Eleven (7 page)

CHAPTER 9

Travis Carter’s mother, Ellie, had survived her husband of eighteen years. At the current age of sixty-five, she had never remarried but shared an address with a man by the name of Stewart Carlson.

They offered us a glass of iced tea which we appreciatively received as the humidity had increased with the promise of incoming rain. We sat at their dining room table with Jack and I facing each other, and the couple positioned at each end of the table.

“We understand your son was married to Lori Bingham,” Jack said, using Lori’s maiden name.

“That’s, uh, right. What about her?” Ellie fidgeted with the glass of iced tea, spinning it around in her hand.

“How long were they married?”

“Too long.” Ellie paused and took a swig of her drink. “She told lies about him.”

“What sort of lies, Mrs. Carter?” I asked.

“Oh, please don’t call me that. It’s still Carter, but Miss will do just fine.” She spun her glass again. “She was a good girl at first. The perfect find for my Travis, but as time went on, she claimed he beat her. My boy wouldn’t lay a hand on anyone, let alone a woman.”

“How was his childhood growing up?” Jack asked.

Ellie’s eyes snapped to him. She stopped spinning the glass. “If you’re implying that I was abused, Travis witnessed it and carried on the family tradition, you’re sadly mistaken.”

“If you know my Ellie, she wouldn’t put up with that type o’ shit.” Stewart backed up his woman.

“How was Travis’s relationship with Lori’s brother, Lance Bingham?”

“Now that man, he sends shivers through me,” Ellie said.

I straightened in my chair. “Why is that?”

“You ever meet the man?” I’m sure my eyes communicated the answer. “I guess you have. Anyway, I think he’s the one who put Lori up to rattin’ on Travis.”

“Your son went missing back in ’86,” I said.

“Yes. February eleventh of that year.”

“The file reads the twelfth.” Another instance of the number eleven made a bead of sweat form on my brow, or it could have just been the stale air in the farmhouse.

“Well, that’s the day we reported him missing. We gave him a day to see if he’d come back.”

“We?”

“Lori said he went off to work like any other day, only they never saw him at work. She spewed nonsense about my son having run off with a girlfriend.” She solidified eye contact with me. “My Travis would never have done that either. They wouldn’t pronounce him until ’93. They said seven years had to pass first. Not that you ever get closure without being able to...” Her words stalled as if she couldn’t bring herself to say
body
in reference to her son. Her eyes smeared with suspicion. “Why are you around here asking questions about my boy anyway?” Her eyes lit. “Did you find him?” She looked toward a framed photograph on a sideboard.

“Is that your son?”

“Yes. He was handsome, wasn’t he?”

I saw a man in his mid-twenties, a smile forced for the camera. Nothing about him stood out to me except for the glint in his eyes. Something lurking there made me question his character. I simply nodded in response to Ellie.

Jack’s cell phone chimed notifying him of a text message. He pushed some keys and scrolled down the screen with a fingertip. He looked at me. “It’s time we let these two get on with their day.”

“Oh, please you never answered what made you come by.” Ellie extended her arm and rested a hand on Jack’s forearm.

“We’re investigating his disappearance.” Jack rose to his feet and she pulled her arm back.

“We’ll let you know if we find anything,” I added. Jack corrected me with a look that said,
we don’t promise anything
.

When we got into the SUV, I did up the seat belt and looked over at Jack. “What was the text message?”

“The photos from the prison came in and Travis Carter was one of them.”

After a few hours, Paige and Zachery had visited neighbors in a five-mile radius from Bingham’s property. Most of them only knew Bingham from occasional run-ins at local stores, but nothing much beyond that. They described him as keeping to himself and pretty much a loner. One older lady had commented,
why move to a small town if you don’t want connections with your neighbors
.

“Why do we get stuck doing all this?” Zachery drove while Paige sat in the passenger seat.

“We’re the lucky ones.”

“Huh, I don’t see it that way.”

Paige didn’t really care what she did as long as she kept busy and intrigued. And to her, finding out more about Lance Bingham proved intriguing. But Bingham wasn’t everything that occupied her focus. She missed Brandon and what they used to have. Even though it was brief and forbidden, he harnessed a passion for life that infused her with the same positivity. Somehow with him, despite all the negative and evil in the world, she witnessed hope.

A few raindrops hit the windshield.

Zachery looked over at her. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m just thinking.”

He put his attention back on the road, and she was thankful he didn’t push her to speak her thoughts. She recalled how Brandon looked at her when he and Jack returned from visiting Bingham. How he mentioned confessing sin and stared at her. He regretted everything while she just wanted to resume things. But she also noticed something else. There was definite fear in Brandon’s eyes.

Jack pulled into the parking lot of Betty’s Place, which announced itself as a variety store and a restaurant. He activated the hands-free and asked for Doctor Jones.

“Special Agent Harper, I will call you once I have more news.”

“The first victim you placed time of death at around three decades ago.”

“Yes, as we’ve discussed.”

Jack passed me a glance. The timeline aligned with when Travis Carter went missing. “And this victim was male, correct?”

“Yes.” Impatience smeared every word from the coroner’s lips. “Age approximately mid-twenties.”

“I’m forwarding you some pictures. Please let me know if any of these match the victims. I’ll mark the photo I’m especially curious about.”

“You do realize that it will take more than a photo. I cannot confirm anything without tying DNA to the remains, dental records, health records, or other means of comparison.”

“Start with facial structure similarities. Just do your best, Doc.” Jack disconnected the call, pulled out his cell, and tossed it to me. I caught it on impulse. “You hungry?”

It was ironic how one could find their hunger when facing a case like this, but when asked the direct question my stomach growled. “I could eat.”

“Good. You forward those pictures to Jones—,” he pointed to the cell in my hands, “—and I’ll get us something.” Jack got out of the SUV.

I found it strange why Jack left me his cell phone when he could ask the store clerk if she recognized any of the people in the photos.

I pulled the keys from the ignition and went into the store. There was one other car in the parking lot when we pulled in, and I assumed it must have belonged to a person who worked here. So much for their tourist season.

A bell chimed over the front door when I walked in. The store housed a small restaurant. A few tables were at the back of the store along with a chalkboard noting their daily specials. Today was hot dogs with fries and a side of coleslaw.

“Can I help you?” A voice called out from behind the checkout counter. I couldn’t see her but knew by the fragile fluctuation to her tone, she was older. I noticed the top of Jack’s head and maneuvered around a display at the end of an aisle.

“Oh, there are two of ya.” The woman was barely five feet tall. Her eyes were friendly, but the look on her face indicated she wasn’t impressed by
federal suits
being in her store.

I moved beside Jack and noticed he held another cell phone. His eyes went from it to me, and then to the older lady. He pointed to a couple subs stacked with meat and wrapped in cellophane that he had on the counter. “Hope that will be fine.”

It seemed like a simple statement, but there was more there. His head slightly cocked to the right as his eyes fired with chastisement.

“I just thought you might need your cell.”

He took the cell from me and stuffed it into a pocket. “I was just telling Mrs. Miller here about our investigation and asking her if she recognized any of these photos.”

The older woman smiled at me awkwardly. “I only recognize the one.”

“This one.” Jack held up the phone, displaying the photo under discussion. I expected to see Travis Carter, but it wasn’t him. “Mrs. Miller said his name is Kurt McCartney.”

“He lived in Salt Lick back around ‘93,” Mrs. Miller began. “I only remember because it was the year Ellie Carter’s son, Travis, was pronounced dead. How sad for a mother never to have closure. I just assumed that man—,” she gestured to the phone, “—had moved on. Not everyone can handle living in a small town. He wasn’t here too long.”

Personally I’d go crazy living in a small town where everyone knew my business and where I had to drive miles to reach my destination every time I got in the car.

“You mentioned that you remember McCartney because of Travis Carter’s death announcement. How are the two connected?” Jack asked.

I glanced at Jack.
Impressive.

Mrs. Miller glanced between us. Her eyes read,
you’re investigating more than missing persons
. I thought she was about to call us out, but said, “I had just found out the news, and Kurt came in the store. He was an outsider at the time, really, but when he asked what was wrong, I told him.” She offered a sincere smile. “I also remember the last name because of the famous McCartney. Kurt’s first name was harder coming to me. He just wasn’t that open, but he seemed like a nice man.”