Chapter 22
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Ravenswood, Illinois
The drive from the hotel to Ravenswood took forty minutes through flat farmland. Drake was behind the wheel, which left Flint’s attention free to wander.
Bare cornfields stretched endlessly to the horizon under a pewter sky heavy with unspilled snow.
Skeletal trees lined the rural roads like sentries, branches black in the pale morning light.
The SUV’s tires hummed on asphalt still slick from overnight frost, and the heater worked steadily to combat the cold that seeped through the windows.
Drake kept checking his mirrors for surveillance. His gaze scanned the empty road behind them. The desolate landscape offered nowhere to hide, which worked both ways.
“No signs of pursuit yet,” Flint said.
“Yeah, refreshingly boring,” Drake replied with a smirk. “Only the occasional farm truck or sedan to break the monotony.”
Flint set the navigation from the passenger seat. The GPS cast blue light across the cabin.
Drake said, “Patel’s convenience store is three blocks ahead on the right.”
The parking lot’s cracked asphalt held two cars and a pickup truck with rusted wheel wells. Metal surfaces beaded with moisture from the humid morning air.
“Same place you interviewed him yesterday,” Flint said as they pulled up to the curb, gravel crunching under the SUV’s tires.
“Yeah. Nice guy. Remembers Lizzy well.” Drake shut the engine down and unbuckled his seat belt. “I told him we were working for her children, trying to piece together their early childhood.”
Flint nodded. “Let’s keep the focus on Lizzy. We don’t want the Fisher connection made public.”
“Copy that,” Drake agreed.
The brass bell above the door released a sharp chime that echoed off metal shelving packed with quick-grab items. The interior felt cramped and worn, with narrow aisles between displays. The aroma from a fresh pot of coffee reached Flint’s nose, overshadowing the smell of less pleasing products.
Ahmad Patel looked up from behind the register. Recognition dawned across his weathered face like sunrise when he saw Drake. Wrinkles mapped his forehead and radiated from tired brown eyes behind thick glasses that had been repaired with tape at the bridge.
“You came back. Didn’t find everything you wanted yesterday?” Patel’s slight accent reflected English as a second language. His comfortable cardigan was charcoal gray and worn around the elbows and cuffs. Newspapers lay folded beside the register, headlines barely visible in the dim light.
“Getting there,” Drake replied. “This is my colleague, Michael Flint. We’re hoping you might remember more details about Lisa’s time here, now that you’ve had a chance to refresh your memory overnight.”
“If I can help Lisa’s kids, I definitely want to do that.
Be nice to see them again after all these years, too.
” Patel studied Flint’s face with the careful attention of a man who’d spent decades reading customers, evaluating their intentions and creditworthiness with a glance.
His fingers drummed silently against the scratched laminate counter, a nervous habit.
Flint approached the counter with his wallet out. The store felt smaller than it looked from outside. Inventory stacked to the ceiling seemed to compress the space. Behind Patel, cigarette cartons formed a wall of colorful packages.
“Lisa’s children deserve to know the truth about their mother,” Flint said in a friendly way as he put a five-dollar bill on the counter. “We’ll take two coffees.”
“She was a good person,” Patel replied as he slipped the bill into the register. “Worked hard. Loved those kids.”
“We’re hoping to learn more about her personal life. Maybe talk to a few more people,” Flint said as he stepped toward the coffee station. He poured two cups and handed one to Drake. “Did she have friends? People she spent time with outside of work?”
Patel removed his thick glasses. He cleaned them slowly with a small cloth he kept beside the register as if the repetitive motion helped him organize his thoughts. When he replaced the glasses, adjusting them carefully on the bridge of his nose, his expression had softened.
“Lisa kept to herself mostly. Worked here six days a week. Picked up the kids from daycare. Went home.” He gestured toward the large window that faced Main Street, where pedestrians hurried past, bundling themselves in heavy coats against the morning chill.
“She was young. Pretty girl. Dark eyes and long hair, usually pulled back out of her face. But she never seemed interested when men tried to talk to her.”
“No boyfriend?” Drake asked, as if they were talking about mutual friends.
Patel cocked his head and seemed to think about the question. “Not for the first year or so. She’d turn down anyone who asked her out. Polite but firm. Like she had her walls up.”
“How about later, once she’d settled into her new life here?” Flint asked.
Patel’s expression shifted and his eyes seemed to focus on some distant memory. “Yeah, I think so. Maybe around Christmas time, a few months before she died, a man started coming around.”
Flint’s pulse quickened. “What do you remember about him?”
“Nice looking young man. Around Lizzy’s age.
Maybe a year or two older. Dark hair, needed a haircut.
Broad shoulders, like he did physical work.
” Patel gestured vaguely with hands marked by decades of labor.
“He’d come in to buy small things. Soda from the cooler.
Candy bars. Always friendly to Lisa. Respectful. Not pushy like some of the others.”
“Were they dating?” Flint asked.
“Eventually, yes, I think so. I saw them walking together a few times. He’d stop by to pick her up after her shift sometimes.
” Patel paused, watching a car crawl past the window through the morning gloom.
“Lisa seemed happier once he came on the scene. Less anxious. She’d actually smile when customers made small talk, instead of just being polite. ”
“Lisa’s kids would love to know that she was happy.” Drake leaned his hip against the scarred counter. “How so?”
“She smiled more. Started humming while she worked. The kids seemed to like him too.” Patel pointed through the window toward a small park across the street, where bare swing sets and a playground sat empty in the winter cold.
“I’d see them together over there sometimes.
He’d push the little girl on the swings.
Played catch with the boys using a tennis ball he kept in his truck. ”
“Do you remember his name?”
Patel shook his head. “She never introduced us. Just called him her friend when I asked.”
A mysterious boyfriend who appeared three months before Lizzy’s death. A man the children trusted. Who made Lizzy feel safer. Could be a fruitful lead.
“Did you ever see them after Christmas?” Flint asked.
“Oh yes. He was around quite a bit in January and February. I’d see his truck parked outside her apartment in the evenings on my way home sometimes.
” Patel lowered his gaze and cleared his throat, as if the memory made him sad.
“Then Lisa died, and I never saw him again. He was probably as devastated as everyone else.”
“He didn’t stick around to help with the kids after Lisa died?” Flint asked.
Patel shook his head slowly. “I don’t remember that he did.”
“You said the kids liked him,” Drake said. “How could you tell?”
“Children either trust someone or they don’t.” Patel smiled slightly. “Lisa’s kids would run to him the moment they spotted him coming down the street. The boys especially. They’d climb all over him like he was their father, hanging on his arms and shoulders.”
“Could he have been their father?” Flint asked.
“I don’t think so,” Patel replied. “Lisa never had anything positive to say about their father. She was terrified of him. So I’d say no. This guy was someone else.”
Flint exchanged glances with Drake. A man who had formed a relationship with Lizzy and the Fisher children during their final months in Ravenswood should have more intel, if they could find him.
“Mr. Patel,” Flint said as he drained the last of his coffee, “do you know anyone else who might remember this man? Neighbors? Other store owners?”
“The Klines might remember. They had children around the same age. Went to the same daycare back then. Sometimes the kids played together in the yard.”
Drake wrote down the name. “How can we contact them?”
Patel provided directions.
“Thank you Mr. Patel. If we find Lisa’s boyfriend, the kids will be pleased.” Flint put a ten-dollar bill on the counter this time. “You make great coffee. Can we get two large cups to go?”
“There’s one more thing about that young man.
He had some kind of scar on his left hand.
Small one, right here.” Patel rang up the coffee and gave Flint his change.
Then he pointed to the webbing between his thumb and index finger, the skin there pale against his darker complexion.
“Lisa mentioned the scar once after I asked how they met. Said he’d had some kind of accident with machinery when he was a teen. ”
An identifying mark that might help them confirm the man’s identity.
“Thank you, Mr. Patel.”
“You’ve been very helpful,” Drake said as they headed back to the SUV.