Never Coming Home

by A.R. Wise

  Chapter Eight

  “Hi Grant, my name’s Lincoln Pierce. I need to ask you a few questions.”

  Lincoln had the call on speaker phone with Bentley and Hector standing nearby. Grant’s information wasn’t easily available, but Hector knew how to contact a national cellular registry website to get his number. There were only three people in Colorado with his name, and only one within a hundred miles.

  “You a bill collector or something?” Grant sounded perturbed.

  “No, nothing like that. I’m researching a case you were involved in.”

  “Nope,” said Grant, quickly cutting Lincoln off. “Not interested.”

  “We’re willing to pay you,” said Lincoln fast, hoping that Grant’s apparent financial troubles could be exploited.

  Grant didn’t hang up, which Lincoln assumed was a good sign. He repeated, “We’ll pay you for your trouble.”

  “What case?”

  Lincoln’s heart raced. He didn’t want to mess up the opportunity to get Grant to agree to an interview.

  “We think we’ve caught the person responsible for the murders of Betty Kline and Devin Harcourt.” He purposefully phrased it this way to alleviate any concerns Grant might have about cooperating.

  “You a cop?”

  “No,” said Lincoln. “I’m a private investigator.”

  Grant laughed and said, “Let me guess, you’re working for the Klines. Are they ever going to let that shit go?”

  Lincoln didn’t think it would do him any favors to correct Grant. “A lot of people want to know the truth about what happened that day. If we’ve got the chance to catch the bastard who killed those kids, then we’re going to do it.”

  “Who’s the suspect this time?” asked Grant as if this was amusing to him.

  “There’s a convicted rapist who confessed to the crime,” he lied.

  “No shit? I always figured it was Mr. Harcourt who did it.”

  Lincoln looked over at Bentley and Hector with a quizzical frown before responding to Grant. “No, it’s not him. Although I’d love to hear why you think he’s the one who did it.”

  “I thought you already had your guy.

  “We do, but it pays to be prudent. We’re interviewing as many people involved with the case as we can.”

  “Nah, man. Sorry, but I don’t got nothing to say about it.”

  “Like I said, we’re willing to make it worth your while.”

  Grant hesitated. “How much we talking?”

  “How much will it take to get an hour of your time?”

  Grant chuckled and asked, “How about a couple grand? Since you’re asking.”

  “I was thinking more like a hundred.”

  “For an interview?” He thought about it for a moment and then said, “Yeah, all right. Sure. Why not?”

  Lincoln made arrangements to meet with Grant the next day for lunch in Boulder. After hanging up, he asked Bentley and Hector, “Do you know why he brought up Mr. Harcourt? Is there reason to suspect him?”

  Hector shook his head and muttered something as he scrolled through information on his computer. Bentley said, “Not really. I read through the case work last night, and the police interviewed the family of both kids pretty extensively. I think Mr. Harcourt was at work, and his alibi held up. He was an asshole, by most accounts, but not an asshole who killed two kids.”

  “You were reading case work at home?” asked Lincoln, chiding Bentley. “Don’t you have a girlfriend to keep busy or something?”

  “No,” said Bentley. “I’m alone.”

  Something about the way he said it broke Lincoln’s heart. There was a barely noticeable sorrow in Bentley’s words that most people would never notice, but sounded achingly familiar to Lincoln. Bentley hadn’t said, ‘I’m single.’ Instead, he answered in a much more depressing fashion.

  Hector finished reading something on the computer and said, “Benny’s right.” He began to read out loud, “Frank Harcourt was questioned in regards to his whereabouts on the day of the disappearance, and explained that he was at work in Denver.”

  “Denver?” asked Lincoln with a shrug. “That’s close enough to drive back and forth pretty quick. Does it say anything about the police looking into his alibi?”

  “No, but they must’ve,” said Hector.

  “Don’t assume the police know what the hell they’re doing. And even when they do, don’t assume they’re doing a good job of it.”

  “I can try and dig up some stuff on him, but he disappeared a few years back. I think he might’ve left the country,” said Hector. “I remember seeing that the police questioned the mother too. What was her name?”

  “Devin’s mom?” asked Bentley. “Angel. She’s the one who called the police after searching for her son. I think it’s standard procedure for the cops to question the parents of a missing kid first. Normally with kids who turn up dead, someone in the family’s responsible.”

  “Do we have transcripts of the police interviews with the family members?”

  “I do,” said Bentley. “I printed them out last night. They’re at my apartment. I can print them out again, if you want, but there’s a lot of pages.”

  “No, that’s all right,” said Lincoln. “How about you head home and pick them up, and then we can get together for a drink tonight. If you’re going to stay up working all night, you might as well pretend to be having a good time at the bar. Right?”

  “Yeah, sure,” said Bentley with a forced smile. The comment caused him to remember something, and he reached out his hand before saying, “Hey, by the way, let me see your phone real quick.”

  Lincoln handed over his cell, uncertain why. Bentley opened up the geolocation app that Hector had installed, clicked a button, and then handed the phone back.

  “What’d you do?” asked Lincoln.

  “You forgot to switch it off yesterday after you and Darcy left the mall.”

  Lincoln looked at his phone, suddenly understanding that Bentley and Hector had been given a glimpse into his nightly activity. Did they know he stayed at the bar until closing? Did they care? Did he care if they knew? He felt a modicum of shame, but he didn’t have a chance to consider it before a knock on the window interrupted them.

  “Speak of the devil,” said Lincoln as he glanced over and saw his daughter opening the glass door of the office. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “Speak of the devil?” asked Darcy. “Is that all you guys do here? Sit around and talk about girls?”

  “Just the pretty ones,” said Bentley.

  Hector laughed and then pointed at Bentley while looking at Lincoln. “You’d better watch out for this one, Mr. P., I think he’s got his sights set on your girl.”

  “Then he’s got his sights set too damn high,” said Lincoln.

  Darcy was wearing a black skirt and white blouse that hugged her athletic frame. Her hair was tied up in a bun, and she’d taken the time to apply make-up that Lincoln didn’t think she needed. She was always beautiful, but she looked particularly stunning today. He was reminded of a group of pharmaceutical saleswomen he’d mentored years earlier. They’d been serious career women, focused and dedicated to their jobs, but it was no secret that they’d been hired for their sex appeal. Vixens in business attire. Today, Darcy fit the bill.

  “I was hoping to steal you away for a minute,” said Darcy to her father.

  He followed her into the hall and became suddenly terrified that something was wrong. Before she started talking, he was convinced the cancer was back, and his palms began to sweat as his heart pounded.

  This was the day he’d been dreading since the last time her cancer had gone into remission.

  “What is it, honey?”

  She seemed apprehensive, and he knew his concerns were valid. This was it. This was the moment his world would come crashing down on him. His baby was dying.

  “I was thinking about what you said yesterday,” said Darcy.

  “Abou
t what?”

  “About the job.”

  He’d been so certain he knew what she was about to say that he was blindsided. “What job?”

  “The job here, with you. Duh.”

  “Oh,” said Lincoln, and then said it again with obvious excitement. “Oh! Right. Oh thank God.”

  “What did you think I was talking about?”

  “Nothing, nothing,” said Lincoln. He had no desire to drag her into his morbid, fatherly head space. “We’d love to have you on the team.”

  “I’m going to have to work at the restaurant for the rest of the week, and there’re some shows coming up that I’ll have to go to with the band.”

  “That’s fine,” said Lincoln. “Just let me know how much money you need and I’ll take care of it. As a matter of fact, we’re getting together tonight to run through some things about the case if you want to come along.”

  “I can’t come tonight. I’m practicing with the girls. We’ve got a show tomorrow night. But I can hang out the rest of the afternoon if you want.”

  “That’d be great,” said Lincoln. He pulled her in for a hug and held her tight. The fear that quaked him moments earlier was still fresh. It would take time for that sort of terror to subside.