Chapter Twelve
Wade Residence
Franklin Street
Chance wasn’t really surprised about Rory’s attorney.
The agency had found his work on the case to be lacking.
Not falling to the level of inadequate from the law’s perspective but less than it should have been—absolutely less than he was capable of providing.
Had he done his best, the possibility that anything would have changed was largely unlikely.
There simply had not been any evidence to support Rory’s side of the story.
While the other side had her prints on the murder weapon—a fact she could not explain.
Her prints and the lack of story-confirming evidence had ensured the jury could only go one way—guilty.
Patterson’s failure had been in not doing more to sway that perception.
Tangible evidence wasn’t the only way to influence opinion.
Frankly, the man and his secretary had behaved a little on the suspicious side.
Perhaps it was guilt. Whatever it was, the story about Leonard Wade, the clerk, suddenly going on vacation out of the country at the same time Rory was to be released didn’t sit right with Chance.
Leonard had been the one to find the single piece of evidence that could win the appeal.
Why not be around for her release? Why not do interviews with the local media?
What future attorney didn’t want a little free publicity?
Didn’t make a lot of sense for a guy trying to build experience for when he graduated law school and went out on his own.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” Rory noted as she surveyed the yard and house.
There wasn’t a garage. The midcentury brick rancher had a carport, but there was no vehicle parked there. Rory was correct. The place did look deserted. Maybe Patterson had been telling the truth.
“Only one way to find out.” Chance reached for his door.
When they were standing on the driveway in front of his rental car, he took a moment to scan the block.
Some of the houses along this section of the street had vehicles parked in the driveways.
Farther down on the left, a lone dog barked, sending the occasional look in their direction.
Otherwise, the street was quiet. No traffic, but then, it was well away from the main thoroughfares.
Rory led the way to the front door. She knocked and waited. The lack of sound inside added to the probability that no one was home.
Confident he wouldn’t find anyone staring back at him, Chance went to the large window next to the door and had a look inside.
The room he could see beyond lay in shadows since no lights were turned on.
The only illumination came from the window where he stood.
Despite the low visibility, it was obvious the space was empty.
Not only of people but of anything. Furniture.
Photos. Books. There was nothing in the room but the hardwood floor staring back at him.
Rory had knocked again. Chance turned to her. “I think we might have a bigger problem.” He tilted his head toward the window. “Have a look.”
She held his gaze, the dread and reluctance in her eyes shining through as she joined him at the window. With her hands cupped around her eyes, she leaned forward and peered inside. Almost immediately she drew back.
“His stuff is all gone.” She shook her head.
“I came by here once to leave a document for him. I’ve been in that room.
There was a small sectional sofa. A television.
” Her head moved side to side again. “His grandmother left him this house.” She scanned the yard again.
“There’s no For Sale sign. But maybe he moved.
And… I…don’t know. Why would Patterson lie about where he was? ”
“The same reason he dropped the ball on your case, I suspect.” Chance stepped away from the porch and had a look first on one side of the house, then the other. “We could ask a neighbor or go around back and look through a few more windows.”
“Ask a neighbor,” she suggested. “I’m not too keen on the idea of getting myself arrested if some attentive neighbor calls the police.”
“Good point.” He jerked his head to the right. “Let’s try this one.”
They walked back to the sidewalk rather than cross the yards and made their way to the next house.
Rory had just knocked on the storm door when a vehicle passing on the street drew Chance’s attention.
It was the same truck from the park. Shane Carter’s truck.
This time the man didn’t wave. He looked away quickly and sped up.
“The Carter guy just drove past again.”
Rory followed his gaze and made a confused face. “Why would he be following us and then just driving by? If he has something to tell me, why not stop or call me?”
“Good question.”
Just then, the wood door behind the glass storm door opened. An elderly woman peered out at them. “If you’re selling something,” she grumbled, “you can just move along.”
Rory smiled brightly no matter that she had little to smile about. “Hi, I’m a friend of Leonard’s. I was hoping to catch him, but he doesn’t seem to be home.”
The woman frowned. “If you’re a friend of his, why don’t you know where he is?”
Chance bit back a grin. Savvy lady.
“I just got back in town,” Rory explained. “I’ve been gone for a while, and I wanted to surprise him.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, but then she appeared to relax. “Well, you won’t find him around here. He moved.”
“Really?” Rory shot Chance a look. “He’s not just on vacation or something?” she asked the neighbor.
“Nope.” She wagged her head side to side.
“Last weekend he had a free-for-all going on over there. People was backing up in the grass and loading stuff up. He gave away all his furniture. When the people stopped coming, I went out there and asked him what was going on. He said he was moving, and he didn’t want to take much of anything with him. ”
“Did he say where he was moving to?” Chance asked.
Her gaze narrowed again when she looked at Chance.
“He did not. Just said he was moving on.” She turned back to Rory.
“A friend of mine at church who knows his mother said he was moving for work, but he didn’t tell me that.
Whatever his reason for moving, his mother was packing up to go with him.
Seemed kind of odd to me. One Sunday she was talking about the cantata she hoped to sing at church, and the next Sunday she’s moving away. ”
“Thank you for telling me.” Rory offered a smile that went nowhere near her eyes and turned away from the door.
Chance followed. When they were back in his car, he rested his attention on her. “We should talk to Patterson again, but first I’d like to visit with Carter and find out why he feels compelled to check in on us.”
“I have his number,” Rory said. “I added it to my contact list.”
While she made the call, Chance considered that Carter might see him as some sort of threat to Rory.
Or maybe the man was aware of some other potential threat but wasn’t prepared to talk about it.
There was also the possibility that he had a thing for Rory and didn’t like another man getting in the way.
“He’s not answering.” Rory ended the call.
“Do you know where he lives?” Chance started the engine.
“Yes.” She scoffed. “Well, I know where he lived two years ago.”
As of now, Wade, Patterson and Shane Carter had claimed top spots on Chance’s persons of interest list. The rub appeared to be in finding the reasons behind their actions.
There was always a reason. Always.
Carter Residence
Old Larkinsville Road
Scottsboro, 4:45 p.m.
The mobile home where Shane Carter lived stood on a stretch of road flanked on one side by older homes, including Carter’s, and on the other by railroad tracks. Since his truck wasn’t in the driveway, it was safe to assume he wasn’t home. But they were here. Might as well check it out.
When they parked in his driveway, Chance sent a text to his colleague, Max Granger, at the agency to run a deeper dive on Shane Carter and Leonard Wade.
They’d already done so on Patterson. He was just a low-rent attorney with a fairly good case record.
But he was barreling toward retirement age.
Maybe his nest egg was lacking, and he’d decided his future was more important than Rory’s.
The steps up to the small, uncovered porch at Carter’s front door were a little rickety. Chance knocked on the door and listened for any sound coming from inside. Like Wade’s house, there was nothing but silence.
“We’re having no luck at all,” Rory mentioned, clearly frustrated. “Kind of like me during the trial.” She exhaled a big breath. “I had hoped that would change this time.”
Chance sent her a smile. “It has. You just haven’t seen the results yet.”
She managed a smile back at him. “You’re right. I need to be patient and not sound unappreciative of what you and the agency are doing.”
“I get it,” he assured her. “It’s difficult to have patience when the stakes are so high.”
Her cell phone rang. She jumped. “Good grief, I think that’s the first time my phone has rung since Austin gave it to me.”
She’d gotten text messages from her brother, but this was the first call Chance had heard. He hoped this wasn’t the kind of call that would have her doubting his assurance that her luck was changing.
Her face paled as she listened to the caller.
So much for the value of his pep talk.
When the call ended, she met his gaze, hers worried. “That was Detective Fowler. He’d like me to come in for an interview. Right now.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right there with you. This won’t go the way it did two years ago.”
His promise seemed to bolster her courage some as they returned to his car and headed back into town.
He wasn’t actually surprised by the call. Quite possibly it was a good thing. It was time he and Rory got some feel for where the other side was going with the investigation this second go-around.
Not that he had any doubts about their intentions. They wanted Rory right back in that prison whether she was guilty or not.
But Chance and the Colby Agency were standing squarely in the way.