Jonna had used the same word-processing program as mine, and soon I was flashing through her files and directories. Nothing jumped out at me, but then I didn’t expect it to since Agents Lewes and Clark had already checked it.
Everything seemed open to view and none of the files were password protected, which wasn’t surprising since there didn’t seem to be much of the personal or confidential. One folder was marked “Miscellaneous/House- keeping/Personal,” but the only halfway personal thing I saw was a file containing Cal’s school reports and comments from his teachers that she had scanned in, along 26 with a record of his immunizations and the dates of his physicals. There were recipes for making enough party food to serve fifty people. Recipes for summer punches and winter mulled cider. Addresses of various rental places in town from tents to folding chairs. I looked at the spreadsheets for the budget, skimmed through the monthly minutes of the board and the director’s reports that Mayhew had delivered, etc. etc.
She had methodically entered about half of the inventory that was detailed in a thick sheaf of paper, including
“
Judge M’s safe.” She seemed to have assigned it a number that corresponded to items kept in the judge’s office so that the list could be sorted alphabetically, by code numbers or by actual rooms.
Nevertheless, if there was anything in this computer to explain why Jonna had been killed, I wasn’t seeing it.
In the meantime, Betty Ramos kept passing back and forth as she tidied the parlor and kitchen. It was after six before she switched off most of the lights and came into the office. “Any luck?”
“Not yet.”
She went over to the files that held the Morrow family papers, pulled open a file drawer, and immediately gave a small
“Something wrong?”
“I just realized that I left my notes on my desk at home and now I can’t remember where I left off. I think I’ll just run home and get them. I’m only a few blocks away. You don’t mind if I leave you alone for a few minutes, do you?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Anyhow, Dwight’ll probably be here anytime now. I’m surprised he hasn’t called yet.”
“I won’t bother to lock the door, then,” she said, “so he can come right on in.”
“Fine.” The desk was against the side of the front wall, and from where I sat, I could watch as she passed down the dimly lit hall and disappeared beyond the staircase. I heard the front door close and then turned back to the desk. Again, there was nothing of a personal nature in any of the drawers that I could see and I even lifted them out one by one and checked for false bottoms or something taped to the undersides.
Nothing.
C H A P T E R
28
Sunday afternoon, 23 January
As Dwight was snapping the leash onto Bandit’s collar, his phone rang. Agent Lewes.
“Was she there? Do her cousins know where she is?” he asked eagerly.
“Sorry, Bryant. They think she left here early Monday morning. And I hate to load any more on your plate, but they’re saying she really does need to be institutionalized this time, that she’s getting more and more detached from reality. They blame her sister and her mother for not stepping in and doing what needs to be done before now.
They don’t think she’d intentionally hurt your son, but if she’s the one who did your ex-wife—”
Dwight did not let Lewes finish that thought. “Did they have any suggestions about where she’d go? What she’d do?”
“They said the Shays own a place on a nearby lake?”
“Yeah. Cal and I go fishing out there with Radcliff and his kids, but the house burned down at least fifty years ago. Nothing there but trees and bushes now.”
“What about a boathouse? Anson says that’s where they found Pam a couple of summers ago.”
“Boathouse? It’s nothing but a caved-in roof and some old siding.”
“All the same, they say that’s where she was.”
“That’s crazy,” said Dwight and realized that, well, yes, this was exactly how everyone characterized Pam’s mental state. So what else was new? “Thanks, Lewes. It’s only about six or eight miles out of town. I’ll swing over there right now while it’s still light.”
He started to leave Bandit at the house, then decided that the little dog might prove useful if Pam had taken Cal there. He had half convinced himself that if Bandit got anywhere within sniffing distance of Cal, he would home in on him like one of those bloodhounds that had entrenched themselves in Pam’s delusional mind.
The lake was less than fifteen minutes away, but it took another ten minutes to hike in from the rutted lane where he had parked the truck. Patches of snow still dotted the landscape on the north side of the bushes. Today’s sun had helped melt the worst, but the sun was rapidly setting and the wind bit at his face and stung his eyes. Bandit was on a retractable leash and Dwight kept it fairly short so as not to get tangled in the scrub. There had been no sign of tire tracks in the lane, and so far they hadn’t crossed any trail marks either. Eventually, they came to the rotting pile of lumber that had once been a boathouse for the rustic lakeside lodge. Part of the roof had come
