Ben took a handkerchief from the pocket of his old cardigan and wiped the corners of his mouth with it. Without realizing it, he had used almost the same words he had spoken to Matt the night he had found him hiding out on his premises.
‘Because of what he’d become, he didn’t want Karen to know he was still alive. He made me swear I wouldn’t tell her.’
‘And then?’
‘He asked me if he could stay there for a few hours, because he had something to do. As soon as he’d finished, he’d come back to pick up the cat and leave. I saw him walking into town. That was the last I ever saw of him.’
Another pause. Russell knew Ben was about to tell him something important.
‘The next day, the bodies of Duane Westlake and Will Farland were taken from the burned-out remains of the sheriffs house. And I hope they’re still burning in hell.’
In Ben Shepard’s eyes there was an open challenge to anyone who might not care to agree with what he had just said. By this point, Russell had lost the ability to judge. He only wanted to know.
Ben sat back in his armchair. ‘About ten years later, Judge Swanson joined his cronies.’
‘What became of the child?’
‘While he was still small, Karen would bring him to see me from time to time. Then we kind of lost touch. I don’t know who was more to blame, her or me.’
Russell realized that, in his honesty, he was assuming a share of the responsibility, although he did not really think he had any.
‘And then what happened?’
‘A while later, I went through a difficult time, financial problems, that kind of thing. To solve them, I rented the business out to someone and spent three years working on an oil rig as an explosives expert. When I came back, I found out Karen had sold everything and gone away. I never saw her again.’
Russell felt disappointment burn his throat. ‘You don’t know where she moved to?’
‘No. If I did, I’d tell you.’
The old man allowed himself a few moments to take stock. ‘I realize how important it is that you find the person you’re looking for. I feel enough remorse already – why should I add more?’
Russell looked out the window. At least it was a lead, he told himself.
It wouldn’t be difficult for the police to find Karen Swanson, which meant it shouldn’t be too difficult to trace his son as well. What they didn’t have was time. If he was right, the next explosion would happen at night. He turned back to Ben, who, realizing how disappointed he was, had been waiting to speak again.
‘Russell, there’s one more thing I can tell you, though it seems such a long shot, I really don’t know if it amounts to anything.’
‘In a case like this, anything could amount to something.’
The old man looked for a moment at his age-stained hands, and the palm that contained all the familiar lines of his life. ‘For years,’ he said, ‘my cousin managed the Wonder Theatre, here in Chillicothe. It was nothing special, mostly local shows, concerts by small groups and half-known singers. With a few touring companies every now and again to bring us a bit of novelty and an illusion of culture.’
Russell waited, hoping that what he suspected turned out to be true.
‘One day, some years after Karen and her son left, a variety show came to town. Magicians, comedians, acrobats, that kind of thing. My cousin is willing to swear that one of the performers was Manuel Swanson. Now remember, quite a few years had passed – he was using a stage name – but that was what my cousin thought. And he’d have bet any money on it. He told me he actually asked the boy if they’d met before, and the boy said no, this was the first time he’d ever been to Chillicothe in his life.’
Russell stood up, nervously smoothing his pants. ‘That’s certainly something, but it’s going to take a while to find him. I’m afraid we don’t have all that time.’
‘Would a photograph help?’
At those words, Russell turned abruptly. ‘That’d be the best thing of all.’
‘Wait.’
Ben Shepard got up from his armchair and went and picked up a cordless phone lying on a cabinet. He dialled a number and waited for the reply.
‘Hi, Homer, Ben here.’
A few moments listening. A few anxieties at the other end.
‘No, don’t worry. I’ll be going bowling tonight. I called you about something else.’
He waited for the person at the other end to calm down.
‘Homer, you remember what you told me once about young Swanson and that variety show?’
Russell had no idea what the other man was saying, but waited for Ben’s next words.
‘Among all your stuff, did you keep theirs?’
The answer must have been a short one, because Ben immediately replied, ‘Great, I’m sending someone to see you. His name’s Russell Wade. Do whatever he asks you. If you don’t trust him, trust me.’
There must have been protests, a demand for an explanation. Ben Shepard cut him short.
‘Just do it. Bye, Homer.’
He hung up and turned to Russell.
‘In all those years, my cousin kept copies of posters of all the artists who performed in his theatre. A kind of collection. I think he plans to write a book about it, one of these days. He has a poster with a photograph of the person you’re looking for.’
He took a notepad and a ballpoint pen from next to the telephone and wrote down a name and an address. He handed the paper to Russell.
‘This is his address. It’s all I can do.’
Russell followed his instinct. He took the paper and immediately hugged Ben Shepard. The sincerity and emotion of the gesture wiped out any surprise the old man might have. Russell hoped it would also wipe out any regret he might feel when he was alone.
‘Ben, I have to go. You don’t know how grateful I am.’
‘But I do. And I also know you’re a good person. I hope you find what you’re looking for.’
Ben Shepard’s eyes were moist again, but his handshake was firm and quick. Russell was already crossing the garden, on his way to the car. A few moments later, as he entered the address Ben had given him in the GPS, he told himself that he couldn’t handle the information he now had all by himself. He would need the resources of the police. He had to get back to New York as soon as possible, once he’d obtained the material he needed from Homer. As he started the car and headed back to town, he wasn’t sure if the excitement he felt inside him came from the discovery he had just made or the thought that he would soon see Vivien again.
CHAPTER 34
From the window of the clinic, Vivien had seen the sun come up. For Greta, there wouldn’t be any new day. There wouldn’t be any more dawns or sunsets, until the day came for a resurrection she had always found it difficult to believe in. She put her forehead against the window pane and felt the damp coldness of the surface on her skin. She closed her eyes, and dreamed of waking up in a time and place where none of this had happened and she and her sister were children, happy as only children can be. Earlier, as she had held Greta’s hand and heard the beep-beep-beep of the monitor getting slower and slower until it was just a straight green line
