David stood when Tommy Porter’s uncle, Grant McKnight, approached him at the coffee shop near the beach in Santa Barbara. It was before the lunch hour, but the place was beginning to fill.
“Officer McKnight, thank you for meeting with me.”
Grant shook David’s hand once firmly, then sat in the booth across from David. David sat back down.
The waitress approached immediately. “Hello, Grant. The usual?”
“To go, I don’t have a lot of time,” Grant said. “Coffee now. Thanks, Ann.” He waited until she left. “This is my usual lunch spot.”
“I was surprised to get your call.”
“Jamie, Doug, and I had a long talk about your visit last night. Originally, they’d called me over to find out if they could have you arrested. I was ready to hunt you down, to be honest. Then I read the e-mail you sent last night. Bold, but to the point. I like that.”
“I don’t want to hurt your family, Grant. Let me make that clear.”
“You think Tommy’s killer is still out there.”
“I do.” Max had called him last night after Agent Kincaid left and told him that Kincaid thought the killer was a woman. She had a few other things to say—both good and bad about the federal agent—but David had a strong sense that Max liked her. Which was a feat considering how angry Max had been when she felt forced to work with Kincaid.
David wished he’d been there to see that.
Ann the waitress came over with coffee for Grant and refilled David’s mug. When she left, Grant said, “I need more. Look, I want to help, but Doug and Jamie are my family. They put Tommy’s murder behind them. They had to, or they wouldn’t have survived. They have two little girls they need to protect. But now they’re thinking … and that’s going to bring back the old memories and pain. Yet they want to help as much as they can. We felt that if I was the go-between, it would cushion the pain somewhat. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“Fifteen years is a long time. Do you really—I mean, is there a chance the bastard who killed my nephew is still out there?”
“It seems like a long shot, but so far there are four murders over twenty years that are identical on the surface. The first murder was almost twenty years ago. Maxine Revere, my associate, is in San Diego working the case.”
Grant shook his head in disbelief. “Twenty years. How certain are you that this boy and Tommy were killed by the same man?”
“Max is one hundred percent certain. So is the FBI agent who is assisting on the case.”
“The feds are involved?”
“Not yet. The agent is on her own time. She’s related to the first victim, Justin Stanton. They were both children when he was killed.”
“It’s awful. There is no hell worse than losing a child.”
“I hope I never find out,” David said. His daughter was the brightest spot in his life. “I have some questions, and if you can answer them, I won’t need to talk to your sister. However, as we move forward, there may be additional questions, and Max will likely want to talk to both of them.”
“Meaning, if you get closer to finding out who did this.”
“Yes.”
“If I see that you’re making progress and my sister and brother-in-law are the only people who can answer the questions, I’ll go to them. I can convince them to help, but I refuse to get their hopes up. My sister—it was a dark time for all of us, but Tommy was her baby.”
“Fair enough. The first question is pivotal—the police often hold back information, and because there was no suspect and the case is still open, I haven’t been able to find out a specific detail.”
“I don’t know that I can—or should—tell you details about the investigation. If the police held something back—I was eighteen and in the navy when Tommy was killed, not on the force—they had a reason.”
“We know that the first and third victims were both buried by the killer wrapped in a blanket from their bed, along with a favorite stuffed animal. It’s public that the boys were taken from their beds, drugged, wrapped in their own blanket, and suffocated. What is not public is if anything else was found on the body. The fourth potential victim is currently under investigation in Arizona, and we’re working on finding out if he was buried with a toy or stuffed animal. What about Tommy? Was there anything buried with him?”
David didn’t have to wait for an answer. Grant McKnight’s eyes widened, then watered. He cleared his throat. “Yes. Tommy had a bear when he was found.” His eyes watered. “I’d given it to him when he was born. He started sleeping with it when I was deployed. He told me at Christmas—the last time I saw him alive—that the bear reminded him of the fun we had together.”