Hard Truth (20 page)

“But you think he wasn’t there that night at your house?” T.J. tried to steer the conversation back on course.

“I think I would remember if he had been, but I just don’t. Sorry.”

“The police report says that after you dropped Jason off at home, you saw him go into the house, heard his mother yelling at him.”

“I guess, if that’s what it says.” Dustin picked up his glass and drank.

“Well, did you see him go into the house?” T.J. pressed.

“I must have. Otherwise, why would I say . . .?” Dustin took another drink, then set the glass on the desk. “All right, I saw him go up to the house. I saw him go around to the porch as I was pulling away. That’s all I really saw.”

“The statement you gave to the police says otherwise,” T.J. reminded him.

“I don’t remember exactly what I told the police.” His face began to flush.

“Want me to remind you?”

Dustin shook his head. “No. I guess I must have exaggerated a little bit, maybe said I saw more than I did.”

“Why would you do that?” Lorna asked.

“I don’t know. I guess . . .” He shrugged. “I guess because it made me look important, you know? Like I was there or something. I can’t explain it now. I was just a kid then. I never thought it would matter much.”

He paused, then asked, “Does it matter much?”

“Only to make me wonder if you lied about anything else,” T.J. told him.

“No, I swear. Everything else is the truth.” Dustin looked from Lorna to T.J.

“Did it ever occur to you to go back to the police and change your statement?” Lorna asked.

“A couple of times I thought about it, but it didn’t seem to matter. Jason never came back. After awhile people stopped talking about it. We all just figured he’d run away, maybe the sister, too.” Dustin shrugged. “That’s what I woulda done, if I’d had a mother like that. I’d have run away and never looked back.”

“So what do you think?” Lorna said when they were back in the car, T.J. driving.

“I think Dustin reminds me of all the worst used-car salesmen I’ve ever known.”

Lorna nodded. “It’s the hair. Not a good look.”

T.J. laughed and drove out of the parking lot and stopped at the light.

“It wasn’t a complete waste of time, though. We came away with two possible suspects,” he said.

“We did?” She frowned. “What suspects?”

“The Keeler boys.”

“How do you figure?”

“Let’s start with Mike. He’s not telling the truth about where he was the night Jason disappeared. We’ve had three versions now, and two of them say he wasn’t out with the other guys. But he tells the story as if he were. Why? Maybe because he doesn’t want us to know where he really was that night.”

“Maybe Fritz and Dustin just don’t remember it clearly. It was a long time ago, and they were drinking.”

“They seem to remember the other details well enough. And I’m not sure I understand where Mike was when Melinda went missing. He says he was at Matt’s the whole time, but no one’s backing him up.”

“Again, it was a long time ago.”

“True, but that night turned out to be an event. Something important happened. A child disappeared, they all took part in the search. You remember things like that. My grandmother has days when she can’t remember the name of her next-door neighbor, but she can tell you in detail where she was and what she was doing the day President Kennedy was shot. People tend to remember the dramatic times, Lorna. Their friend’s younger sister disappearing was such a moment.”

“What about Fritz?”

“Well, let’s take a look at him. According to Dustin, everyone in Callen knows he’s gay—except you, apparently—and we’ve confirmed that at least three of the nine missing boys were.”

“That’s not much to go on.”

“Agreed. But it’s more than we’ve got on anyone else. Besides, he was around the night Jason disappeared.”

“He was home by then.”

“Was he? We have only his word for that. Remember, his mother was away that night. Jason had been home for a while, first arguing, then talking with his mother, before he went out that door into the yard. Billie’s already told us that. Fritz would’ve had plenty of time to ride his bike out to the Eagans’.”

“But why would he have done that? What would his motive have been?”

“I guess we’ll have to ask Fritz. In the meantime, let’s have Mitch run a trace, find out where Fritz has been going a couple of days every month over the past few years, and see if any bodies have popped up in his path.”

“I don’t see it.” She shook her head. “Fritz is just too gentle a soul, T.J. I don’t think he has an aggressive bone in his body.”

“That’s what some people said about John Wayne Gacy. And Ted Bundy.” He took his phone from his pocket and speed-dialed Mitch’s number. “If I learned one thing all those years I was with the Bureau, it’s that there’s no way of telling what goes on inside the head of another human being. The person who looks craziest might be harmless, and the person you least suspect might be a monster who is capable of things you can’t even begin to imagine.”

“A monster?” she said softly. “Where did that come from?”

He watched the light change, then made a left onto the two-lane road that would take them back to Callen.

“T.J.?” She reached over and touched his arm. “Where did the monster thing come from?”

“From long ago.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He drove in silence for almost a mile before replying.

“Not today.” He stared at the road straight ahead. “Maybe some other time, but not today . . .”

N
ineteen

Mitch was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch, feet crossed at the ankle and resting on the railing, when T.J. and Lorna returned to the farm.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he called to Lorna after she’d gotten out of the car, “but I needed a little downtime to think a few things over.”

“I don’t mind at all.” She smiled. “
Mi
rocker
es su
rocker.”

“Muchas gracias,”
Mitch said. “Now, Dawson, tell me why, with all the super-duper spy equipment that I know you’ve purchased over the years, you need the FBI to get telephone information for you.”

“I sold it all when I sold the business.”

“You sold all your toys?” Mitch’s eyebrows rose.

“Every last one of them.”

“That’s too bad.” Mitch shook his head. “And damned poor planning on your part.”

“Hey, I was retiring and the buyer made an offer, lock, stock, and barrel. My partner said to sell it all, so we did.” T.J. stood on the grass with his arms folded over his chest. “Are you going to tell me what you came up with?”

“A name, dates. A phone number. The usual.”

“Are you going to make me beg?”

“Nah.” Mitch opened the briefcase that sat at his feet and handed T.J. a folder. “Name, Claude Raymond Fleming.”

He looked at Lorna. “That name ring a bell?”

“No.” She shook her head.

“Claude Raymond lives on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. I have someone checking him out as we speak.”

“Maybe it’s just a coincidence?” Lorna frowned. “Maybe the call had nothing to do with Melinda after all. I guess that would have been too good to be true.”

“We’ll see what turns up. According to the records, it’s a number Danielle hadn’t called in the past four years, so that right there makes me curious. That she’d be dialing even as you’re leaving. Seems as if she was telling someone something they needed to know right away, doesn’t it?” Mitch turned to T.J. “So how’d it go with you today, Dawson?”

“It went.” T.J. sat on the top step and leaned against the support pillar.

Lorna unlocked the front door. “I’ll be back out in a few. I want to see if I have a message from any of my clients.”

“Take your time,” T.J. told her. “I expect we’ll still be here when you’re finished.”

“You learn anything from . . . which one did you see today?” Mitch asked.

“Dustin Lafferty. The one who drove Jason home the night he disappeared. About the only thing I learned was that he admitted he lied about having seen Jason go into the house that night.”

“Why would he have lied about that?”

“Seems he thought it would make him look important. He wanted people to think he knew something no one else knew.”

Mitch nodded. “I hate it when that happens.”

“And he also told us that Fritz Keeler is gay.”

“Well, there’s something.” Mitch stopped rocking. “Gay victims, a gay perp could make sense. Local guy, just like we thought. Maybe I should have a chat with him. Tell me, what do your instincts say?”

T.J. shrugged. “I don’t have any.”

“That’s bullshit, Dawson.”

“Let’s just look at the facts as we know them, okay, and leave it at that.”

“In that case, I’d say it’s time for me to bring in Fritz.”

“Then do it.”

“You don’t think it’s him,” Mitch said flatly. “I can tell by the look on your face. Will you please tell me what you’re thinking?”

“I’m thinking that it’s one of three guys—Fritz, Mike, or Dustin. I’m thinking maybe you should run a trace on all three of them, see if there are any priors of any sort. But you should see if there are any registered sex offenders in the area. See if there are any other viable suspects.”

“I’ve done all that. I’ve run traces on everyone remotely connected to Jason Eagan, including the chief of police, who, you might be interested in knowing, at one time had a clandestine relationship with Dustin Lafferty’s mother. It ended a few years ago, but I thought I’d pass that on. None of the others have arrests for any sex crimes—not even a peeper among them—but Mike Keeler has had a few assault charges against him. Never convicted, charges were always dropped. Mostly bar fights. Walker also told me Mike had been stopped a few times for driving without a license before he turned sixteen, but it was no big deal. Apparently all the boys around here did that.”

“Dustin said Mike had an aggressive streak.”

Mitch lowered his feet and leaned forward in the chair to face T.J. “Knowing what you know about the players you’ve been talking to, I want your gut reaction, T.J. I need it. You may not trust yourself anymore, but I still do.”

“That’s real nice of you, Mitch,” T.J said drily. “Nice try.”

“Will you knock it off?” Mitch’s jaw tightened. “You gonna carry that cross for the rest of your life? Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Everyone’s mistakes don’t cost innocent people their lives,” T.J. snapped.

“Sometimes they do. Look, I admit, what happened in Georgia, that was horrendous. No getting around it. And I can understand why you would want to walk away, why you’d never want to put yourself in that position again. I might look at things that way myself, for a while. But it wasn’t your fault, what happened. It was Teddy Kershaw’s fault those people died. I think you’ve repented for his sins long enough, don’t you?”

“Ask those kids in Georgia whose mothers Kershaw killed, the husbands who lost their wives. The parents who will never see their daughters again.” T.J.’s eyes clouded. “Ask them if they think I should be let off the hook.”

“You have to let it go, buddy.” Mitch shook his head. “You just have to let it go.”

When T.J. didn’t respond, Mitch said, “So what are you going to do with the rest of your life?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Sorry I took so long.” Lorna opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. “I got tied up with emails. I’ve gotten behind in my work this week. I’m afraid I have a lot to catch up on.”

“Well, I’ll be out of your hair for a few days,” T.J. told her. “There are a few things I need to take care of, too.”

“If everyone is bailing on me, you can at least give me your impressions before I leave,” Mitch said.

“I don’t know,” Lorna said. “I’m not the professional here. Ask T.J. He did almost all of the talking, anyway. Which he should have,” she hastened to add, “since I’m not a detective.”

“I don’t have a favorite.” T.J. shook his head, determined to remain uncommitted.

“Well, in that case, I think I’ll start with Fritz and Mike, move on to Dustin. Not that I think they’ll tell me anything they didn’t tell you, but I want it all on the record.”

“Were you able to find a listing for Matt Conrad?”

“No. But I did learn he’s been on the West Coast for the past nine years or so,” Mitch told them.

“I thought he was out near Reading?” Lorna recalled.

“That was apparently very old information. I talked to Chief Walker earlier today, just wanted him to be aware of our thoughts about the local ‘boys,’ and he tracked Matt through a cousin who still lives nearby,” Mitch said. “If we go with our theory, that the killer has remained local to stay near his kills, I think we can cross him off the list, but I’ll have someone in the San Diego office pay him a visit. I don’t expect it to pan out, though. No, I’m sticking with one of the Keelers or Lafferty for now.” He rocked for a moment, then said, “Maybe we want a warrant for that big old house Fritz is living in. Might be some souvenirs there.”

“I don’t see Fritz as your killer.” The words were out of T.J.’s mouth almost before he realized he’d spoken.

“Really. Who do you see?”

“I don’t see anyone in particular. He just doesn’t fit . . .” T.J. stopped in mid-sentence.

“He doesn’t fit the profile? Why not? He’s gay, like three victims were. He was there both nights. He grew up around here, might very well have frequented the Purple Pheasant. I will definitely ask him about that. And he’s stayed close to home, close to the remains, just like we figured the killer might do.” Mitch finished the thought. “If he doesn’t fit the profile, who does?”

“I’ll see you in a few days, Lorna.” T.J. stood, choosing to ignore Mitch’s question. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll have my cell with me.”

“Thanks.” She watched him walk to his car and get in. He turned the car around and waved as he drove past the porch.

“Was it something I said?” Lorna asked as his taillights disappeared at the end of the drive.

“No, it was something I said.” Mitch sounded regretful. “I should learn to keep my mouth shut. Learn to take no for an answer.”

“What was the question?”

“The Bureau would love to have T.J. back. He doesn’t want to come. I should just shut up and let the man live his life.”

“Why do you make such an issue of it? Why don’t you drop it?”

“That’s exactly what I should do. And I will, I guess. I just remember how good he was, how clever at picking apart people’s stories and their personalities. I hate to see such talent go to waste. Especially when he loved it so much.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll do what’s best for himself. If he loves it that much, he’ll have to decide on his own to go back. If he doesn’t, it means he really doesn’t want the job.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Mitch got out of the chair. “I should be going, too. I’ll have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Can you let me know if anything happens?”

“Sure. Thanks for the loan of the porch.”

“Anytime.”

Lorna watched Mitch drive away, much as she’d watched T.J. leave. She leaned over the porch rail for a few minutes and watched the last of the season’s fireflies dot the growing blackness out near the field. The heavy scent from the orchard reminded her that autumn was closing in. She was about to go inside when headlights turned into the driveway. She watched the police cruiser pull to a stop.

“Lorna,” Chief Walker greeted her curtly as he got out of the car.

“Hello, Chief.” She stood her ground on the porch.

“I just wanted to give you a heads-up.” He stood at the end of the brick walk, hands on his hips, looking more than a little formidable. “The DA’s dropping the charges against Billie Eagan. While I don’t know that I totally agree, the preliminary hearing was set for Wednesday, and he doesn’t feel he has enough evidence to make it through right now. Doesn’t mean he can’t refile, but for now Billie’s off the hook. I thought you should know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. And Billie knows this?”

“Just stopped out to tell her myself.” He looked like he wanted to say more on that subject but apparently decided against it.

Instead, he asked, “Any idea where the FBI fellow went when he left here? Guess I just missed him, eh?” he said, as if to let Lorna know that he knew she was harboring the enemy.

“I didn’t ask where he was going.”

“Well, I guess I can call his cell phone,” Walker grumbled, clearly unhappy to have to deal with Mitch in any capacity. “I have to tell you, I for one am not happy to have him around. This is my town, my investigation. Nothing would please me more than to see him leave. You can go ’head and tell him that, as you’re so buddy-buddy.”

“He’s a friend of a friend. But maybe in the long run, it will work to your benefit, having the FBI involved.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Supposing it turns out that someone local is involved. You want to be the one slapping the cuffs on?”

He started to answer, then stopped, as if mulling over what she had said.

He shrugged. “Depends on the local, I guess.”

“Well, I overheard Agent Peyton tell someone on his cell phone that he’s looking strongly at all the boys—men now—who were around both nights the Eagan kids disappeared.” No tales out of school here. She knew Mitch had already had this conversation with Walker. “You know all those families—the Keelers, the Conrads. Oh, and the Laffertys.”

She paused to let that last name sink in, then continued.

“You know, I saw that piece on the news the other day, about how Melinda’s disappearance was your first big case after joining the force, and how ironic it was that the case has resurfaced now that you’re chief, and how nice it would be, with you getting ready to retire this year, to have this case off the books. I was thinking how tough it must be, with a police force the size of ours, to keep the investigation going, while at the same time keeping up with all the normal duties the force is responsible for.”

“It’s been a bitch. What’s your point?”

“Well, my point is, with the FBI working with you, they can take a lot of the heat off your department. Plus, they have resources that the Callen PD probably doesn’t have, right?”

“True enough.” His expression never changed even as he nodded in agreement.

“So if they can help you solve the case, it will only be to your advantage. Especially if someone from Callen turns out to be a suspect, someone whose family you know.” She looked at him meaningfully to let it sink in—
Dustin Lafferty
—and he got the message. She could almost hear the explanation he’d be offering.
Now, Nancy, you know I would never have called your boy in for questioning, but the FBI . . .

“Seems to me it’s a win-win situation for you,” Lorna said.

“Seems like it’s a colossal pain in the ass, all the way around. I wish to God none of this had ever happened.”

“There are four—maybe more—young men who’d no doubt share that same wish, Chief.”

“I’ll keep you informed, Lorna,” he said as he walked back to his car.

“Thanks, Chief. I’d appreciate it.” She went as far as the end of the walk. “Oh, by the way, Chief? Does the name Claude Raymond Fleming mean anything to you?”

He paused in mid-stride, then turned around.

“Where’d you come up with that name?”

“I just heard it.”

He scratched the back of his head. “It rings a bell, but I don’t know why. Not a name I’ve heard recently, but it has a familiar sound.”

“Was it someone local?”

“I don’t recall.”

“If you remember where you heard it, would you let me know?”

“Sure.” He got into the car and slammed the door. It echoed across the quiet yard between the house and the trees.