Chapter 18
Wednesday afternoon
JP pushed open the door to Sabre’s office building and greeted Elaine, the receptionist. She was on the phone, but she nodded for him to go ahead. Her door was open, so JP walked in without knocking.
Sabre was at her desk, files spread out, a water bottle at her fingertips. “You’re early,” she said.
“You’re still here.” JP stepped in and closed the door. “You didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Don’t start,” she said.
“Wasn’t going to,” he said. “What’ve you got?”
“Bay showed me something,” Sabre said. “She made it sound like it was important and that it should mean something to me.”
JP leaned against the desk. “What?”
“A mark on her wrist. It’s small, and at first, I thought it was a bruise, a scratch, or maybe a scar.”
“What did it look like?”
Sabre reached for a legal pad, then drew an image slowly, like she didn’t want to get it wrong.
“One straight vertical line,” she explained as she sketched. “Then a hook at the bottom, off to one side.” She lifted her pen and moved slightly higher on the line. “And another hook here, going the opposite direction.”
She slid the pad toward him, and JP looked at it. “Is it a tattoo?”
“Not a professional one,” Sabre said. “It was too rough and crude.”
“Did she tell you what it meant?”
“That she belonged to him, but she wouldn’t disclose who the man is. And she claimed I had seen it before.”
“Have you?”
“Not that I recall.”
“Did you push her?”
“No. Because she shuts down when I do. Then she closes up completely.”
JP pulled a chair over and sat, turning the pad so the symbol faced him straight on. He still didn’t recognize it.
“I’ve gone through Hannah Caldwell’s file several times,” JP said. “I know we’re missing something. She was five years old, disappeared after school, never found, and no body.”
“She was presumed dead,” Sabre added. “The case collapsed onto Victor Hayes, the live-in boyfriend.”
“He was the last adult who was supposed to be responsible for her. And the only one who couldn’t keep his story straight,” JP said. “But the child seemed to disappear into thin air. How did he have time to dispose of her body and get back to the house and fall asleep?”
“It never quite added up to me either, but it was enough to convict him.”
JP picked up the file, flipping through it with practiced speed. “His timeline’s a mess,” he said. “Three versions of where he was.”
“He admitted he lied,” Sabre said. “And finally fessed up to being at a bar.”
JP huffed. “Nothing sinks a man faster than changing his story. Truth might be complicated but lies are what juries remember.”
“Yes,” Sabre said.
“Was there any physical evidence?”
“None that tied him directly,” Sabre said. “But no one else fit better.”
JP stood. “I’ll go talk to Hayes in Donovan.”
“He’s had years to get his story straight.”
“They all do,” JP said.
She shook her head. “If Hayes didn’t do it, then we’ve been looking in the wrong direction for a long time. I’ll call and set it up for you.”
~~~
Donovan State Prison hadn’t changed in years, until recently when it was rebuilt after the earthquake that nearly killed his brother, Gene.
But the only significant change was that the concrete looked newer.
It was the kind of place that didn’t care if you were guilty or not, it only cared that you were there.
JP gave his name, signed in, and waited until they brought Hayes out in his prison blues, heavier and more muscular than his booking photo, older than his years. His eyes moved first quickly, assessing, then settled on JP.
“You ain’t my lawyer,” Hayes said as he sat.
“No,” JP replied. “My name’s Torn. I’m a private investigator. I’m looking into some things regarding your case.”
Hayes looked skeptical. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
JP just watched him. People showed themselves if you gave them enough quiet.
Hayes shifted. “What do you want?”
JP slid a copy of Hannah’s school picture across the table. She was smiling like the world hadn’t made up its mind about her yet.
Hayes’ jaw tightened.
“Do you remember her?” JP asked.
“I remember every day.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
Hayes finally looked up. “I didn’t take her.”
“Walk me through it.”
Hayes rubbed his hands together, slow, like he’d done it a thousand times before. “I was supposed to be home,” he said. “She got out of school at three and usually walked with those neighbor kids. I knew the routine.”
JP waited.
“I stopped for a drink,” Hayes continued. “Just one. That’s what I told myself. Then it wasn’t one anymore.” He gave a humorless laugh. “I lost track of time.”
JP said nothing.
“When I got home, she wasn’t there. I figured she was late or with the neighbors. I waited.” He swallowed. “Then I called her mom.”
“And when the police asked where you were?”
“I lied,” Hayes admitted. “I told them I was home. I thought it sounded better than ‘I was sitting at a bar while a five-year-old walked home alone.’ Besides, I wasn’t even supposed to be there, according to Social Services.”
JP leaned forward. “And then?”
“They found out,” Hayes said. “Or I told them. I don’t even remember which came first anymore. But once I told the truth, it didn’t matter what I said after that.”
“No,” JP said quietly. “It usually doesn’t.”
Hayes looked back down at the photo. “I loved that kid like she was mine. I wasn’t her father, but I was there every day at breakfast, school stuff, cartoons at night. I knew her favorite cereal. I knew she hated brushing her hair.” His voice tightened. “I knew all of it.”
JP watched him closely.
“I was a lousy boyfriend,” Hayes went on. “Her mom deserved better. And yeah, it turns out I was a lousy stepdad too.” He looked up again. “But I swear I didn’t hurt her.”
JP just nodded.
“I didn’t take her,” Hayes said again, firmer this time. “I made a mistake. A big one. But I didn’t deserve this.”
There it was, different men but the same story. I didn’t do it. I made mistakes. But not that mistake. JP had heard it more times than he could count. Sometimes it was true. Most times it wasn’t.
“Did Hannah ever mention anyone? Anyone who paid attention to her? Watched her?”
Hayes frowned. “No. Why would she?”
“Anyone at the school, or on her walks home? Maybe someone who didn’t belong?”
Hayes shook his head. “No. Nothing like that.”
JP held up the paper with the symbol Sabre had drawn. “Have you ever seen this?”
Hayes’ brow furrowed. “No.”
JP watched for hesitation. There wasn’t any.
~~~
JP stepped back into the daylight, pulling his hat down lower as he walked to his truck. Hayes’ story wasn’t clean, but it could be the truth. Yet, JP didn’t think so.
He rested his hand on the door handle, thinking it through. A man lied because he was guilty. Or scared. Sometimes a man lied because the truth would make him look worse than the lie. Which one was Hayes? JP didn’t know.
He got into the truck, started the engine, and pulled out. As he drove, one thought stayed with him. If Hayes hadn’t taken her, then someone else had. And whoever that was had never been caught.