The Hiding Place

“I think about it every day,” Janet said. “I guess I feel like I’ve been cheated out of something.”

“All those years?”

“Yes. My whole family. I have a daughter who will never know her uncle. I wanted her to know him.” Janet cleared her throat. “She said she’d be here today…She must be running late.”

“Are your memories clear of what happened the day Justin disappeared?” Kate asked.

What happened that day, Janet? Michael had asked. She wanted to say she was surprised he didn’t show up for the interview, but she wasn’t. Reliability and predictability had never been his strong suits. Janet learned that early on, during childhood. Why would anything change now, all these years later?

But why show up at her job, asking that question?

What do you remember from that day, Janet?

“I can’t forget,” Janet said. “It’s something I’ll never forget. My mom sent us to the park to play, just the two of us.”

“Was that unusual?” Kate asked.

“Yes, it was,” she said. Then she added, “That was the first time that ever happened.”

“Why do you think she did that?” Kate asked.

Janet had been wondering the same thing for twenty-five years. And she had never asked her mother. “Maybe she just needed some time alone. She thought we were old enough to go to the park alone and give her a little break. There were a lot of people there.”

Kate nodded. Go on.

“We played,” she said. “We ran around. We went on the slides. We went on the swings. There were other kids there, and a lot of parents. We weren’t alone. And Michael showed up, and we all played together.”

“This is Michael Bower?” Kate asked.

“He was my best friend.” Janet decided not to mention having just seen Michael and asked him to come to the interview. “His parents and my parents were friends, so we played together a lot.”

“Now, at some point, you saw Dante Rogers there, right?”

“Yes,” Janet said. She didn’t think about her answer. She had said the same thing so many times over the years-to the police, to the prosecutor, to other reporters and the parole board-that she didn’t even have to think about it. She just said it-yes. But had she really? Did she know anymore that she had seen Dante Rogers in the park?

“You saw Dante with your brother, right?”

Yes, she did. Janet closed her eyes for just a moment, and she saw the image: the park on that hot summer day. And there was her brother with a black man she had never seen before. That picture was always there in her mind, available for easy summoning.

But did she really see it? How could she know after all this time? And why would someone else-the man on the porch-claim to know otherwise? And why would Michael ask that question at work?

What do you think really happened that day, Janet?

Janet opened her eyes. “A lot of people saw Dante in the park that day. He was there, and so were we.”

“And let me just be clear,” Kate said, “Dante has never denied being in the park when Justin disappeared. Never.”

“But he denies killing Justin.”

“I totally understand that this is tough,” Kate said. Totally. Kate shifted in her seat a little, scooted closer to the edge of the couch, so that Janet thought Kate might reach out and take her hand. “Now, do you remember what happened next? I mean, when did you notice that Justin wasn’t there?”

Janet found herself easing back a little, away from Kate. Something about Kate’s behavior seemed too familiar, too cloying, and she knew the young woman just wanted to get a good story. She probably hoped Janet would cry so the opening line of the feature would read, Through heavy tears, Janet Manning remembered her brother today…

“I’m not really sure about that part.”

“Did you notice it, or did someone tell you?” Kate asked.

“I’m just not sure,” Janet said. “I know Michael was there. I know I must have mentioned it to Michael. Then a bunch of adults were there. My mom. Michael’s dad. All of the adults and the police and the reporters…” She felt the tears misting her eyes, saw the room swim in her vision a little. She fought back against them, refused to give in. Don’t be an ass, she told herself. You’re not saying anything new here. She took a quick swipe at her eye with the knuckle of her right index finger, then straightened up. She saw Kate clearly in her vision. “He was just gone then. Gone.”

Kate nodded. Her mouth was pressed into a tight, sympathetic line. I feel your pain, the young reporter’s look said. I get it.

But she didn’t. It was just an act, and Janet knew it. Just like all the people at work and in the town and even Detective Stynes. None of them really understood it. Only Michael. He was there…

“Why don’t I turn to you then, Detective,” Kate said. “I really appreciate the two of you talking to me together-”

“I want to say one more thing,” Janet said.

Kate nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ve been meaning to say this for a while, so I want to say it now. I hope you can work it into the story.”

“I’ll try.”

“I do have one regret about all of this,” Janet said. “It’s that my mother and brother aren’t buried next to each other. We buried Justin in one part of the cemetery, and when Mom died there weren’t any plots next to Justin. And we can’t afford to move him. I want to see that done someday. I know she’d want it that way. They both would.”

Kate kept right on nodding. “That’s really powerful,” she said. “And I totally get it. I’ll try to work it in.”

“Thanks,” Janet said.

“Okay,” Kate said, turning to Stynes. “I guess it’s your turn now.” She gave him a flirtatious smile. “Was this a tough case to investigate?”

“Of course. The disappearance or death of a child is always difficult.”

“Right,” Kate said. “And have there been a lot of cases like this in Dove Point? I just moved here from Oxford a year ago.”

“We’ve been fortunate,” Stynes said. “Major crimes aren’t a big problem in a city this size.”

“You must not have been a detective for very long,” Kate said.

“Only about a year. I’d been on the force longer than that.”

“And what was the key to solving the case and making an arrest?” Kate asked.

Janet watched Stynes while he answered the questions. He seemed thoughtful, almost professorial as he spoke, but she detected something beneath his words, something that always seemed to lie beneath his speech and his gestures. The man seemed, for lack of a better word, tired. Weary, Janet guessed would express it better. Early in the morning, in the middle of the day, whenever she saw Detective Stynes he looked like a man weighed down by something, and that force seemed to be drawing his facial features a little lower, adding slack to the skin around his jaw, slowing his legs when he walked. Janet knew he didn’t have a wife-at least he never mentioned one-and no children. She wondered if that weight had to do with his personal life, or was it something else?

“Like we just heard,” Stynes said, “Janet was there in the park that day, and so was her friend Michael Bower. They were both small children themselves. Seven years old. But they did see”- Janet noticed the emphasis he placed on those words-“a man talking to Justin. So they told us, and we had a sketch artist draw a composite of the man they saw. We circulated that through the media. Dante Rogers’s aunt-he was living with her at the time-thought the sketch bore a strong resemblance to Dante and called us. We went and talked to him and found out he was at the park that day.”

“And I understand he had a stash of child pornography in his room,” Kate said, her reporter eyes narrowing just a little at the mention of the juicy detail.

“We did find some pornographic materials in his room,” Stynes said, his voice level. “He also had a prior arrest for improper contact with a minor child. In addition to the pornographic materials, Dante had a collection of