Chapter 14
“Ms. Hanover?”
Marta Hanover was busy restocking the produce in her general store when Sarah and Conner approached. Sarah had decided that his presence might actually gain her more cooperation than if she showed up on her own. The tactic had worked reasonably well with Jerald Pope.
Folks in small towns didn’t take too well to strangers. She had learned that the hard way.
“Kale, morning. How’s Mr. C?”
“He’s hanging in there. Thank you for asking.”
Marta Hanover wiped her hands on her apron, arrowed a brief glance at Sarah. “You let your mama know that I’m bringing some special goodies by this evening.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that.” Conner gestured to Sarah. “This is Sarah Newton. She’s here to look into Valerie’s murder and Alicia’s disappearance.”
Judging by the pained expression on his face, Sarah estimated that he wasn’t anticipating a favorable reaction from the seemingly pleasant lady.
As Ms. Hanover’s scrutiny swung to Sarah, she jumped in with both feet.
“I sincerely appreciate your time, Ms. Hanover.” Sarah thrust her hand in the woman’s direction.
“I’m here to help.” Marta accepted the offered hand and gave it a rather limp shake.
“I have ten years’ experience working cases very much like this. ”
The older lady’s eyes tapered with suspicion. “You’re the one from that magazine.”
“Yes.” Sarah nodded. “Truth Magazine is an investigative journal. We work particularly hard to find answers in tragic cases like this one.”
Marta’s hands settled on her hips. Not a good sign. “The problem here is simple,” she said frankly. “That Enfinger fellow has barged in with his big plans and walked all over our history. Mark my word, things won’t be right until he’s gone for good.”
“That may certainly be the case,” Sarah placated. “I was hoping you might be able to help me confirm some of the facts.”
The pleasant-looking, loose-tongued lady had been quoted in several newspapers. That was why her name was at the top of Sarah’s interview list. The woman loved to talk.
Marta glanced around the store. A gentleman, probably her husband, was at the counter running the register. A couple of stock boys were filling the shelves. Five, maybe six customers milled about. No one appeared to be paying attention to the quiet conversation going on in produce.
“Let’s go in the back,” Marta said with another quick assessment of the man behind the counter.
“Of course.” Sarah followed the lady through the double doors marked Employees Only. Conner was right behind her.
Marta went over to a large commercial sink and washed her hands. She pulled off a couple of paper towels and leaned against the counter. “Valerie Gerard was a good girl,” she began. “I’m sure Kale told you that.”
Sarah nodded to keep her talking. She had reviewed the history on the girl, as well as her social media pages. She appeared to have been a sweet girl. Not the typical rebellious teenager.
“Her family’s just devastated. She was their only child, and they’d poured everything they had into that girl. They had high hopes for her future. There was talk of Harvard.”
As any good parent would. Not that Sarah would know.
“She worked here during Christmas vacation,” Marta offered. “She was a hard worker and always kind to our customers. We didn’t have one complaint. She was never late and never missed a single day.”
“She sounds like the ideal teenager,” Sarah commented. She had this part already. What she wanted to learn was the flip side. Everybody had one. “Did she have a boyfriend?”
Marta moved her head from side to side. “She was too focused on her studies to be fooling with boys. She didn’t even date as far as I know.”
“That’s right,” Conner cut in. “She went to her senior prom single.” He said to Sarah, “Her friends have confirmed there was no boyfriend, then or now.”
“What about her friends?” Sarah looked from Conner to Ms. Hanover. “Did she have a lot of friends?”
“Not that many.” Marta pursed her lips a moment. “All you had to do was look at the Youngstown Sun to know that Valerie Gerard didn’t bother much with a social life. She was always involved in activities that would further her education or that supported the community.”
“How would you compare Valerie to Alicia, the girl who’s missing?”
Marta tossed the wadded-up paper towel into the closest trash receptacle. “No comparison.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Alicia has herself lots and lots of boyfriends. Parties. Big social life.” Marta threw up her hands. “Not that I’m talking bad about the girl. She’s a pretty good kid. Just a little wild. But no one”—her gaze locked with Sarah’s—“deserves this.”
“You’re so right. I certainly hope I can help find her.” Before it’s too late.
“Alicia’s always in the paper, too,” Marta went on. “She’s won all kinds of beauty pageants, and her grandparents have her in every kind of dance and theater activity around here. They take her to New York shopping about once a month. They’ve spoiled that child. Maybe a little too much.”
“Do you know the name of Alicia’s most recent boyfriend?”
“Brady Harvey,” Conner interjected. “His family owns the inn where you’re staying.”
Sarah hadn’t met the innkeeper’s family. She’d have to make it a point to do that. Brady definitely went on her list.
“Thank you, Ms. Hanover.” Sarah reached into the front pocket of her shoulder bag for a business card. “I hope you’ll call me if you think of anything you believe might be useful.”
Marta took the card, considered it, then set her attention on Sarah. “It’s the curse.”
Sarah started to let it go, but something in the woman’s eyes made her rethink that strategy. There was something more there than idle speculation. “Why do you say that?”
“I saw the roses.”
Conner and Sarah exchanged a look. “What roses?” he asked.
“The red ones. A big bouquet. Sandra Gerard got them the day before they found her girl’s body.”
Sarah noticed the new tension in Conner’s posture. This was something he didn’t know. “Who were they from?” Sarah inquired before he could.
“The card was unsigned. Just said, ‘Deepest regrets.’” Marta shrugged. “When I took that fruit basket to Sandra, I asked her about them. I didn’t say nothing, of course. I didn’t want to upset her.”
“Did you speak to Chief Willard about this?” Conner was visibly agitated now.
Sarah was mildly intrigued.
Marta frowned as she shook her head. “I didn’t really think about it.
I figured the chief would remember same as I did.
You’re too young,” she said to Conner. “But the day before those two missing girls were found twenty years ago, each family received a big old bouquet of red roses. They never did know who sent them. Could’ve been anybody, I guess. ”
“No one thought the flowers were relevant?” Sarah asked.
“I guess I can see why they wouldn’t,” Marta explained. “When there’s an illness or death or something like that, most folks take something to the family. It’s the community’s way of helping. I just thought it was an odd coincidence.”
Sarah scarcely took the time to thank the lady before walking quickly to the parking lot.
“Take me to the Gerards’ home.” He wouldn’t like her request. If she hadn’t let him talk her into riding along in his vehicle, she could just go.
She wanted to see those flowers. To touch them. Her instincts were humming.
“That’s probably not a good idea.” He paused on the sidewalk. “The family’s been through enough. They’ve—”
Frustration lashed through her. “Their daughter is dead. What the hell do you people expect? To just close the book and forget the last chapter? There should be more questions!” She was pissed now. “The questions shouldn’t stop until we have all the answers.”
For five seconds he stared at her.
She was the first to blink. Damn. That almost never happened.
“Fine. We’ll go over there.” He stepped off the curb.
“But it’s a waste of time. Like I was trying to tell you, Valerie’s parents have gone to Florida for a couple of months to stay with friends.
” He looked at Sarah across the top of the car.
“You’re right, the investigation has to continue, they just couldn’t be a part of it anymore. ”
“If they’re not home, what does it matter if I snoop around? They’ll never know.” These people had to get past the whole “Let’s not inconvenience anyone” or “hurt anybody’s feelings.” A girl was dead! What did it take to wake them up?
“You wouldn’t understand.” He shook his head. “There’s this thing called respect—”
“That doesn’t make sense.” How was trying to find their daughter’s killer being disrespectful?
“Just get in the Jeep, Newton.”
Sarah kept her mouth shut during the drive along Main.
He turned onto Central Street and she mentally braced.
Going to the victim’s home was one of the worst parts.
Seeing things the way they used to be and knowing it would never be that way again.
Looking into the eyes of those left behind . . . but there was nobody home here.
That felt wrong. Maybe she just couldn’t understand the reaction. Bury your child and then take off the very next day?
But then, she was definitely no expert on the interactions between parents and their children.
Conner parked at the curb in front of 1118 Central. It wouldn’t have mattered whether or not Sarah knew the address already. The evidence of loss was all over the place. Hundreds of bouquets. Cards and stuffed animals. Candles. The front of the house and the porch were lined with gifts.
“I don’t know about you,” Conner said, “but I would find it difficult to come home to this.”
They emerged from the Jeep simultaneously. Sarah couldn’t take her eyes off the house. The rest of the neighborhood didn’t matter. The feeling of emptiness, despite the visible outpouring of gifts, was overpowering.
Maybe he had a point.
Sarah climbed the steps. She didn’t knock or ring the bell, she tried the door. Locked.
“That would be trespassing,” Conner warned.