Chapter 5 #2
"Pierce Landry. I'm investigating the Rebecca Hale case for a podcast series. Mind if I buy you a drink and ask a few questions?"
The bartender, a heavy-set woman with graying hair and tired eyes, looked between them with the kind of wariness that suggested she'd seen this conversation go badly before. Pierce nodded toward her and gestured for two beers, establishing his bona fides as someone willing to pay for information.
"I heard someone was asking around," Keith said after Pierce had settled onto the adjacent barstool. "Figured it was only a matter of time before someone got around to me."
"Why's that?"
Keith's laugh held no humor. "Because every time something bad happens in this town, I'm one of the first people they look at. Troubled past, history with the victim, convenient target for when the cops need someone to blame."
Pierce noted the defensive posture, the way Keith's hand tightened around his beer bottle, the quick glances toward the exit that suggested someone always ready to run. "Tell me about your relationship with Rebecca."
"Wasn't a relationship. Not the way people like to imply." Keith said. "She was my teacher, then later she tried to help me when I was having problems. End of story."
"But you stayed in touch after you graduated?"
"Sometimes. She'd check in, see how I was doing, offer advice about jobs or whatever. Rebecca was like that with a lot of former students. Made her feel good about herself, I guess."
Pierce caught the edge of resentment in Keith's voice, the suggestion that Rebecca's kindness had been motivated by something other than genuine concern. "Sounds like you didn't appreciate her attention."
"I appreciated it fine when I needed it. But there comes a point when a guy has to stand on his own, you know? Can't have your high school teacher calling to check up on you forever."
"So you asked her to stop?"
Keith was quiet for a moment, staring into his beer like it might contain answers to questions he didn't want to ask.
"Not exactly. More like I tried to distance myself, but Rebecca didn't take hints very well.
She kept calling, kept showing up places where she knew I'd be.
Started to feel like she was the one who couldn't let go. "
This was new information, a reversal of the narrative that Tom Dillard had suggested. Pierce leaned forward slightly, careful not to seem too eager. "Can you give me an example?"
"She'd show up at my job sites sometimes, bringing lunch or just wanting to talk. Nice gesture, right? Except my boss started making comments about my 'girlfriend' coming around, and other workers started giving me shit about robbing the cradle even though she was older than me."
"How did that make you feel?"
"Embarrassed. Frustrated. Like I couldn't get away from being treated like a kid who needed adult supervision." Keith finished his beer and gestured for another. "And before you ask, no, I never threatened her or told her to stay away. I just started avoiding places where I knew she might show up."
Pierce filed away the defensive denial of threats, noting that Keith had anticipated the question before it was asked. "What about her weekend art classes? Did you ever attend those?"
"A few times, after I graduated. Figured it might be good for me, you know? Creative outlet, stress relief, that kind of thing. But there was this other guy there who made it weird."
"Travis Rudd?"
Keith's expression darkened. "Yeah. Creepy bastard. Always hanging around after class, asking Rebecca personal questions, finding excuses to touch her when he was looking at her work. Made everyone uncomfortable, but Rebecca was too nice to tell him to back off."
"Did you ever confront Travis about his behavior?"
"Didn't have to. Guy stopped coming to classes after a few weeks. Heard later that Rebecca had finally said something to him about maintaining appropriate boundaries."
Pierce made notes, trying to piece together the dynamics between those who'd orbited around Rebecca in ways that might have created tension or jealousy. "When was the last time you saw Rebecca alive?"
"Week before she died, maybe? Ran into her at the grocery store. She seemed... I don't know, distracted. Stressed about something. We didn't talk long."
"Did she mention what was bothering her?"
"Not specifically. Just said she had some things to work out, some decisions to make. Figured it was job stuff or maybe problems with Jacob. Teenagers can be difficult."
Pierce sensed there was more to the story. "Keith, I have to ask, where were you the night Rebecca and Jacob were killed?"
Keith's jaw tightened, and Pierce could see him weighing his options—cooperation or confrontation, truth or deflection.
"Home. Alone. Watching TV and drinking beer, same as most Saturday nights." Keith's voice was steady, but Pierce caught the slight tension that suggested this answer had been rehearsed. "Not much of an alibi, but it's the truth."
"Anyone who can verify that?"
"Nope. Like I said, I was alone. Didn't make any phone calls, didn't have visitors, didn't order pizza. Just me and a case of beer and whatever crap was on TV that night."
Pierce noted the level of detail—too much specificity could indicate a prepared lie, but it could also indicate someone who'd been asked the same questions multiple times by police investigators. "Did the police interview you about Rebecca's death?"
"Multiple times. Brought me in for questioning twice, asked for a DNA sample, had me take a polygraph test," Keith said. "Passed everything, by the way. Not that it stopped people from looking at me sideways."
"Any idea who might have wanted to hurt Rebecca?"
Keith was quiet for a long moment, his expression shifting between calculation and something that might have been fear.
"Rebecca was involved with some people she probably shouldn't have been.
Married men, men with reputations to protect.
Small town like this, that kind of thing can get complicated fast."
"Anyone specific?"
"I heard rumors, but rumors don't mean much unless you can prove them. And proving things about powerful people in a place like High Peaks can be dangerous for your health."
Pierce felt his pulse quicken. This was the kind of information that could break a case wide open, but it was also the kind of information that could make enemies. "What kind of rumors?"
Keith glanced around the bar, noting who was within earshot and how closely they might be paying attention. The paranoid gesture suggested someone who'd learned to be careful about what he said and where he said it.
"Cop," Keith said quietly. "Local guy, married, kids. Had a thing with Rebecca that was supposed to be secret but wasn't as secret as they thought."
"You know his name?"
"I know his name. Question is whether you're smart enough not to print it without proof." Keith finished his second beer and stood up, tossing a few bills on the bar. "Be careful who you ask questions about, Mr. Landry. Not everyone in this town appreciates outsiders stirring up old business."
"Keith, wait." Pierce stood as well, sensing that the interview was ending before he'd gotten everything he needed. "If you think of anything else, anything that might help figure out what really happened that night—"
"I'll think about it." Keith was already moving toward the door, his posture revealing someone eager to escape an uncomfortable situation. "But you might want to ask yourself why a case this straightforward has stayed unsolved for ten years. Usually means someone with power wants it that way."
Pierce watched Keith leave, noting the way other patrons tracked his movement without seeming to pay attention. Small-town dynamics were always complicated, but there was something about the atmosphere in Murphy's Tavern that suggested more than casual interest in their conversation.
He finished his beer and left a generous tip, acutely aware that his presence in the bar would be common knowledge within hours.
In a community where everyone knew everyone else's business, a stranger asking questions about old murders was the kind of news that traveled fast and drew attention from people who might not appreciate the scrutiny.
As Pierce walked back to his van, he couldn't shake the feeling that Keith Dwyer was hiding something important—not necessarily guilt, but knowledge that could be dangerous for anyone who possessed it.
The reference to a cop having an affair with Rebecca was exactly the kind of lead that could explain why the investigation had stalled, but it was also the kind of accusation that required careful verification before it could be reported.
Pierce made a mental note to research the local officers who would have been active ten years ago, cross-referencing their personal lives with the timeline of Rebecca's death.
If Keith was right about Rebecca being involved with a married police officer, that relationship could provide motive for murder and explanation for the subsequent cover-up.
But first, he needed to confirm Keith's story with other sources and determine whether the troubled former student was pointing him toward the truth or deliberately misdirecting the investigation for reasons of his own.