by Diane Capri
She shrugged.
“It was all right.”
Her voice said all right, but her face said something else.
“So they got along?” I said.
“Olivia’s biological father never had much to do with her. It was hard on Terrence at first. He’s never had any children. But he tolerated her. They got along.”
Tolerated her? She was a child, not a dog.
“So the last name Hathaway. Is that—”
“My maiden name.”
“When did Terrence decide to turn Olivia’s room into a man cave?” I said.
“We didn’t have much room and—it wasn’t my idea. I wanted to keep it the same, just the way she left it.”
“And Terrence didn’t agree with you?”
“He said Olivia wasn’t coming back, and at some point, I had to accept it and move on. I guess this is his way of helping me.”
What a cold-blooded way to “help” someone.
“Where does Olivia’s father live now—her real one?”
Kris teared up for a moment, but then regained her composure. “I don’t know.”
“You said he wasn’t in her life much, but did she ever see him?” I said. “Are you sure he didn’t have anything to do with her disappearance?”
“That’s not possible.”
“But you just said you don’t know where he is. Have the police tried to find him?”
She shook her head.
“Why not?” I said.
“I don’t know where he is because I don’t know who he is.”
Kris braced her hand against the wall, steadying herself.
“Do you need to sit down?” I said.
She nodded. We returned to the living room.
“It was spring break,” she said. “I was in California with several of my girlfriends. It was crazy. I hung out with a few different guys while I was there, but I never knew any of their last names, only their first. A couple months after, I found out I was pregnant with Olivia.”
“I imagine you were shocked,” I said.
“I have a lot of regrets in my life, but Olivia wasn’t one of them.”
“How did your family react to the news?”
“My dad was upset at first, but once he got used to the idea, both of my parents were supportive. I lived with them until I met Terrence. I didn’t think anyone would marry me since I’d had a child under those circumstances, but then Terrence came along. He said he would marry me, but he didn’t want any kids. Of course, I already had Olivia, so he said that was fine, as long as we didn’t have any children together.”
“What about you—did you want more kids?” I said.
“When I was younger, I thought I’d have several kids. But at least I had one.”
“Did Terrence know how you felt?”
“I tried talking to him once. All he said was, ‘we made a deal.’”
A picture was forming in my mind of the type of guy Terrence was—it wasn’t pleasant. I didn’t know how she didn’t see it. But women with Kris’s meek personality rarely did. She talked about him like he was some kind of super-hero who showed up when she needed rescuing.
I asked Kris a few more questions, but learned nothing I didn’t already know. I stood up to leave, promising to get in touch with her if I found out anything new. Outside a black Dodge Ram drove by. It looked just like the one I’d seen in Evanston and then again at my hotel. The next time I saw it, I’d be ready.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Pssst, over here,” a voice called from the bushes.
I had exited Kris’s home and was on my way to my car when I heard it. I walked “over here” and came face to face with Sylvia and another woman I guessed to be the one staring through the blinds. They were revved up but doe-eyed at the same time. Something pressing was on their minds—I could tell by their rapid breathing. It was fast and intense, like the words they had prepared to say were getting ready to explode all over everything.
“What can I do for you two?” I said.
Sylvia wagged her finger at me. “We know you didn’t go to school with Kris.”
“Yeah, we’ve known Kris since she was this tall,” Mini-Blind Lady gestured with her outstretched, flattened hand.
“What I’m doing here doesn’t concern either of you, and it’s not polite to linger outside Kris’s home.”
They looked at each other, contemplating their next move.
“Are you a cop or something?” Sylvia said. “Because we’ve seen everyone who’s come in and out of this place, but we’ve never seen you before.”
I nodded. I may not have been a cop, but I had no problem putting myself into the “or something” category.
Sylvia elbowed her friend. “See, Mildred, I told you.” She then looked at me. “If you’re looking into what happened to Olivia, you’ll want to hear what we have to say.”
I pointed to my car. “Get in.”
They exchanged looks again.
“Look,” I said, “whatever it is, I’m not going to discuss it here. We can go to the end of the street and talk there. And if you two don’t trust me, fine. But I’m leaving.”
One minute later we were parked in front of a vacant lot on the next street. Sylvia spoke up first. “That evil man killed our Judith.”
“You mean Olivia?”
It seemed entirely possible that at least one of them was battling Alzheimer’s.
Sylvia shook her head.
“I mean Judith Schroeder.”
“The woman the kidnapper ran over in the Maybelle’s Market parking lot?”
Both women nodded in unison.
“Do you know something about the kidnapping?”
Their smiles told me they did, or they thought they did.
“We know who did it,” Sylvia said, eyes glimmering.
“Who?”
“Terrence.”
“Olivia’s stepdad?”
“Oh, we don’t believe Terrence did it himself,” Sylvia said.
“No, no. He wouldn’t do that,” Mildred said. “We think he hired someone.”
“To do what?”
“Get rid of the girl, of course,” Sylvia said.
Things were starting to get interesting.
“Terrence hated Olivia,” Sylvia said.
“How do you know?”
“Well—” Sylvia said, “I was picking some tomatoes in my garden one evening, and I overheard Terrence tell Kris that he’d never agreed to raise Olivia, and if she wouldn’t send the child to live with her parents, he was leaving.”
“What did Kris say?”
“She didn’t say anything,” Sylvia said, “unless it was under her breath.”
Mildred looked at Sylvia. “It’s possible.”
“Entirely,” Sylvia replied. “I hadn’t thought of that. My hearing isn’t what it used to be. Still, I believe I would have at least heard Kris if she’d said something.”
The problem with their theory was the connection to the second missing child; there was none. Not that I knew of, anyway. I started to think they’d been watching too many episodes of 48 Hours. But a lead was a lead, nonetheless.
“Have you spoken to anyone about this?” I said.
Sylvia nodded. “Oh yes. Detective Whittaker. He’s been trying to find out what happened to Olivia since the day she disappeared. He’s a good man.”
Mildred blushed when Sylvia mentioned his name.
“What did the detective say?”
“Nothing,” Sylvia said.
“Not one word?”
“Now that I think of it, Sylvia, he did say one thing,” Mildred said. “He said, ‘I see.’”
“And we’ve been waiting to hear back from him ever since,” Sylvia said.
‘I see’ was the polite way of letting them know he didn’t take anything they said seriously. So…should I?
Kris had a look of bewilderment on her face when I arrived on her doorstep for the second time in one hour.
“I have a few more questions about Terrence,” I said.
Her left eye twitched, and she crossed one arm over the other in front of her. She’d been through so much already. I thought about phrasing my questions so they didn’t sound so direct and invasive, but tact didn’t make the top-ten list of my most admirable qualities. Hell, it didn’t even make the top twenty.
“You said Terrence was fine with Olivia as long as the two of you didn’t have any more children,” I said. “At any time did he try to get you to get rid of her?”
The look on Kris’s face answered the question for me. “What do you mean?”
“Did Terrence ever suggest that Olivia go to your parents’ house to be raised by them instead of you?” I said.
“Who told you that?”
“You said he was tolerant of her,” I said, “but from what I understand, it sounds like he wanted to pawn her off so the two of you could be together with no distractions.”
“It’s hard enough to grieve, but to be put through the same questions over and over again until you have the answers memorized. It’s too much.”
Kris stepped back, slowly closing the door on my question and me. I allowed it. The pain in her eyes kept me from probing any further.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Thanks to Sylvia and Company, I learned Terrence worked as a night manager at a fancy restaurant inside a resort-type place by the lake. A row of a dozen or so cabins lined the left side of the street, with the lodge sitting majestically on the right. The accommodations were far superior to the hotel I was currently in, making me glad Maddie wasn’t with me.
I stood at the lake’s edge, taking in the glassy stillness of the water’s surface. It didn’t take long for my mind to wander to a place where others’ didn’t. A quiet, unsuspecting lake, the perfect place for a murder. I imagined two young girls hogtied and weighted down, maybe with a piece of hardened concrete, or maybe to a cluster of rocks that had been secured inside a netted bag. After the restaurant closed and the resident visitors were asleep in their beds, a man would paddle the girls to the center of the lake. He wouldn’t worry about them making noise, because he knew they were too terrified to cry. Once he reached the deepest part of the lake, he’d tell the girls to stand, and after they did, he’d shove them both from behind, watching their bodies sink into the cold darkness below.
I blinked back to reality, wondering why I couldn’t see what everyone else did—it was a lake, just a simple, innocent body of water. What was wrong with me?
Outside the restaurant, a couple sat across from each other at a table on the veranda, holding hands and staring into one another’s eyes like they were the only two people in existence. They reeked of young love, and for a moment I felt a smidgen of jealousy. Just a bit. Nothing more. After a moment the feeling was gone. I pushed open the door to the restaurant and walked inside.
It didn’t take long to locate Terrence. He was the only one not dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt with pea-sized black buttons. He was older than I thought he’d be, possibly in his late thirties, or early forties, and he had a silly-looking mustache that curled slightly upward at the ends. It was very Doc Holliday-esque, but this wasn’t Tombstone, and Terrence was no Val Kilmer. Not even close.
Terrence glanced in my direction, just before the scene unfolding behind me demanded his attention. I turned, expecting to see a young woman in an ill-fitted dress, but noticed an overturned glass of beer instead, and two men too liquored up to notice. The men laughed while the contents of the beer continued to gush onto the floor, narrowly missing an older woman’s nylon stocking at the next table over. The woman threw down her napkin, expressing her disdain to the man sitting next to her. Just as her companion was about to stand, Terrence brushed past me, his shoulder pushing me aside in the process.
“Buck, it’s time for you and Hal to go,” Terrence said. “I’ll call you a cab.”
Terrence snapped his fingers, and a woman appeared, towel in hand.
One of the men attempted to stand. He rested his hand on Terrence’s shoulder, pausing for a moment to look at the now empty glass of beer like he wasn’t sure how it got that way. “Aww, hell, Terrence—it was an accident. Give me the cloth; I’ll clean it for ya.”
Terrence looked at the girl holding the towel. “Call a cab for these two gentlemen, then clean this table off.”
She acknowledged him with a nod, turned, and went.
Some time passed before the men relented, finally realizing they couldn’t talk their way out of this one. Once they were secured inside a cab, Terrence turned his attention to me. “I’m sorry. Show’s over.”
“Good thing it wasn’t what I was here for then,” I said.
“Did you need something?”
“When do you get off?” I said.
“Ma’am, I’m married.”
“And I’m not interested.”
He raised a brow.
“Oh, I thought—”
“Wrong.”
He leaned against the counter as if he was trying to discover what I was after.
“Now I feel like a horse’s ass. Can I get you anything?”
I nodded.
“Your time,” I said. “Ten minutes if you can spare it.”
His confusion amplified, but keeping him in suspense was getting me somewhere, so I stuck with it.
“I don’t get off for another forty-five minutes.”
“No problem,” I said. “I’ll wait.”
Terrence met me in the parking lot an hour later.
“What’s this all about?”
“Olivia,” I said.
He rolled his eyes so far back into his head I wasn’t sure whether they’d make it back out. “Figures.”
“Is that why you didn’t press me earlier?” I said.
“It was obvious—plus, you fit the part.”
“What part?”
“You’re an FBI agent, aren’t you?”
I laughed.
“Private investigator,” I said.
“Private as in hired by someone?”
I nodded.
“And no, it wasn’t by your wife,” I said.
He turned his head away from me and spit. “I’m tired. Ask your questions. You got five minutes.”
“Aren’t you interested in who hired me?” I said.
“The only thing I care about right now is getting some sleep. Understand?”
A drop of water splashed on my eyelid and then another one hit my cheek. I looked up at the thick, grey clouds above me.
At some point, Terrence must have noticed the grumbling sky too. He frowned. “Better get on with it.”
“Why didn’t you like your stepdaughter?” I said.
He shrugged.
“It wasn’t her I had a problem with. I don’t like kids. Never have. That all?”
“At least you’re honest,” I said.
“I’ve got nothing to hide. If I did, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you. Three minutes.”
I wondered what he’d do if our conversation went into overtime. Part of me thought it would be fun to find out.
“Why marry Kris if you didn’t like kids?” I said.
He turned one of his hands up as if to say I don’t know.
“As soon as we met, I knew Kris was the right woman for me. The kid was part of the package. Not much I could do about it. I figured we’d get married, work it all out later.”
“Did you ever consider trying to have a relationship with her?”
“The kid?—why? She made it harder for us to, well, do things together. Having her around wasn’t very convenient, but what else was I gonna do?”
Jealousy, thy name be Terrence.
“To be honest,” he continued, “when the kid went missing, it was kind of a—”
“A what?”
“Doesn’t matter. Your time’s up.”
He h
opped in his coupe and shut the door without saying another word. I grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open again.
“What the hell, lady? We’re finished.”
“I don’t understand how Kris could be married to someone like you. I mean, sure, you seem all professional and in charge at work, but your lack of sympathy for what happened to Olivia amazes me. It almost sounds like you wanted to get rid of her.”
Terrence shook his head and smirked. “Those two old crows have been chirping in your ear, haven’t they? I was questioned before you came, and I’m sure I’ll be questioned again. Difference is—it won’t be by you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I wanted to believe there was a special place in hell for men like Terrence. It baffled me how any woman with a child allowed herself to be with a man like him. Kris’s self-worth must have plummeted to an all-time low the moment she considered him a decent catch. It saddened and sickened me at the same time, because she knew Terrence never cared about Olivia. Even a woman blinded by love couldn’t have missed it. Terrence was a straight-shooter. Kris was desperate. And little Olivia suffered for it. I imagined she spent many nights alone in her room, desperate for attention.
Against my better judgment, I let Maddie choose the restaurant when we reached Jackson Hole, Wyoming. It was late, and I was tired and in desperate need of sleep, but since Maddie was all hopped up on Red Bull, a quiet evening wasn’t likely.
After passing two bar and grills and using my behind-the-wheel power of veto, I finally caved when we passed the third dining establishment. My stomach was uneasy, and in need of some form of nourishment. I hoped the place offered some decent sustenance, or we’d be back in the car trying again.
When we walked in and I looked around, I wondered why they hadn’t just called the place a bar; I didn’t see any evidence of a grill anywhere. There were no double doors suggesting a cooking area in the back, and the closest thing to food on a table was a plastic basket of fries accompanied by a green-colored dipping sauce. It wasn’t what I had in mind, but it was too late—Maddie was already on the dance floor whooping it up with a swarm of men who approved of her trashy Wyoming style.