during an investigation.”
She turned to face him. She studied him.
“You don’t think Dante did it, Detective, do you?”
Stynes wanted to tell her. He wanted to admit his doubts about his performance on the case all those years ago, that he should have worried less about his stature as a young detective and more about finding the truth, whatever it was. He recognized that of all the people he knew-Reynolds, his fellow officers, his few friends and acquaintances-Janet Manning might be the person he was most likely to tell what he really thought about Dante and what Stynes had come to think of as his alleged role in the crime. But Stynes knew he had already tipped his hand too much. Janet Manning wasn’t a dummy. She only needed to listen to the questions Stynes directed at her father to know that there was suspicion in that direction, that a follow-up on the man’s whereabouts meant Stynes harbored some doubts about her father and the events of that morning.
“What do you remember about that day, Janet? Do you remember talking to me in the park?”
Her mouth twisted a little as she thought. She shook her head. “Not really. It’s fuzzy. I know the police were there. I remember seeing the police cars at the park, more than one of them.”
“But you don’t remember what you said?”
She shook her head. “I’ve read about it in the paper so many times that I know what I said, but I don’t remember saying it.”
“Do you remember talking to us that night? Here at the house?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. I just remember a lot of people coming and going. I remember feeling empty all the time. Justin was gone, and something wasn’t right. But I can’t look back there and tell you what I was thinking.”
“It was confusing.”
“Yes. I know Michael came over one night and we played together. The adults were in another room, I guess.” Janet smiled, almost laughed.
“Why are you smiling?” Stynes asked.
“Michael.”
“What about him?”
“I cried for him. Not for Justin.”
“What do you mean?”
“I cried because I wanted to see Michael and play with him. I guess my parents didn’t think I needed to be playing or goofing around, you know? I don’t know if that was the first day or later. But somehow Michael ended up coming over to our house and we played together.”
“He was here that night. I remember that.”
“It must have been then. I just remembered that,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of that for a while.” She shook her head a little. “But that’s about it.”
“I heard he’s back in town.”
“Michael?”
“Yes.”
“He is.”
“Have you seen him?” Stynes asked.
“A few times. Why? Do you want to talk to him?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Stynes said. “But if you think of anything else about that day or that time-anything at all-you let me know.”
“It’s funny, Detective,” she said. “I always told myself when I was growing up and then when I left home that I wouldn’t be defined by that day in the park. I saw what it did to my mother, and to a lesser extent my father.”
“Why a lesser extent for him?” Stynes asked.
“He’s a man, I guess. He’s always kept things inside and been hard to reach. But my mother was very open and loving until Justin died. She lost something then, some spark of life.” Janet sighed. “Anyway, I said I wasn’t going to be like them, looking backward all the time. I had a daughter to raise, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her get dragged into all of this.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Stynes said.
“And if it’s such a good idea,” Janet said, “why are we all standing in the same place, in the same town, at the same house, still talking about that day twenty-five years later?”
Chapter Twenty-five
Despite Kevin’s long legs and height advantage, he struggled to keep up with Ashleigh on the way to the Manning house. She no longer felt the aftereffects of the run from the apartment building. Quite the opposite. Both her body and her mind felt renewed in some way, as if energy were shooting through her and lighting up the cells and circuits of her body.
Had she done it? Had she found her uncle?
Could she make everything okay for her family again?
They didn’t speak much on the way. Ashleigh kept her eyes focused on the walk ahead, imagining as they went along the look on her mother’s face when she told her about the man. Even her grandfather, a man who showed no emotion about anything-not even his own dead son-might lose control of himself and be forced to admit that something more than extraordinary had happened.
“Hey,” Kevin said.
Ashleigh kept walking.
“Ash? Hey.”
“What?” she said, stopping.
“Are you sure you want me to go with you?” he asked.
“What?”
“Me,” he said. “Should I tag along here? Your grandpa isn’t exactly a fan of mine, and if he’s been asking if we’re dating-”
“Just come,” she said, starting to walk again. “What do you mean, he’s not a fan of yours?”
“I don’t want him getting pissed at me, you know? Just because you and I have been hanging out.”
“He won’t care.” Ashleigh slowed down and looked at Kevin. “We’re about to tell him his son is still alive. Don’t you think that trumps everything else?”
Kevin nodded, although he didn’t look entirely certain.
Ashleigh tugged on his arm. “Come on.”
Ashleigh’s mind continued to race. Would they all jump in the car and drive to the man’s apartment? No, they couldn’t do that. He was gone. Plus, the creepy manager would be there. Ashleigh decided not to tell her mom about that part of the story. She didn’t want the two things mixed up-the discovery of her uncle’s whereabouts and the pervert groping her. No, they wouldn’t drive right over there. But they’d have to do something, right? Celebrate or something?
What on earth did people do when something like that happened?
Did stuff like that ever happen to anyone else on earth?
Ashleigh saw the house ahead, and slowed her pace a little. She started to reimagine the scenario of telling them, and wondered what would transpire as the weeks passed. What if they did meet the man, and he really was her uncle? What would happen then? Would he move into the house with them? Would he come over for Thanksgiving and Christmas?
Was he even right in the head, wandering around in the middle of the night, knocking on doors and not identifying himself?
“What’s wrong?” Kevin asked.
“Just thinking.”
“They’ll probably just call the police and let them handle it,” he said. “It’ll be okay.”
