It sounded like a party was in progress in the squad room. Coming down the hallway, Hadley checked her watch: five o’clock. Yeah, it was time for the evening debrief. For a moment she was seized by a sickening fear—her ex had sent more tapes, or pictures, or something awful, and right now her past was on display to her fellow officers, and they were laughing, and she didn’t have enough strength to go through this again—and then she heard the chief say something in a teasing voice, and she knew it was all right.
She punched in her number and hung her squad car keys in the cabinet before entering the room. It was more full than usual—all of second shift and half of third—and everyone was clustered around someone in the middle. Harlene turned and saw her and said, “Oh, my gosh! Hadley, you better get over here and see what the cat dragged in.”
“I’m the cat in this story,” the chief added. He waved her forward and Eric and the dep stepped out of the way and she was face-to-face with Flynn for the first time in seven months.
At least, she thought it was Flynn. She stared at the beard, the barely there hair, and the tattoos, my God, twining down his arms and around his neck. Only his eyes, wary and waiting, were the same.
“Well, hell,” she finally got out. “It’s the evil Flynn from the Star Trek Mirror Universe.”
The room exploded with laughter. “She’s got it,” Eric crowed. “Kevin’s evil twin!”
The chief held up his hands. “Okay, everybody, let’s settle down and get this briefing over with.” Several of the guys slapped Flynn on the back as he headed to what had been his seat when he was in the department. The chief hitched himself up on the table. “First, for those of you who didn’t hear it earlier, Kevin is working undercover for the State Task Force on Domestic Extremism, courtesy of the Syracuse PD, and it’s extremely important you tell no one about seeing him here. At least, about seeing Officer Flynn here. Kevin, what’s your cover name?”
“Kevin Flynn.”
The chief looked at him.
“Do you know how many Kevin Flynns are out there? It’s the Irish-American version of John Smith.”
“I’ll take your word on it. At any rate, evil Kevin is supposedly on twenty-four-hour hold. He’ll be released back to Rusty’s Amusements tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ve brought him up to date on our Jane Doe investigation, and he’s agreed to help out with any information he can provide.” The chief pointed toward Noble. “Noble, how are we doing on identifying the victim?”
“No luck at the motels and the amusement parks,” Noble said. “We got a lot of calls after the TV interview, and I’m running those down.”
“Anything that stands out as likely?”
“Nope.”
“Probably the usual fruits and nuts,” MacAuley said.
“Knox.”
She took a breath to make sure her voice was completely normal. “After spending the last two days in the company of rapists, Peeping Toms, and up-skirt fetish boys, I’m sorry to say I haven’t found any we can bring in for questioning. As much as I’d like to.” In the back of the room, Urquhart said something beneath his breath.
“Paul?” Van Alstyne said. “You have something to share with the team?”
“No, Chief.”
“Good. Knox, every possibility we can cross off brings us that much closer to the answer.”
“Except when it doesn’t,” the dep said.
The chief gave him a look. “Thank you, Lyle. Eric, how are we doing on the technology front?”
“All the cell numbers within the tower triangulation check out as local. Mostly kids texting.”
“Which suggests, but doesn’t confirm, that she was killed elsewhere and dumped.” He pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “If we had security cameras on our roads, this case would be closed by now.”
“Dream on,” MacAuley said. “It took four years and a fatal accident to get a new light out on Sacandaga.”
Noble frowned. “With the number of road miles we’ve got, I don’t think the town could afford security cameras for ’em all, Chief.”
“Or for any.” Van Alstyne sighed. “I was just blowing off steam, Noble. How about the dress?”
The dep looked at his notes. “It’s a brand called Tory Burch, which I guess is a thing. The main store’s in New York, but of course you can buy it online, so it could have been purchased anywhere. It cost four hundred bucks, which the lady I spoke with said was midline. Seems pretty damn expensive to me.”
Everyone looked at Hadley. “Really?” she said. “Because I’m a girl? I do all my shopping at Goodwill, don’t ask me.”
“Okay. So it was either a big splurge for someone like us, or a moderate expense for the summer people.” The chief nodded toward the whiteboard, where MacAuley had written names and info in bright blue. “We have two men who were persons of interest back in ’72 who are still living here—three if you count me. Neither Terry McKellan nor Isaac Nevinson have particularly sound alibis; a waitress at Harborside Burgers recognized McKellan’s picture but couldn’t place him on the date”—he looked at Noble, who nodded—“and Nevinson’s daughter vouches for him but…”
“They seemed very tight when I interviewed her,” MacAuley said. “He’s the one who raised her after the parents split up.”
Paul piped up from the back. “What about your alibi, Chief?”
Van Alstyne smiled a little. “I have a priest who can testify as to my whereabouts.”
“Doesn’t get much better than that,” the dep said. “What about the other POI from ’72? The carnival?”
“Two guys who were here that summer and are back again; a seventy-four-year-old retiree named Joe LaVoie and the owner, Brent Hill, who’s about my age.” The chief turned toward Flynn. “Kevin, what can you tell us about Rusty’s Amusements?”
“The show’s headquartered in Syracuse, with three units. The oldest one has been touring eastern New York since right after World War Two. The newer two cover the western half of the state and the southern tier.” Flynn sounded—older? More assured? Different, at any rate. Hadley bent to her notes. Taking down every word would help her ignore his voice and focus on the information.
“The show is also a vehicle for connecting white supremacists. At this point, I don’t have any evidence that Brent Hill is involved or that he’s even aware of the issue.”
Hadley put down her notebook. “How can he not be aware of guys with six-six-six and SS lightning-bolt tattoos?”
Flynn rubbed his arm. “Oh, he’s fine with casual racism. You notice there aren’t any people of color employed there. But as long as you’re a hard worker and polite to the marks, he doesn’t care about anybody’s political beliefs. And I’m dead sure he’d fire anyone he thought was transporting drugs.”
“So, I can see why the state is interested in these guys, but how does any of it relate to our case?” MacAuley tapped the picture of Jane Doe where it was pinned to the board. “Our victim was white. As was the girl in ’72. And the one in ’52, come to speak of it.”
“A white girl dating a black guy?” Eric suggested.
“That’s a pretty narrow window of time in the ’72 case, but I suppose it’s possible,” the chief said.
“Were there white supremacy groups back then?” Hadley asked.
“Ah, youth.” MacAuley crossed his arms. “That was the era of the Black Panthers. You bet there were white supremacy groups around.”
“And the Klan was still active in this area in the early fifties,” the chief added.
“The Klan? Get out!” Hadley couldn’t picture it. “Were there even any black people up here back then?”
“They mostly went after Catholics,” Noble said. “They set my granddad’s hay on fire one year in the Great Depression.”
The chief held up his hands. “This is all interesting, but we’re getting way off point. Kevin. Was there anyone missing from the show Friday night into early Saturday morning?”
“Friday night we were rigging, so no. Later on? Nobody from my RV, but I wasn’t paying attention to anyone else. It’s possible someone left and came back before morning call, but they’d have to be really motivated. Rigging is exhausting. Most of us stagger to our bunks and sack out as soon as we’re done.”
“What about Hill? Does he work hands-on during the rigging?”
“No, he supervises. I mean, not everyone is hoisting steel and setting lines, but everyone is scrambling to get set up. We arrive at a site and open the next morning, whether it means working through the night or not.”
MacAuley pointed to the board, where the ME’s estimated time of death was written in numbers five inches high. “That doesn’t leave much time for our unsub to pick up a girl, kill her in a way that leaves no trace, and dump her.”
“He knew her previously?” Eric said. “She traveled with the carnival?”
Kevin shook his head. “I didn’t recognize her, and I’ve been with the show since Memorial Day.”
“Could our unsub be someone associated with the fair?” the chief asked. “Outside vendors? Um, maybe…” He glanced around the room for a suggestion.
“There are a lot of people and organizations who’re part of the county fair, Chief.” Hadley set her notebook on her lap again. Clearly her plan to write everything down and say nothing was not working out. “All of the ag and arts and crafts buildings are permanent. So are a bunch of local groups’ booths. The Rotary, Kiwanis, stuff like that. They must have people at the fairgrounds every year around the same time as the carnival.”
“And now we’re back to half of Washington County as suspects.” The dep capped his dry erase marker with a noise suggesting he’d like to do the same thing to the case. “We’ve got nothing to go on, and now every voter in the three-town area knows we’ve got an unexplained death we can’t close.” He turned to the chief. “If we don’t break something, Russ, we’re going to look like we can’t find our asses with both hands and a flashlight.”
Kevin snorted. The chief gave him a look before addressing them all. “Believe me, I know it’s frustrating. You have to realize every dead end gets us closer to the right path. This is obviously a case that’s not going to be broken without a lot of—” He paused, and his mouth twitched for a moment. “—legwork. Keep at it. We’ll get there. Dismissed.” He slid off the table. “Kevin, you can stay with us tonight.”
Flynn shot her a glance. “I was hoping to catch up with Hadley, Chief.”
I need to talk to you. Not over the phone.
“Yes! That would be great. We could…” Her voice trailed off.
“Go out for dinner? That’d be a great way to keep undercover. I’m sure no more than half the folks who’d see you would recognize Kevin. The rest of ’em would just see the ordinary, everyday sight of a cop and a skinhead eating together. Nothing memorable about that.”
Hadley winced.
The chief went on. “I’m going to smuggle him into our house and he’s not leaving until Clare takes him back to the fair tomorrow morning. Why don’t you drop by later this evening?”
She and Flynn exchanged equally desperate looks. She could just imagine talking over all her dirt where the chief and Reverend Clare could hear. Flynn opened his mouth.
“Why don’t you stay with me and Granddad,” Hadley blurted. The chief looked at her. “The kids would love to see you again. And, and, I could drive you to the station in the morning and Reverend Clare could pick you up here.”
Flynn shut his mouth. Blinked.
“Do you have a guest room?” Van Alstyne said.
“We have a very comfortable fold-out couch in the family room. And no baby crying in the middle of the night.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” The chief looked like he might angle for an invitation. “Okay, Kevin. Whichever you prefer.”
Flynn looked at her closely. She tipped her head. “Sure, then. I’ll go with Hadley, Chief.”
“Fine. Just don’t let anyone spot you coming and going. I’ll see you two bright and early tomorrow.” With that, he left the room. Hadley almost called him back. By his face, Flynn was thinking the same thing. Silence descended. “My car’s out back,” she finally said. “You go out the old prisoner entrance. I’ll meet you there.”
He nodded. Gestured her out into the hall first. As she strode past the dispatch center, she thought, Thank God I live close by. Because this was going to be the most awkward car ride in history.