“Oh, Jesus.” Gamble shot to his feet. “Oh, Jesus.”
“That mean no?”
“I’d have killed the guy.”
Seeing Gamble’s agitation, I spoke in a tone I hoped would be calming. “Did Cindi change her habits that summer and fall? Alter her normal routine?”
“How would I know?” Gamble threw up both hands. “She was sixteen. I was twelve. We traveled in different galaxies.” He began pacing.
“How about her demeanor? How did she act?” I asked.
“Scared of her own shadow.”
I gestured for him to continue.
“She was always looking around, you know? Like she was afraid someone was following her. And sometimes she’d bust my balls for no reason. That wasn’t like her.”
“Go on.”
Gamble stopped. To gauge our reactions? “Looking back, I always suspected she might have kicked Lovette to the curb.”
“What makes you think that?”
“A couple weeks before she vanished, Cindi told our mother she’d lost her keys and asked to have all the locks changed at home.”
“And?”
“She hadn’t lost her keys. I saw them in her backpack. Why would she make up a story like that?”
“Why do you think?” I asked.
“I think she dumped Lovette, and it pissed him off. That’s what was making her jumpy. She was afraid he’d come for her. She invented the key thing to be sure the house was secure.”
Gamble resumed pacing, moving like a caged animal in the small space.
“Sit down,” Slidell said.
Unable to stand still, Gamble ignored him.
“You report all this to the cops back then?” Slidell.
“I told some big guy.”
“Galimore?”
Gamble shrugged. “Beats me. I was a kid. I learned later that Galimore was on the task force. I don’t know the guy, but I hear he works security here.”
“Did the cops follow up?”
“Who knows?”
“How about the FBI?”
“I keep telling you. I was a kid. And my parents weren’t on anyone’s speed dial.”
Footsteps clanged up metal stairs, then a door opened at the far end of the hauler. A jumpsuited man leaned in. He was sweating and breathing hard. “We’ve got a problem exiting turn three. The right-rear pressure needs tweaking.”
“Gimme five,” Gamble snapped.
“Stupak’s going apeshit.”
“Five!”
The man withdrew.
“Did you discuss Cindi’s nervousness with your folks?” I asked.
“You think they sought my middle school views on my high school sister’s mood swings?”
Point taken.
“Your parents have passed on, that right?” Slidell asked.
Gamble nodded. “Mom blew an aneurysm in 2005. Two years later Dad was killed in a hit-and-run on the road outside our house. That was fucked up. He’d walked that stretch every day for ten years.”
Slidell’s mobile sounded. Without looking, he reached to his belt and clicked the silencer.
“What do you know about J. D. Danner?” Slidell changed direction.
“Never heard of him. Who is he?”
“Guy ran the Patriot Posse.”
Gamble’s forearm muscles flexed as his fingers curled into fists. “I’m going to find the bastards who did this.”
“Just calm down. You know anything about Danner and his cronies?”
