19

 

“What do you think?” Ellie asked as she climbed into Mitchell’s SUV and buckled up.

He cranked the engine. “My gut instinct?”

“Considering we have zero physical evidence, yes.”

“He’s lying through his teeth.”

Ellie grinned. “My gut instinct told me the same thing. So, what do we do next?”

“Head to Clarksville and see if Becky got on that bus.” Mitchell carefully backed out of the driveway and headed slowly down the road. He headed in the opposite direction from which they came.

“My thought exactly. How far is Clarksville?”

“I’ll get you home before dark.” He winked at her then settled in for the drive.

Ellie sighed. Not that she didn’t enjoy his company, but she was anxious to get back to Burkesboro and see what Jesse had come up with. “And if Becky didn’t get on that bus…where is she?”

Mitchell glanced over at her and frowned. “Gut instinct?”

He didn’t have to say anything else. Ellie stared out the side window at the landscape creeping by. With each curve, the landscape changed from deep snow-covered ravines to rocky slopes with towering pines close enough to reach out and touch.

If Kenton had killed his wife, finding her body in this terrain would be next to impossible. But what if Becky did get on that bus and had a little boy named TJ with her? Where did that leave Landon? Ellie would be no closer to finding out who left him for dead now than the night his body was discovered. Even if she was able to get a warrant to search the wrecked truck for hair fibers or Landon’s blood, all it would prove was that Landon was in the truck. It wouldn’t prove Jerome Kenton had beat him half to death and left him in an alley to die. Was it possible that Landon was TJ? If TJ even existed. And for whatever reason, he didn’t get on that bus, and a total stranger was the one responsible for leaving him for dead?

She wanted to talk to Jesse. She wanted to know if he had found anything on the registry. She took out her cell phone and tried to call, but the call wouldn’t go through.

Mitchell chuckled. “You’re not goin’ to get a signal out here.”

Ellie stared at her phone as if by magic, she’d have at least one signal bar pop up. Nothing. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and sighed. “How do y’all communicate up here? You don’t even have a dispatch radio in this thing.” She looked around the console of the vehicle for any signs of a squawk box but found none.

“We have ‘em. Just not in our personal vehicles.” Mitchell grinned.

“This isn’t the department’s?”

Mitchell shook his head. “Ain’t no way one of the department cars would make it through all this snow.”

“The department doesn’t have four-wheel drives?” Even the Burkesboro department had a couple.

“We’ve got ‘em, but they’re mostly used for patrol.”

That made sense. She didn’t know about Mitchell’s department, but investigators like Mike Allistar only left his desk for lunch. Why waste a perfectly good 4x4 on nothing but a burger run?

They had driven about twenty minutes when a small sign welcomed them to Clarksville, population 562. Main Street consisted of a hardware store, a funeral home that shared a parking lot with a diner, and the bus station. The snow had been pushed from the center of the parking lots to the sides where it sat in four-foot-high mounds. Mitchell pulled into the bus station and parked near the front door of the small brick building. Ellie followed him in and looked around.

There were three empty benches lining the far wall. Two vending machines offering soda and snacks stood near the benches. The ticket counter was on the opposite wall, encased in metal bars. An elderly man behind the counter peeked between the bars. “Can I help you?” His voice was crackly and old with age.

“Yes, sir, you can,” Mitchell said. He approached the counter and showed his shield. “Detective Brady Mitchell with the Avery County Sheriff’s Department, and this is Detective Ellie Saunders from the Burkesboro Police Department. We’d like to take a look at your passenger log for Tuesday afternoon if you don’t mind.”

The old man nodded obligingly. “Sure, sure. Looking for someone in particular?”

“As a matter of fact, we are,” Mitchell said and winked at Ellie. “A lady named Becky Kenton. She may have been traveling with a young boy named TJ.”

The old man nodded as he slid the papers through the small opening under the bars where tickets and money were exchanged. Mitchell scanned the papers then shook his head and handed them back. “And this is the only passenger log you have for that day?”

“Yes, sir. Would you like to see Monday’s and Wednesday’s? Maybe they were confused on the dates.” He pulled more papers from a book and handed them over to Mitchell.

Mitchell scanned through them and again shook his head. He handed them back. “Were you working Tuesday?”

The old man scratched at his head. “Let’s see…yes, sir. I worked 10 AM until 6 PM. Gladys Shipman usually works Tuesdays but she was down that day with her arthritis.”

“What time does the last bus pull out?”

“Five thirty. The terminal closes at six.”

So if Becky Kenton had gotten on that bus Tuesday, the old man would have been the one who sold her the ticket.

Mitchell pulled the picture of Becky from his coat pocket and showed it to the old man. “Do you remember seeing this woman get on the bus?”

The old man tilted his head to get a better look through his bifocals. He slowly shook his head. “No, sir. Don’t reckon I’ve ever seen her before.”

Ellie pulled up the picture of Kenton she had stored in her phone and also showed it to him. “How ‘bout this man? Have you seen him?”

The man looked at the phone with an air of distrust. “You have pictures in that thing?”

Ellie softly smiled. “Yes, sir. Do you remember seeing him?”

The old man shook his head. “Nope. Never seen him either.”

Outside, Mitchell stood in the parking lot eyeing the diner across the street. “You got time for a bite to eat?”

Ellie had a feeling it didn’t matter whether she did or not. “I guess I can spare thirty.”

“Good. It’s a long walk back.” He winked at her then headed across the street with Ellie in tow.

There were two cars and three pickups in the parking lot, and inside the few customers were scattered at different tables or booths as if they were scared a conversation would be overheard or a new strain of the flu would be spread. Ellie suddenly missed the noise and clatter of Caper’s.

Mitchell slid into one of the booths and motioned for the waitress. Ellie sat opposite Mitchell and smiled at the elderly woman with her hair under a hairnet who came to take their order.

She handed them two laminated menus, and before Ellie had time to look it over, Mitchell ordered two hotdogs all the way with fries. Ellie didn’t see a BLT listed anywhere so she settled for a cheeseburger with mayo.

“Who puts mayo on a cheeseburger?” Mitchell asked and laughed.

Ellie let the comment slide. It reminded her too much of Jesse, and she was really wanting to talk to him—to find out if he had come up with anything on the registry, of course.

“Think we have enough for a warrant?” Ellie asked.

“There’s always the possibility Kenton did drop her off at the bus station, and she hightailed when he was out of sight,” Mitchell said.

Ellie glanced out the grease-spattered window and looked at the knee-deep snow. “That depends on how desperate she was to get away,” she said.

“Maybe she had someone pick her up?”

Ellie stared at him a moment. Was his gut instinct floundering? She shook her head, disagreeing with the idea of a third party. “If Becky was as isolated as her sister says she was, she wouldn’t have the connections, or the guts, to pull off something like that.”

“Maybe she hitched a ride with someone. If that’s the case, then it’s possible Kenton isn’t the one who dumped your kid. Maybe Becky hitched a ride with the wrong person.” He obviously saw Ellie’s look of surprise, and winked. “I’m just looking at all the angles.”

The waitress brought their orders and handed the ticket to Mitchell. He doused his fries with pepper then smothered them with ketchup.

“OK, but hear me out,” he said. “Kenton takes them to the bus station, drops them off, and, as far as he knows, his wife and the kid are on their way to New Orleans. Becky and the kid get in the car with the wrong person, Becky ends up missing and your kid ends up in an alley beaten half to death.”

She guessed it was possible. But she didn’t believe it. “The kid was with Kenton when he had the wreck. That’s one of the last things the kid remembers. He’s never said anything about a bus station or getting into a car with someone he didn’t know.”

“Have you asked him?”

“Not directly, no.” She picked at her cheeseburger, her appetite waning.

Mitchell sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to burst your bubble. Just trying to get you to look at the less obvious possibilities.”

Was she so focused on Kenton she was missing something? Despite what she believed, she couldn’t rule out the possibility Kenton was telling the truth and whatever had happened to Landon happened between the bus terminal across the street and the alley beside Shorty McCorkle’s. And what if Becky’s sister Karen was the drama queen Kenton said she was? What if Karen did have a habit of blowing things out of proportion and jumping to false conclusions? What if…?

“Earth to Ellie?” Mitchell was staring at her, looking deep into her every thought.

“Oh, sorry.” Ellie pushed her hands through her hair and sighed. “Look, I know everything you’ve said is plausible. But gut instinct tells me Kenton’s involved with whatever happened to that little boy. The court can prove he’s innocent.”

“If you’re sure about it, then prove he’s lying.” He finished off his hotdogs then finished his tea. “Make a couple calls and see if Tommy and Susan Baker have a son named TJ.”

“If Tommy and Susan Baker even exist.”

Mitchell smiled. “How long have you been doing this job?” He tossed a dollar on the table then slid out of the booth and paid their ticket at the register.

Ellie waited outside for him and nearly jumped out of her skin when her cell phone rang. She hurriedly dug it out of her jacket pocket and quickly flipped it open, terrified she’d lose the signal in this tiny town. “Jesse?”

“Hey, sweetcakes! Where are you?”

His voice sounded as sweet as a lullaby. “I’m in some little town called Clarksville with Brady Mitchell.”

“What are you doing in Clarksville? The only thing in Clarksville’s a bus terminal and a diner.”

The man’s knowledge never ceased to amaze her. “They’ve added a funeral home.”

“Given the elderly population, I’d say that was a good business decision.”

“Hey, listen, before I lose the signal, I need you to run some names for me. A Tommy and or Susan Baker in or around the New Orleans area. They should be around thirty and maybe have a six-year-old son named TJ. I’m sure it’s short for Thomas Junior.”

“Pretty generic names. There’s probably only about half a million Tommy Bakers.”

“And probably a couple hundred around New Orleans. Check recent bankruptcy filings, too.”

“I checked with the DMV, and they don’t have any accident reports on Kenton. He didn’t file it with his insurance, either.”

How did Kenton know the truck was totaled if he didn’t file an insurance claim? Mitchell joined her outside, gnawing on a toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth. Apparently he didn’t feel it was a private conversation and stood close enough she could smell the onions he’d just devoured.

Ellie continued. “Did you get anything off the registry?” She could feel the tension knotting her shoulders as she waited for the answer.

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

Her breath stopped somewhere in her chest. “And?”

“Landon Garrett, abducted three years ago at the age of three from Mecklenburg County.”

Ellie felt dizzy. Her breath was coming in short, rapid gasps.

“His mother’s name is Ashley. His father’s name was Andy. Died two years ago.”

Ellie closed her eyes tight. A stream of tears escaped and streamed down her cheeks. “Is she still in Mecklenburg County?”

“According to recent records. She’s a graphic artist at a company called Picture This.”

Ellie briskly swatted away the tears. Mitchell was staring at her, a puzzled look on his face.

“See if you can get her to meet us at the hospital. I’ll be back in an hour and a half.”

“You may want to wait until the morning”

“Why?” Ellie sniffled away the rest of the tears.

“There’s something else, El. I really hate being the one to tell you.”

“What?”

“Aunt Sissy called about an hour ago. She tried your cell but couldn’t get it to go through.” He hesitated, and Ellie wished he’d go on and say it. She knew what he was going to say, and she didn’t know why but her heart was suddenly aching. “Peggy died around eleven this morning.”

Ellie turned away from Mitchell to hide the tears she couldn’t hold back.

“Why don’t we set up a meeting with Ashley in the morning. You go home and be with your dad tonight.” Jesse’s voice was as tender as the morning dew.

“No. If she is his mother, she shouldn’t have to wait. She’s been through enough. I don’t want to keep them apart any longer.”

Maybe her father would forgive her. If she could ever forgive herself.