Mariah Stewart: Hard Truth

Right then, Lorna’s father came into the kitchen.

“Mary Beth, where are you going?” he asked.

“Melinda hasn’t arrived home and her mother is worried. I thought I’d take a look around the barn.”

He glanced at his watch.

“She left around five, right?” He frowned. “It’s been an hour and a half already. Billie’s just looking for her now?”

“She’s been looking on their side of the field.” Lorna’s mother opened the door and went outside. “I’m thinking maybe she’s hiding here, on our property. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll come with you. And here, Mary Beth, we need light.” Lorna’s father took two flashlights from the closet and followed her mother outside.

Lorna had leaned against the windowpane and watched the twin yellow circles of light from the flashlights glide across the yard and disappear into the barn. All the while, she was biting her bottom lip, wondering if she should tell about the secret place where she and Mellie sometimes went to read or to be alone and talk. If she told now, and Mellie wasn’t there, then everyone would always know their secret, and if Mellie came back, she’d be mad that now everyone knew and she’d have to look for a new hiding place.

But if Mellie was there, she needed to come out and go home.

No doubt Mrs. Eagan was going to be loaded for bear. Lorna had heard her grandmother say that, and while she wasn’t exactly sure she understood what bears had to do with anything, she understood the sentiment perfectly.

But they hadn’t found Melinda that night, or any other night. It would be years before Lorna dropped the “and please bring Mellie home” from her prayers. The thought that Melinda could have been right there, on the Palmer land, all this time, twisted Lorna’s stomach into knots.

I would have known, wouldn’t I, if my best friend had been murdered and buried in a place I could see from my bedroom window? Wouldn’t I?

Only in books, or in movies, she told herself, slapping at the mosquito that had landed on her leg. Not in real life.

But if it was Melinda, and she had been buried out there at the far end of the farm, it would go a long way toward easing that little twinge of guilt that bit at Lorna every time she thought of how she’d not given up the secret hiding place.

Thunder rumbled from somewhere over toward West Grove, and Lorna stood to watch the darkening sky. The clouds were low hanging and fast moving. The storm would hit within the next twenty minutes or so, she figured, but wouldn’t last too long. Above the rain clouds, the sky was lighter and held promise. Maybe after the rain passed, she’d walk down to the family plot and sprinkle some of her mother’s ashes, as she was bound to do.

Or maybe she would just sit there on the porch, and wonder what had become of her friend all those years ago.

At eight forty-five on Wednesday morning, Lorna was seated at the dining room table, eating dry cereal from a small blue plastic bowl and preparing a profit-and-loss statement on her computer for one of her clients. To access the Internet, she’d had to plug into the house phone and go the dial-up route. It had been a long time since she’d done that, and the squawk through the phone line sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard.

She made a mental note to look into broadband service while she was there. Even if it took her a month to finalize things in Callen, it would be worth the connection fee to have cable brought into the house.

She’d set up the laptop at the far end of the table, so that her back would be to the china cupboard. Empty of its contents, it reminded her of a mouth without teeth. Each piece of china or crystal had left its footprint on the dusty shelves, ghostly reminders of holiday dinners and birthday parties long past.

Stone crunched under the tires of a car in the driveway, and she went to the front door, arriving just in time to see Chief Walker get out of his cruiser.

“Hi, Chief,” she called as she unlocked the screen door and stepped outside.

“Hey, Lorna.” He walked toward her, one hand resting on the holstered gun that sat on his right hip.

“What’s going on?”

“Just thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing, make sure everything is all right.”

“Everything’s fine, thank you.”

“Wanted to talk to you a bit about the bones we found out in the field on Monday.”

“Want to come in? Or have a seat on the porch? It’s probably cooler out here.”

“The porch will do just fine.”

He walked up the steps and sat in one of the rockers.

“Can I get you something?” She paused beside the second rocker.

“I’d love a cup of coffee, but I’ve already surpassed my daily limit.”

“Just as well, then.” She sat in the rocker nearest the door. “I’ve been buying mine at the mini-mart up the road. I did find Gran’s old percolator, so I’ll probably pick up some coffee on my next trip to the market. Maybe I’ll get up there later today.”

“We were all sorry to hear about Mary Beth. She was a good woman, your mother was. We’ll all miss her.”

“Thank you, Chief. We appreciated the card you and your wife sent. Please thank her for us.”

“Least we could do.” He rocked for another moment, then said, “About those bones…”

“Any idea yet who it might have been?”

“Actually, it looks as if they’ve been identified.” He stopped rocking and leaned forward a bit, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. “Looks like we might have found Jason Eagan, after all these years.”

“Jason!” She stopped rocking, too. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. The medical examiner estimated we were looking at a young adult male who’d been dead about twenty-five years. We went back through the files and found there were only two men reported missing around here from that time period. One was Alvin Hawkins, who was in his late forties, the other was Jason. He was only fourteen but he was tall for his age. We brought his mother down, she identified the shirt we found with the remains as belonging to Jason. It did match the description she’d given back then of what he was wearing the last time she saw him. The ME is looking at the dental records that Dr. Pollock dropped off, but we’re pretty sure it’s him.”

“How ’bout that, after all these years,” she murmured.

“Well, here’s the thing.” He started rocking again, but with more deliberateness. “The bones showed signs of old abuse. Like both arms having been broken in more than one place, and not at the same time, according to the medical examiner. Looks like that boy took a lot as a child.”

Lorna took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“My wife remembered that you were good friends with the sister, the girl who disappeared, said you used to come into the library together all the time. I was wondering if you knew whether or not she was roughed up, too.”

“I know that Mrs. Eagan had a temper, and that Melinda was afraid of her.” Lorna chose her words carefully. “I never saw her mother hit her, but I did see bruises on Mellie. On her arms, on her legs. I never asked her how she got them. I figured if she wanted to talk about it, she’d tell me. She never did.”

Chief Walker tapped on the arms of the chair with the fingers of both hands.

“That’s pretty much what I thought. I’d heard Billie Eagan had a reputation for being tough with her kids.” He pushed himself out of the chair and stood up. “I just wanted to know if you had any firsthand knowledge of that.”

“I can’t swear that Mel’s bruises were caused by her mother, but I strongly suspected that they were. I had heard her say things like ‘My mother is going to give it to me when I get home,’ things of that nature.”