“Three o’clock, but—“
“You’d better ask your sergeant if he can spare you; otherwise, it will have to wait.”
After he was gone, she thought about the motor home. Saw it in her mind’s eye, cruising down the Gulch in the early hours of the morning.
It made sense. A motor home was an ideal vehicle for a sexual predator. Portable, self-contained, window shades so no one could see in.
She glanced at Buddy Holland’s desk. He must have come in and gone again while she was talking to Noone. She powered down her computer and went looking for him, catching Officer Danehill at the coffee urn, which had been set up outside the bathroom. “Have you seen Buddy?”
“Buddy? He just left.”
Laura decided that could be a good thing. She doubted Buddy would be a help and might be a hindrance. She headed up canyon to see Jessica’s parents.
David and Linda Parris lived on West Boulevard, the last house before vacant land. Three hundred yards up, West Boulevard bottomed out in a hairpin turn before slanting up the mountain. According to Laura’s map, this road, old Route 80, switchbacked up to the top and then down again to connect up with the main highway on the other side of Mule Pass.
On the left side of the road just before the hairpin turn were a couple of houses. It might be worth talking to the owners of those houses, to find out if they saw anything. She’d do that after her interview with the family.
It was going on nine in the morning. She’d debated calling first, but decided it was better to just show up. In her job, Laura always looked for the upper hand with everyone—victim or perpetrator—so she could get a better read on the personalities involved.
The Parris house, a craftsman bungalow, had a three-foot-high base of dark volcanic rock with red brick above that. The porch, windows, and doors were painted white. A picket fence flickered in and out of the shadow of a massive sycamore tree, and an American flag hung dispiritedly from the porch roof. Blinds in the front windows were shut tight.
The day was steamy after the rain and the sun blindingly bright. Laura was grateful for the shade of the porch. She used the deer-head knocker, preparing herself.
No answer. A breeze shuttled a few oak leaves across the floorboards. She knocked again, scanning the street while she waited, then tried the doorbell.
“They’re out.”
Laura looked up and saw a bare-chested man watering his plants next door. Was this the neighbor Victor had told her about?
“You with the police department?” he asked.
“Laura Cardinal, Department of Public Safety.” She held her wallet badge up for him to see and approached the fence.
She studied him as he looked at her badge: Five-feet-nine, average build, tattoos on his arms, head like a bullet. Intense eyes.
He shook her hand over the fence. A grip like a mountain climber. “Chuck Lehman.”
“Do you know where they went?”
“Dave mentioned making funeral arrangements yesterday, so I’m guessing they’re at the funeral home. You just missed them.”
Laura tried not to show her disappointment. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
He picked up the hose and started watering again. “Sure, go ahead.”
“Did you notice Jessica coming home from school day before yesterday?”
“Nope. I was in the back room on the computer. Stock trading.”
“You didn’t hear anything, see anything? Maybe earlier? A car you didn’t recognize, maybe going slow? Someone hanging around?”
She was plowing old ground; Victor had already asked him questions like this, but she wanted to hear his answers for herself.
Chuck Lehman was willing. He gave her a thumbnail sketch of the family (father, authoritarian; mother, a pretty doormat; boyfriend, probably will end up being gay; Jessica, a “cute kid”; younger brother, a little shit). He pondered at length how her agency could use its resources to better advantage, they needed to get the media involved “on a national level”, put up roadblocks. “You don’t even have the Amber Alert.”
“You sound like you’re in law enforcement.”
“Me? No. I’m a carpenter.” He touched his forehead. “But I have good powers of observation.”
She noticed the tautness in his face, the slight trembling in his body—he seemed to be on an adrenaline high. Was he excited about being included, or covering up something?
“Did you talk to Jessica much?”
“Me? No.” He waved at the air vaguely. “Hardly ever saw her.” Mister Amiable, suddenly closing up.
“You know of any of her friends I could talk to?”
“How would I know that? If you haven’t noticed, I’m a
“All the days she’s walked home from school, nobody, nothing stuck out in your mind?”
“I don’t notice who comes and goes. They’re just kids.”
