Dark Truth Page 7

  “A book,” he said flatly. Of course. Didn’t everyone want to write a book these days?

  “Detective . . . Powell, was it?” The Madden woman’s friend was petite and had a mass of light auburn curls that framed her pretty face. She smiled and extended her hand. “I’m Regan Landry. I write true crime, and am currently looking into the Stone River Rapist story. Ms. Madden has kindly offered to assist me.”

  “Landry.” Wes nodded. Of course he knew the name. “Josh’s daughter.”

  “You knew my father?”

  “We’d met on several occasions. He was quite the character.”

  “That he was.”

  “So, about those reports,” Madden’s daughter reminded him.

  “Sure.” Wes sighed. He was late for a meeting with his chief; he’d been in Baltimore for the past thirty-six hours trying to connect the dots on a case that had been driving him crazy for the past three weeks, but he’d have to play nice. Regan Landry was a VIP, and he’d have to treat her like one. “I’ll be happy to have the files brought out from storage and copied, but I’m afraid I can’t promise it will be today. A lot of the old files were moved about five years ago, and it may take some time to locate them.”

  “That’s fine. Just call and let me know when it’s ready. My name is Nina Madden, by the way. Let me give you my cell phone number. I just realized I only put my office and home numbers on the form I filled out.” She searched in her purse for a small leather case that held business cards. On the back, she wrote her number.

  “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.” Wes glanced at the front of the card. Nina E. Madden, Senior Editor. Griffin Publishing, New York, New York.

  “Thank you, Detective. I appreciate your help.” There was a trace of coolness in Nina’s smile.

  “My pleasure.” Wes held the door for the two women.

  “Wes, the chief . . .” Janice Mayfield, the sole woman detective on the force, stepped into the hallway.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m coming.” Wes looked over his shoulder at the desk sergeant. “Would you mind putting in the request for all the files on the Madden case? You can have them delivered to my office.”

  “You gonna be copying them yourself, then?”

  Wes flashed a dark look.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” the sergeant muttered as Wes closed the door behind him.

  “What do you think?” Nina asked after she and Regan had gotten into Regan’s Land Rover. “Do you think we’ll ever see those files?”

  “No question,” Regan assured her. “He’s been around long enough to know how to play the game.”

  “What’s the game?”

  “We get what we asked for, or I go over his head,” she said. “I don’t usually like to say it this way, but the Landry name does carry a lot of weight in law enforcement. Dad had a tremendous readership among cops, coast to coast. He was very much pro-law, and they all knew it. He’d do book signings at small stores in small towns all across the country, and the place would be mobbed with cops. Same thing in the cities. They shared a very tight relationship. So I am not the least bit concerned about whether we’ll get the files. It’s simply a matter of when.”

  “I’m looking forward to going through them.” Nina paused to reflect for a moment, then added, “At least, I think I am.”

  “It’s not going to be pretty, I should warn you. You’re going to see and read a lot of things you might wish you’d skipped.” Regan slanted a sideways glance at Nina. “You know, I could always look through the files first, if you’d like. I’ve gone through countless police files. It takes a lot to rattle me.”

  “Thanks, Regan, I appreciate the offer. But I think I need to do this myself.” Nina fell silent.

  “You’ll read some things about your dad that might upset you.”

  “I’ve been upset about my dad for almost half my life,” Nina said softly, staring straight ahead.

  “This will be different. There will be reports in there detailing his relationships with all of these women. There will be statements that will be very upsetting to you.”

  “I understand.”

  “Well, just keep in mind that you can always count on me. If you want to talk things over, if you have any questions about things that don’t seem right . . .” Regan’s voice trailed away.

  “I’m sure I’ll have questions. I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about. And actually, if we’re going to try to piece this thing together with an eye toward proving or disproving my father’s allegations, you’re going to have to go through it all yourself. I’m sure you’ll pick out things that aren’t obvious to me. I’ve had no experience reading police reports, whereas you’ve been reading them for years.”

  “Hey, when other kids were reading Golden Books, I was reading autopsy reports and witness statements at my father’s knee.”

  “I could almost believe that.” Nina smiled.

  “Well, just keep in mind that you’re allowed to skip things. Don’t feel you have to read the entire file.”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  A few minutes later, Nina said, “You’re right about one thing. I’m not looking forward to reading in-depth accounts of my father’s relationships with these girls.”

  “That’s going to be tough,” Regan said softly.

  “For me, personally, that whole older man–young girl thing has always been creepy. Throw in the fact that the old man is my father, and it raises the ick factor to new heights.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine. I often wondered if my father had any relationships with any of the women he knew, after my mother died. If he did, he never gave any indication.”

  “You think he kept them from you?”

  “My dad never was much for secrets.” Regan shook her head. “He always liked things right out there on the table.”

  “Still, you’re wondering about it.”

  “I am. There was a woman named Dorothea who used to call the house from time to time. Dad would take the call in his office and close the door. I always wondered what was going on there.”

  “You think they got together when he was doing book tours?”

  “I don’t know when he would have. I was usually with him.” Regan smiled. “It just always made me curious. It’s sort of intriguing, thinking about your parents having secret lives.”

  “Intriguing isn’t exactly the word I’d choose right now.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, I can’t believe I said that.” Regan’s face went scarlet. “I’m so sorry. Of all the thoughtless things to say . . .”

  “It’s okay.” Nina smiled in spite of herself. Regan was the last person on earth who’d deliberately try to make anyone feel embarrassed or self-conscious.

  “I think I’ll just shut up for a while now.”

  “No need. Really,” Nina assured her. “We’ve beaten that horse to within an inch of its life. We’ll deal with whatever’s in the files once we have them. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Let’s talk about the ice cream sundaes right up the road here at Harry’s,” Regan said. “There’s a little art gallery in the back room. Maybe you can find something to brighten up that little office of yours back in New York. At the very least, the hot fudge is homemade, and to die for.”

  “You’re on. And while we’re eating, you can tell me more about this shopping outlet mecca I keep seeing advertised on the billboards around here.”

  “Rehoboth, Delaware.” Regan smiled knowingly. “Just the right distance for a road trip. How does tomorrow sound?”

  “Tomorrow sounds wonderful,” Nina said, relieved to shift the spotlight from herself and her father’s case onto something less dark and serious, something fun.

  The way Nina saw it, the next few weeks promised precious few light moments. She might as well smile while she still could.

  Nine

  A sharp gust of wind greeted Nina as she rounded the corner on her way to the subway on the following Wednesda
y morning. Her head down, she hoisted the leather tote over her shoulder and felt the manuscript inside shift. How, she wondered, would she tell the agent representing the work that she was going to have to pass on the book?

  She was a block from the subway when her cell phone rang.

  “Ms. Madden?” a male voice asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Detective Powell, Stone River PD.”

  “Oh, yes, Detective Powell. How are my files coming along?”

  “They’re sitting right here on the floor of my office. Copied, boxed, and ready for pickup.”

  “Terrific. Would Friday night be all right for me to come in? Will someone be around?”

  “We’re the only place in town that never closes,” he told her. “Someone will be here.”

  “And you’ll take a check for the copy work?”

  “Yes, with the proper ID.”

  “Driver’s license okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, thank you, Detective Powell. I appreciate the follow-up.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She closed her phone to disconnect the call as she descended the steps to the subway. As eager as she was to view the contents of the files relative to her father’s case, at the same time there was a knot of apprehension in her chest. This was, she acknowledged, one huge can of worms she was about to open. She wasn’t sure how she was going to feel once she was confronted with the facts she’d been avoiding, or what the consequences might be.

  She got onto the subway and stood near the door, clutching the tote to her chest, grateful to have something to hang on to besides the metal bar. Ten minutes later, still clutching the tote, she got off the subway and walked up the steps, planning her agenda. She had a meeting right at nine, another at nine forty-five. She’d have to fit in a call to Regan to let her know she’d be back this weekend to pick up the files. They’d already discussed the possibility, and Regan had made it clear that Nina would be welcome there any time, whether Regan was at home or not. She’d sent Nina back to New York with a spare house key, just in case she’d be away when the files were ready.

  Which, as it turned out, had been a bit of prescience on Regan’s part.

  “I’ve had a change of plans for the weekend,” Regan said when Nina finally had time to make the phone call later that morning. “A month or so ago, I placed an ad in some Illinois newspapers, looking for information on a man named Eddie Kroll. Someone called me claiming to have known him, but it turned out to be someone who’d only known him in grade school and thought someone—namely, me—was paying for information. She really had nothing that helped me. Last night, I got a call from a woman claiming to be related to him, though she was vague about the relationship. I’m flying out in the morning to meet with her in a little town called Sayreville.”

  “Who’s Eddie Kroll?” Nina asked.

  “That’s what I’m hoping to find out. All I know about him is that, when he was thirteen, he and two of his buddies were convicted of killing one of their classmates. He was tried as a juvenile, since he was the youngest of the three and therefore everyone assumed he was the most impressionable. He got out of juvie when he turned twenty-one and seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  “Sounds like another book in the making. Assuming, of course, you can find out what happened to him.”

  “Well, whoever he was, my dad was interested enough in him to keep his grade school report cards. I found them in the basement of Dad’s house, along with bits and pieces of information on other assorted crimes and criminals.” Regan chuckled. “My father was such a mess when it came to keeping things straight. He’d have a half-dozen files going on the same case because he could never remember where he put the others. It’s made going through his records a nightmare, but it’s been interesting all the same. He left enough notes for me to write for the next thirty years.”

  “You just made your editor a very happy woman.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t solve your problem. I expect you to stay here in my house, but I won’t be able to pick you up at the airport or the train station.”

  “Don’t give it a second thought. I’m grateful for the bed. I’ll rent a car and drive out, like I did when I came down for Olivia’s funeral.”

  “Speaking of which, what do you hear from your stepbrother? Do you think he has any idea of what was in your father’s letter?”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t. The sealing tape on that box was pretty old. I think maybe Olivia just opened the box, took one look inside, and taped it back up again.”

  “Without reading the letter?”

  Nina hesitated for a long moment. “Father Whelan told me that Olivia claimed she hadn’t opened it, but I’m not one hundred percent positive of that. The back of the envelope appeared to have been resealed, as if someone had steamed it open, then reglued it. Of course, I could be totally wrong about that.”

  “Why would she have read it, then sealed it back up again?”

  “I don’t know. You’d think if she’d read it, she’d have destroyed it. Why would she have wanted anyone to know that my father believed her to be the killer?”

  “Was she the type of person who would have wanted the truth to come out after her death?”

  “I honestly can’t answer that. I didn’t know her well enough. Kyle might be a better judge of that, but I just can’t bring myself to tell him what my father suspected.”

  “Does he know about the letter?”

  “Father Whelan mentioned it in front of him.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange that his mother didn’t leave the letter for Kyle?” Regan noted.

  “Maybe she was thinking, my father wrote it, it contained his thoughts, therefore it should go to me. I have no other explanation. Unless she thought the letter contained something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like . . .” Nina thought for a minute, then said, “Like the fact that he’d left the house to me rather than to her.”

  “Maybe. It just seems to me there’s more to it than that.” Regan, too, was thinking. “And it bothers me that if she knew what was in the letter, she didn’t destroy it outright.”

  “So maybe she was telling Father Whelan the truth. Maybe she didn’t open it.”

  “Something isn’t adding up,” Regan said. “If she did open it, why would she want you to know that your father suspected her? And if she didn’t open it, why not? Why not leave the letter for Kyle?”

  “I have no answers. The more immediate problem is what to do about Kyle. He’s called twice, wanting to know if I’d read the letter, and what did it say.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. I just couldn’t do it.”

  “So what did you say?” Regan asked.

  “I lied through my teeth. I told him I’d left the box in the trunk of the rental car.” Nina paused. “Which wasn’t a total lie. I had left the box in the trunk of the car. However, some well-meaning soul at the rental agency forwarded it to me.”

  “I trust you left that part out when you were talking to Kyle.”

  “I didn’t exactly talk to Kyle. I left the message on his answering machine.”

  “So you wimped out all the way around.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to come up with a better way of dealing with him than simply ignoring him, or leaving him voice mail.”

  “I know. Maybe after I look through the files, I’ll have a better feel for whether or not my father’s allegations could be true. Assuming I can tell the difference.”

  “When things are really off, they stand out. And if need be, we can always have Mitch take a look. He’s pretty good with the cold cases. And he’s very good on the computer. If there’s something out there, he’ll find it, if we can’t.”

  “Good to know we have backup.”

  There was a rap on Nina’s door. Hollis poked he
r head in the door and whispered, “Sales meeting in the conference room has been moved back. It’s starting now.”

  “Regan, I have to run. I can’t thank you enough for everything. For the use of your house, for your moral support. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Well, then. I seem to recall having said those exact words to you not so long ago. It appears we’re now even.”

  Nina’s flight was late, her reserved car turned out not to be, and by the time she got to the Stone River Police Department, it was nine thirty-five. She’d missed Detective Powell by nineteen minutes.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” the officer in charge told her, “but I don’t generally go into the detectives’ offices and take things.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine. He requested several boxes of files for me, and he had them photocopied, and I told him I’d be in tonight to pick them up. Didn’t he mention someone would be in to pick up some boxes?”

  “He said someone. How do I know you’re that someone?”

  “Can you give him a call, tell him that I’m here? I’m sure he’ll say it’s all right for you to go in there and get my files.”

  Nina paced a bit while the call was made. She strained to listen to what was being said, but couldn’t hear.

  “He said okay, he said he was sorry he left but he figured you weren’t coming, since you hadn’t called or anything to say you’d be late.” The officer got up from his desk and walked down the hall. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

  Nina paced a little more, wondering why Powell hadn’t called her before he left. He had her number. She looked at the display screen on her phone. 1 missed call. She checked the number.

  “What’s the number here?” Nina asked when the officer returned carrying a box.

  “It’s 402-555-5700.”

  “It figures.” She snapped the phone closed. Detective Powell had tried to call her at eight-fifteen. Right about the time she was arguing with the car rental agent. She must not have heard the phone ringing.

  She should have called when she realized how late she was going to be.