Дэвид Балдаччи - Daylight

“Well, she’s very cute,” said Blum.

“We keep each other company,” said Roberts, settling back with his coffee.

“Is it just you and Rosie here, then?” asked Blum.

He nodded, his eyes crinkling a bit in sadness. “My missus died two years ago. Out of the blue. Alive one night and dead in the morning.”

“I’m very sorry,” said Blum. “Sudden loss like that is impossible to make sense of.”

“But you got to go on living,” said Roberts. “And we had a lotta good years together. Just not as many as we thought we’d have. We raised us a passel of kids and they’re all doing good. And they don’t live that far away. Three in Atlanta, one in Macon, and one over in Tennessee.”

“I’m sure having them close by is very comforting,” said Blum.

He nodded and then looked at Pine. “Len Atkins?”

“I understand that you know him?”

“That’s right.”

“Is he still alive?”

“That I don’t know. He’s long since moved from here.”

Pine’s spirits plummeted. “We went out to where he last lived. The trailer. Now it’s just full of snakes.”

“Didn’t know that. But I haven’t been over there in a long time.”

She showed him the photo. He looked it over carefully and nodded. “Yeah, that’s Len and Wanda for sure.”

“And the girl?”

“Don’t know her, at least I don’t think I do. You can’t see her face in the photo. But she’s a big girl.”

“The name says Becky. The picture is dated July 1999. You ever hear of a Becky?”

He shook his head, looking uncertain. “I’d have to think about that.”

“When did the Atkinses move from here?”

“Shortly after their son died.”

Pine and Blum exchanged a stunned look. Pine said, “But I understood that Atkins couldn’t have children because of an injury he sustained in the Vietnam War.”

“Well, that’s right. He did get shot up over there, from what I remember. I lucked out, my lottery number was really high, but not old Len. He had to go over to those damn jungles and fight for who knows what.”

“So his son?” prompted Pine.

“Len and Wanda had Joe before Len went to Vietnam. Hell, if I remember correctly, Len was only twenty or so. I guess he couldn’t have any more kids after his injury.”

“So when you went to visit Len and Wanda, was there anyone else living with them?”

“Not that I ever saw. I mean, their trailer was real small, I’m sure you saw that for yourselves. Barely room for them and Joey when he lived with them.”

“Did they ever come into town or anything? Were they ever seen with someone who looks like the girl in the photo?” asked Blum.

“Len didn’t really come into town. He was a rural postal carrier. Wanda did some sewing and cleaning for ladies and businesses here and there. But they kept to themselves. I knew Len, but I can’t say I really knew him, if you understand me. I don’t think anybody did. The war, I think, messed with him, like it did a lot of men.”

“And his son, Joe?”

“He lived with them till he got married. And Joe was young. Maybe nineteen. Oh, that was back in the eighties, I guess. Then he had his own little place not too far from them. He worked as a security guard at one of the big manufacturing plants we used to have near here, when they actually made stuff in America. Then after that closed, he started selling security systems and gadgets like that for companies and such. Made a pretty good living from what I understand.” His brow furrowed. “His wife was a strange one. Can’t remember her name off the top of my head. She was into all sorts of crap: voodoo and I guess what you’d call holistic stuff. But she had a mean streak.”

“How do you mean?”

“Got called out to their place one time — oh, this was over twenty years ago if it was a day. Somebody had reported screams and such. Well, that sick woman had tied down a damn dog and was branding the thing all over. Poor cuss. I cut it loose and it went tearing away barking its head off. Wrote her up for animal cruelty, but that was about all I could do.” He snapped his fingers. “Desiree, that was her name, all right. Desiree Atkins. Anyway, I remember her looking at me with these eyes. Dead eyes, I call ’em. Nothing behind them. Chilled me to the bone — and I’m no scaredy-cat, I can tell you that. I figured it was because of her condition.”

“Her condition?” said Pine.

Realization spread over Roberts’s lean features. “Hey, maybe that’s how you got mixed up.”

“Mixed up?”

“See, it was Desiree that could never have kids. Something to do with a woman’s issue. I know old Len and Wanda wanted themselves some grandbabies, but it wasn’t to be.”

Pine glanced at Blum again. It seemed both women were jumping ahead to an awful conclusion.

Pine said, “Mr. Roberts, could the girl in the photo, Becky, could she have been maybe adopted by Joe and Desiree? I mean, at first I thought she might have been Len and Wanda’s daughter, but their ages would have been off to have a daughter that young. But Joe and Desiree would have been the right age, I’m thinking, if they were married in the eighties.”

“Well, it could be. I mean, I never heard of them having no kid, but they didn’t come into town, just like Len and Wanda didn’t.”

“But if they had a child, surely she would have gone to school,” said Blum.

Roberts shook his head. “Lots of folks homeschool their kids. They did back then and they still do today.”

“So you’re saying if Becky did live with them that maybe no one else would know?”

“It’s certainly possible. This is a big county land-wise, and there ain’t that many people that live in it. You could go for miles without seeing another house. And with all the forests and such around here, the homes are tucked away, not easy to get to and not easy to see from any road.” He eyed Pine with interest. “So where are you going with all this?”

“Apparently, in an unexpected direction. You mentioned that Joe died?”

“That’s right?”

“How?”

“Well, he was murdered.”

“What!” exclaimed Pine.

“If memory serves me correctly, this was sometime in the late spring of 2002. Fortunately, we don’t have too many murders around here, and the ones we do have tend to stick with you.”

“Were you the one to investigate it?” she asked.

“I did. Me and my senior deputy at the time.”

“Can you share any details?”

“I’ll do my best. And what I can’t tell you, they’ll have files of at the sheriff’s office.” He finished his coffee and settled back. “We got the call in the morning. Man’s body was found near a road by a guy out walking his dogs. Head bashed in and a knife sticking out of his back. It was Joe. And it was obviously a murder, all right.”

“And where was Desiree?”

“Damn good question. She vanished. Never did find her. Now, we couldn’t prove she did it. But I’m as sure of that as I am of anything. Why else would she have disappeared like that?”

“Did you find any evidence? Prints on the knife, signs of a struggle, anything back at their house? Anything to show how he got to where he died?”

“No prints on the knife. No tire marks to show a vehicle having been there. He bled out where he was found. Ground was iron hard back then. You know our good old Georgia clay. Like concrete. We went to the house. Couldn’t find Desiree. No signs of forced entry. No signs of a struggle. We checked the closet, and while there were some women’s clothes in there she might have taken some and we wouldn’t ever know it.”

“Any vehicles missing?” asked Pine.