Page 24 of Beneath The Truth
I still had no answer when I left the restaurant and headed out to deal with the less pleasant part ofmyday.
The image of Ari’s wide gray eyes and sleek curtain of red hair stayed firmly fixed in my mind as I pointed my Jeep in the direction of my parents’ house, hoping I could get a better look at the scene in thedaylight.
When I arrived, I found the street had been cleared of debris, but crime scene tape still wrapped around the lot that used to hold my childhood home.Three black-and-whites were parked along the curb, and members of the crime-scene unit were crawling all over the rubble.I ducked under the tape, but a uniformed officer I didn’t recognize stopped me before I made itsixfeet.
“Sorry, sir.You can’tbehere.”
“This is my parents’ house.I’m not goinganywhere.”
Knowledge flashed across his face.I might not have known who he was, but he sure as hellknewme.
“Mr.Hennessy, you need tostepback.”
Mr.Hennessy.It sounded so foreign even now.I’d been Detective Hennessy for enough years that it was strange to be addressed asanythingelse.
Arguing with him wouldn’t gain me any ground.I didn’t have a badge, and the law wasn’t on my side, so I tried adifferenttack.
“How long before you clear the scene?I need to start figuring out cleanup and disposal.”I had no idea if my parents’ insurance would cover it or if I’d be looking at massive debts to split with my brothers, but it needed tobedone.
“I couldn’t say, sir.The department will let you know as soon as you’re able to have access.In the meantime, I would suggest that you leave this to theprofessionals.”
The last part was a dig, and it burned just the way he’dintended.
“Thanks for nothing.”I turned away from the uniformed punk, wondering if I’d ever been that big of a prick.Probably.
Instead of giving him the satisfaction of watching me get in my car and drive away, I headed to the house across the street.I might not have a badge anymore, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t canvass the neighborhood for information.Eyewitness statements might be notoriously unreliable, but skipping out on taking them wasn’t an option.Occasionally there was a single nugget of information that could change the trajectory of an entireinvestigation.
“Oh my goodness, Rhett Hennessy, is that really you?”Mrs.Thurman greeted me at the door with a warm smile.“It’s been an age since I’ve seen you around.Do you have any idea when all those police officers are going to let Minnie back into herhouse?”
Minnie Myers had lived on the other side of my folks for as long as I couldremember.
“I’m not sure, Mrs.Thurman.They wouldn’t give me any informationeither.”
“I swear, there aren’t any good cops left anymore ...”She trailed off, probably because she assumed it was a sore subject with me.She wasright.
I also noticed she didn’t ask about the Sampsons, and I knew why.About ten years ago, Mr.Sampson decided to have a neighborhood party and didn’t invite Mrs.Thurman.The grudge had lasted an entire decade with no signs of fading.Her dedication to it made me smile to myself.It was good to know some things in the old neighborhood hadn’tchanged.
“They’ve been going through that pile of brick piece by piece.I’ve been watching them for days, and I can’t see that they’ve found a single useful thing.Sure, they’ve put stuff in baggies like it meant something, but it looks like a whole lot of nothing.No one lit up and jumped around like they’d found the answer they’relookingfor.”
And that was why I started with Mrs.Thurman.She was the stereotypical nosy neighbor with nothing but time on her hands to people-watch from her window.It drove my mom nuts, but I hoped it would turn out to be my savinggrace.
“Have the police been by to talktoyou?”
She harrumphed.“They sent a wet-behind-the-ears kid in a uniform who wasn’t even old enough to be my grandson.He didn’t even ask me about my day before he started in on the questions.Beyondrude.”
“So you didn’t have anything totellhim?”
She smiled, looking awfully proud of herself.“I had plenty I could’ve told him, but I decided I’d wait until they sent someone who would treat me with a littlerespect.”
And that’s when things gotinteresting.
Apparently, for months now my dad had been heading out within minutes of my mom leaving the house every day.Mrs.Thurman didn’t want to speculate on what he was doing, but she said he was constantly looking around like he suspected he was being watched.When she’d tried to confront him about it, he’d blown her off, so she’d decided to keep it to herself but hadn’t stopped watching.My folks had also had several unusual repair people, or so she assumed, because an unmarked white van had been parked on the street in front of the house a few times over the last couple ofweeks.
I took down notes in my phone, wishing I could ask my dad what the hell had been going on.If I knew my father, which I’d been questioning for a while, he wouldn’t have involved my mother in anything, so asking her would be adeadend.
After I ate the stale cookies Mrs.Thurman offered and drank her lukewarm coffee, I left with more questions thananswers.
What the hell were youdoing,Dad?
