Dave blew the steam off his coffee and sipped it.
“So, what can I do for you?”
“It’s about Paul Watson. I came back to Jefferson because he asked me to help him. I spent last night at his house. He told me the whole story.”
“Oh, that’s a tough one. What did he tell you?”
“Dave, he told me everything he told you and Sharon. We’re the only three people who have heard his version of Cindy’s disappearance. So please level with me. I’m trying to help him. What the hell is going on? Do you have any idea what happened?”
“Well, in my opinion there are two things going on here. One is that Cindy disappeared. I don’t know how or why. Where does a ten-year-old girl go in the middle of the night? The second thing is I think Paul has gone around the bend. He needs psychiatric help. He’s been drinking a lot lately. Did he tell you he was drunk the night Cindy disappeared? And now he’s come up with this loony story about a UFO. Either he’s crazy or he invented that story to cover up whatever family problems caused Cindy to run away, assuming she did.”
Darleen refilled their coffee cups. Three men had come in while they were talking. They were sitting on stools at the counter near the front of the restaurant.
Bill poured some milk into his coffee.
“Dave, I agree it’s a weird story. But I know Paul, and I just can’t believe he would lie to me. Is it possible he saw something normal, a helicopter or an airplane, and thought it was a UFO? I saw a story in the Courier about two kids who claimed they saw a UFO down by the river a week before Cindy disappeared. Could there be a connection?”
“Come on, Bill. Get real. Those kids had been smoking pot. Hell, they could have seen a purple elephant. Paul probably read the story and got the idea in his head. If you want to help Paul, forget this UFO shit and get him some professional help. You know, I suspected at first that he had something to do with Cindy’s disappearance. But he was drinking with some teachers that night. I checked it out. And Sharon said she saw Cindy about eleven-thirty. I guess he’s in the clear on that score. Did he tell you the doors to his house were all locked? She had to have run away. Not much else fits.”
“But why would she run away? Where would she run away to?”
“Who the hell knows. She’s ten years old. Paul’s drinking too much. Maybe he and Sharon had been fighting a lot and Cindy was upset.”
“What about Sharon? Did you suspect her at all?”
“Yeah, at first. You always suspect the parents in cases like this. But a neighbor who was taking a walk said she saw Sharon and Cindy pull into their driveway about six that night. Sharon said Cindy was in bed later that night. I believed her.”
“Could she have been abducted? By someone in a conventional way, I mean.”
“By a locksmith, maybe. Remember, the house was locked.”
“What if she ran away and got picked up by somebody later?”
“Very possible. But we put out every kind of alert we could on her. We simply have nothing to go on. No witnesses. No vehicle.”
“Paul said he was going to take a lie detector test.”
“Yeah, the State Police are going to give it to him later this week. But those things aren’t foolproof. Why do you think they can’t be admitted as evidence in court?”
“What about Sharon?”
“We could arrange one when she comes back from Indianapolis. But she’s not the one with the tall tale.”
Bill sighed. He was more confused than ever.
“Well, thanks anyway,” he said. “Listen, will you keep me filled in on anything you learn? I promise to keep anything you tell me to myself. I won’t even tell Paul, if you don’t want me to.”
“Yeah, sure. If you’ll do the same for me.”
“Absolutely. Here’s a card with my cell phone number. Guess I can always reach you through your office.”
“Sure can. How long are you gonna be in town?”
“I don’t know. A couple of weeks, maybe. I’m staying at Paul’s. I’ll hang around until I’m satisfied there’s nothing more I can do.”
“Well, I got to get back to the office. Good to see you after all these years.”
Dave stuck Bill’s card in his shirt pocket, slid out of the booth, and walked toward the door. He stopped to chat briefly with one of the men who had come in earlier.
After Dave left, Bill had a third cup of coffee and a piece of rhubarb pie, remembering the days when Mrs. Douglas made pies every morning. He took a notebook out of his jacket and made some notes, mainly to give himself the sense he was doing something or getting somewhere.
He tried to pay for the coffee and pie, but Darleen wouldn’t take his money.
“We don’t charge the Sheriff. Guess we don’t charge people who are with him either.”
The lunch crowd was beginning to arrive as Bill stepped out onto Main Street into the bright spring sunlight.
CHAPTER 8
Bill decided to return to the Courier office, mainly because he couldn’t think of anything else to do or anywhere else to go.
As he started to walk back down Main Street, he was bemused by how deserted the town looked. He knew this perception was the result of navigating crowded New York streets for too many years.
At the Courier, the receptionist said Neal had gone home for lunch a few minutes earlier. Sarah Wong waved at him from her desk across the small newsroom. He pushed through a low swinging gate and headed in her direction. Sarah was a Chinese-American whose family had lived in Jefferson for well over a century. Her ancestors came to the American Midwest in the 1860s to work on the railroads; some of them liked Jefferson and stayed on. By the 1920s, the Wongs owned a successful hardware store that was still going strong. Sarah’s two children, her husband, and her brother all worked there; she had an independent streak and staked out her own career at the newspaper office. She knew everything about the Courier and kept it running smoothly. Neal often called her his most valuable employee.
“Neal still goes home for lunch with Marge?” Bill asked as he sat in a chair next to Sarah’s desk. Neal and Marge had been childhood sweethearts who had gotten married right out of high school and been inseparable ever since.
“Yep,” Sarah replied. “Same as always. What are you up to?”
“Just looking around. Trying to help Paul Watson.”
“I know. Neal told me why you came after you left this morning. Everybody’s real upset over that whole mess. Have you talked to Daniel Scott? He’s been covering it. Still is.”
“No, but I’d like to.”
“I don’t think he knows anything he hasn’t put in his stories, but you never know. He’ll be back later this afternoon.”
“I’m going to the library for a while. Will he be here by around three?”
“I imagine. He’s at the county agent’s office working on a farming story. It’s been a dry spring.”
Bill paused, thinking about how his father used to worry about the weather and his crops. The years fell away as images of his family’s life in Jefferson intruded into the present.
“That reminds me. I ought to drive out and visit my family’s old farm.”