Sure they would. They wouldn’t have stood there, waiting to be shot like Adam and James had been. They’d have looked for a way out. And since their bodies hadn’t been found, perhaps they’d found one.
Or maybe the shooter forced Courtney and Ryan to leave the park at gunpoint, killed them somewhere else. They’d already fired twice, enough to attract attention. Maybe the shooter feared the police had already been summoned by someone who’d heard those first two shots.
Possible, Mallory acknowledged. But why hadn’t their bodies turned up by now?
The first scenario sounded more likely to her than the second; it felt right. And if she was right, the missing kids were most likely still alive.
Mallory walked back to the slide and stood at the bottom of the ladder, wondering if it had been dusted for prints. She climbed the steep steps without grasping the sides, just in case. Once at the top, she stood as someone might before heading down the slide, and looked over at the swing set. She was right in line with the swings where the two boys had been shot. If, in fact, the lamppost had been working that night and Courtney had been standing where Mallory was, she would have been very visible.
So the next logical question would be: Where did they go from there?
Mallory walked around the slide board once, twice, trying to imagine the scene.
Where could they have hidden? No place that Mallory could see.
It was growing darker, so she returned to her car for the flashlight she always kept in the trunk. She walked back through the silent park to the playground and sat on the bottom of the slide. Logistically, she couldn’t figure it out. She took the police report from her handbag, opened it on her lap, and studied it again.
Hey, dummy, it’s right under your nose. Literally.
The sketch that had been made by one of the investigating officers the night of the shooting clearly showed a small Dumpster in the parking area off to the right of the slide. Courtney walked to where the Dumpster should have stood according to the drawing. There on the macadam were marks left when the bin was hauled away, possibly by the police department for processing of its contents.
Mallory walked it off. Courtney and Ryan could have made it to the Dumpster without being seen, since the light from the lamppost didn’t extend much beyond the shrubs to the right of the slide. So they could have cut across the grass to the Dumpster and hidden inside.
She frowned. Too obvious to hide there. The shooter could have figured that out and would most likely have shot them in the Dumpster.
She walked the area anyway. When she found nothing, she expanded her search to the fence, thinking it was too much to hope that there’d be a break in the mesh where the kids could have slipped through.
With the flashlight, Mallory went over every foot of link, but found no break. So they didn’t go through it, she thought as she stepped back to judge its height. But what are the chances they went over it?
She read the descriptions of the missing kids. Courtney was five foot four; Ryan, six three. She went back and stared at the fence. Could he have lifted her over it, then vaulted over behind her without being seen? Could it have happened that way?
Maybe. Maybe…
By now it was too dark, and her flashlight battery too weak, to continue. She was annoyed with herself that she hadn’t come to the park earlier; she’d have to return tomorrow if she wanted to take a closer look at the fence. Both sides of the fence, she told herself. And she’d bring her camera, get some shots of the layout.
In the meantime, she had a phone call to make. She hoped Father Burch was back from whatever meeting he’d told her he’d be at that night. There was always voice mail, she was thinking as she stepped onto the walk that would take her back to the gate. As she passed the broken-down benches, she looked up and her heart all but stopped beating in her chest. A man in a dark coat stood smack in the middle of the park entrance, his hands in his pockets, his feet planted apart, his features indistinguishable in the dark. All she could tell from the distance was that he was tall and looked very menacing.
And he was watching her.
Force of habit sent her right hand to her waistband, but there was nothing where her gun used to be holstered. It wasn’t the first time since she’d left the force that she’d reached for it.
Mallory continued to walk purposefully toward the entrance.
As she approached, he called to her. “Are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Her fingers closed around the handle of the flashlight, just in case.
“Maybe you haven’t heard. Two kids were shot and killed here a couple of weeks ago.”
As she drew closer, Mallory tried to gauge how much room there was to either side of him, just in case she had to make a run for her car.
“I heard.” Three feet on either side. Close enough for him to reach out and grab her, if that was what he had in mind.
“So you might think it’s not a good idea to go walking around alone in the dark,” he said as the distance between them narrowed. “You never know who you’re going to meet in a place like this.”
“Right. You never do,” she said as she passed him, never breaking stride, her gaze level and straight ahead. “So you be sure to be careful out there, okay?”
She unlocked the car with the remote while she was still ten feet away, but never looked back. Once she was safely behind the wheel, she glanced over to where he’d stood, but he’d already disappeared into the night. With a shiver, she started the car and drove off, vowing that first thing in the morning she’d get her handgun out of its box in the bedroom closet and apply for the license necessary to carry it as a concealed weapon. And while she was in the courthouse, she’d pick up an application for her PI license.
FIVE
The drive to Robert Magellan’s home took Mallory down meandering roads she normally wouldn’t have cause to travel. Once outside Conroy’s city limits, beyond the deserted factories and the paper mill, all long since closed, the road widened slightly and the scenery vastly improved. Gone were the rows of brownstone houses that, once fashionable, now were home to several families on each floor. The downtown area where boarded-up storefronts were commonplace gave way to farms whose crops were just starting to come in. Fields of summer wheat and newly sprouted corn lined the road on either side. Long lanes led to farmhouses that had been standing for more than a century. Mallory opened all the windows in the car and let the warm, fresh country air blow through until she reached her destination.
She turned off the road and followed the short two-lane drive until she reached the gated entry. When she’d met with Father Burch the previous night, he’d given her a passkey that would open the gate when she arrived. She slid it into the slot and removed it once the gate began to swing open. She drove through, then stopped along the side of the road and dialed the priest’s cell phone as the gates closed behind her.
“I’m here, Father,” she told him when he answered.
“Great. Just come on up to the house. I’ll meet you outside the front door.”
Well, he sounds chipper, she thought as she put the car in gear and continued up the driveway. Once she was past a big bend to the right, the house came into view.
“Holy shit,” she muttered.
There were bigger houses in this world, she was sure, probably some much bigger right here in Pennsylvania, but to Mallory, the Magellan home was more than impressive. Built sometime in the 1920s, she guessed, judging by its Tudor architecture, its wings sprawled both to the right and to the left from a very large rectangular center stucco and half-timber structure. She parked her car and got out, taking it all in while pretending not to in case someone was watching. Before she rang the bell, she reached out with her right hand to touch the smooth coolness of the heavy front door—at least she hoped it was the front door; she’d passed several others, but they’d looked less significant.
“Good morning.” A cheerful Father Burch opened the door almost immediately
. “I forgot how short the drive is from the gate. Come in, please. Susanna is waiting for you.” He gestured for her to follow him.
“Susanna?” She tried not to appear knocked out by her surroundings, as if walking through sumptuous mansion halls was an everyday thing for her.
“Rob’s right hand. She’s worked with him forever,” he explained. “She takes care of things like this for him.”
“Oh,” she replied, disappointed. Would she not be meeting with the man himself? So much for her plans to try to make an in with him. Bye-bye, authorized biography.
“Right in here.” Father Burch ushered Mallory into a spacious corner room that had tall, wide windows on two sides. Behind an antique wooden desk sat a very attractive woman with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes who smiled when Mallory and the priest entered.
“Mallory Russo, meet Susanna Jones.” Father Kevin stood to one side while he made the introductions.
Susanna Jones rose from her seat and walked around the desk to offer her hand to Mallory. She was slim and dressed in a stylishly casual boat-neck dress of a teal knit fabric that came just to her knees. She wore fashionably flat shoes and chunky silver jewelry, and next to her, Mallory felt underdressed in her plain black suit and white cotton shirt.
“Mallory, thanks for coming in this morning.”
Mallory wasn’t sure how to respond. Somehow, I really wasn’t given a choice didn’t seem appropriate.
“I was under the impression that Mr. Magellan wanted to meet me,” she said, opting for a more innocuous reply.
“Please, take a seat, either chair is fine.” Susanna brushed off her remark. “Kevin? You’re staying?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got to be at the school by ten thirty. There’s an awards assembly that I shouldn’t miss. If I leave now, I’ll just make it.” He turned to Mallory. “Suse will answer any questions you might have, but don’t ever hesitate to call me if you need me for anything. You have the list I gave you yesterday of the names and numbers of people from the neighborhood you might want to talk to. I’ll let everyone know they can expect to hear from you. Anything else, just give me a shout.” He patted Mallory on the shoulder and said, “Good luck.”
And with that, the priest vanished into the hall and closed the door.
“I was under the impression I’d be interviewing with Mr. Magellan.” Mallory turned to Susanna and tried again.
“He might stop by, might not.” Susanna’s eyes appeared to assess Mallory from head to toe. “Actually, I do the hiring.”
“I like to see who I’m working for.”
“Well, once again, that would be me.” Susanna smiled not unkindly, but clearly marking her territory. “You’ll give a weekly report to Kevin, with a copy to me when you hand in your expenses. If Robert’s interested, he’ll take a look at it. If not…” She shrugged and slid a file across the desk. “Before we go any further, however, I’d like you to take a minute to read this.”
Mallory leaned forward, opened the file, and scanned the one-page document.
“Are you serious?” she asked when she’d reached the bottom of the page.
“Absolutely,” Susanna assured her.
“I’m not to discuss my employment with anyone? Not to talk to the press…well, that’s a no-brainer. I don’t do press.” She glanced across the desk where Susanna sat, no doubt studying Mallory’s reaction. “Why all the secrecy?”
“You’re well aware of what happened to Robert’s family last year. Even if you hadn’t been a member of the police department at the time, you’d have heard about it. I’m sure Kevin told you about the efforts Robert made to find his wife and son.”
“He told me that a number of private investigators had been hired.”
“Hired and fired,” Susanna said, heavy emphasis on the latter. “Not one of them worth a damn, frankly. To them, this tragedy was just one big endless gravy train.”
“Father Burch told me that Mr. Magellan had been taken advantage of.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Susanna’s smile held no warmth as she added, “It won’t happen again. I assure you, I intend to be much more vigilant this time around.”
“Ms. Jones…”
“Susanna.”
“Susanna, I can appreciate your concern, but I would remind you that this was not my idea. I did not seek out this job. Father Burch came to me. I have no intention of taking advantage of anyone.”
“Good.” The smile was more genuine this time. “Then we understand each other.”
“It appears we do.” Mallory met Susanna’s gaze but did not look away. Best to lay that card on the table right up front. Mallory did not intimidate easily, and wasn’t one to back down under pressure.
Susanna was the first to break the lock when she reached for the phone and entered two numbers. After several seconds had passed, she spoke softly into the receiver.
“I know you’re busy, but I’d like you to meet Mallory Russo.” Pause. “The investigator Kevin hired to look for Ryan Corcoran.” Another pause. “Yes, I do think it’s necessary.” Pause again, then, “For heaven’s sake, Robert, it will only take you a minute.” She hung up, shaking her head.
Mallory waited for her to offer some explanation, but she did not, and before Mallory could ask, the door swung open. She turned in her chair just as Robert Magellan entered the room.
“Robert, this is Mallory Russo.” Susanna made the introductions. “Mallory, Robert Magellan.”
Mallory rose to face him. He was taller than she’d expected, and much better looking. He’d have been even handsome, she thought, if he wasn’t scowling.
“Good to meet you,” she said, offering her hand.
He took it and gave it a perfunctory shake. “So you’re going to find Mary Corcoran’s grandson and his friend and prove they didn’t kill these two other kids, and peace will prevail at Our Lady of the Angels once again and Kevin can get back to tending his flock and I can get back to whatever it was I was doing.”
“That’s the plan, sir. I’ll do my best,” Mallory told him.
“Good.” Robert looked back at Susanna as if to say, Okay, I met your new person. May I leave now?
Susanna nodded, her eyes following Robert as he headed for the door. “Nice to meet you,” he said on his way out.
Before Mallory could respond, he turned back. “Oh. One thing. Don’t call me sir.”
“Sorry, Mr. Magellan,” a slightly taken-aback Mallory replied.
“Robert. It’s just Robert,” he corrected before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
“So that’s Robert Magellan” was the only thing Mallory could think of to say after he’d left the room.
Susanna laughed, the first sign of real warmth she’d shown since Mallory arrived. Except when her boss had entered the room. There had been more than warmth in her eyes as she’d watched him.
“Yes, that’s Robert. He isn’t always so…” The smile still on her face, she fished for a word.
“So rude? So obviously disinterested?”
“Either will do nicely, yes.”
“You’d think he’d be a little more interested in the investigation since it’s his money that’s paying for it.”
“Money isn’t very important to him anymore,” Susanna explained. “It was, once upon a time, when he was first learning how to make it. Now it’s…” She shrugged.
“It’s not consolation for what he’s lost.” Mallory finished the thought for her.
“That’s as good a way to put it as any, I suppose.” Susanna reached for the file, suddenly all business again, the light gone from her eyes. “I’m going to insist that you sign the agreement, Ms. Russo, or there isn’t going to be an investigation. At least, not one conducted by you.”
“I don’t have a problem with not discussing the details of my employment.” Mallory reached for the pen that Susanna held in her hand. “The object is to find out what really happened that night. No one needs to know that Mr. Ma
gell—Robert is involved in any way.”
“Good.” Susanna handed her the pen, and Mallory signed the document. “Did Kevin tell you how we’ll work this? At the end of the week, you’ll give me your hours, receipts for whatever expenses you incurred—meals, gas…” She paused, then asked, “Will you need a car? We have several available.”
“I have a car, thank you.”
“Any expenses connected to the case will be reimbursed by me on Friday morning or early afternoon. Though I usually leave around three on Fridays, so anytime up until then, just stop in with your documentation and I’ll write the check.”
“How do I document my hours?” Mallory asked.
“You just keep track on a daily basis and add them up at the end of the week.” Susanna appeared somewhat confused by the question. “Surely you’re familiar with time sheets?”
“I meant, how will you know if I actually worked that number of hours?”
“I guess I’m just going to have to trust you on that.” Susanna stood to indicate the meeting had concluded. “But of course, if after several sixty-hour weeks you’ve nothing to report, I might start to wonder just what you were doing all that time.”
Before Mallory could respond, Susanna walked around the desk and said, “You can find your way out, I trust?”
“I wouldn’t be much of an investigator if I couldn’t,” Mallory said drily as she rose and swung her bag over her shoulder, “since it’s a straight shot down the hall from here to the front door.”
“I’ll see you on Friday, then.” Susanna leaned back against her desk, her arms folded over her chest.
“Not this Friday, I’m afraid,” Mallory told her. “Until I’m licensed, I can’t charge for my services. I can start my investigation as a friend of the family, but I can’t do the work ‘for hire.’”
“Who would know if you did?”
“I would.”
“I see.” Susanna raised an eyebrow. “Will there be a problem…?”
“I don’t anticipate one. The license comes from the county, and I’m well known there.”
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