His scowl darkened. “Of course not.”
“That’s what I thought.” She was afraid he’d question why she’d even asked. But he didn’t. He shifted, sighed and seemed to make an effort to resume their conversation. “Do you think there’s any chance your father might still be alive?”
She wished she could say yes, wished he’d tell her it was possible. But he didn’t know about the Cadillac yet. She hadn’t provided any details the night she’d hired him and since then, they’d spoken only about the arrangements for his visit. “They’ve never found his body. But he wouldn’t abandon me.”
“I’ve known fathers who’ve done worse,” he said.
She didn’t acknowledge the comment. “They pulled his car out of the quarry last Monday.”
“Excuse me?” There was fresh irritation in his voice. “That’s an important piece of information. Don’t you think?”
“That’s why I’m passing it along,” she said.
“Why didn’t you mention it before?”
“You weren’t here before.”
“I’ve got a phone.”
She rolled her eyes. “And you’ve been so friendly when I’ve contacted you in the past. Gee, I wonder why I didn’t call you right up.”
He didn’t bother to defend himself. “Did they find anything?”
Her seat belt felt as if it was pinning her to the seat. She gave it a yank to create some slack. Then, slowing, she drove to the side of the road, let the engine idle and twisted in her seat. She wanted to see Hunter’s face when she delivered this news.
“What are we doing?” he asked.
“Stopping.”
“Why?”
“So we can talk.”
“About the Cadillac?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrows went up, but he waited for her to continue.
“They found some things in the trunk,” she said. “Some very alarming things.”
“Like…”
“A suitcase.”
“So your father was planning to leave.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t filled with clothes.”
“I’m waiting,” he said.
Summoning her nerve, she smoothed her palms over her thighs. “It contained a dildo, some rope—”
“Whoa!” He held up a hand. “Did I just hear a sexually repressed Southern woman say dildo?”
She wasn’t in the mood for levity. “And three pairs of girls’ panties,” she finished.
As she’d expected, Hunter’s teasing smile instantly disappeared. “Girls who would’ve been how old?”
“Eleven, twelve, thirteen.”
“Shit!” He smacked the door. “I knew better than to get involved in this case. But instead of flying to Hawaii, I’ve landed right in the middle of—”
“I’m sorry to put you out,” she broke in. “But I am paying you, if you’ll recall.”
Shutting his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t care about the money,” he said. “Take me back to the airport.”
Chapter Seven
Ray Harper turned his bottle of beer around and around on the varnished wood of Stillwater’s only bar, making wet circles. He didn’t know what else to do. His hands were shaking too badly to lift the bottle to his mouth.
John Keller was seated to his right, and Walt Eastman sat beyond John. Generally, Ray liked John and Walt. They were both ten years younger than he was but when he was in town Ray spent so much time at the pool hall, he sidled up to whoever was there. Sometimes he and John would bet on a game of pool, but more often it was Walt who’d stay and help him close down the place. They usually had a damn good time.
But tonight wasn’t promising to be one of their better evenings. He’d just heard Walt say something to John that made his blood run cold.
“John?” Walt prompted when John didn’t respond right away.
John pulled his gaze from the basketball game playing on the television affixed to the wall. “What was that?”
Ray held his breath so he could hear Walt repeat what he’d said a moment earlier. Maybe he’d misunderstood the first time, or the alcohol he’d had was playing tricks with his mind. But he’d only been at Let the Good Times Roll for fifteen minutes. He wasn’t drunk yet.
Walt scooted his stool closer to John’s. “I asked if you heard about the dildo the police found in the trunk of Reverend Barker’s car.”
John’s mouth flattened in obvious disgust. “Yeah, I heard. Sick, huh? Who told you?”
“Radcliffe was talking about it at the café.”
Ray’s mouth had gone dry at “dildo.” “When was this?” he asked.
“A few days ago,” John replied.
Mention of the reverend wouldn’t typically have alarmed Ray. He knew the Cadillac had been salvaged; he’d spoken to Madeline about it. But last he’d heard the police hadn’t come up with anything important.
“Where you been, man?” John said with a nudge. “The news is all over town.”
Ray had been in Iuka ever since he’d spoken to Madeline. He’d breathed a huge sigh of relief when he’d hung up with her—only to return to this?
“I heard it was huge. Where would someone get a dildo like that?” Walt asked. “Online?”
“Who knows?” John drew a dish of peanuts toward him. “It’s the girls’ panties that bother me.”
Panties? Ray’s heart nearly seized at the word. Had Barker kept a pair of Katie’s underwear? Or were they Rose Lee’s?
“Radcliffe told me—on the sly, you know—that one pair belonged to Grace,” Walt said.
John took another pull from his beer. “Poor thing. I like Kennedy. He’s a damn good banker. Can’t imagine he was happy to hear that about his wife.”
Walt tossed a few peanuts into his mouth. “Question is, who owned the others?”
John started peeling the label off his Bud Light. “I don’t think they know, but they’re hoping to find out.”
“Are they—” Ray’s voice squeaked, and he coughed in an attempt to lower the pitch. “Are they actively searching, then? They’re officially reopening the case?”
“I hear it’s official.” John proceeded to make a small pile with the curling pieces of beer label. “At least, they’re doing what they can.”