No Way Out (21 page)

Adam could have run in any direction, but the only one that made sense was back toward his truck and he had enough of a head start to get there before I could catch up to him. He’d left the shovel, his shirt, and a denim jacket lying on the ground. I searched the jacket pockets, finding the keys to his truck. Time was on my side again.

I was wobbly and my back was throbbing, but my limbs were working. Using the shovel as a walking stick, I leaned forward, retracing my route, stumbling through the woods. When I got to the edge of the woods overlooking the open ground and the lake, I saw Adam, his head under the hood of his pickup. He darted back and forth from the cab to the hood, trying to hot-wire the truck, kicking the tires when he couldn’t make it happen.

If he saw me, he’d run. Staying inside the tree line, I skirted the lake, staying below his line of sight until I reached Cliff Drive. I’d parked my car behind his truck. That gave me additional cover. I ran, the shovel tucked under my arm, stopping behind my car as he slammed the hood of the truck and jumped into the cab.

The truck’s engine rolled over. Adam gave it gas, revving it, making certain it wouldn’t fail him. I sprinted toward the truck. He saw me in his side mirror, throwing the truck in gear as I pulled even with the driver’s door.

He yanked the wheel hard left as I swung the shovel at the driver’s window, glass exploding. The blade caught him on the chin, knocking him sideways on the seat, his foot still on the gas.

I swung the door open, climbing into the cab and shoving him aside. A minivan swerved around us, rocking and skidding past, the driver laying on the horn and giving me the finger. I hit the brakes, stopping the truck in the middle of Cliff Drive. Adam raised his head and grabbed my arm, letting go when I elbowed him in the throat.

I backed the pickup onto the shoulder, cut the engine, and took a closer look at Adam. He was conscious, glassy-eyed and bleeding. He’d need stitches, but he wasn’t going to bleed to death. There were rags on the floor of the truck. I put one in his hand and pressed it against his wound. When his eyes focused, I pulled him from the truck, setting him on the ground, crouching down at eye level.

“Last chance, Adam. What happened to Timmy Montgomery?”

His mouth quivered. He spit blood and began to sob.

“It was an accident. I never meant to kill him. Things just got out of hand. He started yelling. I told him to shut up, but he wouldn’t. He just kept yelling and I had to make him stop so I put my hands over his face, and the next thing I knew, he wasn’t breathing. If only he’d have shut up like I told him, none of this would have happened.”

“And that’s what you’ll tell the police, but I need to know. Where’s Timmy’s body?”

Bitter laughter replaced his tears. “I am such a fuckup. I can’t even remember where I buried him. I thought I knew, but I can’t find him. What am I going to do now?”

“The police will find Timmy’s body, but the more you help them, the easier it will be for you. You understand how that works?”

He nodded, the enormity of his situation sinking in. “What about my mom? What’s she gonna say?”

“I can guess. She’ll want you to be a man and do what’s right, tell us everything that happened.”

“I told you. It was an accident.”

“I know. But that’s about Timmy. He’s dead, and you can’t un-ring that bell. Evan and Cara Martin are a different story if they’re still alive. Tell me where they are, and you’ve got a good shot at avoiding the death penalty. Otherwise, you’re headed for death row.”

His squinted at me, trying to understand what I was saying, shaking his head, recoiling. “I didn’t touch those kids.”

“C’mon Adam. No one is going to believe that. Not after what you did to Timmy. Not after you were shacking up with their mother. I’m telling you that you’ve got one chance to grow old. Don’t blow it.”

He struggled to his feet, sputtering and angry, but I clamped my hands on his shoulders, pushing him back.

“I’m telling the truth. I didn’t do it!”

“Why should I believe you?”

He took a deep breath, looking away and then back at me.

“I was with Peggy the night before Evan and Cara disappeared. She called me after they went to sleep and begged me to come over. Said she needed some company. My mom had found out about us and made me promise to stay away from her, but I couldn’t.”

“Why not? The sex was too good?”

“Yeah, but not the way you think. I knew there was something wrong with me before Timmy. I couldn’t stay away from the kiddie porn. After what happened with him, I was so scared. I tried to quit the porn and leave the little kids alone, but I couldn’t.”

“A parent of one of the kids in your Sunday school class complained to the church about you.”

He hung his head.

“I know, but I never hurt that little girl. I was trying not to. I really was. You don’t know what it’s like to want to do something so bad and you know it’s a sin to do it, but you can’t stop wanting it no matter how hard you try. Then, when Peggy came on to me, well, I thought maybe if I had sex with a grown woman like her, that’d cure me. I wouldn’t get off on the kids anymore.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

His slumped, his chin on his chest, fresh tears falling off his face.

“So you went over to Peggy’s that night. What happened next?”

“What do you think happened? We did it. I wanted to go home after, but she wanted me to stay. Said she felt safer having a man around since she’d had to get a restraining order against her husband. So I did. Next morning I woke up, and she wasn’t there. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if the kids were still asleep, but I didn’t want them to catch me there. I opened her bedroom door a crack, and that’s when I saw him.”

“Saw who?”

“Jimmy Martin. Peggy’s bedroom is at the top of the stairs. When I opened the door, I could see down to the front door. He was on his way out with Evan and Cara, telling them to hurry up if they wanted to have ice cream for breakfast.”

“You’re sure it was Jimmy?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.”

“How were the kids? Were they glad to be going, or were they upset?”

“They were laughing. Cara even said that their mom would kill them if she knew they were having ice cream for breakfast, and Jimmy said not to worry cause she’d never find out. That’s the last thing I heard, and that’s the truth.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police?”

He looked at me, wide-eyed at my stupidity. “Are you kidding me? My mom would have killed me if she knew I was back with Peggy.”

“Did you tell Peggy?”

“Yeah. I knew she wouldn’t say anything to my mom.”

“What did she say when you told her?”

“She said she knew it had to be Jimmy, that no one else would do something like that.”

Liars work from a script, the fewer details to remember the better. Ask them what happened, and they’ll tell you the bare bones. Ask them again, and they’ll repeat it, sometimes verbatim, sticking to their story so they don’t screw it up. An honest person isn’t afraid of the truth and the more often they tell what happened, the more details they remember, adding information because they want to be helpful and have nothing to hide.

I took Adam through the events again and again. Each time he gave me more information, descriptions of what Jimmy and the kids were wearing, the wine he and Peggy had drank the night before, the music on Peggy’s iPod they’d listened to lying in bed after they had sex. He told me about coming down the stairs and peeking out the window cut into the front door, watching until Jimmy drove away in his pickup truck, remembering the first part of the truck’s license number, guessing at the rest.

All of it was helpful, some of it easy to check out, none of it conclusive proof that Jimmy had taken his kids, confessed child killers being low on the credibility pyramid. Adam had good reason to tell the truth and better reason to lie, knowing that Jimmy was in jail for refusing to talk and that the police already suspected him. Corroborating his story depended on two things that had yet to happen: Peggy telling the entire truth, and Jimmy telling anything at all.

I called Adrienne Nardelli. She was still at Ellen Koch’s house. I told her not to go anywhere, that I was bringing her a present, gift-wrapped, following that with a call to Lucy, telling her to meet me there.

“Okay, let’s go,” I told him.

“Where?”

“Home.”

“Oh, man! My mom is going to totally kill me.”

“Trust me, that will be the easy part.”

I put Adam in the backseat of Kate’s rental, pushing him to the center, belting him in, crisscrossing the shoulder straps over his chest.

“Hey,” he said, “what about my truck?”

“Don’t worry. You’re not going to need it for a long time.”

“You did good,” Adrienne Nardelli said.

We were in Ellen Koch’s kitchen, Ellen sitting mute in the living room and Adam bundled in the back of a squad car. I’d spent an hour running it down for Nardelli, letting her work me the way I’d worked Adam, keeping my memory fresh, scraping all the details she could onto her notepad, pausing as successive waves of tremors and spasms ripped through me, petering out in a final soft ripple. Kate was on one side of me, Lucy on the other, each with a hand on my back when I stuttered and shook.

“Thanks.”

“But going after him the way you did wasn’t the smartest thing you could have done, you do know that?”

“Yeah, I know it.”

“Any point in me telling you to butt out of my case and not to pull another fool stunt like that again?”

I didn’t answer.

“Figured as much,” she said, turning to Kate and Lucy. “Take him home. Make sure he takes the rest of the day off.”

“After we talk to Peggy Martin,” I said.

“Wrong,” Nardelli said, “after
I
talk to Peggy Martin. I’ve got an officer babysitting her across the street.”

“Anyone tell her about Adam?”

“Not yet. She came home half in the bag while you were out chasing him through the woods. I had an officer escort her inside and told him to keep her off the phone and to keep the press and neighbors out of the house, but she was watching from her front window when we cuffed Adam and put him in a squad car. Won’t surprise me if the prosecuting attorney charges her with obstruction for not telling us about her husband taking her kids.”

“She did tell you,” Lucy said, “from day one.”

“But,” Nardelli countered, “she didn’t tell us that her baby boyfriend was the one who saw him do it. What kind of mother holds back something like that?”

Lucy squared off at Nardelli, hands on her hips. “So she’s not a perfect mother. So she’s not even close. She cheated on her husband, and she drinks too much. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love her kids. And even if Adam is telling the truth, which is the Pikes Peak of ifs, Jimmy isn’t talking. So any bad decisions Peggy made hasn’t changed this case one damn bit.”

“There’s something else about Adam’s story,” I said. “Unless Jimmy confesses, there’s no way to prove which one of them is lying. Peggy wasn’t there. She only knows what Adam told her. If Adam took the kids, blaming it on Jimmy would be the easiest and smartest thing for him to do.”

Nardelli pointed at Kate. “Then let your lie catcher figure it out. Pick the one that twitches the most.”

“Maybe,” Kate said, “it’s neither of them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nardelli asked.

“It means that you’re trying to pick a winner between two people who have every incentive to lie, as if they are the only possible suspects. That’s not an investigation. It’s tunnel vision.”

“So who’s your dark horse in this race?”

Kate drew a reluctant breath. “You have to consider Peggy Martin.”

“Wait a minute!” Lucy said. “Last night at your hotel when we watched the video you took of Peggy, you said that she showed agony when you asked her about Evan and Cara and shame when you asked her about her affair. You made a big deal about that, about how she would have shown shame when you asked her about the kids if she’d killed them.”

“That’s right,” Kate said. “But like I keep telling Jack, context is everything. I was working off what we knew at the time, which didn’t include her relationship with Adam.”

“What difference does that make?” Lucy asked.

“It could make all the difference, especially if they’re in this together, which would explain why she showed such shame. She accuses Jimmy from the beginning and primes Adam with the story about seeing Jimmy take the kids. She doesn’t want Adam telling the police right away because that would mean disclosing their affair. So she keeps that in her back pocket, figuring to use it if the police find out about it. When the affair comes out, Adam’s story about Jimmy deflects attention from her and puts the spotlight back on her husband.”

“You think Peggy has that kind of a hold on Adam?” I asked.

“He admitted as much when he told you he was having sex with her to cure his pedophilia and that he kept seeing her after his mother told him to end the relationship. Plus, when she called him the night before the kids disappeared and told him to come over, he snuck out of his house. He wanted to go home after they had sex, but she made him stay. He’s young, vulnerable, and easily manipulated.”

“And,” Nardelli added, warming to the possibility, “if she knew about his pedophilia or even had an idea that he’d killed Timmy Montgomery, she knew he’d go along, and if he didn’t she could threaten to tell the police about Timmy.”

“Given all that, I’d say she could make him jump through almost any hoop,” Kate said.

“Why?” Lucy asked. “Why would a mother who loved her kids do that?”

“Nick Staley told me that Peggy is a party girl,” I said. “Maybe the kids were cramping her style.”

“That’s a crock of shit!” Lucy said. “Peggy hired us to find her kids. I’ve handled enough of these cases to know how they tear parents up, and Peggy is in shreds. I know she isn’t going to win Mother of the Year, but you can’t fake that kind of pain. No one knows that any better than you, Jack.”

My belly shook, my back bowed, and my neck arced toward the ceiling, Lucy’s last shot triggering a flurry of spasms. She turned red, covered her mouth with her hand, and looked away.

Nardelli threw up her hands. “What is it with you people? Don’t you want anybody to be found guilty?”

“Sure we do,” I said when the spasm died. “As long as they are guilty.”

“Look,” Kate said to Nardelli, “I admit it’s not the most likely explanation based on what we know. But I was right when I told you that Adam knew more than he was telling us and that he was lying when he said he hadn’t been in those woods before yesterday. I wasn’t there when Jack interviewed him, so I can’t say whether he was telling the truth about having seen Jimmy take the kids. But, if I’m right, Jimmy’s refusal to cooperate is playing right into Peggy’s hands.”

“Only now we’ve got a witness who will testify that Jimmy was the last person seen with Evan and Cara,” Nardelli said. “Once he knows that, he may open up, if only to defend himself.”

“Depends on who asks the questions and how they are asked. Come at him hard, threaten him, try to scare him, and he’ll shut down.”

“I’ve done this once or twice before,” Nardelli said.

“And you’ve gotten nothing out of Jimmy,” Kate said.

“Same as you.”

“Actually, no. I got a lot out of him.”

“Like what?” Nardelli asked.

“Like he loves his kids and is scared for them.”

“Right,” Lucy said. “That’s exactly what you told us about Peggy.”

“I should just leave you people alone and let you kill each other. Would save me a lot of trouble,” Nardelli said, letting out a long breath, studying us, and then pointing at Kate. “Okay, then. You tell Jimmy about Adam.”

“Me?” Kate asked.

“Yeah, you and me. Let’s go. And call Ethan Bonner. Tell him to meet us there. Anything comes out of Jimmy Martin’s mouth, I want to be damn sure a jury gets to hear it one day.”

“So much for going home,” I said.

“I didn’t invite you,” Nardelli said.

“The three of us,” Kate said, “are a package deal.”

“And we talk to Peggy Martin first,” I said.

Nardelli shook her head. “I should have listened to Quincy Carter and arrested all of you.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For being a pain in my ass.”