As for Keaton . . . on first impression Mason would tag him with one of Harry’s terms. A cool customer. But he’d already observed a number of tells. The way he’d ranged himself in front of the housewith Naomi insidebefore Mason had identified himself, the firm but casual order for her to “simmer down,” and the fact that he’d told Mason to talk to Naomi when Mason had asked about sex.
Initial analysis? Mason thought as he parked in the tiny lot beside the station house. A confident man, and one who’d protect his sister. He could and would be grateful for that, for now.
And like any self-respecting brother who was also a federal agent, he’d run him.
Mason rounded to the front, noted the station had a small front porch, recently painted and swept clean as a parlor.
When he stepped inside, he had that instant déjà vu he experienced any time he went into a small-town cop shop.
Had Naomi been in here? he wondered. Would she see the similarities to Pine Meadows? Of course she would. Not the same, of course, not a mirror image, and the basic tools and equipment had advanced in the seventeen years since his father’s arrest.
But the setup struck so similar, the tone. The smell of coffee and baked goods, plastic chairs, a trio of desks in what served as both a kind of lobby and the bull pen.
A uniformed deputy sat at one of the desks, gave Mason the eye.
“Help you?”
You already know who I am, why I’m here, Mason calculated. And don’t like the idea of an outsider, especially a federal one, horning into town business.
The reaction was nothing new.
“Yes. Special Agent Mason Carson. I have a meeting with Chief Winston.”
The deputy leaned back in his chair, sized Mason up with a faint sneer that clearly read fuck you. “Have you got identification?”
Even as Mason reached for it, a man came out of the back holding a big blue mug that read CHIEF. “Mike, you climb up any higher on that horse, you’re going to get a nosebleed.” Sam stepped forward, hand extended. “Sam Winston. Pleased to meet you, Agent Carson.”
“I appreciate the time, Chief.”
“Come on back. You want some coffee? It’s not half-bad coffee.”
“I just had some at my sister’s, but thanks.”
They stepped into an office with a window at the back. The wide sill held a scatter of trophies, some framed photos, and a wildly thriving philodendron.
The desk sat on the side wall, giving the Cove’s chief views out the window and to the door. Two visitor’s chairsstraight backs, no-nonsenseangled toward it.
“Have a seat.”
Sam took the chair behind the desk that looked as though it had stood in that spot for a couple generations.
“I’m going to tell you straight off, we haven’t got line one on Donna Lanier. Her sister, her daughter, and her cousin are all on their way here. No stopping them. Her car was locked, and we found the keys on the ground, just under it. It’s clear whatever happened to her started in that parking lot.”
Mason only nodded. “I’d like to see the lot, and her residence, if possible.”
“We’ll do that.”
“You indicated Ms. Lanier lives alone, and isto your knowledgenot in a relationship.”
“That’s right. Donna’s been divorced and single for a lot of years. Now she and Frank Peters have a drink or dinner now and then, and I do believe a bit more than that. But it’s a friendly sort of thing, and nothing serious on either side. And Frank was down at Loo’s when Donna closed up Friday. He was with a couple of friends, didn’t head out until nearly one.”
Nodding again, Mason decided to keep his notes mental for the time being. “Is that usual?”
“More like clockwork. Frank and his buddies tend to hit Loo’s on Friday nights, blow off the workweek steam.”
“Would you object if I speak to him?”
“No, and neither would he. He and Donna have been friends a long time. He’s scared for her, and I’ll admit I am, too. She’s not one to go off like this. She’s a responsible woman with a daughter she loves, a job she loves. She’s got friends. And let’s cut through this, Agent Carson. She sure as hell didn’t go willing out of that lot, without her car, keys on the ground, when she’d planned this get-together with her sister and her cousin for months now. All she could talk about was her trip, how they were getting hot-stone massages.”
“I don’t disagree, and I realize it seems as though I’m asking to cover ground you’ve already covered, and ground you know better than I ever could. Sometimes an outside perspective, a fresh eye, sees something overlooked.”