CHAPTER 21
February 7
Things are getting really bad. Everything is out of control. It was a mistake to tell, and Nevan is paying for my mistake. I can’t even trust leaving my journal around here. I can’t wait to leave this place.
“What do you think of this?” I turned down the radio and read the entry to Grabowski. After nearly three hours of pumped-up banjos and mandolins, the silence was blissful.
He glanced sideways at my phone. “I thought there was a new department policy prohibiting the use of private phones for police business.”
“You’ve never broken a rule before?”
“Have you ever actually followed a rule before?”
“What are we missing here? This entry is dated the seventh. By then, she’d already told Nevan, her mother, her brother, and even Hatch knew. So did she mean one of those people, or did she confide in someone new? Why was Maura worried about Nevan here?”
“I wondered the same thing. It’s possible she went to someone outside her normal circle. According to you, Traveller girls don’t normally end up in that sort of trouble.”
I watched the road signs whisking past us. Willed myself to ignore the obvious signs of our Pavee transgressions. My own youthful sexual fling that strayed far from acceptable Pavee morals. Premarital sex, and with a settled boy, no less. Sin topped with sin. I knew neither of our actions reflected Pavee standards. But . . . there was more to Maura than just being another young Traveller girl in trouble.
I remembered what Winnie had said, that Maura got a rush out of leading Hatch on. Maybe she led on other guys, too. And the journal showed another side to Maura. A manipulative side: lying to her mother so she could go out partying, sleeping with one man while engaged to another. And Winnie also said she threw Hatch’s affection in her face.... Who else might she have infuriated with her manipulations?
“We need to dig more into Maura’s social circle. Maybe look more at the Fisher kid, see how well he knew Maura.”
“Waste of time. Frank seems to think Nevan’s the guy.”
“His logic is clouded by his prejudices.”
“If he’s so prejudiced against Travellers, then why’d he hire you?”
“I come in handy in cases like these. It looks good to have a Pavee on the force.” I thumbed toward the seat behind us. The department’s SUV had come automatically equipped with a K9 cage in the far back. “And I came with a dog. He loves Wilco.” All I was to Pusser was a dumb Pavee with a smart dog.
Grabowski glanced in the rearview mirror. “That’s true. Frank loves your dog. We all love your dog. He might be your only redeeming quality.”
“Thanks.” He had no idea how close to home that statement hit. And hurt.
He chuckled, then sobered. “The way I see it, you’re the one with the prejudice problem.”
“How’s that?”
“You’re ignoring the facts. Probably because Nevan is a Pavee. Think about it. He was the last person to see Maura alive. A witness saw him vandalize Maura’s car. . . .”
“Hatch isn’t exactly what I’d call a reliable witness.”
“Maybe not, but the bat was found at Nevan’s residence. And he ran. Why run if he wasn’t guilty of something?”
And there was the oil stain, which, if it tested positive, would put him at the abduction scene. “Simple. Pavees never trust the law.”
Grabowski didn’t respond. I knew it sounded like an excuse. I didn’t bother to say the bat might have been planted—that really reeked of defensiveness. Was Grabowski right? If Nevan wasn’t a Pavee, would I be eager to pin this on him?
I turned and looked out the window. It was getting close to sunset and we were still about an hour north of the South Carolina border. We’d gotten a late start and it’d be dark when we got there, so Grabowski and I planned to get hotel rooms tonight and get Nevan first thing in the morning. I had a plan of my own, too: shake off Grabowski as soon as possible and go to the address Colm had given me for Doogan’s family. I glanced down at my hands. My fingers trembled slightly. It’d been about five hours since my last pill. Is that a long time? I didn’t know. I’d been on the take-as-needed regimen for the past couple years, popping a pill when the pain got to be too much. Or the anxiety. Or the stress. Or just when I needed to chill.
“I’ve known Frank a long time,” Grabowski continued. “He’s a good guy. A good cop. No way he’d let anything influence his judgment on a case.”
“Guess I haven’t known him as long as you. Every time something goes wrong, he looks our way. All cops do. That’s the way it’s always been.” Why was I saying this? Pusser had always treated me and my family fairly. Why was I so eager to sell him out? “I didn’t really mean that.”
“What did you mean?”
“It’s hard for me to trust people. Even Pusser.” Fit for duty? Urine test? The ungrateful SOB. And after all my dog and I had done for him. Five hours since my last pill. I’d spent most of that time feeling pissed at the world, second-guessing myself, my job, whether I should beg off from this assignment, finally deciding to push through. I’d done this before, the first day was hard, but nothing like the second and third day. We’d be back by then. I’d take a day or two off. Get through this.
Grabowski was still talking. “Give him a chance. He’s a good guy. This case is hard for him. It reminds him of something from his past.”
“The girl in the picture?”
A nod. “Her name was Josephine. Jo. Their only child.”
My mouth went dry. Pusser’s daughter. “Where is she? Is she dead?”
“Probably. She was a senior in high school when she went missing. The same age as Maura.”
“But that must have been . . .” I tried to put together a timeline in my head, but my brain was turning at half speed.
“Twenty-two years ago, this month.”
My chest heaved. Everything rushed in on me at once: things I’d said, things Pusser had said, the way his eyes clouded with sadness at times.... “I didn’t know.”
“His wife went crazy with grief. She died exactly two years after Jo went missing.”
“How?”
“Suicide.”
I swallowed hard. Standing on that cliff, I’d relished only my selfish release from my miseries, without a thought to the pain I’d inflict on others if I jumped. Pain like the ghostly images that haunted Pusser every day of his life from a missing child, a wife gone forever. Selfish, selfish. Pusser had needed his wife to help bear their burdens. And Wilco and Gran needed me. Gran especially. She needed me to take care of her, provide for her. I quickly slid my hands under my legs, hiding the shakes from Grabowski.
His eyes stayed steady on the road. “Frank always thought her boyfriend had something to do with it. He was no good. The type of guy you hate to see your daughter with. Frank had forbidden her to see him, but she snuck around. He knew it at the time. Cops’ kids can’t get away with anything. All the guys in the department kept an eye out for each other’s kids. But Pusser let it go. He figured she’d come to her senses about the guy.”
“Why didn’t Pusser like the boyfriend? What was wrong with him?”
“Oh, you know. Always in trouble. Shoplifting, underage drinking, small-time vandalism . . . minor stuff compared to what kids are into these days. But after Jo went missing . . . well, you’d have to understand what that type of thing would do to a parent.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Frank spent every waking moment searching for Jo. And he hounded the boyfriend. Put patrol on him twenty-four/seven and harassed him every chance he got.”
“Where is he now?”
“In the state pen. He’s been in for fifteen years. Armed robbery. He’s probably in his late thirties or early forties now. He’s up for parole in six months.”
“Pusser must be crazy knowing that he’s going to get out. What’s his name?”
“Jack Doherty.”
“Doherty?” I knew the name. A cold dread etched my spine. “Was he a—”
“Yes. He was from Bone Gap.”