“Look. I keep telling you. I was twelve. I was mostly focused on not getting zits.”
“Your folks ever talk about it?”
A frown creased Gamble’s forehead. Which looked clammy despite the AC.
“I may have heard the name during one of their screaming matches with Cindi.”
“What was said?”
Gamble gave a tight shake of his head. “There was a lot of fighting going on that summer. I used video games to tune it out. All I know is the scenes were always about Lovette.”
“How about a guy named Grady Winge?”
“He works here at the track. Not too bright but OK. Why? Was Winge involved?”
“Cool down. We’re just working the names.” Slidell stifled a pork-sausage belch. “How about Ethel Bradford?”
“She taught chem at A. L. Brown. You found Mrs. B.? What’d she say?”
“She doubts Cindi left on her own.”
“Look. I’m not crazy. Everyone thought the same thing. Didn’t matter. The FBI was telling the cops what to do. And for them, the flag had already dropped.”
Slidell asked a few questions about Maddy Padgett and Lynn Nolan.
Gamble had no memory of Padgett, only a vague one of Nolan. While not flattering, his recall seemed spot-on. Body by
* * *
Rather than hopping onto I-85, Slidell wound through town on Sharon Amity Road en route to the MCME.
Note about Charlotte. At least a zillion streets are named for a person or place called Sharon. Sharon Road. Sharon Lane. Sharon Lakes. Sharon Oaks. Sharon Hills. Sharon View. Sharon Chase. Sharon Parkway. Don’t know the gal’s story, but it must be a doozy.
For several miles the only sound in the car was radio static. Slidell and I were both turned inward, considering what Gamble had said.
Had Cindi been murdered? According to Nolan, Cale had treated her badly. Because he resented the support she was getting from her parents? Had she finally rebelled? Had Cale killed her because she’d broken off their relationship? Had Cale then disappeared, perhaps assumed a new identity? Had the Patriot Posse helped him slip underground?
Had Cindi and Cale both been murdered? If so, by whom? The Patriot Posse? Why?
Had the task force conclusion been correct? Had Cindi and Cale disappeared voluntarily? If so, why? Where had they gone? Was the Patriot Posse involved?
Were Gamble’s suspicions legitimate? Had the FBI controlled the investigation? Concealed the truth about Cindi and Cale? If so, for what reason?
I thought about the question marks in Rinaldi’s notes. Had Eddie known that something was off? Had Galimore?
My mind bounced like an untethered balloon on the wind, bobbing from one conjecture to another.
I finally broke the silence.
“Cindi was a kid. Cale was far from worldly. If the two left willingly, how did they cover their tracks so effectively? I mean, think about it. Not one single slipup or sighting in all these years?”
“Except for Owen Poteat.”
“The guy at the airport.”
Slidell nodded.
“You learn anything about him?”
“I will.”
“Suppose Gamble’s right. Why would the FBI initiate a cover-up?”
“I’ve been poking at that.”
Slidell made a right onto Providence Road before continuing.
“Say the FBI turned Lovette.”
“Got him to work as a confidential informant?”
Slidell nodded. “Maybe the posse discovered he’d been flipped and capped him and his girlfriend.”
I rolled that around in my head.
“Or maybe the CI was Cindi,” I said. “Maybe she’d had it with Lovette’s abuse and agreed to spy on the posse for the FBI. That would explain her nervousness.”
“Eeyuh.”
“Or what about this? Cindi or Lovette is working from the inside. Their cover is blown. The FBI pulls them both and pipes them into witness protection.”
Slidell didn’t answer.
