'When was the last time you saw him?'
'When he come for his check. He's on disability. He comes by once a month.'
'What was he driving?'
'Same as always. His truck.'
'Does he still live in it?'
Ferris nods.
'He still have the same camper shell on it?'
'Maybe.'
'Yes or no, Mrs. Ferris.'
'I don't know.' She flaps a hand. 'I think so. He ain't said nothin' about a new one. He ain't got that kinda money.'
Giving no sign of her delight, Frank indicates a chair. 'Can we sit?'
Without waiting for an answer, she pulls the chair out. Ferris grudgingly takes the opposite seat. Her husband remains propped against the wall. Frank chooses her seat knowing Ferris will sit as far from her as possible, thus placing Frank between Ferris and her husband. Aware of the bad blood between Kevin and his brother-in-law, Frank doesn't expect Kevin to move to his wife's defense. He hasn't yet and he doesn't now, compelling Sharon Ferris to face Frank as well as her own husband.
Frank focuses Sharon. 'Going back to the day those children came up missing. You're pretty insistent that Antoine had nothing to do with it. Tell me why.'
'He just didn't.'
Frank flicks an indulgent smile. 'You're gonna have to give me more than that. Tell me about that day.'
'Am I under arrest?'
'God, no.' Frank fakes a laugh. 'Nobody's under arrest here. I'm just trying to find out what happened to those two kids. Trying to rebuild the day.'
'It was a long time ago. I can't remember that far back.'
Frank reads a little from her notes to jog Ferris's memory.
When Frank asks if that's what happened, Ferris says, 'If that's what I said, then I guess it must be.'
'So he just hung on you the whole day. Never went to the bathroom, never went to his room.'
'He didn't have no room. He slept in his truck.'
'So is it possible he went out there at some point in the afternoon?'
'Yeah, it's possible.'
'Possible or he did?'
'I don't know. He ain't a two-year-old. I wasn't watchin' him all day.'
'So he could have spent some time out in his camper that day?'
'Yeah, sure. Of course he coulda.'
'Did he? Do you specifically remember him being with you every minute of that day?'
'No, he wasn't with me
'When wasn't he with you?'
'I don't know. I can't remember.'
'You just said he wasn't with you every minute.'
'Well, it don't make sense that a grown man would be hanging on his sister's skirts all day. I mean, at least to relieve himself he wasn't with me. Sheeshh.' She shakes her head.
Frank has noticed that Mrs. Ferris keeps a mean house. On her way in, she also noticed an ashtray by the front door. 'Does your brother smoke, Mrs. Ferris?'
'Smoke?'
'Cigarettes. Does he smoke cigarettes?'
'Yeah, he smokes.'
'Pack a day? Haifa pack? Two packs?'
'I don't know. Maybe a pack. Pack an' a half.'
'You let him smoke in the house?'
'No, I do not. He and Kevin both have to go outside. I don't like that stink in my house.'
'So when he visited you down south, did you make him go outside then, too?'
She offers a nod but nothing else.
'Man smoking a pack a day must have been outside a lot. It was pretty cold the day those kids were killed. Did you sit outside with him?'
Ferris shakes her head.
'So your brother was alone outside fairly regularly throughout the day.'
'I guess. That don't mean he did nothing.'
'No, it doesn't. But it also means you can't protect him as much as you'd like to. There were considerable portions of the day that he wasn't with you.' Frank leans forward to drive the knife in. 'I know he's your younger brother. The good news is, he doesn't have a prior history for this type of thing. We might still be able to help him if he's willing to talk. I'm sure you want to help him and the best way to do that is by finally being honest. Tell me why you're protecting him.'
Ferris's eyes flit from Frank to her husband.
'He's my baby brother.'
'And he's a grown man. You just said so yourself. Why do you worry so much about him?'
She bristles. 'I ain't worried. Twan just always been different, is all. He's always been sickly. Nervous-like. But he's a
'How do you mean he's nervous?'
'Like irritable. Like he lets little things get to him that wouldn't bother regular folks.'
'Give me an example.'
'Like telling him what to do. He always take it the wrong way and get all up in your face about it. He's sensitive, is all. Always has been. You just have to be careful how you talk to him.'
'Must've been hard for him when he was a kid.'
'Yeah, it was. He was skinny too. Other kids used to pick on him, beat him up regular like. Me and my other brother was always having to look out for him.'
'Did he have friends?'
'A couple here and there. None that ever lasted long. Like I said, he was nervous and it kinda made him hard to get along with.'
'How about now? Has he got any friends? Any buddies he hangs out with?'
'Nah, he ain't got no regular friends.'
'Where's he stay when he's not with you?'
'Oh, he visits our parents. They's over to Visalia now. He travels quite a lot. Likes to see things. He's always telling how he was at Yosemite or this place or that. He's smart. Twan likes history. Always watching the History Channel and visiting monuments and historic places. Places I ain't never even heard of it, but he likes 'em.'
Frank sits back, letting Ferris's affection work for her. 'What else does he like to do?'
'Oh, he can fix just about anything. I'm a liar if he didn't rewire this whole house! And ain't nothing with an engine gonna be broke for long if Twan around it. Ain't that right, Kev?'
Behind Frank he grunts, 'Uh-huh.'
'So he's good with his hands.'
'Oh, yeah,' Ferris says with sisterly pride.
'How's he take his coffee?'
'His coffee?' she echoes, derailed.
Frank nods.
'He likes cream and sugar.'
'Good.'
Frank moves on. She asks more questions, pushing the knife deeper and deeper into Bailey's sister. At last she sits back and sighs dramatically. She fiddles with the pencil in her fingers. She doesn't look at Ferris.
Finally the woman's anxiety crescendos and she asks, 'You think he did it? You think he killed them two
