Every Last Fear Page 42
Judy frowned.
“I’m supposed to hear tonight. The moment I get the results, I promise, I’ll call. Until then, what’s this new evidence?”
Judy looked at her husband, who gave a tiny shrug as if to say, Why not?
Keller gestured for the diner’s door. Somewhere they could sit and talk.
“No, not in there,” Judy said. “You think they don’t like the Pines? Well, they really don’t like us. We’ve set up base at a farmhouse about ten minutes from here.”
“I’ll follow you there.”
* * *
The farmhouse had seen better days. The paint peeling, porch sagging. Several dogs scattered as the Adlers parked the van on a patch of dirt that passed for a driveway. Keller pulled the Nissan beside them.
Judy got out of the van, a dented Ford. Ira trailed behind his wife, something Keller suspected he’d been doing for as long as the Adlers had been married. Judy waved to Keller to follow them inside.
Keller climbed out of her car and looked around. A barn was about thirty yards away, the door falling off its hinges. Beyond that, just fields, not another soul for miles. She stepped around the mud and muck and mounted the porch steps. The wood was soft from rot. She stopped at the door and looked inside the place. Two men in their twenties sat in front of laptops at a long kitchen table. Stacks of papers and empty soda cans cluttered the work space. Dishes were piled in the sink.
A woman, heavyset and wearing sneakers and sweats, was also at the far end of the kitchen table, talking on her cell phone.
Judy called to Keller from inside. “Come on in. We don’t bite.”
The interior was just as run-down. Cracked linoleum floors, faded wallpaper with bare patches as if someone had started trying to remove it and given up. An avocado-green refrigerator matched the green laminate countertops.
Ira cleared away some of the trash and clutter from the table, making a space for their guest. “Please, have a seat.”
Judy introduced Keller to the others—the production team, who all seemed more attentive when they learned that Keller was with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
“Sorry about the mess,” Ira said, sitting next to his wife, across from Keller. “We’ve had a lot of late nights around here. Get you some coffee or something to drink?”
“I’m fine. Already hit my caffeine quota. But thank you.” Keller looked at the monitors and equipment. “How’s the sequel coming?”
“Slow. How’s your investigation into the death of the Pines going?”
“Same,” Keller said.
Judy Adler gave a slight chuckle, as if amused at Keller’s evasive response. She said, “We’ve been looking into Charlotte and what we’ve found is, um, surprising.” Judy looked at a member of the production team. He had a man bun and wore flip-flops with jeans. “Show her.”
Keller caught the faint whiff of weed as the guy set a laptop in front of her. He tapped on a few keys, then went back to his seat.
The screen showed a woman, mid-twenties, her hair a dull shade of purple.
“Charlotte wasn’t just my cousin, she was my best friend,” the woman said.
“You were a close family?” Judy Adler asked from off camera.
The woman made a noise that said fat chance. “My mom and Charlotte’s dad had major issues. They haven’t talked in years.”
“Why’s that?”
“Uncle John abused my mom when they was kids. Sexually, I mean.”
A chill crawled up Keller’s back. The woman said it so matter-of-fact. And from what Keller knew about sexual abusers, they didn’t tend to stop as they got older. The victims just changed. She continued to watch the video.
“But you and Charlotte were close?”
“Oh yeah. My mom was worried, you know. She told Charlotte she could come to Kansas, stay with us, anytime.”
“Did you think Charlotte was being abused by your uncle?”
The woman nodded.
“Did she tell you that?”
“Not in so many words.”
“But you thought so?”
She nodded again. “Long as I can remember, she was always talking about getting out of Adair, moving to a big city, changing her name, starting over.”
“Did you ever talk to her about it—what was happening at home, I mean?”
“We didn’t need to. It was just understood.”
“Did you know her boyfriend?”
“Who, Danny? I talked to him a few times when me and Charlotte were Skyping.”
“Were you surprised when you heard he’d been arrested?”
“Oh yeah. I mean, we was in shock. It was funny, ’cause that show made a big thing about Danny and Charlotte, like they were high school sweethearts on their way to the altar or somethin’. But he saw other people, and so did she.”
“You’re saying they weren’t serious?”
“Not from what Charlotte told me. She always said Danny Pine was a sweet dumb jock. They had a good time, but it wasn’t like they was getting married.”
“She saw other boys?”
“I think. Though she thought all the kids at school were immature.”
“Did she mention anyone in particular?”
“She said there was someone, an older boy, but wouldn’t tell me who.”
“Why not?”
The woman shrugged.
“Did you know she was pregnant?”
“I don’t think she was.”
“But they ran tests and—”
“If that was her.” She said this with a roll of her neck, almost like a challenge.
“I don’t understand.”
“About a week before it happened, she said she couldn’t take it anymore. She was gonna take off.”
“Couldn’t take what anymore?”
The woman looked off camera like it was a stupid question. “She didn’t say. But it was obvious. Her dad…”
“So you’re saying— Then who was at the creek? And why didn’t the police—”
“I don’t know. But Charlotte said she had friends, important people who could help her get away.”
“Who were these friends?”
Judy Adler reached over and stopped the video. “We talked to some of Charlotte’s friends. Charlotte had a bit of a secret life. Older boys, drugs. She’d told one friend she’d been assaulted, and she was afraid.”
Keller gave Judy a skeptical glance. “There was a trial, blood work. Her body was positively identified.”
Ira Adler snapped his fingers and pointed at Keller. “Exactly. And guess who contacted us saying he had something that would blow up what everybody thought about the case. Involving the blood work.”
Keller shook her head.
“Ron Sampson.”
“The cop who interrogated Danny Pine?”
“We were scheduled to meet, and then…”
“He killed himself,” Keller said.
Ira tilted his head to the side, held Keller’s stare like maybe Sampson hadn’t killed himself.
It was all too much. Too many conspiracies. Too many leaps. And Keller was starting to think the Adlers had been drinking the Kool-Aid.
“Charlotte’s father moved to North Dakota,” Ira added. “We’ve asked him for access to her things, to let us exhume the body for a DNA test, but he’s refused to speak with us.”
What a surprise. The guy they were accusing of being a child molester didn’t want to cooperate. Keller glanced at the computer screen again. In one of the windows she saw a familiar face: Noah Brawn.
Judy Adler followed Keller’s gaze, and said, “We interviewed him again. We’re hoping that the climax of our film will be a pardon, but we’ll see.”
Keller gestured to the computer. “May I?” she asked.
Judy nodded, and Keller clicked on the window with Brawn’s handsome face.
The interview started with Judy’s voice off-screen: “Do you think with all the attention on Danny Pine, Charlotte got forgotten?”
“Absolutely not. I certainly never forgot her. But we won’t get justice for her if the wrong man is in prison. We won’t get justice until the truth comes out.…”
Judy stopped the video. “You get the idea. More of the same from last time: the Smasher, the U.P., blah, blah, blah. We’ll see if he puts his money where his mouth is on the pardon.”
“You don’t think he’ll pardon Danny now that he’s governor?”
“Acting governor,” Judy said. “He only got the job because the former governor was a crook and had a taste for young girls. I suspect Brawn will tread lightly until he’s actually voted into the office. Have you been following the scandal?”
“Loosely.”
“The former governor is a real sleaze. And his henchman, what’s his name, Ira?”
“Flanagan. Neal Flanagan,” her husband replied.
“That’s right. This Flanagan is straight out of a movie. Who knows, it may be our next documentary—right, Ira?”
Her husband shrugged.
“Anyway, Nebraska is unusual since the governor doesn’t hold the power to pardon on his own. Brawn’s part of a pardon board. And he may be waiting to see who else the governor’s henchman snitches on before he starts associating himself with the former governor’s people on the board. That administration was dir-ty.”
Politics. It didn’t matter how big or small, it usually was dirty.
“Okay, we’ve shown you ours,” Judy said. “How about you show us yours?”