choice.”
“Was Colt aware of this?”
“Don’t be absurd. If my own children don’t know, do you really think I would tell him?”
“Warden Curtis said Rogers visited on a regular basis. How often did he see you?”
“Oh, maybe once a month back in the early days. But as my health began to deteriorate, he came more frequently. He became more desperate for me to sign those papers he brought with him. He was very persistent. Criminals usually are.”
“Warden Curtis said Johnny Richards often accompanied Rogers when he came to see you. What’s his deal?”
“He’s an associate of Colt’s. I really don’t know him at all.”
“Define associate.”
“That would be a question for him. I can’t answer it for you.” Eli turned his attention to Charlie. “Ask your question, Detective Bolton. The one that has been gnawing at you for twenty-nine years.”
“Why did you lie about the gun being in your safe?” Charlie said without hesitation.
“I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. You knew whoever took the gun killed those two kids. You knew the identity of that person, and you lied to protect him.”
“Detective Bolton, you couldn’t be more wrong.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Cling to your belief, then, if you must. Just know that your belief, like that of the apostate, is far from God’s truth.”
Dantzler moved closer to the chair and looked down at the withered, dying old man. “Who murdered those two boys, Reverend? If you do know, tell me.”
Eli shrugged.
Dantzler knelt in front of Eli until they were at eye level. “Whose obituary am I looking for? Give me that name, at least.”
“We’ve danced this dance before, Detective. Nothing has changed. You’ll have to find it without my help.”
Dantzler stood. “If you are serious about having your name cleared, you might want to re-think your stance on this matter.”
“You have all you need. It’s right in front of you.”
“What I need is something concrete, not hints.”
“The light of truth always prevails, Detective Dantzler. You’ll uncover it. Maybe not while I’m still around, but you’ll eventually find the answers.” Eli closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “Gentlemen, I think it best we end this conversation. I’ve suddenly grown very tired and feel the need to get some rest. I apologize, and I ask that you not judge me to be discourteous.”
Dantzler turned off the tape recorder, went to the door, and opened it. After waiting until Charlie was out of the room, Dantzler turned back toward Eli, who now appeared to be smaller and older than he did only moments earlier. He started to tell the old man goodbye, but didn’t. Instead, he just looked at Eli for several silent seconds.
Dantzler turned to leave, and was almost out the door when he heard Eli’s frail voice.
“Think of Jesus’s empty tomb.”
Dantzler wasn’t sure who Eli was speaking to.
For the first hour on the ride back to Lexington, neither Dantzler nor Charlie spoke. Both men stared straight forward, lost in thought, reflecting on what the Reverend had told them and what he hadn’t told them. Each man also wondered what the other was thinking.
After a while Charlie closed his eyes and pretended to be sleeping. Dantzler wasn’t fooled; he was familiar with this ruse. Charlie was using sleep as a pretense, a reason for not engaging in conversation. He simply did not want to talk.
But it was Charlie who, a few minutes later, opened his eyes and broke the silence.
“I’m telling you, Jack, the man is a seer,” Charlie said. “He has special powers, exactly like those ancient prophets. Isaiah, Daniel, Ezekiel-he sees just like they did. How did he know the gun and safe question was the one that has been troubling me all these years? How could he have possibly known that?”
“It’s what he knows that he’s not telling that troubles me.”
“I knew back in ’eighty-two that he wasn’t being truthful about the gun being in the safe,” Charlie continued, now awake and fully alert. “But I never once challenged him on it, never brought it up. He knew before he opened the safe that the gun wasn’t in there. I should have pressed him harder, but I didn’t. That will always haunt me. It was not good detective work.”
“Don’t beat yourself up on that issue, Charlie. Questioning him about the gun wouldn’t have changed the outcome. Like you said, his fingerprints on the gun were powerfully persuasive evidence. Given those circumstances, I might not have asked the question, either.”
“Then
“You have to drop it, Charlie. What’s done is done. You can’t change the past.”
“Oh, really? Seems to me that’s precisely what you’re trying to do.”
Dantzler was happy to see the lights of Lexington on the horizon. Although he loved Charlie like a father, he was growing weary of hearing him whine about what he should or should not have done. It wasn’t constructive or enlightening. Whining didn’t help move an investigation forward.
It would be much different if Dan Matthews was in the car. Dantzler smiled at the thought. If Dan was sitting beside him, they wouldn’t dwell on past mistakes. There would certainly be no whining; Dan would slap a whiner. Instead, they would be tossing ideas and scenarios and possibilities back and forth like a tennis ball. They would challenge each other to come up with better ideas. They would be digging and digging until they reached the bottom of the case, where the answers are found.
“Are you doing any consoling tonight?” Dantzler asked, changing the subject.
“It’s too late for that. Besides, I’m in no mood to console anyone. I’m gonna have a couple of drinks, then I’m hitting the sack.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Dantzler said, adding, “although I’m sure Emily Danforth will be disappointed.”
“Yeah, well, she’ll get over it,” Charlie grumbled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Devon Fraley didn’t find out about Colt Rogers’s murder until early Sunday afternoon, the only day in the week she bought a newspaper. She made the purchase not for the news or entertainment, but to check the Lotto numbers. She spent five dollars every Saturday, always on Powerball, “the big one” as she liked to call it, hoping like millions of other dreamers to hit the once-in-a-lifetime jackpot. If she could only match those six numbers she wouldn’t have to scrounge around looking for full-time employment. She and her son, Mark, would be set for life.
She spent all day Saturday accompanying Mark’s fourth-grade class to Kings Island, an amusement park north of Cincinnati. It was the end-of-the-year school trip for all three fourth-grade classes, and it had been predictably chaotic. Keeping nearly one hundred wild and energetic kids in check at that place was no easy task. It took a battalion of eagle-eyed adults to manage it. No Child Left Behind took on real meaning in a situation like that. Blessedly, no child was left behind, lost, or injured. It had been a terrific day for everyone. She and Mark didn’t get back to Lexington until almost nine p.m. Both were so tired they immediately went to bed.
On Sunday morning, she asked Mark what he wanted for breakfast even though she knew what his answer would be-McDonald’s, of course. She would have a coronary if he chose some place other than Mickey D’s. She
