“Bring some bottled water when you come to the field,” Sarah called to Mike as she eased past them. “And try not to be too late. We have a double-header tonight, and they might need you to fill in for Kara’s coach in the second game.”
Mike waved to his wife and daughters, then turned his attention to Lorna and T.J.
“Let’s go sit on the deck, it’s cooler and more comfortable out back.” Mike gestured for them to follow him to the backyard. “Sarah just made a pitcher of iced tea. I’ll run in and grab some for us. It’s been another hot one, eh?”
They climbed the three steps up to the deck and took seats around a glass-topped table that appeared brand new. Mike ducked inside the house and returned with three glasses of iced tea. He handed a glass to each of his visitors, then sat in the chair at the head of the table.
“So go ahead and ask away.” Mike settled back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Where do you want to start?”
“Let’s start with the night Melinda disappeared.” T.J. rested both arms on the table. “You were around that night.”
“Right. My mother sent me over to Matt Conrad’s house to get my brother for dinner. She’d been calling him but no one was answering the phone. Matt’s parents hadn’t gotten home from work yet, and I said the guys were probably outside, so my mom told me to go get Fritz and tell him to come home.”
“How far is Matt’s from your house?” T.J. asked.
“Less than half a mile. I rode my bike.”
“Do you remember what time it was when you got there?”
“No. But it was still light out. Matt and Fritz were out back smoking cigarettes. I sat down and smoked one or two with them-that was the big thing back then, cigarettes, about as wild as we got around here-then Jason came along, said he was going to collect his sister and walk her home, but he’d be right back. A little while later, he returned, then his mother started calling him, real loud, so he got up and ran home. A few minutes later, he was back, asking if anyone had seen his sister. No one had, so he asked us to help him look for her. Later the police came and they started looking, too, and me and Fritz went home. Next day in school we heard she was still missing and there was this big search.”
“How long were you at Matt’s before Jason arrived the first time?” T.J. asked.
“Oh, maybe a half hour or so.”
“Then he went to get Melinda, came back, and not long after that his mother called him…”
Mike nodded. “Right, and he left again for a couple of minutes. But he came right back.”
“ ‘Right back,’ meaning how long between the time he left to go home and the time he came back and said his sister was missing?”
“No more than five minutes.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m positive.”
“What time did Dustin arrive?” T.J. asked.
“Dustin?”
“Dustin Lafferty, your brother’s friend.”
“Oh. Hey, I’d forgotten about him. Yeah, he was there, too. I think he got there right after me.”
“So you joined in the search? Did you split up, or go in pairs?”
“We split up, we all went off in different directions, but there was nothing. Not a sign of her anywhere.”
“Where did you look?”
“I took the orchard. I don’t remember where anyone else looked.”
“The orchard’s down near the pond?”
“Yeah. I think Jason took the pond. I went around all the apple and peach trees but there was nothing to be found. Melinda was just gone.”
“Now, the night that Jason died, you were all over at Lafferty’s?” T.J. leaned back in the seat.
“Right. Me, Fritz, Jason, Matt, and Dustin.”
“Drinking beer?”
“Yeah, we all had a few. We stayed till a little after two, then Dustin drove everyone home. He dropped me and Fritz off, then took the others home. The next day, we heard that Jason had disappeared, too.”
“You have any ideas, back then, what might have happened to him?”
“No.” Mike shrugged. “He wasn’t the most popular guy in school, but he was okay, if you know what I mean. I liked him. For a while, the kids were saying that Jason and his sister had both run away, to get away from their mother. She used to be really hard on both of them, he told us that.”
“Can you think of anything else we might need to know?” T.J. put both hands palm-down on the table, ready to push himself out of his seat. The interview was over. He’d gotten what he’d come for.
“Just that back then a lot of people thought Mrs. Eagan had killed both her kids. I’m still not so sure she didn’t.”
“You may have heard I put up her bail,” Lorna said.
“Everyone in Callen’s heard about that.” Mike grinned. “You didn’t make any friends in the local police department with that move.”
Lorna got out of her chair, preparing to leave. “If she’s innocent of Jason’s murder, they should be looking for whoever killed him.”
“Well, I think she’s guilty as sin.” Mike stood, too. “I think they had the right person all along. I think in the end, all this investigation is going to prove is that she killed them both.”
“What about all the other boys they’ve found, Mike? Think she killed them, too?”
“Hey, like those FBI guys said, the killer had a thing for teenage boys. Who knows? Maybe that’s how Mrs. Eagan got off, you know? Doing young boys, then killing ’em.”
Mike stood at the end of the deck and looked down at T.J. and Lorna, who’d already stepped onto the grass at the bottom of the steps.
“Yeah,” he continued, “if I were the investigator, that’s what I’d be looking into. Mrs. Eagan’s sex life.”
“What do you think?” T.J. asked as he drove away.
“I think that was a seriously sick thing to say.” Lorna shook her head. “That man clearly watches too much TV.”
“Or reads too many thrillers.” T.J. gunned the engine. “Or maybe not enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Either that was all smoke screen, or he and his brother need to get their stories straight. They don’t match up. Fritz said Mike got to Matt Conrad’s house after Jason was called home. That Dustin stopped by after Mike had arrived to tell Fritz it was time to go home.” T.J. eased up to the stop sign at the top of the hill. “Which way?”
Lorna pointed right, and he made the turn.
“Fritz also said that Mike wasn’t with them the night that Jason disappeared, that they were at White Marsh Park till three in the morning. Mike just now said he was with them at Dustin’s-didn’t say a word about White Marsh Park. And he said Dustin drove them home at two. One of them is lying.”
“How do we find out which one?”
“We talk to Dustin Lafferty and see what he remembers.”
17
“So you got two different versions of the same story?” Mitch sat on one of the oak chairs at the table in Lorna’s kitchen. “Interesting. I got three similar versions of the story I was after.”
“Are we going to hear them?” T.J. stood in the doorway.
“Sure. We’re going to trade notes,” Mitch told him. “We’ll see who had the more productive day.”
“Does everything still have to be a competition with you?” T.J. complained while taking a seat opposite Mitch.
“Not everything.”
“Sorry.” Lorna came through the back door holding several bags. “Burgers and fries from the café down the road are the best I can do.”
“What’s to be sorry about burgers and fries?” T.J. rose to give her a hand. “I don’t think anyone here expected you to be feeding us this week.”
“Well, it makes more sense than all of us going our own ways, then trying to reconvene to share information.” Lorna set the bag she was carrying on the counter and T.J. did likewise. “Thanks, whoever set the table.”
“That was T.J.,” Regan told her.
“Thank you, T.J.” Lorna turned to him and smiled.
“You’re welcome. What else can I do?” he asked.
“You can get a platter out of the cupboard behind you and stack these burgers on it while I find something to put the fries in.”
“I for one am happy we’re having this info-swap,” Regan said. “I’m going to have to leave tomorrow for a few days and I’d hate to go without hearing the latest.”
“Oh, that’s right. You have a meeting in Chicago on Saturday.”
“TV interview, yes. But if you’re not tired of my company, I can come back later in the week. I hate to miss out on anything.” Regan looked from Mitch to T.J. “You don’t suppose you’ll have solved this whole thing before I get back, do you?”
“Wouldn’t that be the luck?” Mitch took a burger from the platter T.J. set on the table and put it on his plate. Lorna handed him the bowl into which she’d dumped the fries, then placed a bottle of catsup in front of him. “I wish I could wrap this up by the end of the weekend. I have a stack of cases back in my office, I don’t know when I’m going to get to those.”
T.J. handed Mitch a beer.
“Thanks,” Mitch said. “Of course, if we weren’t so shorthanded at the Bureau right now, I wouldn’t be backed up.”
“Who are you trying to kid? The FBI’s well staffed.” T.J. took a bite of his burger.
“Domestic issues are taking a backseat to the terrorist units,” Mitch told him. “A lot of the new agents are going that route. The drones like me who handle the routine same old, same old-serial killers, kidnappings, sex crimes-keep getting further and further behind in our work, because God knows there’s no shortage of predators.” He ran a hand through his brown hair, and his eyes darkened. “Honest to God, it’s tough keeping up with them. You put one away in Florida, another one pops up in Wisconsin.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel guilty…” T.J. rubbed the back of his neck.
“Nah. Guilt didn’t work before, it isn’t likely to work now. It’ll take something bigger than that to bring you back,” Mitch said. “So, we’ll move on. Let’s get to the nitty-gritty here. Story time.”
“How ’bout I eat while you tell us what you found out today, then you can eat while I tell you what we did.”
“How come you get to eat first?” Mitch asked T.J.
“Because my story is probably shorter than yours and I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Lorna sat between Mitch and T.J., poured beer from an ice-cold bottle into a glass, and prepared to take mental notes.
“Okay, here’s what happened. We-Regan and I-started with the New Jersey victim first. Sixteen-year-old boy, Sid Calhoun, went missing…” He turned to Lorna. “Guess how many years ago.”
“Twenty-something,” she replied immediately.
“Damn, you are smart. You ever think about working for the FBI?” Mitch said.
“She owns her own business,” T.J. reminded him. “Why would she want to work for the FBI?”
“Good point.” Mitch nodded. “Anyway, we sat down first with his mother-the father died last year-who basically told us nothing about her son. Oh, sure, he played in the school band, he liked the beach. She showed us his room. The life-sized Saturday Night Fever poster-complete with Travolta, posed in that white suit-still hangs on the wall. The room has been cleaned, but nothing has been moved in all these years. It was pretty creepy, actually.”
“That is really sad,” Lorna said.
“It gets sadder,” Regan told her. “Just as we were leaving, Sid’s older brother, Bob, shows up outside. We introduce ourselves, we chat, he tells us to stick around for a few minutes, Mom is leaving for work, and we can talk.”
“Did Bob have something worthwhile to share?” T.J. asked.
“Did he ever. Seems Sid had known at a very young age that he was more interested in guys than in girls. He apparently tried to come out to his family when he was thirteen, but Mom and Dad wouldn’t hear of it. They told Sid it was just a phase he was going through and he’d grow out of it.”
“Poor Sid.” Lorna put her burger down on her plate.
“Well, poor Sid knew better, and just more or less went with it. Bob said over the next few years, Sid became actively homosexual and sought out relationships. He said that on more than one occasion, he’d had to drive into Philadelphia or Wilmington to pick up his brother, because he’d gotten himself into a jam with someone who turned out to be not so nice.”
“Sounds like Sid wasn’t very discriminate in his choice of partners,” T.J. said.
“I think it was more inexperience than anything else,” Regan told him. “I think he just hadn’t learned how to tell the good guys from the bad guys.”
“So maybe he hooked up with someone who was badder than he’d bargained for,” Lorna thought aloud.
“That’s what Bob thinks,” Mitch agreed. “And in view of what we learned about the other victims, I’d say Bob was right on the money.”
“Are you going to tell us?” T.J. gestured for Mitch to continue.
“Victim number two. Hugh Costello. Newark, Delaware. Age seventeen. Same deal,” Mitch told him. “Only difference was, his parents were more rational. We met with both of them. They’re retired now, living in a small beach community on the Delaware Bay. While they admitted that the gay lifestyle would not have been their first choice for their only son, they tried to be loving and understanding. And you have to give these folks credit, this was before the current openness about homosexuality. I think they tried really hard to be accepting, and twenty-five years ago, that must have had its difficult moments.”
“They obviously loved their son very much,” Lorna observed.
“It was very apparent. But like Sid’s brother, Bob, they worried Hugh would fall into bad company. Apparently, he did,” Mitch told them.
“And neither Bob nor Hugh’s parents had any idea who this bad egg was?” asked T.J.
“None. It sounded to me as if it was a one-night thing, both times. Both times, the guy went to a club and never came home. The only difference is that the Costellos were pretty certain that the club was somewhere outside Wilmington.” Mitch bit off the end of a French fry. “Same with the third victim, Tim Gossette. Disappeared after leaving the house to go to a club around Wilmington.”
“I guess you already know the name of the club,” T.J. said, “given your superb computer skills.”
“Actually, I do. It was called the Purple Pheasant.”
“Was?” T.J. asked.
“It closed about twenty years ago. But with my superb computer skills and my trusty laptop, I was able to find the name of the owner. Who, unfortunately, is not available.” Mitch looked around the table, then asked, “Anyone want to take a guess?”
“Don’t say he disappeared.” Lorna’s jaw dropped.
“About a month before the club closed. Which, incidentally, was the reason it closed down. He simply vanished. According to the newspaper archives I was able to access, the club had been very popular and appeared to be operating in the black. In spite of the fact that it was visited often by the state police and closed down more than once for serving underage boys.”
“So the owner… what was his name?” Lorna asked.
“Lorenzo Blair,” Regan told her.
“So Blair runs this club… which all of the victims so far had frequented. They disappear and are found buried in my woods. Then he goes missing?” Lorna bit her bottom lip. “Do you think he could have been the killer?”
“I think it’s more likely he was one of the victims,” T.J. replied. “No one is going to walk away from a venture that’s making money. You’d sell it, but you wouldn’t just walk away. Maybe we can track down a relative, see if we can get some DNA, perhaps get a match to one of the remains found back there.”
“Already on it.” Mitch smiled. “I have a meeting with his mother next week. First, however, I’ll be meeting with Chief Walker to fill him in. Gotta
keep the locals in the loop. Besides, I want to see what he’s found over the past few days. He’s been awfully quiet.”
“Wouldn’t he have told you if another body had been located?” Regan asked.
“I’d certainly expect that, yes. But I’m interested in the other things, the little things they might be digging up or putting aside. Things that might contain DNA or fingerprints.”
“After all these years, you can get fingerprints and DNA?” Lorna stood and began clearing the plates. All the burgers and fries had been devoured and nothing remained but a few crumbs.
“Sometimes. Both depend on a number of factors. Exposure to the elements, temperature, that sort of thing. I spoke with the county techs the other day and they all seem to be on the ball. I just want to see if anything that’s been recovered looks like something we might want to expedite to the FBI labs.” Mitch then turned to Regan. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“It’s early evening, from Baltimore, but I need to run home and pack a few things first.”
“So you’re going to do your TV thing, then see if you can find Eddie Kroll?” Mitch asked.
“I’m going to hunt him down.” Regan grinned. “I am so curious about this guy. I’m wondering if maybe he wasn’t a friend or even a distant relative of my dad’s. That would be great, to find a relative, after all this time.”
“Didn’t you know any of your father’s family?” Lorna stood at the sink, cleaning scraps from the dishes into the trash can.
“No. I never met any of his relatives. His parents died while he was in college, and his only brother died while we were living in England,” Regan told her.
“How long did you live abroad?” T.J. rose and walked across the kitchen. To Lorna, he said, “You wash, I’ll dry.”
“You wash, I’ll put things away after I dry.” She smiled. “And thanks.”
“We lived in England until I was twelve. My mother was born there, and she very reluctantly left to move here. I knew all of her family, we’re still close. But I never met anyone on my dad’s side.”
“No cousins?” T.J. asked.
“He didn’t have any. Just the one brother who died.” Regan smiled wistfully. “I miss my British cousins. I wish I had someone here to feel connected to. It’s just… odd. No grandparents, no aunts or uncles or cousins. You feel very much alone without family.”
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