Mariah Stewart - Hard Truth

The ringing of his cell phone brought him back from a place he’d just as soon not go.

“ Dawson.”

“T.J., it’s Lorna. I have the TV on and I just saw the tie-up on I- 95.”

“That’s me there on your screen, top down, baseball cap, dark glasses.”

She laughed. “If you can get as far as Havre de Grace and exit the interstate, I’ll give you directions that will save you time. Assuming traffic is still slow.”

“Traffic is not slow. Traffic is at a standstill.”

“Well, if it gets moving, call me back.”

“I’ll do that, thanks.” He paused, then said, “We may need to call Lafferty and reschedule for later today, if possible. What’s the latest you think we can leave your house and still make it to his office by noon?”

“Eleven-twenty, not much later than that, unless we don’t mind being a few minutes late.”

“I don’t mind being late, but I don’t know how much latitude Lafferty has in his schedule. What’s he like? Is he the type to get annoyed at being postponed?”

“I have no idea. I never really knew him very well. He’s a few years older than I am-six or seven, I think-and the only times I ever saw him were at the Eagans’. I don’t have a clear recollection of him, really. So I don’t know if he’ll be put off or not.”

“Well, hopefully, we won’t have to worry about that. Hey, I see a little movement from the vehicle ahead of me.” T.J. straightened in his seat and put the car in gear.

“Great. Well, call me back if you need directions.”

“Will do. And thanks, Lorna.”

The Crossfire inched along behind the Tahoe directly in front of him. The SUV being taller and wider, T.J. couldn’t see over or around it, and wasn’t sure how far ahead traffic had begun to crawl. It was stop and go for the next mile. He saw the sign for Havre de Grace up ahead, and thought about calling Lorna back. He’d wait until he got closer, to judge whether he needed an alternate route.

Not that he’d mind another reason to call Lorna. So far, the best thing about striking out on his own had been meeting her. The case was intriguing and complex enough to challenge him, and though he’d be hard-pressed to admit it to Mitch, T.J. was enjoying working with his old teammate again. With Lorna in that mix, T.J. almost felt as if he’d won the lottery.

He’d always liked women with brown eyes, and Lorna’s were almost the exact same shade of cinnamon as her hair. She was down-to-earth and pretty, with a frequent smile and an easy laugh. She was independent and smart, and he couldn’t think of one thing about her that he didn’t like. In fact, he’d liked her the minute he met her. He’d never been one to mix business and pleasure-too risky to one’s professional reputation-but he didn’t figure this case would go on forever. In the meantime, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather be working a case with right now. All around, it had been a very good week.

If he hadn’t been thinking so much about Teddy Kershaw, the week would have been damned near perfect.

“You want to drive?” T.J. asked Lorna as she walked toward the car.

“Sure.” She grinned. “I’d love to drive, thanks.”

He got out of the car and dangled the keys in front of her.

“You remember the rules?”

“Yeah, yeah. No lead feet and if I get stopped for speeding, the fine is on me.” She grabbed the keys and got in, tossing her handbag onto the back ledge before putting the key in the ignition and turning it on.

“Don’t you love the sound of that engine?”

She laughed. “Yes, I guess I do.”

“Easy, Andretti. She has a little more pickup than your SUV,” he reminded her.

“Don’t I know it.” She was still grinning as she turned onto the road.

T.J. adjusted his seat, moving it back to make room for his legs, content to let her drive, pleased to have given her so much to smile about. She was a cautious driver-he’d discovered that the other day when he’d let her take the sports car for a short drive-but she clearly was having fun behind the wheel. He leaned back against the headrest and watched the countryside roll by.

They drove past farm after farm-from the most modern-equipped to the Amish and Mennonite homesteads-past ponds where great blue herons fed and one where a lone swan was curled upon the bank. The drive was restful, the airflow through the front seat making it too difficult to carry on a conversation. They rode mostly in silence, but neither appeared to care.

“This is it.” Lorna slowed at the first red light on the outskirts of Elk Run, a small town just southeast of Lancaster. The office of the New Security Insurance Agency was located in the brick strip mall to their right. The light changed to green, and she made the turn into the parking lot. There was a space right in front of the storefront with Dustin Lafferty’s name on the door, so she parked and turned off the engine.

“That was so much fun.” She handed T.J. the keys. “I felt as if I were flying.”

“Actually, you were flying there for a while.” He took the keys and unhooked his seat belt. “Fortunately, no one seemed to notice except me.”

“I tried to keep the speed down,” she said as they got out of the car. “It’s just so hard to drive slowly when you get behind that wheel.”

“Well, shall we go in and see which version of the truth Mr. Lafferty has for us?” T.J. dropped the keys into his pants pocket and held the door to the office open for her.

“Sounds as if he already has one strike against him.”

“He does. We know he must have been lying about having seen Billie and Jason arguing after he dropped Jason off that night, because we’ve already established he couldn’t have seen into the house if he’d stayed in his car. I can’t think of one good reason to lie about something like that. So yes, I’m going into this interview with a healthy bit of skepticism. Let’s see what develops while we’re here.”

They stepped inside and were greeted by a young woman wearing a knee-length skirt and a short-sleeved sweater over her T-shirt. The air-conditioning in the room was apparently set to frigid, and Lorna wondered how the receptionist managed to avoid frostbite.

Dustin Lafferty heard them enter, and came out of his office to greet them. In his early forties, he had the beginnings of a bit of a paunch around the middle and thinning dark brown hair styled in what came dangerously close to a comb-over.

“Well, Lorna, I don’t think I’ve seen you since you were maybe in junior high. You’ve changed a lot since then,” Dustin told her as he shook her hand. “And you’re Mr. Dawson.”

“T.J.”

“Right. Come on in.” He waved them into his office. “ Charlotte, hold my calls, and see if you can bring some iced tea in for us.”

He closed the door, not bothering to wait for her response.

“So, you want to talk about the Eagans.” Dustin held a chair out for Lorna and indicated to T.J. to take the side chair. “I heard about all those bodies they’re finding out there on your farm. Or should I say, The Body Farm?”

Lorna visibly winced.

Dustin addressed T.J. “You’re working as a consultant for the FBI, huh?”

I am?

Before T.J. could respond, Dustin went on.

“Lorna told me all about it. I thought about joining the FBI when I was younger, but I kept putting it off. You know what the cutoff age is for new agents?”

“Last I heard, it was thirty-seven,” T.J. told him.

Dustin snapped his fingers. “Damn. I missed it.”

He folded his hands on the desk in front of him and looked at T.J.

“So. What do you want to know? Where do we start?”