Laneer pocketed his handkerchief and leaned forward to hoist himself off the car bumper. His first effort failed, so he tried again.
“Keep your seat,” Walt said, stretching a palm out to both Laneer and Sylvia to indicate that they should both stay where they were. “Nobody should suffer what you two just did. I saw you two running around, doing your best to find this child. I’ll walk her over there.”
“You’re a good man,” Sylvia said, “taking care of little Kali the way you do.”
Walt reached out his hand, and Kali took it.
Faye was shifting her weight on the bench. McDaniel thought she looked like a woman who wanted to take action but wasn’t sure what action to take. Suddenly, she sat up ramrod straight and looked at him. “Phyllis Windom seems uncommonly good with incomplete data.”
McDaniel didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so he watched over her shoulder while she turned her entire attention to writing a text to Windom.
We can’t track all the suspects for all of the past six years, but we know something about where some of them were in school. Or teaching it. I’ll send you what I can find. See if you can eliminate anybody based on school schedules. Thanks!
Faye pressed “Send,” then went to work on a text giving Windom the websites of Jeremiah’s college, Richard’s community college, and Walt’s school system. She couldn’t find a thing to help Windom track the comings and goings of Mayfield, Linton, or Armand, but this information would be a start.
“If this works,” McDaniel said, “you’re building the prosecution’s case for them. You know that?”
“It’s not my first priority, no, but I’m happy to help put this murderer away.”
She looked for the gaggle of suspects gathered in the parking lot, but they’d each gone their own way. “Did you see where those guys all went?”
McDaniel nodded to his right. “Armand’s over there by his car. Don’t see the rest of them.”
“While Phyllis Windom is working her magic, I kinda want to keep my eye on the lot of them.”
“Not sure how it will help, but I’m with you.”
McDaniel stood and headed right. Faye went left, and they stepped into the parking lot, which had emptied quickly after Kali was found. She fought the urge to check her phone every few steps to see whether Phyllis Windom had worked a miracle.
Chapter Forty-one
Faye found Linton as he exited the church. He said he had been in the bathroom, and maybe he had. Jeremiah was sitting in his car, enjoying the air conditioning. From a distance, she could see McDaniel speaking to Mayfield, who was tugging nervously at the knot of his tie. Armand was standing at the rear of his car, looking for something in his trunk. Where was Walt Walker?
She stopped to speak to Sylvia and Laneer, who were sitting together in the front seat of Laneer’s car. Both were dozing, eyes closed and heads lolling. They’d had a hard day. No, they’d had a hard week, actually, and the years ahead didn’t look easy. Even with the help of a loving candy lady, Laneer was well past the age when he could have expected to be responsible for a girl who was growing up.
He jerked awake when Faye’s shadow fell on his face, and she was sorry to disturb him. She went ahead and asked her question anyway. “Have either of you seen Walt Walker?”
Before they could answer, she checked the back seat and said, “And where’s Kali?”
“She went with Walt,” the old man said. “He said the detective needed to talk to her.”
“No, he didn’t,” Sylvia said, completely awake and Sylvia-like in her drive for accuracy. “He said that Linton said that the detective needed to talk to her. That ain’t the same thing.”
Faye scanned the parking lot looking for McDaniel and Sylvia saw her.
“We told him.”
“You told—”
“The detective was just here a minute ago, and we told him that Linton told Mr. Walker to take Kali to him, but they must have just missed him.”
Faye’s mouth didn’t want to work, but she managed to say, “I’m sure they did.”
She looked around her for Linton, but she didn’t see him. She didn’t see Walt Walker, either. She did spot McDaniel speaking to Armand and Richard. There was no child at his side.
McDaniel’s patience was visibly frayed. Maybe past frayed. Maybe it was, like Faye’s, ripped apart at the seams.
“Tell me one more time,” she heard him say. “Who said what?” Then he stood silently and listened to the two men tell confusing, contradictory stories.
“Mayfield told us that Mr. Walker said that Kali needed to talk to you,” said Armand. “He said that she must know something about who killed Frida, and she needed to tell you everything right now.”
“Linton said he’d go find her,” Richard said.
“No, he didn’t. It was Mr. Walker that said he’d go find her. Linton wanted to go, but Mr. Walker didn’t trust him to do it.”
“He didn’t say that.” Richard had taken a step back from Armand, as if to get a better look at him or to get out of his reach.
“He didn’t say it, but he thought it. Nobody that trusts Linton lives to be happy about it.”
“What about your friend Jeremiah?” Richard said, standing still, alert, hands at the ready. “He agreed that Mr. Walker should be the one to go get the girl.”
Armand bristled. “Because only a fool trusts Linton. Everybody knows that. What’ve you got against Jeremiah?”
Faye saw that McDaniel’s own hands were ready, if this disagreement escalated to something physical, but she was glad that he was holding back. She needed to hear the story these men were telling, and so did McDaniel.
Why the confusion? Maybe it was a coincidence that neither of these intelligent men could remember the details of a conversation
