Bill Finch stands over Nance with a small mini-DV camera and records the process. ‘Want me to get some still pictures too?’
‘No need yet.’
‘Right.’
Diego, who’s been standing several feet away rolling a cigarette, tucks the cigarette behind his ear and walks over to Ian.
‘They’re all too young,’ Diego says.
Ian nods. ‘I know.’
‘But look at them. Maggie was only seven when-’
‘But they’re not her.’
‘No,’ Diego agrees. ‘They’re not. You should come look at the clothes. Some of the stuff that was buried looks the wrong size for any of these three. I think maybe the killer came back out here and buried some of her stuff.’
‘Yeah?’
Diego nods.
‘Why would he do that?’
‘I dunno. People do weird things.’
‘You think some of it might have been Maggie’s?’
‘Maybe.’
Ian walks around to where the plastic’s been laid out, to where various dirt-covered items lie, looking like the results of an archeological dig: this is what the late twentieth and early twenty-first century will look like to the aliens when they finally arrive and find human civilization beneath a pile of ash. Ian silently scans the items, looking from one to the next. A strange numbness at his core as if his middle had been hollowed out and replaced by stone.
‘That’s my daughter’s.’
He points to a pink nightgown folded into quarters and covered in dirt and leaves. There are a few drops of what looks like blood near the collar. She was hurt.
Nance looks up from the hole. ‘Your daughter’s?’
Bill Finch says, ‘That’s Ian Hunt.’
‘We met once a couple years ago,’ Ian says.
‘And that’s your daughter’s?’ Nance says, nodding at the nightgown.
‘It is.’
‘You sure?’
Just after dinner the night Maggie was kidnapped and Ian was sitting at the table going over their taxes. Debbie was in the back getting dressed and Maggie was in the bathroom. She called to him. He walked to the bathroom and pushed open the door and she was standing in the middle of the room, skinny little-girl body dripping water onto the tiles while behind her the bathtub drain made gurgling noises.
‘What?’
‘I forgot a towel.’
‘And?’
‘And can you get me one?’
‘Can I get you one what?’
‘A towel.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘Can you get me one, please?’
‘Can I get you one what, please?’
‘Dad.’
‘Okay.’
He walked to the linen closet and pulled out a towel for her. He tossed it to her.
‘And a nightgown.’
‘Did you forget to wash, too?’
‘No. Well.’
‘Well?’
‘I didn’t wash behind one of my ears.’
‘Why?’
‘Experiment.’ She grinned a wide, gap-toothed grin.
‘What kind of experiment?’
‘Mom said if I didn’t wash behind my ears I’d grow broccoli there.’
‘She did?’
Maggie nodded.
‘But you didn’t believe her?’
‘I don’t know. It’s an experiment.’
‘But you washed everywhere else?’
‘Duh. I’m not gross.’
‘Okay. Let me get your nightgown.’
‘The pink one!’
Three drops of blood next to the collar like an ellipsis. Covered in dirt and dead leaves. Lying on a sheet of plastic beside things he’s never seen before. Things that belonged to other little girls, now dead.
‘Yeah,’ Ian says. ‘I’m sure it’s hers.’
‘All right,’ Nance says. ‘If we got someone alive, the daughter of one of our own, your daughter, then I say let’s kick this with both feet.’
Chief Davis blinks several times. ‘What do you have in mind, detective?’
‘Well, I think we should move on the most obvious suspect before he has time to prepare. Ask questions, imply we got more than we do, see how he reacts.’
‘The most obvious suspect?’
‘Whoever owns this land.’
‘Henry Dean,’ Ian says.
‘We should get Sizemore to approve it, and-’
‘I don’t work for Sizemore,’ Chief Davis says.
‘But the sheriff’s department handles murder cases because we got the murder police,’ Bill Finch says. ‘Nance is murder police. This ain’t Fred Paulson crashed his car into a tree. It’s a multiple homicide.’
Davis squints silently at Finch for a moment, then says, ‘Fair enough.’
‘So we get the okay from Sizemore,’ Nance says, ‘and we bring Henry Dean in for questioning, intimidate him as much as we can, see if he cracks.’
‘It’s close to Main Street, though,’ Diego says. ‘Anybody could have dumped the bodies.’
‘But you don’t get nowhere until you pick a destination,’ Chief Davis says. ‘Can’t drive to every place at once.’
‘Exactly right,’ Nance says.
‘I think both departments should be in on this,’ Chief Davis says. ‘I know Henry Dean, known him since first grade, and I know what buttons to push.’
‘First grade?’ Nance says.
‘Yup.’
‘You think he’s our guy?’
‘Could be.’
‘I mean based on his personality.’
‘Who knows? In my experience you never know who’s capable of what till they gone and done it and you’re catching flies in your open mouth.’
Nance nods at that, then turns to Bill Finch. ‘Where was the sheriff at last time you-’
‘My ears are burning.’
Sheriff Sizemore moves toward them, his big belly swinging in front of him like a wrecking ball.
‘Sheriff,’ Nance says.
‘I want to go to the Dean house,’ Ian says as he, Chief Davis, and Bill Finch walk toward the street. Diego stayed behind so he could tell the coroner exactly how he came upon the bodies and give him the legal time of death.
Chief Davis shakes his head. ‘No chance, Ian. You’re too close to this.’
‘It’s my daughter.’
‘Now, Ian-’
‘I’m going,’ Ian says.
‘There’s nothing you can do,’ Finch says. ‘Sizemore just wants us to bring him to the station so he or Nance can question him.’
‘Things might get hairy,’ Ian says.
‘I’ll bring Deputy Oliver.’
‘Deputy Oliver couldn’t blow his nose with a stick of dynamite. My daughter might be in that house, Finch. You might’ve got your fingers in every part of my life, but it’s still my life. My fucking family.’
‘Now hold up,’ Finch says. ‘I know Maggie might be in there. I know you love her. But look at you, man. You’re already worked up and we don’t know if he’s done a damn thing. You’re not going. You’ll just cause trouble.’
‘You got no authority over my officers, Finch,’ Chief Davis says.
‘He’s an officer on a technicality. He sits at a desk all day. And you said yourself he was too close to this.’
‘I did,’ Chief Davis says, ‘but I can. He works for me. That don’t mean I like the guy who weaseled his way into his wife’s bed trying to-’
‘I didn’t weasel my way-’
‘Look,’ Ian says. ‘This isn’t up for debate. I’m going.’
They walk out onto the street and into the sunlight.
‘Fine,’ Chief Davis says, ‘but I don’t even want you to get out of your car unless we need you. I mean it.’
‘Okay,’ Ian says, walking toward his Mustang. ‘Fair enough.’ His mouth is very dry.