Last Look Page 14

  “Maybe because we already know that Shannon was alive, but no one knew that back then.”

  “Someone knew, Andrew,” she told him solemnly. “Someone knew. We just have to find out who it was. Maybe then we’ll know how my father could have messed up so badly.”

  “Do you think someone could have deliberately led him in the wrong direction?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. If he’d had all the facts, would he have assumed Eric Beale was guilty?”

  Andrew put his fork down and appeared to be considering what she’d just said.

  “You’re thinking maybe I’m not being objective, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “The thought did cross my mind, yeah.”

  “If at any time you feel my actions are not objective, or might compromise the investigation, you can tell me to leave.”

  “I wouldn’t have a choice,” he said softly, “but I’d hate for that to happen. You’ve been helpful so far. You have good instincts, good skills. I’d hate to have to ask you to leave.”

  “I’ll do my best to make certain you’re not put in that position.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  They ate in silence for a few more moments, then Andrew said, “So, what are your thoughts at the end of day two?”

  “It seems like it’s been more than two days, doesn’t it?”

  He nodded. “We’ve covered a lot of ground in a short period of time. Anything stand out?”

  “Yeah. The more I see of the Randalls, the more screwed up they seem.” She chewed a bite of chicken thoughtfully. “I mean, here you have their daughter, sister, granddaughter back from the dead, so to speak. But definitely dead this time. Wouldn’t you expect more emotion? Wouldn’t you have thought the daughters would have been at their parents’ home? Did you see any sign that the family was gathering together to mourn?”

  “Nope. Everyone seems to be off doing their own thing. Business as usual,” Andrew agreed. “Paula Rose certainly didn’t appear heartbroken.”

  “I haven’t even heard anyone mention a word about a funeral, not even Paula Rose. Did she seem like she was immersed in preparing a service for her beloved, long-lost sister?” Dorsey picked at the cole slaw on her plate. Before he could respond, she went on. “And another thing. Everyone so far seems to think she was kidnapped. Forced to leave. Even back then, they all knew this money was missing from the church. How come it never occurred to anyone that she might have taken it and run off?”

  “You know, if she took the money from her grandfather’s desk on or before Wednesday afternoon, it means she knew she would be leaving home Wednesday night.” Andrew looked up at Dorsey. “Would she have gone home to pick up clothes and maybe some more money? Would she have left Hatton with nothing but the clothes on her back?”

  “She might if she was running away from something. But she could have packed some things in her backpack before she left for school that morning. It wasn’t found in Eric’s car, remember. They only found her assignment book. So let’s assume she had that with her when she left. She could have had at least one or two changes of clothing in there, maybe whatever money she had saved up in a bank or something at home.”

  “So maybe she had it planned, knew about the money from the carnival, and decided to take that too.” He paused. “So who smacked her around? And how did she get out of town?”

  “Someone had to have driven her. Maybe the same person who smacked her.”

  “But everyone connected to her had an alibi,” he reminded her. “Except Eric Beale, and I don’t believe he helped her run away. He’d have said so. And if he’d taken her someplace, like the bus station here in town, someone would have seen her, right? All the publicity this case got back then, if she’d been there, someone would have said so. But no one did.”

  “True. Same thing if she tried to hitch a ride. Someone would have had to have seen her.” Dorsey nodded. “But again, no one’s stepped forward to say they did, and as you point out, that wouldn’t follow, in a case like this. It’s hard to imagine someone not reporting having seen her, or having picked her up.”

  “What about Dad?” Andrew took another bite of his dinner, and barely seemed to notice. “We don’t know what time he got back to the house that night. The report said he was at the church until 7:30 or 8:00 that night-then he went home and went directly into his study.”

  “Paula Rose said her father was in the study all night, working on his sermon for Sunday.”

  “I don’t think she said she saw him, though.”

  Dorsey drew small circles on the table with the tip of her index finger. “The most common reason for girls to cut is because they’re being abused, and most abusers are someone in or close to the family. Same with girls who run away-look hard enough, and you’ll probably find she was running away from someone who was hurting her.”

  “It’s no secret that most girls who turn to prostitution have been sexually abused,” Andrew noted. “Doesn’t look too good for Reverend Dad, does it?”

  “He’s at the top of my list.” Dorsey appeared thoughtful. “You know, if he was abusing Shannon, chances are he had been abusing one or both of the older sisters. Or still was. He might not have moved on to Paula Rose just yet, but I’m betting Natalie and or Aubrey knew what was going on.”

  “So we’re going to have to talk with him sooner rather than later. Which I’m guessing he won’t like.”

  “If he doesn’t cooperate, we could ask Chief Bowden to invite him down to the station for a chat.”

  “He’ll like that even less,” Andrew told her. “We have a meeting with Bowden first thing in the morning. With luck he’s found the PD’s file and we’ll see exactly what Franklin said back then.”

  Dorsey looked across the room to the clock on the wall.

  “It’s really late. I think we need to get back to the inn. Our meeting with Bowden is at what time?”

  “Eight.”

  Dorsey groaned. “I’m thinking we should probably be staying here in Hatton after tonight. We still have a pretty good drive ahead of us.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. We passed a motel out on the highway, coming into town. Maybe we can stop there on our way in from Deptford in the morning and get a couple of rooms. Plan on driving your car and we’ll meet up there in time to be at the police station by eight.” He signaled for their bill. When it arrived, Dorsey reached for it.

  “That’s mine. Dinner’s on me,” she reminded him. “Never let it be said I’m a poor loser.”

  He laughed and handed it over, just as his cell phone rang.

  “Shields.”

  He listened for a minute, then said, “We have an appointment first thing in the morning and I don’t know how long we’ll be tied up. But if we could meet with you later in the afternoon…yes, four would be fine. The address?” He fished a pen from his pocket and scribbled on a paper napkin. “Thank you. Yes, I’ll see you then.”

  He snapped the phone closed and returned it to his pocket. “That was Senator Randall-Scott. She and her sister Aubrey would like to meet with us tomorrow.”

  “Really. Fancy that.” Dorsey counted out bills and handed them to the approaching waitress. “I’m not real happy about interviewing them together, though.”

  “I agree. But unfortunately, that’s the invite. Maybe we’ll find a way to separate them.” Andrew pushed back his chair. “Ready?”

  “I am.” She stood.

  “Thanks for dinner.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll bet more carefully next time.” She walked toward the door and Andrew followed. Once outside, she paused.

  “You go ahead to the car,” she told him. “I need to make a call.”

  “Okay.” He continued walking.

  She took her phone from her bag and checked her voice mail. Nothing. She hit redial.

  “Come on, Pop. Answer.”

  The phone continued to ring and ring. Voice mail picked up, but she didn’t bother to leave another message. She
’d left three over the past two days. If he was checking his phone, he already knew she wanted him to call.

  She slipped the phone back into her bag and walked across the lot to Andrew’s car, wondering where her father could be.

  12

  Hatton’s police department was housed in a two-story restored clapboard house smack in the middle of the town’s only commercial district. Smart shops sat on either side-gourmet goodies on the left and a women’s boutique on the right-an odd juxtaposition given the fact that the other shops in town were much more mundane. Strip malls out on the highway were home to national chains-home-supply stores, bookstores, supermarkets, clothing. But here in downtown Hatton, there was an ice cream shop spelled with the obligatory ppe at the end that still boasted the same chipped Formica counter and red leather seats topping stainless-steel stools that had been installed in the 1950s. The newsstand still sold men’s magazines from under the counter, the postal clerks knew the name, address, and history of everyone in town, and the old-fashioned grocery store at the very end of the block still delivered and sent a monthly bill.

  Chief Ryan Bowden ushered Andrew and Dorsey into his office in the back of the building. Judging from the corner cupboards and the fireplace mantel adorned with carved wooden fruit, Dorsey guessed this room had served as the dining room for the family who’d once lived there.

  “Nice office,” Andrew was saying as they were seated in uncomfortable-looking chairs with high wooden backs.

  “Thanks.” Chief Bowden nodded amicably and lowered himself into his own cushy leather seat. “Coffee? Tea?”

  “None for me,” Andrew declined.

  “I’m fine,” Dorsey said.

  “So you want to talk about the…” Bowden glanced at the doorway. From the next room came the sound of early-morning office conversation. The chief got up and closed the door. “You’re here to talk about the Randall girl.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he shook his head side to side. “Who’d ever thought she’d be alive all these years? Doesn’t that just beat all?”

  “That pretty much sums up everyone’s reaction,” Andrew said.

  “Everyone who knows”-Bowden pointed to the door-“and I’m not sure just how many people that would be at this point. I’ve been keeping a lid on it, out of respect for the family, but that doesn’t mean someone doesn’t have loose lips.” He waved a pink While You Were Out message slip and said, “This here’s a call from one of the TV stations in Charleston. Want to bet they’re not calling to ask about Aubrey Randall’s driving record?”

  “Does she have one?” Dorsey asked.

  “Nah. Oh, she’s been stopped a time or two lately-mostly for driving a little too fast-but I figure I owe the girl some slack, you know, her sister turning up alive…well, dead…and being a hooker and all that.” He shook his head again. “If anyone’d ever told me years ago that Shannon Randall would end up hooking…”

  “You knew her?” Andrew asked.

  “Sure. I knew all the Randall girls back then. ’Cept Paula Rose, she was just a little kid.”

  “So you grew up in Hatton.” Andrew leaned back against the seat and tried unsuccessfully to get comfortable.

  “Oh, yeah. Lived here all my life.”

  “How well did you know the Randalls?”

  “About as good as I knew anyone else in town. I knew Aubrey the best. She and I were in the same homeroom. I asked her out once, but the reverend gave me such a third degree I never asked her out again, figured it wasn’t worth the interrogation.”

  “Would you say Reverend Randall was strict with the girls?” Andrew continued.

  “Pretty much, yeah. They were all about appearance, you know what I mean? Most of the girls’ social activities centered around the church, at least until they turned sixteen. After that, they were allowed to date, but only in a group. They could go to dances, but only at the school or at the church, and they had to be home right after the dance ended.”

  “And before that?” Dorsey asked. “Before they turned sixteen?”

  Chief Bowden grinned. “I don’t think life began in that family until you reached your sixteenth birthday. Up until then, it was all about the church. Everything centered around the church. Those girls had to leave home to have any kind of life at all.” He paused to reflect on what he’d just said. “I guess maybe that’s what Shannon did, right?”

  “Did you ever get the feeling that their father was maybe too involved with their lives?”

  “No more than most fathers were around here back then, I guess. Tragic what-all happened to him. Losing his daughter, losing the use of his legs and all.” He shook his head sympathetically.

  “So I guess you remember when Shannon disappeared?” Andrew asked.

  “Oh, yeah. That was the biggest thing ever to happen around here. No one could believe it, you know?” Bowden stared into space for a moment, remembering. “We’d gone on a class trip that day. The first thing we heard when we got off the bus was Shannon Randall was missing. I thought Aubrey was gonna fall over and die right then and there.”

  “What were people saying, that first day? Do you remember?” Dorsey asked.

  “No one was sure what happened, not that first day. By the next night, though, the story was going around that she’d been murdered and Eric Beale had killed her.”

  “Right off the bat, they were talking about Beale?” Andrew slanted a look that said I’ll take it from here in Dorsey’s direction. “Were there any other names tossed around?”

  “None that I recall. Pretty much it was all Eric Beale.”

  “I guess you knew Eric, too?”

  “Sure I knew Eric. He was a senior that year. We didn’t have any classes together, and I didn’t know him real well. I knew his sisters and his brother, though.”

  “Was Eric on that class trip, too?”

  “I don’t think so. We went to see a play we were studying in English, and he wasn’t in that class.” Bowden rubbed his chin. “You know how they always say, you make your own luck? The Beales made their own, all right, but their luck was all bad.”

  “Give me a for instance.”

  “The father was a mean drunk, drank himself to death even before Eric was executed. Some said it was because everything that happened with Eric, but tell you the truth, I’d seen that man on a bender. He didn’t need an excuse to drink, know what I mean? I don’t think Eric’s situation had anything to do with that.”

  “By Eric’s situation, you mean him being arrested, tried-”

  “Convicted, yeah, the whole thing.” The chief nodded. “Timmy, Eric’s older brother, he was in prison for assault, he’d been in some bar fight. Mrs. Beale, she had her hands full, what with a drunk for a husband and four kids to keep track of. She got into fights with her husband a couple times a week, or so they said. He beat up on her a lot, her and the kids.” He glanced from Andrew to Dorsey and said, “That was back in the days when no one ever interfered with the way a father raised his kids. Nowadays, you beat up on your wife or your kids like that, you end up in jail.

  “Anyway, yeah, Mr. Beale was not exactly father of the year. Both girls dropped out of school as soon as they were legal. Funny thing was, Eric was the only one in the family who looked like he’d amount to anything. He got himself a job at the gas station in town and I heard he was saving up to go to college. Ironic, isn’t it? He might have actually made something of himself, if he hadn’t been arrested for murdering Shannon.”

  “Do you have any idea where Mrs. Beale is living now?”

  “No, she moved from Hatton years ago. I have no idea where she went,” Bowden said, “but I can ask around. Seems to me people were happy enough to see her go. Her being here while Eric was on death row, and after-well, it just made some people uncomfortable, you know? Like the whole town just sort of breathed a big sigh of relief after she left.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. “She had a sister who lived out on Camp Hill Road down around Pebble Ru
n. She’d know, if she’s still there.”

  “How about the brother? The sisters?”

  “Timmy, I think I heard was living in one of those trailers out by Naylor’s Marsh, fifteen, sixteen miles from here. The sisters, I don’t know. They both got knocked up before they were sixteen-apologies, Agent Collins, but that’s the truth. Maybe some in town might know where they are. I can ask and let you know.”

  “We’d appreciate it,” Andrew said. “By the way, were you able to find Sheriff Taylor’s file?”

  “I was not. I was just going to tell you that. I’m sorry, but it’s not in either of the file rooms.” Bowden did his best to look apologetic. “You have to understand, the police department here in Hatton has been in about three different places since 1983. Files were dragged around from here to there and back again. I did search, but I’m afraid I don’t have a clue to where it could be. Could have been it was in the boxes that were stored in Chief Taylor’s garage when it caught on fire ’bout ten years ago.”

  “Any chance you overlooked someplace?” Andrew asked.

  “I don’t think so, but if anything comes to mind, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “Can’t ask for more than that.” Andrew glanced at his watch, stood, and offered his hand to Bowden. “We appreciate your time. If you think of anything, anything at all, even if it’s just rumors you recall…”

  “I’ll be sure to call you, Agent Shields.” Bowden stood to shake Andrew’s hand, then Dorsey’s, before walking them out to the front door. “Where you off to now?”

  “We have an appointment with Jeremy Brinkley.”

  “He’d have a better recollection of what was going on, I’m sure. I was just a kid back then.” Bowden shrugged again, as if his shoulders were loose and he had to hitch them up every once in a while. “But Jeremy was with Chief Taylor on that case. He’s likely to have some insights I don’t have. No tellin’ what he might know.”