Caught (20 page)

The waitress, what Wendy's father used to call a "floozy"--a big, badly bottled blonde with a pencil tucked behind her ear--said, "Get you anything?"

Damn, Wendy thought. She didn't call her "hon."

"Nothing, thanks," Wendy said.

She sauntered away. Phil still had his eyes closed.

"Phil?"

"Off the record?" he said.

"Okay."

"I don't know how to put this without making it sound like something it's not."

Wendy waited, tried to give him space.

"Look, Dan and this sex stuff . . ."

His voice drifted off. Wendy was about to go after him. Sex stuff? Trying to meet up with an underage girl and maybe kidnapping another--that isn't something to dismiss as "sex stuff." But now was hardly the time for a morality play. So again she said nothing and waited.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying Dan was a pedophile. It wasn't like that."

He stopped again and this time Wendy wasn't sure that he'd start up again without some prompting. "So what was it like?" she asked.

Phil started, stopped, shook his head. "Let's say that Dan didn't mind getting them when they were young, if you know what I mean."

Wendy's heart dropped.

"When you say getting them when they were young . . . ?"

"There were times--now keep in mind this was more than twenty years ago, okay?--but there were times when Dan preferred the company of younger girls. Not like a pedophile or anything. Nothing sick. But he liked going to high school parties. He'd invite young girls to campus events, that kind of thing."

Wendy's mouth felt dry. "How young?"

"I don't know. It's not like I asked for ID."

"How young, Phil?"

"Like I said, I don't know." He squirmed. "Keep in mind we were freshmen in college. All of eighteen, nineteen years old ourselves. So maybe these girls were in high school. Not a big deal, right? I think Dan was maybe eighteen. So the girls were like two, maybe three or four years younger."

"Four? That would make a girl fourteen."

"I don't know. I'm just saying. And you know how it is too. Some fourteen-year-old girls look a lot older. The way they dress and stuff. It's like they want to appeal to older guys."

"Don't go there, Phil."

"You're right." He rubbed his face with both hands. "God, I have daughters that age. I'm not defending him. I'm trying to explain. Dan wasn't a pervert or a rapist, but still, okay, the idea that he could hit on a younger girl? That I could maybe get. But that he would kidnap one, that he'd grab and harm a young girl . . . ? That, no, I can't see at all."

He stopped talking and leaned back. Wendy sat very still. She thought back to what she knew about Haley McWaid's disappearance: No break-in. No violence. No calls. No texts. No e-mails. No signs of abduction. Not even an unmade bed.

Maybe they had this all wrong.

A theory started forming in her head. It was incomplete, based on a lot of innuendo and assumptions, but she needed to follow up. Next step: Go back to the woods and find Sheriff Walker. "I have to go."

He looked up at her. "Do you think that Dan hurt that girl?"

"I don't have a clue anymore. I really don't."

CHAPTER 22

WENDY CALLED WALKER from the car. The call got routed three different ways before Walker picked up.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"In the woods."

Silence.

"Anything yet?"

"No."

"You got five minutes for me?"

"I'm on my way back to the manor now. There's a guy named Frank Tremont. He's in charge of the Haley McWaid case."

The name rang a bell. She had covered a few cases he'd handled in the past. The guy was a lifer, fairly smart, overly cynical. "I know him."

"Cool. We can meet you there."

She hung up. She drove back to Ringwood, parked with the other reporters, and approached the cop guarding the crime scene entrance. Sam grabbed the camera and started to follow. Wendy stopped him with a head shake. Sam pulled up, puzzled. Wendy gave the cop her name and was waved through. The other reporters didn't like that. They hurried over and started demanding access. Wendy never turned around.

When she got to the tent, another officer said, "Sheriff Walker and Investigator Tremont said you should wait here."

She nodded and sat on a foldout canvas chair, the same kind parents used on the sidelines at soccer games. There were dozens of law enforcement cars--some marked, some not--parked every which way. There were uniformed cops, cops in street clothes, and several officers sporting nifty FBI windbreakers. Many were on laptops. In the distance, Wendy could hear the clacking whir of a helicopter.

Standing by herself on the edge of the woods was a young girl Wendy recognized as Patricia McWaid, Haley's younger sister. Wendy debated whether this was the right time or not--but the debate didn't last long. Opportunity knocking and all that. She started toward the girl, telling herself that this was not about nailing a big story but about finding out what really happened to Haley and Dan.

A new theory had wormed its way into her brain. Patricia McWaid might have information that could prove or disprove it.

"Hi," Wendy said to the young girl.

The girl gave a little startled jump. She turned and faced Wendy. "Hello."

"My name is Wendy Tynes."

"I know," Patricia said. "You live in town. You're on TV."

"That's right."

"You also did a story on the man who had Haley's phone."

"Yes."

"Do you think he hurt her?"

Wendy was surprised by the girl's directness. "I don't know."

"Pretend you had to guess--do you think he hurt her?"

Wendy thought about it. "I don't think he hurt her, no."

"Why not?"

"Just a thought. I have no reason for believing that. Like I said, I really don't know."

Patricia nodded. "Fair enough."

Wendy debated how to approach this. Start with something small like, "Were you and your sister close?" Normally that was the way to go with any interview. Open with some softball questions. Get them relaxed, develop a rapport, get them in the rhythm. But even without the time constraint--Tremont and Walker could pop up any second--that felt like the wrong track. This girl had been direct with her. She might as well try the same.

"Did your sister ever mention Dan Mercer?"

"The police asked me that."

"And?"

"No. Haley never mentioned him."

"Did Haley have a boyfriend?"

"The police asked me that too," Patricia said. "First day she vanished. Investigator Tremont must have asked me that a million times since. Like I was hiding something."

"Were you?"

"No."

"So did she have a boyfriend?"

"I think so, yeah. But I don't know. It was like a secret or something. Haley could be private with stuff like that."

Wendy felt her pulse pick up a bit. "Private how?"

"She'd sneak out and meet up with him sometimes."

"How did you know about it?"

"She told me. To, you know, cover if our parents asked."

"How often did she do this?"

"Maybe two, three times."

"Did she ask you to cover for her the night she vanished?"

"No. The last time was like a week before that."

Wendy considered this. "And you told the police all this?"

"Sure. Day one."

"Did they ever find the boyfriend?"

"I think so. I mean, they said they found him."

"Can you tell me who it was?"

"Kirby Sennett. A guy in our school."

"Do you think it was Kirby?"

"You mean, was he her boyfriend?"

"Yes."

Patricia shrugged. "I guess so, yeah."

"You don't sound certain."

"Like I said, she never told me. I was just supposed to cover for her."

The helicopter flew overhead. Patricia cupped a hand over her eyes and looked up. She swallowed deep and hard. "It still doesn't feel real. Like she's just away on a trip and one morning she'll be back home."

"Patricia?"

She lowered her gaze.

"Do you think Haley ran away?"

"No."

Just like that.

"You seem pretty certain."

"Why would she run away? Sure, maybe she liked to sneak a drink every once in a while, stuff like that. But Haley was happy, you know? She liked school. She liked lacrosse. She liked her friends. And she loved us. Why would she run away?"

Wendy considered that.

"Ms. Tynes?" Patricia said.

"Yes?"

"What are you thinking?"

She didn't want to lie to this girl. She also didn't want to tell her. Looking off, Wendy hesitated just long enough.

"What's going on here?" They both turned. County Investigator Frank Tremont stood with Sheriff Walker. He did not look happy. He cut a glance at Walker. Walker nodded and said, "Patricia, why don't you come with me?"

Walker and Patricia headed toward the police tent, leaving Tremont alone with Wendy. He frowned at her. "Man, I hope this wasn't a ploy to talk to the family."

"It's not."

"So what have you got?"

"Dan Mercer liked younger girls."

Tremont gave her flat eyes. "Wow, that's helpful."

"Something about the whole Dan Mercer case has rubbed me wrong from day one," she went on. "No reason to go into details right now, but I've just never been able to buy him as a purely evil predator. I just spoke to an old classmate of his from Princeton. He can't believe Dan would abduct anyone."

"Wow, that's also helpful."

"But he did confirm that Dan liked younger girls. I'm not saying the guy wasn't a scum bucket. Sounds like he was. But my point is, he seemed to do it on a more consensual, less, I don't know, violent basis."

Tremont did not look impressed. "So?"

"So Patricia says Haley had a secret boyfriend."

"Not so secret. It's a local punk-wannabe named Kirby Sennett."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure about what?" Tremont paused. "Wait, what are you saying?"

"According to Patricia, Haley sneaked out a few times--the last time a week before she vanished. She said that Haley asked her to cover for her."

"Right."

"And you guys figure she met up with this Kirby kid?"

"Right."

"Did Kirby confirm it?"

"Not fully, no. Look, there's evidence they were an item. Some texts, e-mails, stuff like that. Seems like Haley liked the idea of keeping it a secret, probably because the kid was a punk. No big deal. The kid lawyered up. Not unusual, even if you're innocent. Rich parents, spoiled brat of a kid, you know the deal."

"And this was Haley's boyfriend?"

"Seems so, yeah. But Kirby told us that he and Haley broke up about a week before she vanished. That matches when she last sneaked out."

"And you obviously looked at Kirby?"

"Sure, but the kid is a small-time asshat. Don't get me wrong. We looked at Kirby hard and long. But he was in Kentucky when she disappeared. His alibi is completely solid. We checked him out six ways to Sunday. There's no way he had anything to do with it, if that's where you're going with this."

"That's not where I'm going at all," Wendy said.

Tremont hoisted his pants by the buckle. "You want to share with the class then?"

"Dan Mercer dates younger girls. Haley McWaid leaves her house--no signs of violence, a break-in, nothing. What I'm saying is that maybe the mysterious boyfriend wasn't Kirby Sennett. Maybe it was Dan Mercer."

Tremont took his time with that one. He chewed at something in his mouth, something that apparently tasted bad. "So you think, what, Haley ran away with this perv on her own accord?"

"I'm not willing to go that far yet."

"Good," Tremont said, and there was steel in his voice. "Because this is a good kid. A really good kid. I don't want her parents hearing crap like this. They don't deserve that."

"I'm not casting any aspersions here."

"Okay. Just so we're clear."

"But for the sake of argument," Wendy said, "let's say Haley did run away with Mercer. It would explain why there was no evidence of foul play. And maybe it also explains the iPhone in the motel room."

"How?"

"Haley runs away with Dan Mercer. He ends up getting killed. So she hurries out of the motel room--never looks back. I mean, think about it. If Dan Mercer had grabbed and killed her, why would he hold on to her iPhone?"

"As a trophy?"

Wendy frowned. "Do you really buy that?"

Tremont said nothing.

"You found this state park on her Google Earth, right?"

"Right."

"Pretend you're Haley. You wouldn't look up the place a kidnapper was going to hold you or bury you or whatever."

"But," Tremont finished for her, "you might look up a place where you were going to meet up with your boyfriend to run away."

Wendy nodded.

Tremont sighed. "She's a good kid."

"We're not making a moral judgment here."

"No?"

Wendy let that go.

"So let's say you're right," Tremont said. "Where would Haley be now?"

"I don't know."

"And why would she leave her phone in the motel?"

"Maybe she had to rush out. Maybe she couldn't go back to the room for some reason. Maybe she's scared because Dan was killed and she's hiding."

"So she had to rush out," Tremont repeated, cocking his head. "And so she, what, left her iPhone under the bed?"

Wendy thought about that. No answer came to her.

"Let's take it step by step," Tremont said. "First, I'll send some guys down to the motel--to all the crap holes where Dan stayed--and see if anyone remembers him being with a teenage girl."

"Good," Wendy said. Then: "One other thing."

"What?"

"When I saw Dan before he was shot, someone had beaten him pretty good."

Tremont saw where she was going with this. "So you figure that maybe Haley McWaid, if she was with him, might have seen that beating." He nodded. "Maybe that's why she ran."

But now that he said it out loud, that didn't sound right to Wendy. There was a false note here. She tried to think it through. There was still more--like how did the scandals involving Stearns 109 fit in? She was about to present that angle to Tremont, but right now it still seemed too far out there. She needed to look into it more. That meant going back to Phil and Sherry Turnball, maybe calling Farley Parks and Steven Miciano, trying to find Kelvin Tilfer.