She's Not There - Madison Marla (читаем книги онлайн TXT) 📗

Should she be concerned that the kid might have seen Lisa’s truck? If he did, it might point the investigation their way. “What were your partner’s thoughts on the kid?”

“Justin thought he was just being a kid. He said all kids have something they’d like to keep from the cops.”

“Probably right.”

“Yeah, but I’ll give it one more shot. Not anything else to go on. Cops up there haven’t found a damn thing. Thought I’d see if you wanted to ride along.”

TJ’s mind raced. Was he expecting her to react? She couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this; her other work would have to wait.

“Sure, what time?”

“I’m leaving from my desk so I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

Richard thought she looked good, definitely better than the last couple times he’d seen her. Gaunt and weary, she hadn’t looked like the TJ he knew. Denison’s death must have hit her hard. Jealousy needled at him before he reminded himself the guy was dead. It might not be too late for him and TJ, although he doubted things could ever be the same.

When they got to the school, an assistant principal put them in a small, cluttered conference room to wait while she found Tommy Rennicke. Richard hated the atmosphere in schools. The stale smell of food, sweat, and too many bodies in too small a space reminded him of his own days in school—which he’d hated.

When Tommy entered the room, Richard noticed the kid looked edgy.  It had been a smart move to pull him out of his comfort zone.

“Have a seat, Tommy. Good to see you again.”

Tommy placed his arms on the table, trying to look cool. Richard wasn’t fooled. The kid was nervous.

“Thought I’d come to see you, try to pick your brain a little more—you know, see if you’d remembered anything.”

“No. I told you everything.”

“Sure about that? You look a little nervous.”

Tommy didn’t reply, just sighed and folded his arms across his chest. Might be a wasted trip, but coming here with TJ could be a start to mending things between them. Richard felt his cell phone vibrating and took it out. Justin.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” Richard stepped out into the hall.

The kid was acting like any teenager, given the circumstances, his gaze nervous, on everything in the room except on her.

He asked, “So, are you a cop too?”

TJ considered how to play him. “Nah, I’m a PI. I’m working the case for the family.” The lie came easily and the kid looked relieved. “So you didn’t see anything?”

“Just saw the guy drive by before he got shot. He was speeding. That’s about it.”

TJ read the kid as lying: no eye contact, fidgeting with his bracelet and the zipper of his jacket. She’d have to move fast; Richard would be back soon. She handed him one of her business cards. “You know, if something comes to you, you can call me. I’m not a cop, so anything you tell me can be just between us.”

He didn’t look her in the eye, but took the card and stuck it in his pocket.

Over lunch, Richard asked if Tommy had said anything to her.

She went with the necessary lie. “Nah, but I think you’re right, he’s got something on his mind. Have to agree with Justin, though—it’s probably just a kid thing.”

“I suppose. Which leaves me with nothing. I’m tempted to go to the chief with my suspicions about Wilson. At least we’d have a shot at finding the bodies if he is the killer.” He observed her closely. Part of his intent in bringing her along was to see if he could detect anything hidden in her manner. Not surprisingly, he hadn’t.

“Opens a big can of worms for the chief, doesn’t it? He could kill the messenger.”

Richard sighed. “Yeah, but you know that’s never stopped me. And don’t forget he’s retiring pretty soon. He may be long gone before we find the bodies—if we do—then it’ll be on someone else’s watch.”

TJ waited for Lisa to get back to Eric’s and confronted her in the garage. “You’ll never guess who I spent the day with. Richard.”

“How’d that happen?”

“He called me. Brought me with him to talk to a witness–a kid. Pulled him out of his class at high school.”

“That’s surprising. Sure he didn’t have an ulterior motive?”

TJ chuckled. “Course he had one. Knew it at the get-go. Didn’t do him any good, though. I was stone, pure stone. Didn’t give him squat.”

“Then what happened to make you drive all the way out here to tell me about it?”

“First of all, the kid didn’t have nothin’. Just saw Wilson drive by. But on the way home, Richard let somethin’ slip.”

“Tell me.”

“Kinda wanted to drag out the suspense a little.”

Lisa tossed a paper clip at her. “Spill it.”

“Claire Thornton inherits everything–Wilson’s whole estate.”

“That is big. But what can we do with it?”

TJ said, “What do we do with it? Got it all figured out. You go talk to her all shrink-like, get her to trust you, and find out if the prick had any property we don’t know about. Then we find the bodies.”

77             

Claire’s home sat on a street bordered by tall oak trees, lined with lovely old homes built early in the twentieth century, many inhabited by academics from the nearby campus. A broad porch aproned the front of the dark brick house.

Lisa couldn’t imagine anything she wanted to do less than interrogate Claire Thornton, the police chief’s daughter, but TJ had been convincing.

She arrived at the scheduled time, wearing a tailored pantsuit with her tawny hair pulled back into a demure twist; TJ had ”suggested” a professional look and conversational manner.

Claire answered the door sans makeup or styled hair, but still as lovely as she’d been in formal dress on New Year’s Eve. “Come in.”

Dressed informally in jeans and a white sweater, she led Lisa to a room on the left of the entry decorated in pleasing shades of green, with a shiny wood floor and shaggy, off-white throw rugs. An aria played softly in the background—Madame Butterfly. The poignant notes suited Claire and the room they graced.

Lisa took a seat on one end of a long sofa. “Claire, I’m not here because anyone from the police sent me.”

“I suspected as much. My father’s kept me sheltered from the investigation.”

Lisa had planned her opening words. “I’m not sure if you know about this, but along with some friends, I’ve been working on a case of abused women gone missing. I consulted James about it a few months ago.”

Claire nodded. “I knew about the statistics. James told me they didn’t believe there was any cause for alarm.”

Lisa watched Claire for signs of a closed mind, but she merely looked curious. She took a deep breath and told Claire everything that had happened in their search to find evidence of a crime.

She concluded, “We’ve come across something about James I wanted to discuss with you.” Lisa reached into her briefcase and handed Claire the picture of Rommelfanger.

She looked at it sadly. “This is James as a young man.”

Taken aback, Lisa said, “You knew?”

“My father felt I should. He told me about the facial reconstruction James had after the accident, but he didn’t show me this. What could this have to do with his murder?”

“Claire, what if I told you there might be something about James no one knew, not even your father?”

Her eyes widened, her face animated for the first time since Lisa walked into the room. She leaned forward, eager. “I knew there had to be something from his past that he kept to himself—I never did discover what it was. And something . . . something tortured him. When my father told me about his face, it did answer some questions I had, but part of me knew there had to be more.”

Lisa knew what she had to say wouldn’t be easy for Claire. The woman perceived James’ hidden background as something painful, not evil. If she loved him she’d be shattered. Based on TJ’s reports, though, their relationship had evolved into something other than a love match. She had to tell her their suspicion about Wilson and let Claire decide its plausibility.