Twenty-nine

“You look awful.” Wayne leaned back on the chest-high counter at the County PD Headquarters and held out a large cup from Starbucks to Zoe.

The detective’s bloodshot eyes were rimmed with dark shadows, but he’d shaved and was wearing a clean shirt and dress trousers. “Thanks.” Zoe took the coffee. “You look pretty bad yourself.”

He humphed a humorless laugh. “I’ll be glad when I clear this case.”

“I thought you had. I heard you arrested Boyd Anderson.”

“Yeah. But I have a feeling there’s more to it.”

“You mean Elaine O’Keefe?”

“Not exactly.” Wayne pushed away from the counter and headed toward the hallway, crooking his finger at her.

She followed, her curiosity dampened by the message on her phone. “Wait. I need to make a phone call.”

Wayne scowled impatiently but didn’t argue. “I’ll meet you in there.” He tipped his head toward the room where they’d watched the security camera footage.

She had no idea what he could think she needed to see on those videos. They’d viewed hours of them in the last week.

Once Wayne had vanished into the room, Zoe pulled up Jason’s number.

“Hey, this is Jason. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

Crap. He was probably already on the road east. “It’s me again. Please call me as soon as you get a chance. Love you. Bye.” She stuffed the phone in her pocket and entered the AV room.

Wayne sat at the computer.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

Wayne scrolled and clicked the mouse. “There’s been something bothering me.”

“Besides not seeing Baseball Cap Man’s face?”

“Yeah. Besides that.” Wayne sped through some video that Zoe hadn’t seen before. In fast-forward mode, it looked like day-to-day life in an assisted living facility.

“We figured an employee would know where the cameras were. Do you think Boyd cased Golden Oaks first in order to know where they were located?”

“Huh?” Wayne looked at her and blinked. “Oh. Maybe.” He turned back to his video. “But some people are quite adept at avoiding being caught on security cams.”

“Adept,” she murmured. Boyd Anderson had definitely been adept at keeping his face shielded.

Wayne finally hit pause and swiveled to face her. “Ever since we watched the footage of you and Pete with Kinney and Harry in the Bistro, something’s felt wrong.”

“When Kinney spotted Anderson and confronted him.”

“Yeah. He’d been headed toward the front door before Kinney stopped him. Why?”

Zoe had assumed Anderson had only been getting a look at Kinney, the man who’d arrested him all those years ago, and had only decided to shut him up once Kinney recognized him. But if Elaine O’Keefe had hired him to murder her brother, that scenario no longer made sense. “I…don’t know.”

Wayne pursed his lips. “Exactly. So, last night I started looking at the videos again. And guess what I noticed.” Instead of waiting for her to play his guessing game, he swung back to the keyboard and clicked.

She pulled a chair closer to watch the monitor. The footage showed an angle on Golden Oaks entrance doors swinging open and she and Pete strolling in. “Why are you watching us?”

Wayne shushed her. The video progressed at normal speed for what seemed like ages but was probably a minute or two. The doors opened, and this time, Baseball Cap Man AKA Boyd Anderson entered, his head lowered as always.

Wayne tapped the keys to pull up another snippet from a camera on the second-floor landing. It captured her and Pete reaching the top of the stairs, looking into and then entering the activities room. A couple minutes passed before Anderson also topped the stairs. He paused on the landing and peered into the room.

She nodded at the screen. “There’s the footage that positively clears Daryl Oliverio. He was inside the activities room with us.”

“Yep. Keep watching.”

The camera caught Anderson lurking for a few moments before hurrying down the hall, out of view, when Pete and Harry stepped out of the room.

“I still don’t understand why you insisted I come here to see this in person.”

“Just wait.” Wayne rested his fingers on the keyboard again, only to be interrupted by his phone. “Don’t move,” he told her and answered it. “Yes?” A moment of silence. “Yes…Yes, I absolutely do…When?” Silence. “Okay. I’ll see you then.” He ended the call. “That was Connie Smith over at Golden Oaks. Reggie Kershaw just came on duty.”

Zoe ran the name around her sleep-deprived brain. “The guy who planted the clothes in Oliverio’s locker?”

“We’ll head over there to question him once we finish here.” He changed the view.

She was about to question what he meant by we but the footage distracted her. This time it showed her, Pete, Harry, and Kinney descending the stairs, followed a few moments later by Anderson. Additional clips showed what she already knew. Anderson veered off to the front room where Ernie played the piano while the four of them had milkshakes in the Bistro.

Wayne paused the footage and looked at her, as if expecting applause.

“I don’t get it.”

The detective groaned. “Look.” He ran the clip she’d already seen of her and Pete leaving, Anderson also heading for the door, and Kinney confronting him. “I don’t think Boyd Anderson was watching John Kinney. I think he was following you and Pete.”

“I’m not buying it.” Zoe pointed at the monitor. “We just happened to be with Kinney at the time.”

The look Wayne gave her made her feel like a stupid child who couldn’t grasp the basics of two plus two. He reversed the footage to a shot of Anderson, his face still concealed by the bill of the ball cap, sitting with the residents who were listening to the blind piano player and hit play. “Now watch.”

Anderson’s head was turned toward the Bistro, not toward the piano. Zoe had seen that much before. But Wayne slowed the video as Anderson turned to look toward the door, stood, and moved in that direction.

“He doesn’t even glance at Kinney, who’s headed the other way.” Wayne backed up a few frames, froze it, and clicked to zoom in. The image pixilated, but not so much that Zoe couldn’t tell the man was clearly looking at the door.

Or more precisely, at her and Pete leaving. Defeated, she leaned back in her chair and sighed. “All right. Maybe he was watching us. But why?”

Wayne closed down the video with a few swift clicks. “I have no idea. Let’s go talk to Mr. Reggie Kershaw and see if he can shed some light on the situation.

  

Pete had touched base with Wayne early Tuesday morning to get an update on the county’s investigation into their missing suspect. The detective reported there had been no activity on Elaine O’Keefe’s credit cards, and she must have turned off her cell phone. Which left Pete going the old-school route of patrolling his township, speaking with the Widow O’Keefe’s acquaintances, and keeping an eye out for her car.

By mid-morning, he’d come up as empty as the county boys had. He made one more pass of the O’Keefes’ house, walking around the outside, peering in the windows.

Nothing.

As he strolled back to his SUV, his cell phone rang. Sylvia Bassi.

“When are you coming home?” he demanded. “Vance Township is falling apart without you.”

Her snort made him smile. “I’m flying back Friday,” she said. “I’ve had all of this dry desert air I can handle for a while.”

Pete reached his vehicle and opened the driver’s door. “Glad to hear it.”

“Hey, I’ve been thinking about your call yesterday. You mentioned the girl’s name. Brenda Patterson?”

He slid behind the wheel. “Yeah. You remember her?”

“I remember that wasn’t her name.”

Pete’s hand froze on the keys in the ignition. “It wasn’t?”

“No. Patterson didn’t sound right to me when you first said it, but I couldn’t come up with another name to save my soul. Then I woke up at two in the morning and remembered. Melanie Wilson.”

Pete’s brain stilled. “You’re sure?”

“Hell, yes, I’m sure. A girl getting pregnant in high school in a small town was still something of a scandal back then.”

“Could there have been another girl along the way?”

“One named Brenda Patterson?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh-uh. Those Pattersons over in Elm Grove had all boys. It was almost a joke. For generations, no daughters.”

Pete thought of Jason on the barn roof, hanging onto Pete’s wrist, risking his own life. “Are you sure?”

Sylvia huffed. “Pete Adams, my memory may not be as sharp as it once was, but I remember Gary Chambers. He was only two years behind me in school and all the girls were in love with him. Junior varsity quarterback. And Melanie was something of a tart. A sixteen-year-old boy can only resist so much, you know.”

Pete rubbed his throbbing forehead. Why had Jason lied about his mother?

Then the math started kicking in. Sixteen-year-old boy. Two years younger than Sylvia. “Wait a minute. Gary Chambers went to school with you?”

“Yes. You knew that.”

Did he? “How old was he when they had Zoe?”

“Zoe? Oh, I don’t know.” Sylvia grew silent and Pete pictured her counting. “He was in his mid-twenties when he and Kimberly got married. And they didn’t have Zoe right away. Maybe…thirty…ish.”

But the high school fling and resulting pregnancy happened at least fourteen years before that. Pete did some counting of his own. “That would make Zoe’s brother close to fifty.”

“Yes. Why?”

Pete nearly broke his keys off in the ignition and slammed the shifter into reverse. “Because unless he’s awfully well preserved, Jason Cox isn’t a day over forty.”

  

Zoe accepted Wayne’s offer of a ride to Golden Oaks. After the stressful all-nighter, she doubted her safety behind the wheel. Maybe she could crash in Harry’s room for a couple hours.

During the short drive from the police station to the assisted living facility, Wayne phoned ahead, requesting Golden Oaks’ security detain and isolate Kershaw. Zoe snatched the opportunity to check her messages. Nothing. Surely he’d stop at one of the Pennsylvania Turnpike’s service plazas soon. She typed out a quick text. Please get in touch and let me know you’re okay.

“You checking in with Pete?” Wayne asked.

“No. My brother.”

Wayne grunted. “Did Pete ever reach Sylvia?”

Zoe looked at the detective’s profile. “Why was he trying to reach Sylvia?”

“To check on your brother. We figured Sylvia is the unofficial township historian, so she would know all the details about what happened back then.”

Panic rose like a balloon from her gut through her chest. “Pete’s questioning Sylvia about my dad’s affair?”

Wayne squirmed. “I think it’s more like he’s doing a background check from a non-law-enforcement perspective.”

Had Pete confronted Jason again? Was that why her brother had left? Zoe glared at Wayne. “Why do you know about this and I don’t?

He squirmed more. “Because it was my idea.” His voice lilted upward at the end as if he was asking a question. Or pleading for his life.

Zoe dropped her head back against the headrest and growled. “I can’t believe you men. I could imagine my dad acting this way with my boyfriends if he’d lived. But this is my brother.”

“We’re here.” Wayne sounded much too happy—or relieved—to have arrived at Golden Oaks as he made the slow turn into the drive leading to the parking lot.

A concerned Connie Smith waited for them at the receptionist desk. “He’s in the employee lounge where the lockers are.”

“Perfect,” Wayne said and thanked her.

Zoe had to jog to keep up with the detective and caught a glimpse of the blind piano player in a sitting area near the rear of the building, “watching” TV with a few other residents. She’d have to take him aside later and let him know the vital role he’d played in solving Kinney’s homicide.

Unlike the day they’d questioned Oliverio, no one stood guard outside the lounge. Inside, three men wearing the standard Golden Oaks polos sat at a table. The one in the middle appeared ready to burst into tears. The other two stood and introduced themselves as part of the security staff. Wayne thanked and dismissed them. “Hello, Mr. Kershaw,” the detective said and slid into the chair across from him. Zoe claimed one next to Wayne.

Kershaw’s gaze darted from Wayne to Zoe and back. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing illegal, I mean.”

“We know that.” Wayne set his phone on the table between them. “I’m just hoping you can answer a few questions, so I can wrap up John Kinney’s murder case.”

Zoe guessed Reggie Kershaw to be in his early twenties. He was baby-fat soft around the edges and wore a hint of scruff on his chin and cheeks, maybe trying—and failing—to look tough. “I’ll help any way I can,” he said.

Wayne folded his hands and rested them next to his phone. “You put some clothes in Daryl Oliverio’s locker.”

Kershaw swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

His eyes widened, and Zoe caught the gleam of tears rimming them. “I was told it was a practical joke. I didn’t know the clothes belonged to John’s killer. Honest, I didn’t. I never would have—”

Wayne raised a hand, cutting him off mid-babble. “Who gave them to you?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I never saw him before. Or after, for that matter. He seemed nice. And he paid me good money to do it. Like I said, he told me it was a joke.”

“And you believed him?”

“Yeah. He seemed like a normal guy. Fun-loving, you know? I figured it was some pal of Daryl’s.”

Wayne picked up his phone and pulled up a photo of Boyd Anderson. He turned the phone to face Kershaw and set it in front of him. “This the fun-loving guy?”

Kershaw leaned forward, studying the picture and chewing his lip. Finally, he shook his head. “No. It’s not.”

The answer wasn’t the one either Zoe or Wayne expected. “Are you sure?” the detective asked. “Look closer.”

Kershaw complied, but again shook his head. “I’m positive.” He pushed the phone away just as it rang.

Wayne snatched it, looked at the screen, and grumbled. “It’s the office. I have to take it.” He glanced at Zoe. “Do me a favor and go fetch us some coffees.”

With a quick nod, she slipped out of the lounge and headed toward the Bistro, checking her own phone while she walked. Still no messages or texts. As useless as it felt, she pulled up his number.

“Hello, Sunshine.”

Zoe spun to find she’d just passed Harry and his blind friend without noticing. He beamed at her.

She backtracked to them and gave Pete’s father a hug. “Hi, Harry. Hello, Ernie.”

Harry nudged his buddy. “It’s my son’s girlfriend.”

“Yes,” he said. “I recognize her voice.”

Which wasn’t half as surprising as Harry recognizing her. “Is Pete with you?”

“Not this time, I’m afraid. I’m here on business.”

Harry’s trademark bewildered look was back. “Oh? What is it you do?”

Zoe glanced around at several other residents within earshot and decided against saying something that might upset any of them. “Right now, I’m official coffee go-fer.” When Harry’s puzzlement deepened, she smiled. “I’m headed to the Bistro to get coffee for my co-worker. Wanna walk with me?”

“We were already headed that way for lunch,” Ernie said. “Lead on.”

Zoe tucked in between the two men and their canes. “Ernie, I wanted to talk to you anyway and thank you for your help on that case.”

“Oh?”

“What you heard helped us clear one man and has steered us in the right direction.”

“Oh. Good. I’m glad I kept an innocent man from being punished for something he didn’t do.”

She stopped at the Bistro’s counter. “Three coffees, please,” she told the young woman manning the glorified snack bar.

Ernie touched her arm. “None for us thanks. We’ll have coffee with our meal.”

“I know. These are for my co-worker and someone we’re talking to.”

A trio of women on walkers on their way into the dining room stopped to chat with Zoe’s two escorts, and the Bistro girl was still pouring coffee. Zoe seized the opportunity to finish what she’d started and called Jason. Again. “Answer, answer, answer,” she whispered. The call connected, and she held her breath.

“Hey, this is Jason. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

She exhaled. Crap. “Where are you? I’m worried. Please call or text and just let me know you aren’t dead or lying in a ditch somewhere. Love you—” A hand on her arm interrupted her. She turned to see Ernie, a strange look on his face.

“That’s him.” Ernie tapped her arm. “That’s him.”

She pressed the red button on her phone. “What do you mean? Who’s ‘him’?”

“The man I heard that day. The one John said he knew? That was him.”

Zoe looked around, expecting to see a man in a ball cap. But all she saw were residents and a few aides, all migrating toward the dining room. “Where?”

“The voice on your phone. That was him.”

Did he mean Jason? She laughed. “No. I’m sorry. You’re mistaken. That was my brother. I’ve been trying to reach him and—”

Ernie shook his head insistently and touched his ear. “I can’t see, but I have very good hearing. I overheard the message coming over your phone. That was the voice of the man John Kinney confronted.”