S Is for Silence

taking me himself.”
    “Were you there the whole time?”
    “I don’t remember for a fact, but I can’t think why not.”
    “Here’s why I ask. I managed to track down the woman who lived next door to the Sullivans back then. Anna Ericksen. Do you remember her? She was five at the time.”
    “Vaguely.”
    “We just had a chat, and according to her recollection, she and her mother ran into you at the park. She says your dad asked if her mother could look after you because he had something to take care of, so you ended up spending the night at her house.”
    “Nah, don’t think so. It doesn’t ring a bell. Are you sure she doesn’t have me confused with somebody else?”
    “Do you remember bouncing on the bed? She says you bumped into her and she fell and broke her arm.”
    Tannie let out a startled laugh. “That was her ? Oh my god, I remember the little girl, but I’d forgotten her name. Was that the same Fourth of July? Shit, she had bone sticking through her skin. It was sickening.”
    “You have any idea where your father went that night?”
    “Probably the hospital to see Mom. He was there most nights. What’s this about?”
    “I’m not sure. It’s really just a gap I was hoping to fill in.”
    “I can ask the next time I talk to him and see what he says.”
    “Why don’t you hold off and I can talk to him myself. I’m driving up again Monday, probably early afternoon.”
    “You’re still working for Daisy? I thought you’d be done.”
    “This is what you call mop-up. She paid me in advance and I owe her a day.”
    After we hung up, I realized I should have downplayed the subject even more than I had. I didn’t want Jake to know I was pursuing the point. If Tannie mentioned it and he needed to cover his tracks, he’d have time to fabricate an excuse. Maybe he had left Tannie in Mrs. Ericksen’s care so he could visit Mary Hairl. The only time we’d talked, he hadn’t said anything about that. In fact, he’d spoken in such detail about Foley’s behavior at the park that I’d assumed he’d been there. Not to brag, but I myself am really quite skilled at lying and I can tell you how it’s done. Like a magic trick, you distract from the sleight-of-hand by focusing attention on the irrelevant.
    I took a moment to call Cheney Phillips and we chatted for a while. I asked about the conference and then filled him in on my discovery. He offered to meet me at Rosie’s so he could buy me a drink, but I was feeling reclusive and thought I better level with him. “Nothing personal, but all I want to do is sleep in my own bed and not talk to a soul. The past four days I haven’t had a minute to myself and it’s driving me nuts.”
    “Got it. Sounds like you’re in the thick of things, which I can understand. Call when you come up for air, and we’ll have dinner.”
    “Perfect.”
    “Hey, Kinsey? You be careful with yourself. Whoever this guy is, he’s gotten away with murder now for thirty-four years. He’s not going to let you march in and blow it for him.”
    “All I’m doing is a records search and after that, my job’s done. Trust me. I’m leaving any rough stuff to the sheriff’s department. That’s their bailiwick.”
    After we hung up, I sat and thought about what he’d said. I knew he was right. I’d already had my tires slashed and that was before the car was unearthed and the bodies had been found. I unlocked the cabinet where I’d been keeping my handguns. I owned three. My favorite, a little .32-caliber semiautomatic my aunt Gin had given me as a kid, had been vaporized in an explosion that was meant to kill me. The next gun I acquired was a .32-caliber Davis that I bought because I liked the looks, thus opening myself to scorn and derision from all the gun nuts who considered it inferior. In deference to them, I bought an H&K P7 and an H&K P13, both serious weapons. The P13 was really more gun than I could comfortably handle, so I put it back in the cabinet with the Davis. I took out the box of Winchester Silvertips, loaded the P7, and put it in my shoulder bag.
    I was now technically prepared, but far from feeling reassured, I was just flat scared.

    I spent Sunday morning typing up my notes. After lunch I drove over to the office and sorted through the mail that was piled on the floor. The mailman had stuck so many envelopes through the slot that they’d spread out across the carpet like a welcome mat. I sorted through the bills and then had no choice