Drawn Into Darkness(80)

He heard Forrest tell Willet, not too steadily, “That’s my mother’s handwriting.”

Kehm said pleasantly enough, “Willet, looks to me like we got a crime scene here. It’s all yours. You take the videotapes and pursue the sex crimes charges. I’ll follow up on this other angle.”

Willet rumbled, “I told these two boys this morning to clear out of here. Now all the evidence is tainted.”

“Not the tapes. No way they altered them.”

“Okay, but I still ought to cuff them for trespassing, obstruction, and acting just plain stupid.”

“No need. You want them out of here, I’ll take them with me.”

Quinn’s vision started to clear, and he regained just enough sense to keep his mouth shut. Rather than yelp, “Boys?” at Willet, he stepped back. Forrest and Deputy Kehm let go of him.

Forrest told Trooper Willet with strained courtesy, “We’d like to have Mom’s note after you’re done with it.”

Willet glowered at him and offered the note to Kehm, who held an evidence bag open to receive it. After closing and labeling this, he pocketed it, turned around, and winked one of his sad, hound-dog eyes at Forrest. His white walrus mustache made it impossible to tell whether he was smiling as he did so. He thrust his chin toward the front door, and without a word Quinn led the way out. Going down the three unpainted wooden steps was like a descent into hell, if only because of the heat and fiery light. Kehm opened the back doors of his cruiser for him and Forrest.

“You are not under arrest,” he told them as they got in.

Quinn still didn’t trust himself to say anything.

Forrest asked, “Then where are you taking us?”

“My office, so we can talk about your mother. You hungry? I’m hungry. Let’s stop for something to eat. You like pulled pork barbecue? Chili dog?”

Friendly, Quinn decided. But what the hell was the use of “friendly” under the circumstances? Pulled pork barbecue, hell. They needed to find Mom.

“We need to eat,” Forrest said as if hearing Quinn’s thoughts, “so we can think halfway straight and stay on our feet. Thank you, Officer Kehm.”

“Chicken soup? I know a place that’s got good chicken soup.”

This was not a melodramatic movie; this was real life and didn’t deserve to be saddled with such a cliché. Quinn had to close his eyes and clench his teeth against his own frustration.

Forrest told Officer Kehm, “Whatever you want is fine with us.”

• • •

Within a few minutes after the twins came home from school, Ned felt confirmed in his good impression of Amy. Saying hello to Kyle and Kayla, he saw ten-year-olds who still looked somewhat like children, not fashion models, and thereby he saw a sensible mother. Talking with his grandchildren, he encountered kids who were mannerly yet full of life, and he gave credit to good parenting.

While pleased to meet him, the twins seemed not overly impressed that he was their newfound grandfather. “Now, if Justin came back,” Kayla told him, “that would be something.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Justin is our brother. You know what happened to him?”

“Yes, I heard.”

“He’s probably dead,” Kayla said, but not quite as if this were her personal conviction. More as if she wanted to see whether her new grandfather would respond with horror.

Ned said, “That’s sensible to think under the circumstances. But I still hope he’s alive and he’ll come home.”

“Okay.”

Kyle took over the interrogation. “Listen, we heard you’re a drunk. Are you a drunk? No offense.”

“None taken. I used to be a drunk, but now I am a recovering alcoholic. Do you think your father would bring a drunk into the house?”

“No.”

Kayla asked, “How did you stop drinking? Did you get religion?”

“Yes, kind of, in a nondenominational sort of way.”

“Non what?”

“Nondenominational. Not Baptist or anything. More Zen, actually.”

Kayla blinked and did not ask what Zen meant. Instead she asked, “Can me and Kyle play with Oliver?”

“Kyle and I,” Amy corrected from the sofa.

Ned said, “Oliver would love that if it’s okay with your mom.”

It was okay. Oliver happily romped off into the backyard with the Bradley twins. Once they were out of the room, Ned told Amy and Chad, “They’re a credit to you.” Good kids, in Ned’s experience, hardly ever came from bad families, although the opposite could be true, as he had proved by example. He’d had good parents. He’d had a good wife. The fact that Chad had turned out so well was a testament to the job his wonderful wife had done raising the boy after he, Ned, had turned into a drunken butthead.