Mariah Stewart - Hard Truth

“I just remember Fritz as being the more serious of the two. Mike was always clowning around. Nothing ever seemed to affect him. Fritz was more intense about things.”

“Interesting observation.”

“And that’s all it is. Just an observation.” She ran a hand through her hair to get it out of her face. She could only imagine what it looked like by now. T.J. had pulled to the side of the road to put the top down after they’d left Danielle’s, and had taken Lorna on a zippy ride through the countryside. “Slow down so I can read the numbers on the mailboxes.”

He eased up on the gas.

“It must be two houses up from here.” Lorna pointed to the bright yellow mailbox at the top of the slight rise in the road. T.J. slowed even more so she could read the name on the side of the box. “Yes, that’s it.”

T.J. turned into the drive just as a young child in white shorts and a bright red T-shirt ran around the corner of the garage, which, like the ranch-style house attached to it, was pale gray siding with black shutters. She stopped next to a bright red crape myrtle and stared at the little car with the big man behind the wheel.

T.J. turned off the engine and got out.

“Hi,” he called to the little girl. “What’s your name?”

“I can’t tell you,” she replied. “You’re a stranger and I can’t talk to you.”

T.J. nodded. “Good answer.”

A man in khaki shorts emerged from the garage. “You must be Mr. Dawson. And hey, Lorna Stiles. Good to see you again.”

Mike Keeler gave Lorna a quick hug and offered his hand to T.J.

“Good to see you, too, Mike,” Lorna replied.

“Kayla, I want you to go inside and tell Mommy she’s going to have to take you and your sister to the soccer field. I’ll be along later,” Mike told his daughter, then turned back to his visitors. “So, Lorna, Fritz tells me you’re putting the farm up for sale.”

“I will be, yes.”

“You have a Realtor yet?”

“No, but it’s on my list of things to do.”

“I only ask because Sarah, my wife-you remember Sarah, she was Sarah Watts in school…”

Lorna nodded. She remembered Sarah Watts, though she hadn’t known her well.

“Anyway, her brother, Jim, is a Realtor, he owns Watts Real Estate out there on Route One. Maybe you could give him a call.”

“I’ll do that. Right now, the police are still all over that back section, and they’re not letting anyone past about mid-field of our land.”

“I guess they’ll be going over the rest of the property, too,” Mike said. “The vineyard, down around the pond, out around the orchard.”

“Maybe, if they keep finding bodies, they’ll expand the search. So far, they haven’t done so. Although they’re being really meticulous, taking their time.”

“Probably afraid of missing something.”

“It pays to be thorough.”

“So tell me what I can do for you.” Mike shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Well, as you know, there’s been a lot of activity out at my place. The FBI is involved now, as I’m sure you’ve heard, and T.J. is working with them,” Lorna told him, stretching the truth a bit. “We’re hoping that once we find Jason’s killer, maybe we’ll be able to figure out what happened to Melinda.”

“You working with the FBI, too?” Mike asked her.

“No.” She shrugged. “But I am an interested party, since the bodies were found on my property. Or my former property, at least.”

“From what I’ve heard, the boys they found buried were all about the same age, all died from the same type of head injury.” Mike was facing into the sun and he squinted, his eyes becoming little slits. “Why would you assume the same thing happened to Melinda? She disappeared first, right? Those FBI profilers you see on TV are saying that whoever killed those boys had a thing for boys. Why would a killer who only went after teenage boys kill a nine-year-old girl?”

“No one’s assuming that Melinda was killed by the same person,” T.J. told him. “But we are thinking there’s a connection between the two. We just don’t know what it is yet. And as far as what you’re hearing on TV, you need to keep in mind that profiling is far from being an exact science.”

T.J. paused, then added, “I’m not so sure science is even the correct term to use. It’s off as often as it’s on. I wouldn’t put much stock into what you see on television.”

Lorna glanced sideways at T.J., and caught the set of his jaw as he spoke. This was obviously a hot button of his, and probably related to his former stint as a profiler. She wished she knew him well enough to ask him about it. There was a story there, and she was dying to hear it. Maybe another time.

Sarah Keeler came outside the house and waved to Lorna. The two women exchanged pleasantries before Sarah rounded up her daughters and strapped them into the family van to head off to soccer.

“Bring some bottled water when you come to the field,” Sarah called to Mike as she eased past them. “And try not to be too late. We have a double-header tonight, and they might need you to fill in for Kara’s coach in the second game.”

Mike waved to his wife and daughters, then turned his attention to Lorna and T.J.

“Let’s go sit on the deck, it’s cooler and more comfortable out back.” Mike gestured for them to follow him to the backyard. “Sarah just made a pitcher of iced tea. I’ll run in and grab some for us. It’s been another hot one, eh?”

They climbed the three steps up to the deck and took seats around a glass-topped table that appeared brand new. Mike ducked inside the house and returned with three glasses of iced tea. He handed a glass to each of his visitors, then sat in the chair at the head of the table.

“So go ahead and ask away.” Mike settled back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Where do you want to start?”

“Let’s start with the night Melinda disappeared.” T.J. rested both arms on the table. “You were around that night.”

“Right. My mother sent me over to Matt Conrad’s house to get my brother for dinner. She’d been calling him but no one was answering the phone. Matt’s parents hadn’t gotten home from work yet, and I said the guys were probably outside, so my mom told me to go get Fritz and tell him to come home.”

“How far is Matt’s from your house?” T.J. asked.

“Less than half a mile. I rode my bike.”

“Do you remember what time it was when you got there?”

“No. But it was still light out. Matt and Fritz were out back smoking cigarettes. I sat down and smoked one or two with them-that was the big thing back then, cigarettes, about as wild as we got around here-then Jason came along, said he was going to collect his sister and walk her home, but he’d be right back. A little while later, he returned, then his mother started calling him, real loud, so he got up and ran home. A few minutes later, he was back, asking if anyone had seen his sister. No one had, so he asked us to help him look for her. Later the police came and they started looking, too, and me and Fritz went home. Next day in school we heard she was still missing and there was this big search.”

“How long were you at Matt’s before Jason arrived the first time?” T.J. asked.

“Oh, maybe a half hour or so.”

“Then he went to get Melinda, came back, and not long after that his mother called him…”

Mike nodded. “Right, and he left again for a couple of minutes. But he came right back.”

“ ‘Right back,’ meaning how long between the time he left to go home and the time he came back and said his sister was missing?”

“No more than five minutes.”

“You sure about that?”