by David Bell
He didn’t have to.
He didn’t even have to ring again. The door opened revealing Scott Ludwig, the object of Stynes’s quest. The middle-aged man wore a white summer suit and panama hat as though he were about to stroll the grounds and inspect the cotton crops. He used a cane for support on his left side and didn’t appear at all surprised or concerned to see Stynes on his porch. He squinted at Stynes and seemed to want to treat the visit of a police detective as a game.
“I know you, don’t I?” Ludwig said.
“We’ve met before.”
“Help me remember,” he said. “Give me a hint. The gallery walk? The hospital fund-raiser?”
“The police.”
Ludwig’s eyes opened wider, a look of exaggerated shock. “Oh, my,” he said. “You must have a badge then, hmm?”
Stynes reached into his coat pocket and showed Ludwig the badge. Ludwig barely looked at it, then stepped back.
“You may as well get out of that beastly heat,” he said. “Unless this is a brief visit.”
“I could stand to cool off,” Stynes said.
“Fine. I can’t stand for very long, so come in.”
Ludwig turned to the right, leading Stynes into a sitting room. It was painted white with bookshelves all around. The large windows let in a flood of light, and Ludwig pointed to a chair that left Stynes squinting into the sun and Ludwig backlit against a window. Stynes perched on the edge of the chair while Ludwig sat, laying his cane at his feet.
Ludwig took a long time to adjust himself. He shifted his weight one way and then the other, grimacing every time he moved. The man looked thin, almost bony. His crisply ironed white shirt hung loose on his midsection. His skin was pale, with a touch of pink on the cheeks and nose. He didn’t remove the hat, even indoors, and Stynes noticed that no hairs stuck out from the sides. Not a single stray strand showed itself. His hair must have been as neatly combed into place as the lawn, or he didn’t have any left.
When the man was finally settled and most of the grimacing over, Stynes spoke.
“You don’t seem alarmed about a detective showing up at your door,” Stynes said. “Does this happen all the time?”
“What’s your name, Detective?” Ludwig asked.
“Stynes. Frank Stynes.”
Recognition crossed Ludwig’s face. He rolled his eyes theatrically. “Oh, that’s where I know you from. Oh, Lord. It has been a long time, but now I get it. I saw you in the paper this week talking about that awful story.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Stynes said.
Ludwig offered a forced smile. “No, Detective, it’s not typical for the police to show up at my door. I was trying to be polite by so readily inviting you in. What do you want to know, Detective?” he asked, his voice and demeanor weary. “I’d offer you something, by the way, but the help is gone, and since my mother died only a year ago, I’m not used to playing host.”
“I’m fine. So you read the paper and you see that there’s been some renewed interest in the Manning case.”
“You know, Detective,” Ludwig said, shifting again. He closed his eyes with the pain he seemed to be feeling. “You may have noticed I’m not doing well. I’m in a lot of pain as the result of a recent illness. Maybe I could come to the station sometime when I’m feeling better, and we could have a nice long talk. I could bring my attorney with me.”
“You were at the park that day because you were conducting some sort of nature walk. Is that right?”
Ludwig sighed. “Yes. I’m sure you recall I taught biology at Dove Point High for thirty years. I used to keep myself busy in the summers by volunteering to lead nature walks in the park. You know, we’d walk around and I’d point out the plants and the trees and the butterflies. It was free, and it got the kids out of their parents’ hair for an hour or so. The kids loved it. We covered this all back then, you’ll recall.”
“And now refresh my memory-what did you see that day? The day Justin Manning disappeared.”
“Oh, my.” Ludwig sighed again. “You seem determined to ride this hobbyhorse one more time, don’t you? What happened to your partner? That unpleasant man?”
“He retired.”
“Hmm. Aren’t you getting close to that? You can’t be but a few years older than I am.”
“That day at the park. Did you see anything?”
“Do you promise to leave if I answer the question?”
“Maybe.”
“Then it’s worth a try. Like I told you then, I didn’t see anything. I was there getting ready for the walk. I always met the kids at that main picnic shelter. There were a lot of people in the park that day, both children and adults. As I recall, I was running a little late, so I was focused on my work. All of a sudden, a flurry of activity broke out. A large group formed in the center of the park near the swing sets. Panic seemed to be spreading. I thought someone had fallen and injured themselves. Then the police came.”
“And where were you when the police came?”
“You know this, Detective.”
“Humor me. I’m getting old, and I forget sometimes.”
“I wasn’t there when the police arrived,” Ludwig said.
“You weren’t there.”
“I went home. When I saw the commotion and knew something bad had happened, I went home. I could tell the nature walk was going to be canceled, so they didn’t need me.”
“Some kids were left waiting at the shelter. You didn’t even bother to see that they had rides or anything.”
“The park was full of police officers. I figured the kids would be safe.”
“I don’t think the parents agreed with you. Did they?”
“Parents can be so overprotective sometimes.”
“So they did mind?” Stynes asked.
Ludwig sighed. “Well, the park service didn’t let me do any more nature walks that summer, if that’s what you mean.”
“You know what’s weird?” Stynes said. “And I really did forget this detail after all these years, but when I looked at my notes it came back to me. You left your car at the park. You were in such a hurry to get out of there, you walked off and left your car just sitting there. Why did you do that?”
“I said I-”
“And when we tried to come here and talk to you, you weren’t home. It took four hours before we got ahold of you here. And no one knew where you were or what you were doing during that time.”
Ludwig didn’t say anything. He opened his mouth a little and looked at Stynes expectantly. Finally, he said, “Do you want me to answer these questions? Or are they accusations?”
“Where were you?”
“I was just walking.”
“Just walking?”
“Just walking.”
“And I guess you were alone?”
“Did I mention, Detective, that I’m recovering from surgery? Prostate cancer. I get tired easily, so I’m probably going to have to ask you to leave.”
“That’s fine.” Stynes thought the man’s face looked even paler than when he’d first entered. And the conversation didn’t appear to be leading anyplace productive. “Were you alone?”
“I was. When I came home after my walk, my mother told me you’d been here. And I contacted you right away and answered all of your questions.”
“Fair enough.” Stynes stood up. When Ludwig started to reach for his cane, Stynes waved him off. “I can show myself out. Thanks.”
“As you wish,” Ludwig said, although he looked relieved. “How is this Manning family holding up, Detective? I read about them this morning.”
“The years have made them pretty strong.”
“Give them my best, if you don’t mind,” Ludwig said.
But before Stynes left the room, he asked Ludwig one more thing. “You’ve never been married, have you, Mr. Ludwig?”
“Is that a crime?” Ludwig asked. “I know how my life must look to someone outside of it. Unmarried old bachelor who lived with his moth
er all those years. Took kids on nature walks at the park. But don’t forget, I taught in the schools here for thirty years. My record is impeccable. I’d never harm a child.”
Stynes pointed at the cane. “I hope you feel better.”
“I hope you feel better, Detective,” Ludwig said. “It looks to me like something pretty serious is bothering you.”
Chapter Seventeen
In the late afternoon, when the heat of the day started to ease, Ashleigh received a text from Kevin.
I’m done. Where R U?
She wrote back: Going 2 park. Meet me there.
Ashleigh wore olive green shorts and a black Rolling Stones T-shirt she’d bought in a thrift store. She pulled a lightweight zippered sweatshirt from her closet, not because she was cold or expected to be but because she liked the feeling of long sleeves, of being a little covered up. She stepped into sneakers and went downstairs.
The old man sat in front of the television, getting his daily dose of Fox News. He looked up when she came into the room, his face almost expectant, like he might just be happy to see her. But the look fell just as quickly.
“I thought you were your mom,” he said.
“I’m not. Is she home?”
“She’s still at work,” he said. “They keep her hopping there, I guess.”
“She likes it.”
“Have you noticed anything different about her?” her grandpa asked. “Ever since the reporter and all these things started happening she’s been a little off.”
“This stuff probably just freaks her out,” Ashleigh said. She could tell the old man didn’t really get it. He looked confused, like he couldn’t grasp why someone would feel upset by reminders of a family tragedy. “Doesn’t it freak you out a little?”
The old man looked away. Ashleigh thought he wasn’t going to answer her, that he was just going to pretend he didn’t hear the question or something, but finally he said, “It’s best for everyone to not revisit those kinds of things from the past.”
Ashleigh didn’t say it, but she thought it: Things from the past? Your son’s death is a “thing from the past”? She wanted to just walk away, to leave the old man to sit in his house and stew in his own thoughts. But she felt compelled to push him just a little, if only to defend her mom.
“But it is hard,” Ashleigh said. “For all of us.”
“You weren’t even born,” he said. “Just don’t worry. We can’t sit around and fall to pieces about it.”
“I don’t think Mom’s falling to pieces.”
The old man chose not to respond to that comment. He watched the TV, the images from the screen flickering across his glasses.
Ashleigh shrugged. She didn’t have time for him anyway. “I’m going out. Tell Mom I’ll be back later.”
“Where are you going?”
Ashleigh froze in her tracks. The old man never worried about where she was going. The two of them seemed to have an unspoken agreement-neither one asked what the other was doing. Her grandpa left both major and minor decisions about Ashleigh’s life to her mother. Ashleigh suspected-although she didn’t know for certain-that her mom had laid that out as one of the conditions for the two of them moving into the house. To his credit, her grandfather managed to leave her alone, a far cry from her childhood when visits to his house-the house she currently lived in-meant a steady stream of corrective advice from how to chew her food to the proper way to hold a pencil. Ashleigh would never admit it out loud-and certainly not to her mother or grandfather-but she kind of missed his involvement in the things she did. Sure, he annoyed the crap out of her when she was little, but she liked having his gruff, raspy concern as a part of her life.
“I’m meeting some friends at the park,” she said. “Bye.”
“Hold it,” the old man said, his voice rising.
She looked over at him in his chair. He was wearing a Cronin College T-shirt, something her mom had gotten during homecoming week, and the same khaki pants he seemed to wear every day. His feet were bare, and his face looked puffier, heavier. Being out of work meant he sat around the house more, eating instead of working. It made Ashleigh a little depressed to think about it.
“That boy, you know-Kevin,” he said.
“What about him?”
“Is he in the park?”
“Yes.”
He looked back at the TV, but Ashleigh could tell he wasn’t finished asking her questions. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Get on with it.
“Are you…going with him?” he finally asked.
“Going with?” Ashleigh said. “You mean, am I dating him?”
The old man just nodded. He couldn’t even say the words.
“No, Grandpa, I’m not going with him. We’re just friends. From school.”
He nodded his head a little, eyes still on the TV. Some tension seemed to ease out of his face.
“Do you not like Kevin because he’s black?” Ashleigh asked.
Her grandpa’s head whipped around so fast she thought he might have injured himself. “What makes you think that?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I just think there are a lot of racists in Dove Point.”
“Well, I’m not one of them,” he said. He didn’t turn back to the TV but kept his eyes on her. “I just think you’re a little too young to be…keeping company with any boys, regardless of their skin color.”
“I’m fifteen, Grandpa.”
“When I was fifteen, I had a job. I worked.”
“Mom said-”
“I know,” he said. “As long as your grades were high, you didn’t have to work this summer. You’ll get into a good college someday. You do want to go to college, right?”
“Definitely.”
“Good.” He examined Ashleigh carefully, looking her over, his eyes traveling from her head to her feet. “You look like your grandmother did, you know that? She was skinny like you.”
Ashleigh felt uncomfortable under the old man’s gaze. She put her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt. She guessed he was being nice, trying to compliment her.
“Did you know Grandma when she was fifteen?” she asked.
The old man looked surprised by the question. But he seemed to be giving it some thought. “I knew her then. We went to school together. But we didn’t go together until after high school.”
He offered nothing else, so Ashleigh said, “I’m going to go. Tell Mom for me.”
“You look like her, too. Your mom. You’re the spitting image of her when she was in school. And you’re smart like she was. Good grades. Your mom got good grades, up to a point.”
“You mean up until I was born?” Ashleigh said.
“Now don’t take it that way,” he said. “I just don’t think you should be spending a lot of time with a boy. You should be worried about school.”
“So I don’t get knocked up?” Ashleigh asked.
His eyes narrowed. She thought he might give her a lecture on the proper way to talk to one’s grandfather, but he let it go. He said, his voice a little weary, “Just do the right thing.”
Ashleigh looked at the door. She wanted to go, but she said one more thing. “Do you know why I’m not going to get pregnant, Grandpa?”
He reluctantly asked, “Why?”
“Because I don’t want to get stuck in Dove Point the rest of my life.”
When Ashleigh reached the park, her heart sank.
“Shit.”
She saw Kevin, but he wasn’t alone. He stood by a bench at the baseball diamond, and three other kids hovered around him, sitting and standing. Ashleigh knew who they were. Todd, Sarah, and Kelcey-three other kids from their class. Kevin and Todd were friends from grade school, and Todd had started dating Sarah during the spring. Kelcey hung around and made Ashleigh want to punch things.
Ashleigh wished she could turn around and go back. But she’d been seen. And she hadn’t talked to Kevin since she saw Dante Rogers in the woods. She wanted to tell him-almost did a
few times-but it didn’t seem right to share something like that by phone or text. She wanted to tell Kevin in person.
Except they weren’t alone.
Ashleigh walked up, hands in pockets.
“Hey, girl,” Kevin said. “I was just telling them about this dude who came into McDonald’s today. We messed up his order, so he got all up in the manager’s face. He was like, ‘If you don’t fix this for me, I’m going to fuck this place up.’ We were in the back rolling.”
His voice trailed off at the end. Ashleigh saw the other kids looking at her and not Kevin. They seemed to be expecting something from her.
“I guess you had to be there,” Kevin said.
It was Kelcey, of course, who spoke up on everyone’s behalf. “We saw your family in the paper,” she said.
“And?” Ashleigh said.
“My God,” Kelcey said, eyes widening, mouth open so far Ashleigh could see her fillings, “we had no idea that happened to your family. No idea. That is totally wild that your uncle died like that.” She looked to the other two. “Did you guys know?”
They both shook their heads, but Todd said, “My dad remembered it. I told him I went to school with you, and he was like, ‘Whoa, I remember when that kid was killed. We were so fucking scared there was a madman on the loose.’ ”
Ashleigh looked at Kevin. They made eye contact, and he understood. “Anyway,” he said, “we don’t have to talk about all this.”
“No, of course not,” Kelcey said. “Of course not. Unless Ash wants to talk about it, and then we’d all listen, wouldn’t we? I mean, it’s cool whatever you want to do. I think if I had a big tragedy in my family I’d want to talk about it.”
Sarah shrugged and Todd nodded.
“Kelcey?” Ashleigh said. “Do you pay any attention in school?”
“What?”
“I said, do you pay any fucking attention in school?”
“Ash-” Kevin said.
“It’s a question,” Ashleigh said. “Just a question.”
Kelcey sat there with her mouth half open, the fillings in her back teeth smaller but still visible.