyfriend has a new job. Can she just do that? Take her so far away from me with no negotiation?”
“I’d have to see the terms of your custody agreement. You have joint legal custody, but she has primary physical custody, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been abiding to the terms faithfully, is that correct?”
“Of course,” he said automatically. Then doubt crept in. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve been following the agreement as it’s spelled out. Child support, visitation, et cetera, all on time and as scheduled.”
“Well, I … uh…”
“Reed,” she said with resignation. He heard the squeak of her leather chair as she leaned backward, could picture her taking off her glasses to pinch her nose.
“I pay on time,” he told her. “Always. Visitation is a little more complicated. I travel for work and now there’s Ellery…” He could feel a chill come over him as he said the words. If Sarit could use Ellery against him, she would.
“Reed Alexander Markham, you haven’t been ditching your daughter to go bone your girlfriend.”
“No. Look, I get dinner with Tula on Tuesdays and then every other weekend with her, plus some vacation time. The total time I’ve seen her hasn’t changed a bit—it just doesn’t always happen exactly as scheduled. Ellery’s been training in her new job and she doesn’t have much flexibility, so it’s been easier to juggle the weekends with Tula. Plus, I still have to travel for work at times.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Kimmy replied, not sounding pleased.
“You have to help me.” He forced a smile as Tula caught him looking at her. She grinned in return, showing off the dimple she’d inherited from him. “I can’t lose her.”
“You know I will go to the mat for you and Tula. But Sarit’s in a strong position here, so you should think carefully about how hard you want to fight.”
He didn’t have to think about it. “As hard as possible.”
“Okay. I’ll look into your options, but Reed, you have to remember…”
He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to hear whatever came after.
“In a fight, someone always gets hurt, and it’s not always who you’d expect.”
8
Ellery stood next to Dorie by the wall of the Lockharts’ pristine living room, careful not to lean against the wallpaper lest she leave a sweat stain on it. The number of bodies in the room, combined with the camera lights,
had raised the temperature on what was already a humid summer day and Ellery regretted her long-sleeve shirt. Teresa Lockhart sat on the gray couch with her husband shoulder to shoulder. Her face was pale and her eyes fixed and unblinking. “I love Chloe with all my heart,” she said to the bouquet of microphones in front of her. Her monotone was hard to hear even in the otherwise silent room. “We miss her and we want her to come home. If someone saw her playing in the park and wanted to spend time with her, I understand their motivation. Chloe is a beautiful, loving girl. But she needs to come home now. We won’t ask questions. We won’t point fingers. We just want Chloe to be safe. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes, even parents. Even children. This mistake is not too late to fix if Chloe can just come home.”
Ellery released her breath when Teresa finished. Reporters asked questions, but Wintour shut them down, with an assist from Captain Conroy. “Is it just me,” Dorie muttered to Ellery amid the chaos, “or was that kind of terrible?”
“She’s no actress,” Ellery murmured back.
“I get more emotion from the teenager giving me my cheeseburger in the drive-thru.” She jerked her head in the direction of the back of the room. “Come on, I see the nanny’s here. We can ask her about the boy with Chloe in those pictures.”
Ellery threaded her way through the bodies in the room, glancing back to see Teresa shrug off Martin’s hand from her shoulder. Yes, she’d been robotic in front of the cameras, but Ellery didn’t share Dorie’s disdain. Dorie hadn’t ever been under those bright lights, blinded while the cameras flashed away at your moment of weakness, like jackals closing in for the kill. We just want your story! the reporters always shouted. You need to tell your side! They persisted until you gave in to their questions. You’d try to set the record straight. Only then, too late, you’d realize your mistake. Once you gave it up, the story was no longer yours.
Margery did not look thrilled to see them headed her way. “I heard about the text,” she said, her voice bitter. “You’re not here to accuse my husband of sending it, are you??”
“Did he?” Ellery asked, just because.
Margery’s mouth fell open. “No.”
“Did you?” Ellery didn’t believe this possibility, either, but as she said the words it occurred to her that Margery was both the last person seen with Chloe and the only outsider to have an up-close view of Teresa Lockhart’s parenting.
“Of course I didn’t. I can’t believe you would even suggest such a thing.”
Ellery nodded. Margery was a fifty-something granny with stretch pants, sensible shoes, and a pristine white cardigan. She did not look the part of a child kidnapper, and Ellery couldn’t imagine her using text-speak in any case. “What did you think of Teresa Lockhart’s TV appearance?”
Margery glanced over her shoulder before answering. “I pray that works to bring Chloe home,” she told the detectives. “Mrs. Lockhart doesn’t even like having her picture taken. This must be torture for her.”
Ellery wondered if that was part of the point, if the person who texted the request knew Teresa well enough to understand the special agony of forcing her to appear on television. No doubt the woman had endured a hungry press once before when her first child was murdered. “We have a couple of additional questions for you,” Ellery told Margery. “Is there someplace quiet we could talk?”
Margery looked around at the houseful of people. “The greenhouse,” she said at length. “It’s attached at the back.” She took them to an enclosed glass room off the kitchen where riotous plants unfurled giant leaves all the way to the ceiling.
“Is that a banana tree?” Dorie asked with incredulity.
“Theoretically, yes. I’m not sure it’s ever borne fruit.” She eyed the closed door behind them. “What is it you want to ask me?”
“You know that the video we’ve found so far shows that Chloe left the fair on her own.”
“I still can’t quite believe it. But yes, that’s what her parents told me.” Her worried gaze slid to the door again as though she feared who might walk through it and catch them talking. “I don’t know that I’ll have a job when Chloe comes home. They blame me for her running off.”
“Who do you blame?” Ellery asked.
A furrow appeared in her brow. “Do you have kids?” Ellery and Dorie both shook their heads. “Well, I’ve raised three of them. All good kids, but let me tell you, there were some years in there … My oldest once told me she was saying the night at a friend’s house, only it turned out they drove to Quebec, got drunk, and had to be fished out of a canal by the local authorities. My son, he went six weeks without saying more than two words to any question I asked him. I know because I counted. Chloe was turning thirteen in a few weeks, which I suppose makes her ripe for this sort of behavior. They drive you up a wall so that you’re not sorry when they move out.”
“You think she was reacting to her home life,” Dorie said.
“She found her parents to be too strict. Especially Mrs. Lockhart. Truthfully, so did I, but no one could really blame the woman after what happened the first time.” She bit her lip. “Mrs. Lockhart loves that girl, of that I have no doubt. But she was more comfortable giving her rules than affection. Almost like she didn’t want to get too close. She’d come into the room, ask Chloe about her day, and then find some reason to leave again. It wasn’t as bad when Chloe was younger because she’d just grab her mother’s legs or climb into her lap. These days, they seemed to communicate more by text than anything else.”
“What about Mr. Lockhart? How does he get along with Chloe?”
“Oh, he dotes on her. They go for bike rides together on the weekends. Whenever he travels for work, he brings her back chocolate or a stuffed toy.” She paused. “Of course, the last one she threw in the trash.”
“When was that?” Ellery asked.
“About a month ago. He went to Japan and brought her back a Hello Kitty. She said it was for babies and threw it away. I could see on his face that she about broke his heart. He’s been working longer hours lately—something about a big new client—and I think Chloe took it kind of personal.” She took a deep breath and folded her arms across her chest. “This house gets awful quiet sometimes with only me and Chloe in it. Maybe … maybe she went looking for some noise.”
“Where would she go?”
“I keep asking myself that same question. I guessed she’d be off with McKenna or one of her other friends, but they all seem accounted for.”
Ellery pulled out her phone and called up the picture of Chloe and the unidentified young man. “Do you recognize this boy?”
The creases around Margery’s eyes scrunched together as she studied the image. “He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t say I know him. Where was this taken?”
“We were hoping you could tell us.”
Margery examined the photo again, taking in his patched-up army jacket, the chain around his neck, and the ink across his hands. “This boy looks like he’s high school or older. I don’t know how Chloe would’ve run into him.”
“Could he be related to one of her friends? The son of one of her tutors?”
Margery’s lips thinned and she handed back the phone with a firm gesture. “No. We don’t know anyone who looks like that.”
Like what? Ellery wanted to ask her. Black? Poor? “Street”? But Dorie had been teaching her that the most important part of being a detective was to keep your mouth shut and your ears open, to remain neutral or even sympathetic when people confessed their worst thoughts and deeds. People will share their whole story, she’d counseled Ellery, but you have to give them the space to do it. You’ve got to be willing to buy a murderer a donut and cup of coffee, to hold his hand while he explains how he used his neighbor’s chain saw to dismember his wife. Tell him he’s not such a bad guy after all.
Dorie had the rep to back it up; her wide blue eyes and friendly, open face had wrung out more confessions than any grizzled male cop with the urge to put the perp’s head thr
ough a wall. Ellery just found the head-through-the-wall scenario more personally satisfying. “Okay, if you think of where you might have seen him, let us know,” she said to Margery. “If we can figure out where she met him, we can identify who he is.”
“If you send me the picture, I can ask around. My younger two kids are closer to his age. Maybe they would recognize him.”
“Your kids, do they know Chloe?”
“Of course. She used to come over to my place a bunch when she was smaller. She loved to help in my garden, and she was crazy about Miss Piggy, our guinea pig.”
“She still visits your place?” Ellery asked.
“Not anymore.” She paused. “Mrs. Lockhart asked me to stop bringing her over there a few years ago, and so I did.”
“Any idea why she’d ask that?” Dorie wanted to know.
Margery glanced toward the main house. “Chloe asked if she could move in with me. I said no, of course. She has a lovely home here. But she must have repeated the request to the Lockharts, and they didn’t take kindly to it.”
“How did Chloe take it when you said no?” Ellery asked.
Margery smiled sadly. “She didn’t kick up a fuss. She never did. She said, ‘Tell the sunflowers that I miss them.’ They’re blooming now, almost five feet tall. I look out my kitchen window and see them at different times, moving their heads around this way and that. I know in my head they’re just following the sunshine, but I can’t help feeling like they’re looking for Chloe.”
“Okay, well, thanks for your time. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.” Margery left them in the greenhouse.
Every Waking Hour Page 8
