by David Archer
Sam nodded calmly, trying to keep his own excited sense of discovery from transmitting itself to Ross. “Did you tell the deputies that you saw someone?”
Ross froze again, and Sam realized that what he was seeing was a manifestation of Ross’s concentration on remembering specific details, the way another person might study a picture or read through a note on the subject. Ross was literally reviewing the actual moments he was thinking about inside his mind, and was distancing himself from the outside world and all its distractions while he did so. Once again, it lasted only a few seconds and was gone, and Ross focused on the wall again. “I told the deputy Bob Fry,” Ross said, “but he told me there was no one else out there. He told me not to say it again, so I didn’t.”
Ross turned back to his sister and began talking to her about the past few days since he had seen her last. He had reached some level of accomplishment in his ceramics class and seemed excited when he told her that he was making a set of canisters for her. Debbie responded by telling him about the new recipe she had tried the day before and about a new television show she had started watching.
Kaylee tugged on Sam’s sleeve, so he leaned down close to her. “Sometimes it doesn’t matter,” she whispered, “what we talk to him about. For him, it’s just important to have some kind of interaction. He can be serious and answer your questions for a few seconds at a time, but then he has to have a break and just be himself for a few minutes. If you can be patient with him, I’m pretty sure it’ll pay off. You’ve already gotten more out of him than anyone else’s been able to in all this time.”
Sam raised an eyebrow and looked at her. “How so?”
“I studied the case from one end to the other,” the girl said, “but that’s the first time I’ve ever heard that he told a deputy about seeing someone else in the woods, or that he was told not to mention it again. If we could prove it, that would be enough to overturn his conviction, wouldn’t it?”
“I think it might,” Sam said. “The problem is going to be getting that deputy to admit it.” He winked at the girl. “But you can bet your latest copy of the Law Review Journal that I’m going to try.”
It was several minutes later when Ross finally turned his attention back to Sam. “And then,” he said without preamble, “the detective Ray Weimer told me I would not have to go to jail if I admitted it. He said I would be able to go back home, but I had to say I did it.” Ross put his arms across his chest and gripped his upper arms, hugging himself and rocking gently back and forth. “I told him I didn’t want to say that, because I didn’t do it, but he said it was the only way I could go home.”
Sam sat there and stared at Ross for a moment, then shook his head. If he had anything to say about it, Ray Weimer would no longer be a detective by the time Sam Prichard was finished with him.
“Ross, the person you saw in the woods,” he said, “was it a man or a woman?”
Still hugging himself and rocking, Ross started shaking his head from side to side. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know if it was a man or a woman. They were too far away and off through the trees, so I couldn’t tell.”
“I understand,” Sam said. “It’s okay, it’s no problem. Do you remember that day very well?”
Ross began nodding vigorously, and Debbie leaned toward Sam. “He remembers everything,” she said softly. “Roughly one in ten autistics display exceptional memory, and one in a hundred have an actual eidetic memory. Ross is one of those. Ten years from now, he could tell you every word of this entire conversation. If you give him a scripture and verse reference from the Bible, he can tell you exactly what it says. Ask for an entire chapter, and he’ll quote it word for word. It’s the same with any other book he’s read. If you can give him a page number, or the first few words on a page, he can start from there and quote everything after it.”
Sam looked at her for a moment, then turned back to Ross. “Ross, what time did you go out to walk in the woods that day?”
“It was 9:42,” Ross said. “I looked at the clock as I went out the door—I always look at the clock when I go out the door. It was 9:42.”
Sam nodded. “And what time did you see the person in the woods?”
“The first time I saw them was 1:18,” Ross said. “I was down by the creek, and I saw them through the trees. I looked at my watch, and it said 1:18. The next time I saw them was 2:51, I looked at my watch again because I always look at my watch when something happens that I don’t expect. They were too far away, but I could see they were moving out toward the creek, back the way I came from, moving really fast.”
“Moving fast? Was the person running?”
“Not running, just walking fast. No, not running. Just walking fast.”
“Ross, what color was this person’s clothing? Could you tell?” Sam asked.
“Yellow shirt and brown pants,” Ross said. “They had a hat, but they threw it down. I went and looked at it, and it was all dirty, with stuff stuck to it.”
Sam’s eyebrows lowered. “Why was it dirty, Ross?”
“It was all dirty because stuff was stuck to it, like dirt and grass, and stuff was stuck to it because it had blood on it, and blood is sticky.”
Ross turned suddenly to Debbie and started jabbering about some of the other inmates. From what Sam could gather, there were a few of them who watched over him, who tried to make sure Ross was safe in that terribly dangerous environment.
Sam was amazed at the information he was learning, and even more amazed that none of it had come out before. The trick, he figured, was to ask the right questions. The problem was knowing which questions were the right ones to ask. He carefully planned his next few questions while Ross and Debbie and the kids talked about simple, everyday things.
Ross suddenly turned back to him and simply looked at him, expectantly. Sam realized that was his cue and took advantage of it.
“Ross, did you tell anyone else about the hat and the blood?”
“No. Nobody asked about it.”
Sam nodded; it was the answer he had expected. “Do you know what kind of hat it was?”
Ross froze for a moment, then shook his head. “It wasn’t a cowboy hat.” He froze again, then shook his head once more. “It wasn’t a cowboy hat. It was a black hat, and it had a feather in it.”
A number of images flashed through Sam’s mind, ranging from fedora hats that might have been worn by private eyes in the forties to the outrageous designs often worn by Gothic girls in recent years. He doubted that any of these would actually match the hat in question, but he wished there was some way to get a glimpse of the hat. It might give him some minor clue as to the identity of its wearer.
“Ross, can you tell me exactly what happened from the moment you stepped back into the house that afternoon?”
“I went in the back door, and I yelled to tell Mom I was home. She always wanted me to tell her when I got home. I went in the front room, ’cause that’s where Mom liked to watch TV, and I saw her in her chair with blood all over her. I went over and asked if she was all right, but she didn’t answer, so I shook her a little bit and her head fell over on her shoulder. I knew she was dead, but I didn’t know what to do, so I sat down and watched TV. Mom always told me if I didn’t know what to do to just sit down and wait, and her or Daddy would come and tell me what to do. Then the deputy Johnny Moore came in and he threw up on the floor, then he kept asking me if I killed my mom and why I killed my mom, and I said I didn’t do it. He said he had to put me in the car so I wouldn’t be in the way, and I had to let him put handcuffs on so I wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
Sam scribbled furiously on his pad, making sure to get every detail as accurately as he could. Each and every bit of this information, if he could substantiate it, would increase the likelihood of getting Ross’s conviction overturned. That didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn’t be charged and tried again, but that was another problem.
If only someone had found that hat and turned it over to polic
e at the time. The blood undoubtedly would have been from Millie, so the hat’s very existence would have cast at least some doubt on Ross’s guilt. Surely even an idiot like Weimer would have felt the need to determine who owned the hat, at the very least.
Ross didn’t seem interested in talking to Sam anymore, so he sat quietly while the family visited. When the time was up, they all said goodbye and Ross thanked Sam for coming. They were escorted out of the visiting room and allowed to pick up their things, then headed back to Debbie’s house.
“That was so awesome,” said one of the twins. “You got him to tell you things that nobody else even knows.”
“I think it was just about asking the right questions,” Sam said. “I’d love to say I was smart enough to think of that, but the truth is that I think I just got lucky.”
“I don’t know,” Debbie said. “I’ve never seen Ross react to anybody like that. It’s like he wanted to tell you, but he didn’t know how to do it until you asked a specific question. Maybe he sensed something about you that gives him hope.”
Kaylee shook her head. “I’m gonna stick with Mr. Prichard on this,” she said. “It was a case of asking the right questions. It never occurred to any of us to ask about what the person in the woods might have been wearing. If somebody had asked him that way back then, then maybe that hat would have been found and he wouldn’t be sitting in prison.”
Sam nodded. “That’s exactly my thought,” he said. “Eight years ago, though. I’m afraid there is very little hope that we can track the hat down now. Either it was never found and has probably rotted away, or more likely it was carted off by an animal.” He turned to Debbie. “I don’t suppose you remember anyone who wore a black hat with a feather?”
She made a rueful face and shook her head. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “And believe me, I wish I could come up with the name of somebody who did. I’ve never believed my brother could have done this, but it would be nice to have another potential suspect to vent my anger on.”
Sam shook his head. “That wouldn’t help, not unless we can be certain it’s the right potential suspect. Look what happened to your brother when people automatically assumed he was guilty. Would you really want it on your conscience if some other innocent person were to be charged with this crime?”
Debbie stuck her tongue out at him, and Sam couldn’t help laughing. “Look,” she said, “I’ve been dealing with this for eight years. You can at least allow me a few minutes’ fantasy about having someone else to blame, right? Don’t spoil my day so quickly.”
Kaylee, who was sitting in the back seat between her brothers, leaned forward. “You have to forgive Mom, Mr. Prichard,” she said. “She doesn’t have the logical mind of an investigator or an attorney.”
Sam grinned. “Good thing she’s got you three, then,” he said. “Between all you kids, she’s got a pretty good team of her own working on this.”
“So what’s next?” asked the other twin. Sam had given up trying to tell them apart, but he vaguely remembered Debbie telling Andy to sit behind Sam while Alex sat behind her. If he was correct, then it was Alex who had spoken.
“Well, Alex,” he said, and then he mentally congratulated himself when no one objected, “now I suppose I’m going back to Thompsonville. I need to see the crime scene and try to get some sense of what actually happened that day, and I want to track down the witnesses, speak with them.”
“Witnesses?” Andy asked. “What witnesses?”
“Well, there is the guy your uncle used to work for,” Sam said. “I’d like to get his take on this whole thing. Then there’s the kid who said he saw someone in your grandmother’s backyard, Jason Garrity. I want to talk with him and see if I can connect his statement to what Ross just told us. If Garrity can remember a yellow shirt, for example, then suddenly we’ve got corroborating statements.” He suddenly set his jaw and looked at Kaylee in the rearview mirror. “And I want to get my hands on a certain detective named Weimer. That guy bullied Ross into a confession; he made promises to him he knew to be false to get him to admit to something he hadn’t done. I could be giving myself more credit than I deserve, but I don’t believe I would have jumped to the conclusion that Ross was the killer, and I can guarantee you I wouldn’t have tried to manipulate him into a confession. As far as I’m concerned, this guy was just too lazy to actually conduct an investigation.”
“Cool,” the boys said together. “Can we go with you?” Alex asked.
“Oh, no,” their mother said. “You guys have school—you’re not going anywhere.”
“But you let us skip school other times,” Andy said, “when it’s for Uncle Ross. Like today, when we go to visit him. You let us cut school on visiting days.”
“Not all the time,” Debbie said, “and only for half a day. As soon as we get home, your butts are on the way to class.”
It was only a few minutes later when they pulled up to Debbie’s house, and Sam let them out. He promised to keep them all up to date on what was happening and shook hands with the three kids, but then he had to put up with a hug from a crying Debbie.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said, “and I don’t know who else to thank. Please, tell whoever hired you how much I appreciate this. And if it’s a distant relative, then tell them not to be so distant. I don’t have a lot of family left, so I’d sure be glad to get to know them.”
Sam smiled and promised to relay the message, and then he put the truck in gear and drove away. He took out his phone and started to call Indie, but then he remembered that he was only a few minutes away and put it back. Sure enough, he pulled into the motel parking lot less than five minutes later.
The air in northern Illinois was too cool for splashing in the pool, so Sam found the entire family gathered in his and Indie’s room. The three adults were sprawled across one of the beds, while Kenzie bounced in the midst of them. When she saw Sam come through the door, she squealed, “Daddy!” She flew off the bed and leapt into his arms.
A pair of hugs and two kisses later, Sam began telling them all about his morning. The more he talked about the things Ross had told him, the more irritated he was becoming, and it was obvious to the others.
“Sam,” Kim said, “Beauregard says you need to calm down.”
Sam jerked his head upright and back, and stared at her for a moment. “Calm down? I think he’d be just as ticked off as I am. His great-great-great-great-great-great-whatever-grandson is sitting in prison doing life for a crime he probably didn’t commit.”
Kim was nodding. “Yes, he understands that,” she said, “but he says Ross may not be the one he was having the premonitions about. He says it changed all of a sudden this morning, and now he knows that someone among his descendants is going to be in very serious danger sometime in the next few days.”
Sam stopped talking for a few seconds and stared at her. “But he still doesn’t know who? What kind of danger, any idea?”
“He says all he knows is that it’s somehow connected to Ross’s situation, but Ross isn’t the one in danger. He’s pretty sure it’s a woman, but the danger isn’t here; it’s back in that little town we stopped in yesterday.”
Sam chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Well, in that case,” he said, “I’m going to rent a car and drive down there alone. You guys can stay here until I get back.”
“Stay here?” Indie asked. “I thought we were making this a family trip?”
“Not if Beauregard is sensing danger, we’re not. The only reason I agreed to let you come along is because he didn’t think there was going to be any kind of danger, remember? If he’s changing that story now, then I want all of you to stay well out of the line of fire.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Indie replied, “but did you listen? He’s saying that the danger is for one of his descendants, not for us. Come on, Sam, I don’t want to hang out here, and I don’t want to go home yet. Let us go with you, please?”
Sam looked over at Kim. “An
y danger for you guys?”
Kim close her eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked at Sam. “He says the only danger is for one of his great-great-greats. He just doesn’t know which one, but he did say he thinks it might not be one of the ones you already tracked down.”
Sam furrowed his brow. “As far as I know, Judith, Ross, and Debbie and her kids are all that are left. I don’t think there are any other living descendants.”
“Or there’s some you haven’t discovered yet,” Indie said. “Apparently you will, if the danger comes to them because of what you do in Thompsonville. Maybe whoever it is lives around there.”
Sam looked into his wife’s eyes and let out a sigh. She had the look, the one that told him there was no way he was going to win this particular debate and he might as well just give up and enjoy the inevitable. “Fine,” he said after a few moments. “It’s too late to check out today, so we’ll leave in the morning. Who’s ready for lunch?”
7
Marcy’s cell phone rang as the lunch rush was beginning, and she couldn’t help smiling when she checked to see who was calling. It was Debbie Jenkins, and she was expecting the call. “Hello,” she said.
“Marcy, you darling, you,” Debbie said. “Sam Prichard just left here a little bit ago, and he’s going to try to help me prove that Ross didn’t kill our mother. He said you’re the one who told him how to find me, so I just wanted to call and say thank you.”
“Well, you’re welcome,” Marcy said with a chuckle. “So, does he actually think there’s any hope?”
“He really does, yeah. I took him along today to go visit Ross, and Ross told him some things that we never heard about before. It turns out Ross saw somebody in the woods behind the house that day, but he doesn’t know who it was. The only thing he knows is that the person was wearing brown pants and a yellow shirt, and that they threw down a black hat with a feather in it, but the hat was covered in blood.”