Hiding Place (9781101606759) (33 page)

The priest began the service. He began with a welcome prayer, something he read out of a small, worn missal. While he spoke and continued with what was meant to be a brief service, Ashleigh leaned in against Janet’s body. Janet reached out her right arm and pulled her daughter close, felt Ashleigh return the favor by placing her left arm around Janet’s waist.

When was the last time her daughter had done that? Janet wondered.

She looked down at Ashleigh, still six inches shorter than she
was. From that angle, it was easy for Janet to feel that Ashleigh was a little kid, one who needed comforting and sought it from her mother. It felt like years since they’d stood that way. Years. Janet pulled her daughter even closer and gave her a gentle peck on the top of the head.

“It’s okay,” Janet whispered. “I’m okay.”

Ashleigh looked up, even managing a half smile despite the occasion. “I know, Mom,” she said. “I know.”

Stynes lingered near the back of the crowd after the brief ceremony. He saw the grave diggers off to the side, one of them leaning against an earth mover, smoking a cigarette while he waited for the crowd to disappear so he could do his work. Stynes intended to offer his—what?—to Janet Manning. Condolences? Was that the right thing when someone had been dead for twenty-five years? He wasn’t sure what to say, so he decided to try for something neutral when the time came.

Janet spoke to a small group of women. Friends or coworkers, Stynes assumed. He noted that Janet hadn’t cried during the ceremony, instead choosing to hold tight to her daughter while the priest spoke. It didn’t surprise him. The woman had experienced quite a bit and was no doubt still processing the ton of bricks that had landed on her as the result of the DNA tests. Stynes wished he had something profound to say about all that, but he didn’t. Over the years he’d adopted a simple tactic with the victims of crimes and accidents: say as little as possible as sincerely as possible and then move on.

“Detective,” Janet said when she saw him. “Thank you for coming.”

“I wanted to,” Stynes said. “I’m—I hope you’re doing okay.”

Ashleigh stood by, watching their exchange, and the priest leaned close to the funeral director near the edge of the tent,
where they talked to each other in low voices. Everyone else was gone, drifting away to their cars and on to their jobs and their lives.

Janet leaned in close to Stynes. “Is anything new with Ray Bower?” she asked.

Stynes nodded. “He’s doing better. The doctors say we can talk to him today or tomorrow.”

Janet nodded.

They faced each other in the heat, and Stynes felt Janet had something else she wanted to say.

“I was wondering,” she said. “I’m worried about Michael Bower.”

“Where is he?” Stynes asked.

“I don’t know. I think he must have left town. But he didn’t say anything to me before he left. I wonder about the toll all of this is taking on him.”

“Maybe he just needs to cool off and absorb everything that happened. I imagine you’re struggling to make sense of these things too.”

“There’s something about Michael,” Janet said. “I’ve known him my whole life. I’ve never seen him the way he was the other night.”

“Angry, you mean?”

“Out of control. I guess he’s been heading that way since he came back to town. He’s seemed…edgy. Anxious. Even though it was out of character for him to get violent with Ray, it didn’t completely surprise me. I sensed something building in him over the past couple of weeks.” Janet sighed. “Is he going to face any charges for what he did to Ray?”

“Ray would have to press them,” Stynes said. “And I have
the feeling he’s going to have other things to think about besides that.”

Stynes looked past Janet’s shoulder. He saw a movement there, someone approaching through the headstones and stopping at a distance. He took the person for a gawker at first, then saw the intensity with which he appeared to be watching the scene. Something about his posture looked familiar to Stynes—

“I wanted to ask you a question about something else, Detective,” Janet said.

“What’s that?” Stynes asked, turning back.

“That man in the jail. I want to talk to him again.”

“You do? Why?”

“It’s hard to explain,” she said. “I want to know who he is and why he did what he did. I was so certain I knew him.”

Stynes took a quick look at the man in the distance and saw that he was turning away, perhaps heading to his car and leaving the cemetery.

“We can talk about it further.”

“I just need to know—”

Stynes walked away, looking back over his shoulder to say, “Call me. We’ll see.”

Stynes dodged tombstones, stepping carefully so as not to disrespect the ground he walked over, but also trying to catch up to the man he saw at the edge of the crowd. His task proved to be easy. The man walked with the aid of a cane, and long before he reached his car Stynes had caught up to him.

“Mr. Ludwig?” Stynes said.

The man stopped, his body freezing in place about ten steps
from his car. He didn’t turn around, so Stynes approached him from behind and then went around between Ludwig and the car to talk.

“If you really didn’t want to talk to me,” Stynes said, “you wouldn’t have shown up here today.”

Ludwig smiled. “You’re very perceptive, Detective. But I guess that’s your job.”

The man looked older than when Stynes had first spoken to him—his cheeks more sunken, his skin paler and almost translucent, like thin paper stretched over his skull. Ludwig reached into his pants pocket and brought out a handkerchief and used it to dab at the sweat on his brow.

“Are you just here to lend emotional support, Mr. Ludwig?” Stynes asked. “Or do you have a more—how shall I put it?—vested interest in the proceedings?”

Ludwig smiled, but it looked like it cost him some effort. “I can’t stay long.” He grimaced. “I can’t even stand very long. That’s why I was heading to the car. I heard from my oncologist about a week ago. The cancer that started in my prostate has spread to my bones. Not much they can do about that, Detective. In another six months or so, I’ll be back in this cemetery. Eternally.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We’ll all go down that road eventually,” Ludwig said. “I’ve had more time than the Manning boy—that’s for sure.” Ludwig turned and looked back toward Justin’s grave site. “Much more.”

“Is that why you paid for this?” Stynes asked.

Ludwig turned back around.
“Moi?”

“Yes, you. Who else would have the money and the interest in the case?”

Ludwig tapped his cane against the ground a couple of times. “I don’t have any children of my own. No heirs to speak of. When
I’m no longer here, my money is going to go to some charities that my mother chose a long time ago. I thought, why not do something nice for someone who needs it while I’m still here? And you’re right. I did want to stop by to see the result of my gift, even from a distance.”

“But you didn’t want the Mannings to know?”

“If you’ll excuse me, Detective.” Ludwig pointed to his car, a white Lincoln. “I need to sit if this interrogation is going to continue.”

“It’s not an interrogation.”

Ludwig opened the driver’s-side door and slowly, awkwardly lowered his body into the seat, his face red from the exertion. He started the engine and fiddled with the air-conditioning dials and vents, creating a stream of cold air that blew against his face. He dabbed at his forehead again while Stynes waited.

“Better,” Ludwig said. “Much better. What were you asking me about?”

“About the anonymity of your gift.”

“Oh, that.” Ludwig waved the handkerchief dismissively. “I didn’t do it to seek credit, Detective. I had my own reasons. Personal reasons.”

Stynes leaned in closer to the open car door. “Which were?”

Ludwig’s eyes opened wider. “Well,” he said, “this does feel like an interrogation now, doesn’t it?”

“Tell me why you disappeared in the park that day. Why we couldn’t find you after you got home.”

Ludwig tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “I’ll tell you,” he said. “But then I do have to get home. I usually nap several times a day. It’s funny that when we reach the part of our lives when time is most precious, we sleep it away.”

“Why couldn’t we find you?”

“I was in the park for the nature walk that morning, as you know. But I had a routine, a
habit
if you would, that I liked to perform beforehand.”

“Drugs.”

“I’m clean now. I’ve been clean for many years, but back then I couldn’t get enough. Since we had money, I could afford to sustain the habit. There was a man I used to make my purchases from. Never mind who he is—he’s long dead. I never bought in the park or around the kids, but on that day, I ended up short. So my provider agreed to meet me in the park before the walk. I was a good client, so he was willing to work with me.”

“You bought drugs before the nature walk?”

“It’s a low point for me. But there I was, holding. Do you think I wanted to stick around and talk to the police? You can say a lot of things about me, Detective, but I loved my job at the high school. If the police reported that I was in the park buying or possessing cocaine with schoolchildren around, what do you think would have happened to my career?”

“A child was missing. We wouldn’t have cared.”

“You say that now, but how could I be sure? Besides, on my way home, I sampled some of the product. I was paranoid and scared. How do you think I would have responded to the police at my door?”

Stynes studied Ludwig’s face. He believed him. He could see no compelling reason not to. But Stynes also sensed there was more, something else the man had to say about the events of that day.

“Where did you meet your dealer?” the detective asked.

“Well, we couldn’t do it out in the open.”

“So you went into the woods?”

Ludwig nodded.

“Where exactly?”

“We met as far as we could get from the playground. There’s another path over there, one that leads to the homes that border the far side of the park. Not that many people use it.”

“What did you see there that day?”

Ludwig sighed theatrically. “I guess I should count myself lucky that I’m being given enough time to correct mistakes I’ve made in the past. We all hope for that, Detective, don’t we?”

“What did you see?”

Ludwig dabbed at his head. “I saw a man, a man I later came to realize was Ray Bower, the father of one of those kids who was in the park and a friend of the Manning family. He was kneeling down in the dirt out there near that gross little pond, and then he stood up. His hands and his pants were dirty like he’d been burying something. He didn’t see me. He hustled away back toward the houses on the far side of the park.”

Stynes stepped away from the car. He walked in a large circle away from where Ludwig was sitting and then back again. While he walked, his heart pumped faster and faster. He flexed and unflexed his right hand, and when he came back to Ludwig, he pounded his closed fist on the roof of the car.

“Why didn’t you tell us that back then?”

Ludwig jumped but maintained his composure. “I just told you why. And you all said you were looking for a black man. You had a description and a sketch. I knew what I should have done, but I only saw a man digging in the dirt in the woods.”

“Where we found a child’s dead body.”

“Detective, if you want to stand here and try to make me feel guilty, you can’t do a better job of it than I have over the years.
I know what I should have done, and I know why I didn’t do it. I didn’t think it mattered until all of this recent attention around the case seemed to open everything back up again.”

“You’ll testify to this.”

“I will.”

“It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. You
will
testify to this in court if need be.”

Ludwig lifted his left leg and pulled his body the rest of the way into his car. He pointed to his cane. “If I’m still here, Detective, I will. I have nothing left to hide.”

Several hours after the graveside service, Janet met Detective Stynes at the entrance of the police station. She followed him inside and back to his desk, which sat crowded in among other desks in the small office. A detective at a nearby desk spoke on the telephone, and two uniformed officers talked near a coffee machine. Stynes offered Janet a seat in an uncomfortable-looking vinyl chair. Stynes sat behind his desk and pulled out his ever present notebook.

“They faxed over some reports from the state welfare office,” Stynes said. “I’ve been going over them this afternoon.”

“His name really is Steven Kollman?” Janet asked.

“It really is. I’m not sure of much in this life, but I’m sure of that. Steven John Kollman. Born in Columbus, moved to Dove Point when he was eight, and didn’t stay very long. Mother deceased. Father missing in action. Entered the foster system at age five and was in it until he was eighteen. One of his former foster families recognized the photo we sent out and called us. Apparently, they hadn’t seen him since he was sixteen or so, but they thought it was him.”

“He lived in more than one foster home?”

“Looks that way.”

“And no one else recognized him?”

Stynes shrugged. “A lot of kids pass through that system.
They either forgot him or they just didn’t care to call. A lot of these foster families don’t want to have anything to do with the police.”

Janet let that sink in. She thought of Ashleigh and wondered how people could let any child in their care just slip away from them like a lost memory. “Why did he start all this pretending to be Justin?”

“He won’t talk to us,” Stynes said. “Still won’t, even though we know who he is. He’s facing some pretty serious identity theft charges, plus the outstanding warrant in Columbus. He’d be wise to do something to protect himself. He goes before the judge tomorrow, now that we know who he is. We won’t keep him here. He’ll probably go to the county lockup and wait for a trial if he doesn’t plead.”

“What did he do when he lived in Dove Point?” Janet asked. “I mean…what kind of life did he have?”