A couple of blocks from the Flemings' house, Officer Garrenton parked her squad car along the curb and pulled out her phone. She dialed, put it to her ear, and worked through the menu options of the local Federal Bureau of Investigation office.
"Agent Nyler," a man's voice came on the line a moment later. Good—he was in.
"Clint, this is Jackie."
"Jackie! I haven't heard from you in a while."
"They moved me to a quieter part of town," she explained. "More nice people, fewer bad guys."
He chuckled. "Lucky you. They just keep sending me the impossible stuff. You heard about the break-in at one of Hugh McWrait's stores?"
"The one where they didn't take anything?"
"Yeah, well, we think what they didn't take was a nice stash of drug money that would have nailed him. We've been tracing his courier system for months and had it just about pinned down, but since that break-in his guard is up and the whole scene has changed. And guess who gets to rework the whole case?"
Officer Garrenton smiled. Clint Nyler loved the impossible cases. "Oh, don't worry. You'll have the case solved by this time next week."
"Yeah, don't I wish," he replied. "So, what do you have for me?"
"A strange one, Clint. Just a feeling, mostly, with circumstantial evidence."
"Sounds great. Something to occupy my spare time?"
"That's right. What would you think if you found a ten-year-old boy wandering the streets one evening, trying to find his way home, and so you gave him a ride, only his mother claimed she didn't know him?"
"Maybe she doesn't. It's the wrong house. Maybe the kid is up to something."
"Uh-huh. But then he walks straight to the bathroom like he's lived there all his life. Then he's thirsty, so he goes directly to the kitchen cabinet where they keep the glasses. And he knows the dog's name. Not to mention that he looks just like a picture of his dad that's sitting on the table."
"Okay, so…Mom's angry with him for wandering off, wants to teach him a lesson."
Officer Garrenton nodded to the phone. "Right again. So that's a couple of weeks ago. Then on Monday, the father calls the station and wants to find out if anyone has claimed to have custody of their son. He says he has this crazy cousin who might do just that. So I check it out, and there's nothing—all clear. I stop by today to let them know, and the strangest thing occurs to me…"
"Which is…?"
"They let me inside the house, and there are photographs of mom and dad all around, and a big picture of them and the relatives over the fireplace—but there are no pictures of their son. Not one. No, I take that back—they have one, printed off the computer, a picture they took a day or two ago. That's it. I show them a picture of my new granddaughter and give them an opening to show off their son's baby pictures, but they don't bite."
"Because they don't have any? Or because they're weird? Being weird isn't a crime."
"It's only a hunch, Clint. Truth is, they're a lovely family. The boy is as sweet as can be. But something about this whole thing just sits wrong in my belly. Who ever heard of loving parents who didn't have pictures of their kid?"
"Huh. Okay, Jackie," Agent Nyler replied, clicking his tongue thoughtfully, "maybe I can look into it when I have a few minutes. Want to give me their names?"
Officer Garrenton shared their names and other tidbits of information she had gathered. Hopefully there was nothing wrong here; they really were a charming little family. But she had a responsibility to society to look into it if something seemed out of place. And something about Zechariah Fleming—something she couldn't put her finger on—seemed out of place.
The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 47