TEN
Gabriel Thane
Gabe had planned to use their drive to Decatur to get his mind shifted firmly back onto the Florist case, but he was finding it difficult to concentrate. Evie was doing a better job of it, working down a lined notepad with a list of questions they should cover during the luncheon.
“Read me the ones you have so far,” Gabriel said. Evie did so. “You’ll be the one asking them,” he recommended.
Evie shook her head. “No, he’s going to respond better to interactions with you. You’re Sheriff Thane, the authority in the room.”
“He’s a psychiatrist with experience working with cops. He counsels couples and families, Evie. I’m thinking he’ll expect to give facts to me, and the ‘why’ of something to you, assuming a woman cares more about the emotional side of a situation. He’ll be more inclined to give you at least hypothetically speaking answers, rather than ‘I can’t comment’ statements.”
“A decent point, but I’d still rather you ask the questions.” She grinned over at him. “Rock, paper, scissors?”
“Not while I’m driving. Flip a coin.”
She found a quarter in the center cubbyhole. “Heads or tails?”
“Tails,” Gabriel called while the coin spun in the air and landed on the floor at Evie’s feet.
“Tails.”
“You ask the questions,” Gabriel replied, pleased.
“Then you’ll have to take notes.”
Gabriel winced, wondering if his version of shorthand was up for it. “I hate taking notes—I make my deputies do it.” He looked over at her. “Okay, this time I’ll take the notes.”
She studied the directions and pointed to the next exit. “It will be the second light, a right, and then we look for a gray, stone building about a block down on the left. Parking is just past the building, his assistant told me.”
Gabriel nodded. “Give me the CliffsNotes on the doctor again, please.”
“Doctor Richard Wales, twenty-three years in practice, married, two grown children. Gets good reviews from other doctors I know. A level-headed, commonsense guy is the gist of it.” She turned her phone so he could see a photo.
“Useful to hear about a psychiatrist.” The photo showed enough gray hair, the doctor wasn’t vain about his image, and he wasn’t so fit he lived on a golf course. Gabriel spotted the building and pulled into its parking lot.
“Don’t get your hopes too high,” Evie cautioned as they walked toward the building.
He smiled at her. “Now who’s being a pessimist?”
“I can identify lots of ideas. Finding the one that goes somewhere means wading through promising leads that turn into dead ends. I don’t hit a home run without first hitting a few fouls along the way.”
He held the door open for her. “Point taken.”
They found the office on the second floor, a receptionist stationed in front of a hallway with several offices to each side and a rather large waiting room with couches and child-sized tables with toys to their left. Gabriel took notice of the inquiry in the woman’s expression. Since they were both in civilian attire, maybe a couple here for counseling?
“Sheriff Gabriel Thane and Lieutenant Evie Blackwell. We have an appointment with Dr. Wales.”
The woman smiled, rose, pushed a button on her phone console to hold calls. “Of course. I hope you enjoy chicken parmesan—we ordered from a nearby restaurant for your lunch meeting. Please, follow me. He’s on schedule today, for a change,” she added over her shoulder as she led the way to an office at the end of the hall. They stepped into what could only be his private office, the desk cluttered with files and reading material, a round table at the window cleared and set for lunch. The receptionist motioned toward it. “Please, have a seat, Lieutenant, Sheriff. I’ll let him know you’re here. I have coffee, iced tea, or maybe a soft drink?”
“Tea would be fine,” Evie said.
“For both of us,” Gabriel added.
“I’ll bring it in. Lunch should arrive in about ten minutes.” The door closed behind her.
“A friendly receptionist,” Gabriel remarked, holding a chair for Evie.
“No doubt useful when the practice has families with kids coming and going.”
The door opened minutes later, and a casually dressed man matching the doctor’s photo walked in, carrying a tray with a pitcher of tea and ice-filled glasses. Gabriel rose to his feet.
“Welcome, welcome, let me get this put down before I spill it.” The doctor eased the tray onto the table and held out his hand. “Sheriff. We haven’t met, but I admit to having heard your name from clients over the years . . . well, your father’s name as often as your own.” He turned to Evie and offered a hand. “Lieutenant, I’m told you are the one who called.” He pulled out a seat for himself. “Lunch should be here momentarily. My schedule is clear for the next hour and a half—only paperwork awaits when we have concluded our discussion, so we should not be rushed. Would you mind if we have this conversation using first names? I’d rather be called Richard than Doctor.”
Gabriel poured the tea and let Evie handle the opening.
“Informal is fine,” she assured him. “You’re making an effort at welcoming us. I’ll admit, it’s a bit unusual in my experience with others in your profession.”
Richard smiled. “I don’t want you to have wasted a journey, and the courtesy of a welcome is the least I can do.”
Evie reached for her glass of tea. “We’re here to talk about some previous clients of yours, the Florist family.”
“My scheduler mentioned that was the reason for your call.” He looked from one to the other. “The Florist name is one that has come up many times over the last twelve years, if only in my own mind,” he replied, “as I’m aware of the unresolved search to locate the family. You are welcome to record this interview if you would find it helpful. My only request is that if you do so, you provide a copy of it for my files.”
Evie glanced over at Gabriel. He had no difficulty reading her reaction to the doctor’s opening remarks—heading toward unsettling. But she nodded to the doctor, dug in her bag, set a recorder on the table.
Gabriel was glad for it. He’d take notes as a precaution if the tape had technical problems, but it saved him the effort of getting the nuances right.
Richard reached for his tea. “Some ground rules, so you understand my position. You both realize I can’t reveal what was discussed with a patient. While I would like to help you, and will endeavor to do so, my answers will be limited to what the law permits me to say. I shall try to be tactful when I say no and will apologize for the fact it may have to be said a great many times.” He offered an engaging smile. “With that on the table, shall we begin?”
Evie simply smiled back. “Would you confirm you saw the Florists, individually and as a family, for a period of approximately two years, and that they were still clients who had a standing Wednesday night appointment when they disappeared?”
The doctor nodded. “Yes, I’ll confirm that. I’ll also mention that family dynamics often require sessions with all members present, even if they are themselves not the actual client. But in this case, Scott, Susan, and Joe Florist were each my clients. I had at least one individual session with each member of the family during the time in question, and at least one family session with all three present. The Florist family had a two-hour block of time on my calendar every Wednesday evening, which would occasionally go longer since they were the last appointment on my schedule. I would add too that the time frame is broader than two years.”
“Would you confirm Mrs. Florist sought counseling for a miscarriage?” Evie asked.
His expression turned grave. “I can’t answer that. But, hypothetically, it’s an area in which I have years of clinical experience. My wife and I have suffered three miscarriages during our marriage, so she’ll occasionally join me for a conversation should that be helpful in a particular situation.”
“Did Susan and Scott Florist ever meet your wife?”
A slight smile. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that either.”
“Did Joe Florist ever play video games while here, using one of the computers on these premises?”
Richard looked surprised at the question, but nodded. “Yes, both as a reward for his participation and as a diversion when one or both parents needed to be otherwise engaged.”
“In your twenty-plus years as a counselor, you have met with numerous couples. Would you consider Scott and Susan to have had a solid marriage? Communication was good between them, the marriage stable enough to go the distance?”
“I can’t answer that in particular, although I can say in general I found them less in need of counseling for marriage issues than most.”
A tap on the door heralded lunch. Evie pressed the pause button on the recorder and didn’t resume questions until they had begun the meal and pleasantries about the food were behind them.
Evie turned on the recorder again and asked a softball question. “When did they first come to you as clients?”
“Scott Florist had been a client since considering a job change to become a police officer, and he saw me on various occasions for other matters. Some of those visits were in accordance with the professional requirements of his workplace, as you would be aware, Sheriff. Susan Florist was a client since shortly before they were married and seeing me on various occasions for matters mostly of a personal nature. Their son, Joe, was a client since age four, seeing me also on various occasions for a variety of matters. I believe I can say without violating patient privilege that death is hard for a child to understand, and that his grandmother, as a matter of public record, passed away when he was four.”
Evie nodded at the lengthy answer, gave Gabriel a look he easily interpreted. Too much information could be as informative to a cop as hearing a “no comment.”
“Will you confirm all three family members were here at your office the Wednesday before they disappeared?”
The doctor hesitated briefly. “Yes. And before you ask the next question regarding why I didn’t call the police with that information, let me first add a caveat and a caution.
“Please don’t assume that on any particular night when they were at my office that they were necessarily here for a session themselves. The Florist family had friends among others who are also my clients. The partner of a cop, a best friend, even an ex-wife are all relationships that can have clinical significance. It’s not uncommon for such individuals to be invited to join a conversation. One or more of the Florist family were here when it was not specifically an appointment for them.”
Evie smiled, nodded. “Right, understood and appreciated. And now, why didn’t you inform the police they were here the evening before they disappeared?”
He spun his fork a couple of times, watching it turn, then looked back at her and answered with obvious care, “I believed at the time of their disappearance the information about this appointment was listed in both Scott and Susan’s calendar, and the authorities would be in touch in due course during their investigation. When time passed and I was not contacted, I came to believe Scott and Susan had concealed these sessions and the trail was not apparent in their records. It was a dilemma I chose to resolve by honoring my clients’ wishes as defined by their own actions. If they didn’t choose to tell someone about the sessions, they had reasons, which I had to deem valid. I admit to having wrestled with that decision many times since.”
Gabriel decided to ask the next obvious question himself. “Do you believe you have information relevant to the Florist family’s disappearance?”
The doctor looked over at him, laid down his silverware, and steepled his fingers. In a rather overdramatic way, the man could convey significant gravitas merely with his body language. Gabriel found it useful also to realize the man couldn’t lie any better than a child. For an instant it looked like the doctor was going to attempt to sell them a no, but he clearly changed his mind and simply thought for a while before proceeding.
He gave a rueful smile, then replied, “Patient confidentiality severely restricts my answer, but I do wish to be as helpful as I can. It won’t do either of us any good if I say no at this point. Allow me to attempt a reply in a broad way. I know of events that occurred, which affected this family and caused them to seek my help. I don’t know if those events had any bearing on their disappearance. I want to say they did not, but the fact is I would not be surprised to learn they did.” Like a professor in a lecture hall, he held up a restraining finger when Evie started to respond.
“I’m willing to say this: I have closely followed the news regarding the search to locate the Florist family. I have read newspaper articles and seen television coverage. I can say with some certainty that the names of individuals which came up in conversations with the Florist family are known to the police. Names I heard referred to during our sessions I have read about in the newspaper.” Another pause. “A caveat that this would be adult individuals. Names of children which might have come up, friends of Joe, for example, would be more . . . nebulous, shall we say?” He turned to Evie. “Now, please, your question.”
She cleared her throat. “Are the events they discussed with you—which led to them coming to see you, or which they otherwise brought to your attention as being of concern to them—also known to the police?”
He considered her question for a good long while before answering. “In broad parameters, based on newspaper accounts, I would say yes. The details discussed might be different from the news account, or might not have been mentioned in the news account, but the events themselves were in the news. The private matters I am aware of affecting this family have not become public, and I am severely restricted in what I can say about those.”
“A two-hour-plus session every week seems like a significant amount of time, even for a family. Wouldn’t one hour be more standard?”
“They traveled a distance. If it’s not practical to see a patient two or three times a week, then adding time to a single session is more efficient than trying to make clinical progress in simply one hour a week.”
Evie tilted her head slightly, pondered that, and began to lead him with how she worded her next question. “You believed clinical treatment in this instance required a two-hour block of time every week?”
“Yes.”
“In your clinical opinion, was two hours a week still necessary after two years?”
“Yes.”
She looked over her list of questions, then at the doctor. “Did you then, or do you now when looking back in light of events, consider any member of the Florist family a danger to themselves or to others?”
He hesitated. “Let me answer it this way. The law requires I report someone who is a present danger to himself or to others. I did not report anyone.”
“Do you have knowledge of a member of the Florist family committing a crime?”
His body recoiled slightly as he said firmly, “I can’t answer that question.”
“Do you believe Scott Florist killed his family?”
His eyes flared with heat, and he leaned forward and replied in a hardened voice, “No. The same answer to the question for Susan or Joe.”
She quickly threw in another one. “During that final Wednesday session, a day before they disappeared, did you become aware of anything that had recently occurred or recently changed, which raised a concern in your mind or suggested to you in any way that a member of the family was in crisis?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t answer that.”
Evie set down her pen and changed tactics. “Were you surprised when the Florist family disappeared?”
“Very.”
“What do you think happened to the family?”
“I think they were going on vacation to give themselves space and breathing room for three days, and something tragic occurred, about which I have not an iota of information.”
“Where were you on the night they disappeared?”
He visibly relaxed. “Right, I know you must ask that. I have a rotation at Decatur Mercy Hospital every Thursday that ends at midnight. I’m the specialist on call and was in the ER during part of the particular evening in question. When I was originally waiting for a visit from police investigators, I checked my calendar to confirm this. I’ve kept that assigned slot for going on twenty years, since my wife works the same shift in the neonatal ward. From Thursday midnight to Sunday midnight, we both go off duty, off call, and have a personal life.”
“Did one of your other clients in any way harm the Florist family?”
He winced. “I can’t say, though it’s an interesting question for you to have thought to ask. Hypothetically, I would answer it as a no.”
“Thank you, Richard. Those were my key questions.”
The doctor relaxed, but Gabriel wasn’t finished yet. “Tell me, Richard,” he said with a disarming smile, “what should we have asked, hypothetically speaking or otherwise?”
Evie picked up her fork to finish her lunch and signal the formal interview was over. Then she gave Gabriel a look that told him the actual interview was just starting. They still had forty minutes to get something useful from the doctor without being obvious they were on a fishing expedition.
The doctor first offered a comment to Evie. “Your list, Lieutenant, seemed very well-thought-out to me, if aggressive, in its assumptions about the family.”
“If I don’t ask, I won’t know,” she replied with a smile.
The doctor smiled back. “Yes, I can see your point.”
“Was Joe good at playing that video game . . . DDM?” Gabriel asked, looking for something innocuous to start the conversation moving again.
Richard looked perplexed that they knew which game it was, then nodded. “He had a competitive streak. He’d come with notes and a plan of attack, do a victory dance when he made another level. I can appreciate a young man’s enthusiasm for competition,” the doctor replied.
“Did he like playing baseball?”
“Sure.”
“Swimming?”
“At times.”
“I’ve been trying to understand him,” Gabriel said, “to figure out how he might have reacted to trouble happening to his parents. Was he the type to try to intervene, to freeze, to try to run, hide, or—?”
“Hypothetically?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Sure.”
“I would say if he were a typical boy with a desire to be a cop like his father, he would act in ways he thought his father would approve. Of those choices you gave, he’d intervene before he thought about what might be better or wiser to do given his age and size. He should run and hide, but that would not be what his father would do, so he wouldn’t consider it for himself at first.”
“That’s useful. Thanks.”
The doctor nodded.
“Would you say Scott Florist was a good cop?” Gabriel idly posed.
The doctor grimaced. “To not answer that is to imply something I wouldn’t want to convey. He worked for your father, you saw him on the job. You would be more able to judge his abilities as a cop than I would, as all I would have to go on would be statements he made about his own performance.”
“I’ll accept that.” Gabriel rephrased his question. “Did he consider himself to be a good cop?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Did he consider himself to be a good father?” Evie asked, curious about the doctor’s reluctance on a seemingly innocuous subject.
The doctor hesitated. “I’d say that everything Scott Florist did in life could be captured in his desire to be a good father, a good husband, a good cop. He might not live up to his expectations for himself, but he made a sincere effort to do so. He was a deliberative man.”
Gabriel picked up on that choice of words. “Deliberative, you say . . . as in thoughtful about what he would do? Or he planned in advance what he would do?”
Small hesitation, then, “Both.”
“I’m guessing you also saw them around the holidays, birthdays, that kind of thing,” Evie mentioned.
“Would you consider them a frugal family or a generous one?”
The doctor smiled. “Hypothetically speaking, they were like any typical family—presents went on credit and got paid off afterwards with a touch of regret about the amounts. That’s not based on specifics, just a sense.”
“Did they ever discuss with you stopping the weekly sessions, go to every other week, once a month, that kind of thing?” Evie asked.
“No.”
“The events that brought them to your office, would you say the family was in crisis when they initially came to see you?”
He paused again, seemed to come to a decision. He nodded. “Yes. Crisis is an appropriate word.”
Evie shot Gabriel another meaningful look. Here was where they needed to press. Gabriel lobbed the next question to the doctor. “Did the events that brought them to your office affect each person equally, or was one the center of the crisis and the others supportive?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Do you feel family members were honest with you during those two-hour sessions?” Gabriel asked.
The doctor gave a small smile, even as he sighed. “That’s a powerful question. I’m sorry, I can’t answer that. I wish I could.”
“The disappearance of the Florist family shocked the community and led to a massive search and investigation,” Gabriel went on. “You have decades of experience in this job. Looking back, do you think the events that brought them to your office left a person out there angry enough to have killed the Florist family?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Hypothetically, if you could answer it.”
“People are affected by events—the person involved, but also their family and friends. How much something matters to a person not involved in the actual event is always a matter of degree.”
“Someone with a degree of separation from the event might have a reason to kill the Florist family,” Gabriel said, making it a statement. “Would you agree?”
“In a general sense, that would be true, yes. In this specific instance, I don’t know. The person involved in the initial event is dead and is not the one you would be looking to find.”
Gabriel caught Evie’s quick glance.
The doctor rubbed his eyes. “And since you just recorded that, let me add that as far as I know, there is no family or friends of the deceased who would have taken up the cause on his behalf against the Florist family. Believe me, I’ve considered the matter carefully. If I thought this was your solution, I would have been in touch with the authorities many years ago.”
The doctor looked at Evie, then over to Gabriel. “You know I deal with the police on a routine basis. I’m not naïve about violent crimes and those who are likely to commit them. But I can tell you there is no line I can draw from the events I know about to someone killing the Florist family. There is no person I know about or suspect might still be out there angry enough to kill the Florist family.”
“Richard, please. They’re gone. Give us what we need,” Evie said quietly.
He considered her for a long moment, nodded. “Joe and Scott told me different stories regarding the same event, told me consistently the same contradictory stories for two years. Scott believed Joe did something. Joe believed Scott did something. I ended up believing both of them. They were both telling me the truth as they knew it.”
“Did Joe or Scott kill someone?” Evie asked.
“No.”
“No question in your mind?”
“None.”
“Were they worried the other one had?” Gabriel asked, picking up the thread Evie was tugging.
“Yes.”
“Who’s dead?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Do the police know the person is dead or are they just missing?”
“There’s been a funeral.”
“The father thinks his son killed someone, the son thinks his father did. Who did kill the person?” Gabriel asked.
“As far as I know, that question remains open.”
“We’re talking about Frank Ash, aren’t we?” Evie asked.
The doctor merely shook his head. “I can’t answer that.”
Gabriel looked at Evie, got a slight shake of her head in reply to his unspoken question. “I appreciate you telling us what you did in confidence, Richard,” he said to the doctor. “We’ve looked at the Frank Ash murder and believe a family member of one of his victims likely shot him. There are two boys who have admitted to being molested by him after he was released from prison.”
The doctor nodded, looking tired. “Joe wasn’t one of them, based on what he said. He might have been had things turned out differently. He had a close call with Frank Ash, but he wasn’t lying to me about something that crucial. He was younger than Frank Ash would have preferred, given that age-preferential offenders are often rather selective. I believed Joe at the time. Nothing since has changed that assessment.”
“Scott didn’t kill Frank Ash?”
“Joe didn’t kill Frank Ash?”
“No.”
“Susan?”
The doctor smiled. “Thank you for that. No, she did not.”
“Did they know anything about who did kill Frank Ash?” Evie asked.
“No. Which is why the son and father were at an impasse, not able to believe each other. Not knowing who killed Frank Ash, just that he was missing, they each believed it of the other. The discovery of Frank Ash’s body was a huge deal that final week. The fact his remains were found behind the truck stop convinced Scott his son wasn’t involved. The fact he had been shot three times surprised them both. No one wanted the results regarding the Frank Ash investigation more than these two. They both thought there would be answers by the time they came to see me the following week. Concrete information about who killed Frank Ash was going to be a breakthrough for their family, would solve the tangle the father and son had gotten themselves into. The plan to go away for a weekend camping trip was a relief valve while they waited for results, for the cops to come up with the one who had done it.”
Evie said, “If no one in the Florist family killed Frank Ash, regardless of what they had suspected of each other over the years, there would be no one associated with Frank Ash who would have reason to take revenge and kill the Florist family.”
The doctor nodded. “Which is why I never contacted the authorities. There is no person out there angry enough over what happened to Frank Ash to take the huge risk of murdering the Florist family. Their involvement existed only in what Joe and Scott thought the other had done. I’m sorry. I’ve basically given you a rabbit trail down a hole that goes nowhere.”
“Nothing in that final Wednesday session raised a concern with you?” Gabriel asked, letting his doubts show. “Scott and Joe were both relieved Frank Ash’s body had been recovered? Both were looking forward to seeing you the following week with whatever the investigation would have found?”
“Scott was visibly relieved,” Richard assured Gabriel. “That the body was found behind the truck stop some distance from their home convinced Scott his son couldn’t have been involved. And that Ash was shot rather wildly three times in the chest, and it appeared to be with a .22, got Joe to agree that such a shooting would be very unlike his dad, who was trained to shoot in tight groupings and only owned large-caliber handguns. Scott expected forensics to run the slugs, match up with a gun, and find another case that would put a name to who had killed Frank Ash. They needed that name.
“Scott was the one to suggest the camping trip. He wanted Joe to be assured his dad wouldn’t be near the autopsy or the recovered bullets, wouldn’t be around to taint the evidence, so his son would believe him when that evidence confirmed it hadn’t been him. It was important for the father and son to start rebuilding trust between them, and that was the point of the camping trip, to start that process in earnest.”
Gabriel was willing to accept that the doctor had talked himself into this version of the final Wednesday session with the Florist family. Gabriel also thought the whole thing was at best a major headache in the making. However this proceeded—figuring out who killed Frank Ash—would now be on the must-solve board. He shot a look at Evie and could tell she agreed they had all they were going to get.
Evie stood and offered her hand. “Richard, I want to thank you for the conversation. It has been helpful, if only to understand what was on their minds that final week.”
He smiled and rose, shook her hand, obviously trying to regroup, no doubt mentally rewinding the tape on all he’d shared. “I do wish you all the best in finding out what happened to the Florist family. Frank Ash is what brought them to my office and why they continued to see me until they disappeared. But I can’t figure out a reason they were killed that could link to Frank Ash. Whatever did happen, it is truly a tragedy.”
“It is that,” Gabriel agreed, shaking the man’s hand. “We both appreciate your time.”
Evie clicked off the recorder and slipped it into her bag with her notepad of questions.
“Do you have a headache?” Gabriel asked, pocketing his wallet after paying the parking fee.
Evie looked over and laughed. “I was about to ask you the same question. Please tell me there are effective pain-killers in our near future.”
“I’m in desperate need of them. Lunch was good, but that spider web of an interview left me spinning like a trapped fly. I’ll find a pharmacy.”
“We passed a 7-Eleven at the first stoplight.”
He nodded and soon pulled in. Evie unfastened her seat belt. “Back soon. Caffeine or decaf for your soda?”
“Make it caffeine—it’s a fairly long drive.”
She returned and generously passed over the first two Tylenol from the bottle before she palmed a couple for herself. “Please protect me from doctors who don’t want to say too much, who know a lot more and are bursting to say what they actually know.”
He laughed because he actually followed her description. He swallowed the two Tylenol with a drink of orange soda. She sipped at a grape one for herself. “Sum it up for me please, Evie.”
“Joe has a bad encounter with Frank Ash, he’s not molested, but it’s too close. His dad learns what happened. Frank Ash goes missing. The son, horrified, thinks the father killed him. The father, knowing he did not, thinks the son did. Classic impasse, each scared witless that the other one is the culprit. Hence the counseling the father seeks for the son, and the son’s willingness to stay mum about that weekly counseling to protect the father.”
Gabriel nodded. “Thanks. If only the doctor had been willing to give us that summary when we sat down with him, we could have enjoyed lunch and pondered the next two obvious questions.”
“And those are . . . ?”
“Who did kill Frank Ash, and does that have any bearing on what happened to the Florist family? And back to the top we go. What did happen to the Florist family?”
She didn’t answer right away, but she finally said, “Their disappearance probably had nothing to do with Frank Ash.”
Gabriel reached over and tapped her soda bottle with his. “But what a tangle we will have to unravel to prove that fact. You need a new crime wall, Evie. We have to solve who killed Frank Ash.”
She shook her head. “Only if I get stuck on other ideas will I go down that rabbit hole. I’d rather prove they hit a deer.”
“You’ve already disproved that.”
“They could have hauled the animal with them, stopped for repairs somewhere, been carjacked, or truck-jacked, to be more accurate—”
“Evie . . .”
Big sigh. “Fine. If unraveling the Florist case means first solving the Frank Ash case, we’ll go there. But think about it, Gabriel. Two boys who admitted to being molested, the working assumption was someone in one of their families likely killed Ash. That gives you . . . what, about ten names as candidates, going out to their cousins? Unless one of those ten names also had a problem with the Florist family, we’ve already reached a dead end. It doesn’t matter which of the ten people killed Frank Ash. It doesn’t help solve the Florist case. It’s an unrelated crime.”
Gabriel reluctantly agreed. “We just had lunch and a fascinating interview and insight into the Florist family’s internal workings, and it has nothing at all to do with their disappearance.”
Evie raised her soda in agreement. “It was a great idea on my part. But zip for payout.” She shifted in the seat and got out her sunglasses. “I think we could solve the Frank Ash murder, but no matter what name you put on it from the candidate pool, that doesn’t do anything for the Florist family. And regarding their disappearance, we’re still talking murder?”
“It fits what evidence we’ve got.”
“Okay. Say a vigilante-type kills Frank Ash for molesting a boy. He doesn’t then kill a deputy and his family. It goes entirely against type. Unless you think Scott Florist knew what was going on with the boys and did nothing about it?”
“He was a straight cop,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “If he even suspected something, he’d be all over that.”
“So . . .” Evie shrugged. “We have unrelated crimes. Which is what Ann told us yesterday. A pedophile who likes young boys is murdered. A pedophile who likes young girls dies in a hunting accident. And the Florist family disappears. Three years, different victim sets, different MOs. All unrelated events.”
Gabriel sighed. “I’m simply tired of thinking about it right now.”
Evie smiled. “Want to stop and see a movie on the way back to Carin?”
“Don’t tempt me. Technically I’m on duty until six p.m.—not that I ever get to not be sheriff and ignore the calls.”
“Whereas I’m actually on vacation—no one will care if I go see a movie when we get back.”
“Don’t rub it in,” Gabriel suggested, amused.
Evie laughed.
“Tell me another joke or two.” He wanted something other than this case to think about, and Evie providing reasons to laugh suited him just fine.
Evie settled back in her seat and spun out her first joke. They passed the time sharing humorous stories and reasons for a chuckle or two.
Gabriel let himself relax. Paul was right, Evie can shift the weight of the day to the side and embrace laughter with ease. It was one more thing to admire about her, and he was grateful he was on the receiving end of that today.