David Bell - The Hiding Place

Janet and Ashleigh exchanged a look. They knew something.

“What?” Stynes asked.

“Did you get my phone message today?” Janet asked.

“I did, but I didn’t have time to call back.”

“Did you hear what the message said?” she asked.

“You said something about a donation and a burial,” he said.

Janet told him, and as she spoke, the words from the message came back to Stynes again. And then he understood the look exchanged between Janet and Ashleigh. They had the money to exhume and rebury the body. Acquiring the court order would be easier than he thought.

They could finally find out who was buried in that grave, if it was Justin or someone else.

“Okay,” Stynes said. “It should take a couple of days to get the ball rolling. The next big thing for you, Janet, is that they’ll take a sample from your cheek. It’s quick and painless.”

“Detective?”

Stynes looked up. So did Janet and Ashleigh. Behind them, in the doorway that led back to the bedrooms, stood Bill Manning. Stynes wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there. He must have walked up silently, but he acted as though he had heard a fair amount of the conversation.

“I’d like to give a sample for this test,” Bill said.

“Dad, it’s not-”

“Actually, it might help,” Stynes said. “If the sample in the ground is degraded, having another point of reference would help. Are you sure you want to do that, Mr. Manning?”

“I said I did.”

“Then I’ll include that in the request,” Stynes said, but he said those words to Bill Manning’s back. He had already turned back down the hallway.

Late that night, after Detective Stynes had left the house promising to call and keep Janet up-to-date as things progressed, and after Ashleigh went upstairs to bed, Janet knocked on her father’s bedroom door.

She knew he’d be awake. The TV still droned behind the closed door, and she had noticed over the previous six months or so that he was staying up later than ever before. He used to be an early-to-bed, early-to-rise type, bragging about being able to wake up at five thirty on the dot every day without the help of an alarm clock. But unemployment had shifted his living patterns, and even after eleven Janet knew she could likely catch him still awake, staring at a baseball game or news show.

“Dad?” she said.

“Come in,” he said from the other side of the door.

Janet didn’t think she’d heard him correctly. He always opened the door and then treated his room like a private sanctuary, a boundary territory not to be crossed by anyone. She’d grown used to talking to him in the doorway, a far cry from the moments of her childhood when she could climb into bed with her mother in the morning. Her dad would be gone to work, and Janet would sneak in and lie next to her mother, feel her warmth and affection.

Inside the room, her dad lay across the bed, the covers thrown back. He wore a white T-shirt and a striped pair of boxer shorts. Without a regular shirt on, Janet saw that he had gained some weight in the preceding months. His belly bulged against the cotton fabric of the T-shirt more than she would have expected.

He’s also getting older, she reminded herself. Even he has to get older.

He didn’t mute the volume on the TV or turn to face her. Janet looked at the screen. In black and white Humphrey Bogart and a band of American soldiers stormed their way across the desert.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“Are you going out?” he asked.

“No, it’s too late for that.”

“Well, the other night…” He left the thought unfinished.

The room filled with the sound of tank and artillery fire. “Dad? Can you turn that down a little?”

He frowned but thumbed the volume control. He still didn’t look at her.

“Dad, I just wanted to know why you volunteered to give that sample tonight. You’ve acted so cold about everything else. It seemed out of the blue.”

He kept his eyes directed to the TV screen. He looked like he was planning on ignoring Janet and hoping she’d go away. But she wouldn’t go away, and before she’d said anything else, he said, “Won’t that put the questions to rest?”

“Some of them. Maybe all of them. It depends on what they find.”

“And will that make you happy?” he asked.

Janet thought about her answer to that question. She answered truthfully. “I’m not sure, Dad,” she said. “I’m just not sure.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “But I think it’s time we tried to do something, isn’t it?”

Janet wished she could escape from the news, from Dove Point. From everything.

The days waiting for the DNA results to come back from the state crime lab were agony-and they were made worse because everyone in town and throughout the region knew about the arrest of a man who might be Justin Manning. Detective Stynes had released his mug shot to the news media and held a press conference on a Friday morning, explaining the developments in the case. Not only did he speak about the arrest of the man claiming to be Justin Manning, but he also revealed that a DNA test was under way to determine the identity of the body in Justin’s grave. He said that the family had decided to relocate Justin’s body to the plot next to his mother, not mentioning the anonymous donor.

Janet chose not to attend the press conference. Stynes placed no pressure on her to be there, and rather than subject herself to questions and photographs, she stayed away and read a story about it-written by none other than Kate Grossman-on the Internet.

But staying away from the press conference didn’t matter. In the days after the story went public, reporters began to call the Manning house several times a day. Kate Grossman sent Janet a bouquet of flowers and a request for an interview. Janet crumpled the note and threw it away. Then Janet came in to work three days after the press conference to find Madeline waiting for her with a piece of paper in her hand. An Internet news service had picked up the story. But they didn’t place it under national news or crime news. They filed it under “News of the Weird.”

“Jesus, Madeline.”

“I know. It’s awful.”

“They’re making this look like it’s some kind of sideshow,” Janet said. “My life-my family-has become a sideshow.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown you that.”

Janet sat in her desk chair, her shoulders slumped. She felt tired more than anything else. She hadn’t been able to sleep in anticipation of the test results. And just being at home meant a ringing phone-and Janet answered every call, thinking it might be news from Detective Stynes when in reality the calls were only media requests or the occasional crank caller.

“No, it’s good that you did,” Janet said. “I should be prepared for more calls.” Janet looked at the piece of paper again. “People in offices all over America are going to be sending this story to each other. They’re going to say, ‘Hey, look at this crazy shit.’ ”

“On the bright side, at least the word will get out.”

Janet wanted to laugh at Madeline’s insane attempt to see the silver lining, but she didn’t have the energy.

“Why don’t you take some personal time?” Madeline said. “Hell, you and Ashleigh could take a drive somewhere.”

“Where? Everybody has seen the story.”

“Oh, they don’t know who you are. When’s the last time you took a day off? By the time you come back-”

“Thanks, Madeline. But I wouldn’t be able to think about anything else. I might as well stay here and try to live a normal life. Not that that’s possible.” Janet stood up. “I just wish…”