The Hiding Place

“He just said we knew each other in the past and that he knew something about Justin’s death. Something that no one else knew about the way it happened.” Janet swallowed. She felt the eyes on her, especially Stynes and her dad. “I have to be honest. Ever since that first night he showed up here, I’ve had a…wish, I guess you would call it. No-more than that. A belief is what I think it is.”

“A belief about what?” her dad said.

His voice surprised Janet. It was unlike him to speak up about something so deeply personal in front of people he didn’t really know.

But could she really say he felt anything about Justin deeply? Did he?

She looked at her dad when she spoke. “I’ve started to believe that he is Justin. That Justin is still alive, and he didn’t die in the park that day. And now he’s back.”

Her father simply looked away. He turned his eyes to the floor and didn’t speak.

It was Stynes who filled the quiet space.

“Leaving aside the question, for now, of why your mother didn’t call the police and notify us about this man,” he said, “I’m curious to know how you, Ashleigh, came to believe that this man is your uncle. Did he tell you this?”

“I went to his house-”

“You went to his house?” Janet said.

The gust of fear that swept through Janet in that split second almost forced her to reach out and grab hold of Ashleigh, tuck her into her arms, and hold her tight. Her daughter, out in the world, chasing after a strange man. A man who’d made Janet uneasy in a bright, public place. No matter who he was, the thought of Ashleigh’s exposure to the man, her vulnerability in such close proximity to him-or someone like him-terrified Janet.

But she swallowed the fear, and the impulse to grab her daughter. She listened, her hands clenched in her lap, while Ashleigh told the story of tracing the man through the comic store and the restaurant he worked at to the first apartment complex and then the ratty apartment complex a few miles away.

“He says his name is Steven Kollman,” Ashleigh said. “That’s the name everyone knew him by.”

Stynes looked at Janet. She read the look on his face. Does that name mean anything to you?

Janet’s mind swirled. Did it? Was there familiarity there? Or was it like the man’s face-a place she saw familiarity because she wanted to?

Janet shook her head.

“How did you come to decide this man was your uncle if he used another name?” Stynes asked.

Ashleigh looked over at Kevin. Something passed between them, an unspoken understanding. Kevin nodded his head to Ashleigh. Go ahead, he was telling her. It’s okay.

Janet’s clenched fists grew tighter while Ashleigh spoke of going into the abandoned apartment. She heard the words about the court summons with Justin’s name on it, but when Ashleigh told the next part of her story, the part about the man’s hands on her body-touching her, groping her, assaulting her, for the love of God-Janet felt a sharp pain at the base of her neck. She placed her hand back there and rubbed.

It’s okay, she told herself. You raised a strong girl. You raised a fighter.

And she did. Janet saw the hint of pride on Ashleigh’s face as she talked about fighting the man off, kicking him, punching him. That’s my girl, Janet wanted to say, but knew it would only embarrass her daughter. But she felt it. That is my girl, the fighter.

“Detective,” Janet said. “I trust that whatever else happens the police will be paying a visit to this pervert’s apartment.”

“Of course,” Stynes said, but he was clearly more interested in Ashleigh’s story about Justin. “You didn’t see anything else? Pictures, other mail? Anything?”

“That’s all. I wish I’d held on to the letter,” Ashleigh said, sounding almost apologetic. “If only I’d kept it.”

“That’s fine, Ashleigh,” Stynes said. “You did fine.”

“I guess that’s why I cried when I walked up here,” Ashleigh said. “I knew I’d found something important.” She looked at Janet, this time without the contempt or averted eyes that were the moody teen’s trademark. “I knew it was important to you, Mom. I was happy and sad at the same time. It was everything all mixed up.”

Janet couldn’t play it cool any longer. The emotion took control of her. She leaned in and took her daughter in her arms, wrapped her up the way she wanted to-not out of fear or anxiety, but out of pure, unadulterated love and appreciation for this girl.

“The detective’s right, Ashleigh,” Janet said. “You did do good. I love you, and I’m glad you’re safe.” She held on. “You’re a sweet, crazy girl.”

“It’s okay, Mom. Jeez.”

But Ashleigh’s voice, even muffled by Janet’s hug, didn’t sound annoyed or exasperated. She took the warmth and let her mom hold her as long as she wanted.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Stynes didn’t know what to think. He had come to the Manning home to investigate a loose end from twenty- five years ago. Why had there been a contradiction between the account of Manning’s whereabouts given by his wife and the account given by Manning himself? Was Bill Manning home that morning or not?

It had come up twenty-five years earlier, as he and Reynolds investigated the case. They had talked about it at length. In the end, Reynolds had told Stynes to let it go, to not worry about a small and understandable contradiction in one person’s story when there was enough evidence to convict someone else, someone much more likely to have committed the crime. Someone the wrong color, Stynes realized…

But there Stynes sat, still inside the Manning house, and Ashleigh Manning, a fifteen-year-old girl, had revealed what might just be the smoking gun.

Was Justin Manning still alive?

Stynes looked around the room and saw Bill Manning turn and leave. He disappeared down a hallway, probably toward a bedroom or bathroom. Overwhelmed? By guilt, or something else?

First things first, Stynes thought. Easiest thing first. He pulled out his phone and called in the assault on Ashleigh Manning committed by the apartment manager.

“You don’t know the creep’s name, do you?” Stynes asked Ashleigh.

“Nick something,” she said, then went on to give a solid description all the way down to the scent of his breath. Stynes also requested a crime scene unit be sent to the apartment formerly occupied by Steven Kollman/Justin Manning. He asked for prints to be taken and any evidence that remained to be tagged and inventoried. When asked if a warrant was in order, Stynes said, “The guy didn’t pay his rent and vacated the premises. We don’t need a warrant. Tell them I’ll meet them there in a little bit. And I need you to run two names for me.” He gave them the names of the two men he was-might be-pursuing. The two ghosts who were now permanent residents of his brain. Steven Kollman and Justin Manning. “Anything that pops, let me know.”

He put the phone away and sat in the chair Bill Manning had occupied earlier, back when Stynes believed in his gut the man was involved with the death of his own son.

And now?

He couldn’t believe that Justin Manning was still alive after all these years. He’d watched them remove the kid’s body from the woods, saw the skeletal remains and the wisps of blond hair still attached to the skull.

“Janet, can you tell me anything else this man said to you? Anything at all?”

He watched Janet think, her hand still clutching her daughter’s. “He told me that he lived in Dove Point, and he didn’t like it,” she said. “He said he was taken away from his family-he definitely said that. That’s one of the things that made me think he was Justin. Somebody took him away from his family.” She lifted her free hand to her chest. “My God, where has he been all these years? Has he been lost or homeless? I asked him if he needed help when I saw him on campus. He looked a little…ragged or dirty, I guess. Not dirty like he didn’t have a place to live,