Dead Wrong (28 page)

“You’re back. You said you’d come back if you found out anything. Here you are.” He rocked a little faster, anticipating something of interest. “Take a seat. Tell me what you know.”

Aidan filled him in on their visit with Al Unger.

“So, you saw him, eh?” The rocking slowed. “How’s he look, old Albert?”

“He looked tired. Worn out,” Aidan said, then added, “Of course, he could have looked like that before the murder, too.”

Tanner shook his head. “He was a strong enough man back then. Prison does that other to you—makes you weary of being a man.” He looked at Mara and added, “That’s just from personal observation, not personal experience, you understand. But every man I ever knew who went into prison for any substantial amount of time came out looking like half his old self. Expect Unger would be the same. Shame about him was he wasn’t a violent man by nature, had no priors for anything that ever hurt anyone. She just brought out the worst in him, I guess. Some women do that.”

“He mentioned that Joanie Gibbons had had a son.”

“Yeah, poor kid.” Tanner shook his head slowly. “I never saw him at all, you know? Not at the house. Saw him later. They brought him down to the station—didn’t know what else to do with him. He was hiding in that closet all the time his mother was being killed. Stayed in that closet, till someone found him after the body was removed and the premises were being searched.”

The information was staggering. Aidan didn’t dare look at Mara. Who could imagine what such horror could do to a young mind? “Unger said the little boy went into foster care.”

“Seems that would be right.” Tanner nodded.

“You wouldn’t happen to remember where he went or with whom, would you?” Aidan asked. “Who the foster family was?”

“Seems to me it was someone—a couple, that is—out near Clark Road somewhere.” He stopped rocking altogether, his brows knitting close together. “Damn. What was their name?”

Tanner stared out at the lake, where, the clouds having lifted, moonlight spread quietly across the surface of the water.

“Give me a bit. It’ll come to me. . . .” Chief Tanner absently scratched behind the ear of whichever of his dogs sat next to him. “Sooner or later, it’ll come. . . .”

He began to rock silently, his hand still on the dog’s head.

“If I’d known we’d have been sitting here tonight, with this open sky overhead, I’d have brought a telescope,” Aidan said.

“You like that?” Tanner asked. “Star watching?”

“Sure.”

“Never had no time for it.” Tanner looked out at the sky beyond the porch roof. “Though sometimes now I think about it. What’s out there. Who, maybe.” He turned to Aidan. “You think there’s anyone out there?”

“Can’t think of any reason why there wouldn’t be.” Aidan’s chair rocked in concert with Tanner’s. “I think it’s a little arrogant to believe that out of all that’s out there in space, this planet would be the only one to have intelligent life.”

He paused, then added, “Assuming that you believe mankind represents intelligent life . . .”

Tanner snorted. “Don’t start me there, boy. I’ve seen too much in my day. I’ve fought in wars and I’ve spent fifty good years in law enforcement. You don’t want to get into a debate with me on what represents intelligent life.”

Aidan laughed softly. “Tell you what, Chief Tanner. If I get out this way again, I’ll be sure to bring my telescope. You can take a good look around the universe and tell me what you think.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded, visibly pleased. “I’ll hold you to that, you ever get back out this way.”

Some night creature screamed from across the lake, and the dogs stirred restlessly.

“Do you think we should start back to Lake Grove? We’re going to have to look for a place to stay tonight,” Mara asked. She’d been mostly quiet up until now, letting the old, retired chief of police and the young FBI agent share their thoughts. She’d felt apart from them, but she was all right with that. She had never walked in their world.

“Good point.” Reluctantly, Aidan stopped rocking. He’d been soothed by it. “There was that motel on the highway driving in.”

“You’re not going to be staying in a place like that,” Tanner said.

“Why not?”

“The place has a reputation—well earned, I might add—as a—” He glanced at Mara. “A trysting place.”

In the dark, Mara smiled.

“Not suitable for the young lady,” he continued. “Or for a man of the law, for that matter.”

“I see.” Aidan nodded and tried to hide his amusement. “Perhaps you could recommend someplace else?”

“Catherine Paisley’s place is being repainted, I heard. Doubt she’s open yet.”

“Once we start driving, we’ll find something,” Aidan assured Mara.

“Or you could stay here,” Tanner offered. “I only have one spare room, but if you’re bunking together—”

“No,” Mara and Aidan said simultaneously. “We’re not.”

“Oh. Sorry. I just thought . . .” Tanner grinned sheepishly. “Well, then, Miss Mara here can have the spare room, and you, sir, may sleep on the sofa, if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Aidan turned to Mara. “What do you think? Shall we take Chief Tanner up on his generous offer?”

“This is very kind of you, and not at all expected. Are you sure you want us invading your solitude?”

“Missy, I have solitude three hundred and sixty-five nights each year. A little company now and then does a man good.”

“Then I’d love to stay. Thank you very much for your offer.”

“I’ll go in and get your linens and things,” Tanner said as he stood. “You’ll have to make up your own bed . . . and the little dog should probably stay upstairs with you.”

Tanner stopped on his way to the door and asked, “He is housebroken, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yes.” Mara patted Aidan on the arm. “So’s the dog.”

“Very funny,” Aidan said from the corner of his mouth.

Chief Tanner chuckled and disappeared into the house.

Lights went on in several rooms as he walked through the downstairs.

“This really is sweet of him,” Mara said.

“It is.” Aidan reached over and took Mara’s hand. “Nice and peaceful here, isn’t it?”

“Um-hmmm.” She nodded.

“No wonder Tanner doesn’t want a telephone out here. I don’t think I’d want the bother either, in a place like this. You could get addicted to it, you know?” He closed his eyes, holding her hand in the dark, feeling the silence around him. He felt warm, quieted inside for the first time in almost a year.

The door opened and the chief stuck his head out. “Aidan, I left bedding on the sofa for you, and bedding on the steps going upstairs for the lady. There’s only one room; you can’t miss it. Now, I’m going to be turning in soon, but you’re free to relax out here for a spell if you want. Just bring the dogs in with you, if you don’t mind. I never leave them out at night.”

“Thanks, Chief. I’ll bring them in,” Aidan told him.

“Actually,” Mara said, glancing at her watch, “I think I’m ready to turn in, too. It’s been a really, really long day.”

She squeezed Aidan’s hand. “You must be exhausted after all the driving you did, going straight through the night.”

“I think it is starting to catch up with me,” he admitted.

He brought her hand to his lips, held it there for a long minute before releasing it.

“Sweet dreams, Mara.”

“You too, Aidan.” She looked about her for Spike and found him near Aidan’s feet. “Come on, Spike. Time to turn in.”

Roused from sleep, the little dog rose slowly, then followed her to the door.

“Would you rather I sat here with you for a while?” she asked uncertainly from the doorway.

“No, no. I’ll be going in, in just a few. You go on to bed.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The screen door closed behind her, and he sat motionless in the chair, listening to the dark world of night unfold around him. A few moments later, he began to rock slowly, as the old man had done, trying the rhythm on for size. It was a comfortable fit, and he continued to rock just so for close to a half hour, his mind filled with images that flashed past at a breathtaking speed. He closed his eyes and gave in to the visions, as he always did.

A warehouse loomed before him, dark on dark. Too late, the sound of footsteps behind him, the sound of tires squealing and doors slamming. A shout from someplace, those first bullets whizzing past his head. Him ducking to avoid their path, calling for Dylan, and getting no response.

Who was supposed to be watching your back?
Mara had asked.

His mind went back to the others, the ones who had been in the building opposite the warehouse that night, the ones whose job it had been to cover him and Dylan. Where had they been when the cars had sped into the alley, when the shots had ripped through the night? Where had they been?

He’d understood how quickly it had all happened, offered understanding and excuses to them, but none to himself.

If you can be that forgiving of them, why can’t you be as forgiving of yourself?

He thought,
Because Dylan was my flesh and blood, not theirs. My hero. My idol. My brother . . .

For the first time in months, when the sadness came and washed over him, it was without the soul-searing guilt that generally accompanied it. He wasn’t sure why it spared him that night, but he was grateful. He eased deeper into the chair, feeling just a little lighter than he had in a long, long time.

Overhead, clouds began to shift across the moon, changing shape as they drifted. An owl called faintly, his whoooooooooooooo a muffled echo in the night. At the edge of the lake, cattails, tall and thin, stirred along the bank, sending their hushed whispers on the breeze.

Aidan closed his eyes and felt peace, just ever so tentatively, settle around him. Not enough to chase away all the demons, but for tonight it was enough.

He wished Mara had stayed for a while. He wanted to kiss her again. Bringing her along had done more than just keep her out of harm’s way. Her company had been good for him.
She
was good for him. He sat on the porch and thought about her for a long time.

From somewhere inside, a clock struck midnight, long past the time for sleep. He pushed himself from the chair and called softly to Manny, Moe, and Jack. The three dogs followed him into the house as if they’d been doing so for years, then plunked in their respective places around the large front room as Aidan prepared the sofa.

Later, after he’d been sleeping for some hours, he awoke to find Chief Tanner seated in one of the high-back wing chairs near the fireplace.

“Their name was Channing,” the chief said when he sensed that Aidan had awakened. “Marshall and Claire Channing. They were the ones who took the boy in.”

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

T
HE ROAD TO
L
ITTLE
F
ALLS HAD TAKEN
C
HANNING UP
the Northeast Extension of the Pennsylvania Turnpike, then dumped him just this side of I-80 in search of a two-lane road that wound through state game land.

Why in the world anyone would want to own property up in this neck of the woods—with a cabin or otherwise—was beyond him. The forests here were deep, like those in fairy tales, dense and rising tall on both sides of the road. Some might call it scenic. He thought it was downright creepy.

He stopped at an old general store outside some little town whose name he never did figure out, and bought staples—milk, bread, eggs, bacon, peanut butter—then threw in a couple of Hershey’s bars to appease his sweet tooth. On his way to the register he saw a box of wooden toothpicks—the flat old-fashioned kind he preferred—and he tossed those onto the counter along with the box of tea bags he held in the crook of his arm.

A small man of indeterminable age shuffled from the office to the counter, smiling at Channing as he did so.

“Son’s on vacation with his family,” the man explained. “Can’t get him back here soon enough to suit me. Hate dealing with these vendors online, you know what I mean?” He shook his head. “Bring back the days when the suppliers came right on into the store and showed you what they had and you bought what you needed and they took away what you didn’t.” The man shook his head again. “Ah, well. Whatcha gonna do?” He began to ring up Channing’s order somewhat absently.