Hiding Place (9781101606759) (14 page)

She needed to sit down.

Janet went back to the bench she had sat on with the man and let her body fall onto it. Her back thumped against the wood slats. At another time, it might have hurt, but Janet didn’t even notice the contact.

It couldn’t be, she told herself. It couldn’t be.

Michael was right. There was a body and a grave and a funeral.

Justin was gone.

So then why did this man come to Janet saying Justin’s death didn’t happen the way she thought it happened—the way everyone thought it happened? And why did he say he knew her but wouldn’t give his name?

Janet’s mouth felt dry. She needed water. But she couldn’t move. She sat on the bench, staring at the grass.

What did it all mean?

A hand touched her shoulder. Janet whipped her head around.

“Hon? Are you okay?”

It was Madeline. She looked down at Janet, a confused and concerned look on her face.

“What?” Janet asked.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did that man do something to you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want me to call campus security?”

“No,” Janet said. Her voice came out strong and harsh, like she was correcting a child. She moderated it when Madeline looked like she’d been slapped. “It’s okay. Thanks. I’m fine.”

Madeline sat down on the bench close to Janet.

“Hon, who was that man?” she asked.

“He was—he just wanted money.”

“He’s a beggar?”

“I guess,” Janet said.

“But you ran after him. You looked like you knew him.”

“I thought he needed help.”

Madeline didn’t look convinced. Her brow furrowed. “I saw things getting weird between the two of you, so I came out. I
heard you say something to him when he ran away. I heard your voice.”

“I told him to go away.”

“You said a name, Janet. You called him by a name.”

“I didn’t. I don’t know the man’s name.” Janet patted Madeline on the knee, a gesture of thanks. “He just freaked me out, but I’m fine. Let’s go back to work, okay?”

Stynes recognized the symmetry of it all. He’d started his day in East, easily the worst part of Dove Point. He headed west in the late afternoon to the neighborhood a few blocks outside of downtown where the oldest and nicest houses in Dove Point stood. Those homes didn’t change much, nor did the types of families who lived inside them. The names changed in some cases, and generations came and went. But by and large the occupants were still doctors and lawyers, prominent insurance agents and bankers. The homes rarely sold, and when they did, they went for a price that Stynes could only dream of spending.

He followed West High Street three blocks away from the circle and turned onto Washington. The home he sought sat on the corner, a large redbrick colonial complete with white columns and two even rows of windows—one upstairs and one downstairs—that bounced the late-afternoon sun back off themselves, making it impossible to see anything inside. Stynes took the three steps up the front walk, then another three across the porch. Someone liked to mow the grass and pull the weeds, and it looked like they did it with a ruler. Not one blade of grass appeared to be taller than another. Not one weed grew. The petunias and geraniums in the window boxes conceded nothing to the summer heat and dryness. They looked like they spent their days in a greenhouse.

Stynes rang the bell. Unannounced visits were touchy. They tended to make people feel like the police suspected them of something, leading to defensive behavior. It also meant they could hide out in an upstairs room and simply pretend they never heard the bell. But Stynes prided himself on his patience. He could come back if he had to.

He didn’t have to.

He didn’t even have to ring again. The door opened revealing Scott Ludwig, the object of Stynes’s quest. The middle-aged man wore a white summer suit and panama hat as though he were about to stroll the grounds and inspect the cotton crops. He used a cane for support on his left side and didn’t appear at all surprised or concerned to see Stynes on his porch. He squinted at Stynes and seemed to want to treat the visit of a police detective as a game.

“I know you, don’t I?” Ludwig said.

“We’ve met before.”

“Help me remember,” he said. “Give me a hint. The gallery walk? The hospital fund-raiser?”

“The police.”

Ludwig’s eyes opened wider, a look of exaggerated shock. “Oh, my,” he said. “You must have a badge then, hmm?”

Stynes reached into his coat pocket and showed Ludwig the badge. Ludwig barely looked at it, then stepped back.

“You may as well get out of that beastly heat,” he said. “Unless this is a brief visit.”

“I could stand to cool off,” Stynes said.

“Fine. I can’t stand for very long, so come in.”

Ludwig turned to the right, leading Stynes into a sitting room. It was painted white with bookshelves all around. The large windows let in a flood of light, and Ludwig pointed to a
chair that left Stynes squinting into the sun and Ludwig backlit against a window. Stynes perched on the edge of the chair while Ludwig sat, laying his cane at his feet.

Ludwig took a long time to adjust himself. He shifted his weight one way and then the other, grimacing every time he moved. The man looked thin, almost bony. His crisply ironed white shirt hung loose on his midsection. His skin was pale, with a touch of pink on the cheeks and nose. He didn’t remove the hat, even indoors, and Stynes noticed that no hairs stuck out from the sides. Not a single stray strand showed itself. His hair must have been as neatly combed into place as the lawn, or he didn’t have any left.

When the man was finally settled and most of the grimacing over, Stynes spoke.

“You don’t seem alarmed about a detective showing up at your door,” Stynes said. “Does this happen all the time?”

“What’s your name, Detective?” Ludwig asked.

“Stynes. Frank Stynes.”

Recognition crossed Ludwig’s face. He rolled his eyes theatrically. “Oh, that’s where I know you from. Oh, Lord. It has been a long time, but now I get it. I saw you in the paper this week talking about that awful story.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Stynes said.

Ludwig offered a forced smile. “No, Detective, it’s not typical for the police to show up at my door. I was trying to be polite by so readily inviting you in. What do you want to know, Detective?” he asked, his voice and demeanor weary. “I’d offer you something, by the way, but the help is gone, and since my mother died only a year ago, I’m not used to playing host.”

“I’m fine. So you read the paper and you see that there’s been some renewed interest in the Manning case.”

“You know, Detective,” Ludwig said, shifting again. He closed his eyes with the pain he seemed to be feeling. “You may have noticed I’m not doing well. I’m in a lot of pain as the result of a recent illness. Maybe I could come to the station sometime when I’m feeling better, and we could have a nice long talk. I could bring my attorney with me.”

“You were at the park that day because you were conducting some sort of nature walk. Is that right?”

Ludwig sighed. “Yes. I’m sure you recall I taught biology at Dove Point High for thirty years. I used to keep myself busy in the summers by volunteering to lead nature walks in the park. You know, we’d walk around and I’d point out the plants and the trees and the butterflies. It was free, and it got the kids out of their parents’ hair for an hour or so. The kids loved it. We covered this all back then, you’ll recall.”

“And now refresh my memory—what did you see that day? The day Justin Manning disappeared.”

“Oh, my.” Ludwig sighed again. “You seem determined to ride this hobbyhorse one more time, don’t you? What happened to your partner? That unpleasant man?”

“He retired.”

“Hmm. Aren’t you getting close to that? You can’t be but a few years older than I am.”

“That day at the park. Did you see anything?”

“Do you promise to leave if I answer the question?”

“Maybe.”

“Then it’s worth a try. Like I told you then, I didn’t see anything. I was there getting ready for the walk. I always met the kids at that main picnic shelter. There were a lot of people in the park that day, both children and adults. As I recall, I was running a little late, so I was focused on my work. All of a sudden,
a flurry of activity broke out. A large group formed in the center of the park near the swing sets. Panic seemed to be spreading. I thought someone had fallen and injured themselves. Then the police came.”

“And where were you when the police came?”

“You know this, Detective.”

“Humor me. I’m getting old, and I forget sometimes.”

“I wasn’t there when the police arrived,” Ludwig said.

“You weren’t there.”

“I went home. When I saw the commotion and knew something bad had happened, I went home. I could tell the nature walk was going to be canceled, so they didn’t need me.”

“Some kids were left waiting at the shelter. You didn’t even bother to see that they had rides or anything.”

“The park was full of police officers. I figured the kids would be safe.”

“I don’t think the parents agreed with you. Did they?”

“Parents can be so overprotective sometimes.”

“So they did mind?” Stynes asked.

Ludwig sighed. “Well, the park service didn’t let me do any more nature walks that summer, if that’s what you mean.”

“You know what’s weird?” Stynes said. “And I really did forget this detail after all these years, but when I looked at my notes it came back to me. You left your car at the park. You were in such a hurry to get out of there, you walked off and left your car just sitting there. Why did you do that?”

“I said I—”

“And when we tried to come here and talk to you, you weren’t home. It took four hours before we got ahold of you here. And no one knew where you were or what you were doing during that time.”

Ludwig didn’t say anything. He opened his mouth a little and looked at Stynes expectantly. Finally, he said, “Do you want me to answer these questions? Or are they accusations?”

“Where were you?”

“I was just walking.”

“Just walking?”

“Just walking.”

“And I guess you were alone?”

“Did I mention, Detective, that I’m recovering from surgery? Prostate cancer. I get tired easily, so I’m probably going to have to ask you to leave.”

“That’s fine.” Stynes thought the man’s face looked even paler than when he’d first entered. And the conversation didn’t appear to be leading anyplace productive. “Were you alone?”

“I was. When I came home after my walk, my mother told me you’d been here. And I contacted you right away and answered all of your questions.”

“Fair enough.” Stynes stood up. When Ludwig started to reach for his cane, Stynes waved him off. “I can show myself out. Thanks.”

“As you wish,” Ludwig said, although he looked relieved. “How is this Manning family holding up, Detective? I read about them this morning.”

“The years have made them pretty strong.”

“Give them my best, if you don’t mind,” Ludwig said.

But before Stynes left the room, he asked Ludwig one more thing. “You’ve never been married, have you, Mr. Ludwig?”

“Is that a crime?” Ludwig asked. “I know how my life must look to someone outside of it. Unmarried old bachelor who lived with his mother all those years. Took kids on nature walks at
the park. But don’t forget, I taught in the schools here for thirty years. My record is impeccable. I’d never harm a child.”

Stynes pointed at the cane. “I hope you feel better.”

“I hope
you
feel better, Detective,” Ludwig said. “It looks to me like something pretty serious is bothering you.”

In the late afternoon, when the heat of the day started to ease, Ashleigh received a text from Kevin.

I’m done. Where R U?

She wrote back:
Going 2 park. Meet me there.

Ashleigh wore olive green shorts and a black Rolling Stones T-shirt she’d bought in a thrift store. She pulled a lightweight zippered sweatshirt from her closet, not because she was cold or expected to be but because she liked the feeling of long sleeves, of being a little covered up. She stepped into sneakers and went downstairs.

The old man sat in front of the television, getting his daily dose of Fox News. He looked up when she came into the room, his face almost expectant, like he might just be happy to see her. But the look fell just as quickly.

“I thought you were your mom,” he said.

“I’m not. Is she home?”

“She’s still at work,” he said. “They keep her hopping there, I guess.”

“She likes it.”

“Have you noticed anything different about her?” her grandpa asked. “Ever since the reporter and all these things started happening she’s been a little off.”

“This stuff probably just freaks her out,” Ashleigh said. She
could tell the old man didn’t really get it. He looked confused, like he couldn’t grasp why someone would feel upset by reminders of a family tragedy. “Doesn’t it freak you out a little?”

The old man looked away. Ashleigh thought he wasn’t going to answer her, that he was just going to pretend he didn’t hear the question or something, but finally he said, “It’s best for everyone to not revisit those kinds of things from the past.”

Ashleigh didn’t say it, but she thought it:
Things from the past? Your son’s death is a “thing from the past”?
She wanted to just walk away, to leave the old man to sit in his house and stew in his own thoughts. But she felt compelled to push him just a little, if only to defend her mom.

“But it is hard,” Ashleigh said. “For all of us.”

“You weren’t even born,” he said. “Just don’t worry. We can’t sit around and fall to pieces about it.”

“I don’t think Mom’s falling to pieces.”

The old man chose not to respond to that comment. He watched the TV, the images from the screen flickering across his glasses.

Ashleigh shrugged. She didn’t have time for him anyway. “I’m going out. Tell Mom I’ll be back later.”

“Where are you going?”

Ashleigh froze in her tracks. The old man never worried about where she was going. The two of them seemed to have an unspoken agreement—neither one asked what the other was doing. Her grandpa left both major and minor decisions about Ashleigh’s life to her mother. Ashleigh suspected—although she didn’t know for certain—that her mom had laid that out as one of the conditions for the two of them moving into the house. To his credit, her grandfather managed to leave her alone, a far cry from her childhood when visits to his house—the house she
currently lived in—meant a steady stream of corrective advice from how to chew her food to the proper way to hold a pencil. Ashleigh would never admit it out loud—and certainly not to her mother or grandfather—but she kind of missed his involvement in the things she did. Sure, he annoyed the crap out of her when she was little, but she liked having his gruff, raspy concern as a part of her life.