Looking for Sophie. Roz Denny Fox
Читать онлайн книгу.
should probably talk to Garnet. I know she thinks no one cares about her case anymore. But at the same time, the publicity brought her a lot of unwanted attention. You know, from crazies.”
Julian scribbled in his book while pumping the woman about the abduction. “They were always an odd couple,” she ventured. “Dale changed after he lost his job on the pipeline. He put on weight and let his hair get bushy. He also grew a scruffy beard and mustache. I heard he hung out with bikers. Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said that. You won’t print that, will you?” She looked worriedly up through her lashes.
Julian found the mention of bikers very interesting. He wanted to probe deeper, but the secretary began nervously edging away. He thanked her for her help, his mind stuck on Lee Hackett. Except for the biker connection, the two men didn’t seem alike. Hackett wasn’t a big man. “Don’t worry. I’ll consider our conversation off the record,” he said with another disarming smile.
“Good. You really should talk to Garnet. Or her teacher friends. They’re all in the hectic final days of classes. Oh, but earlier today I heard some of them planning to go to happy hour Friday at the Silver Springs Lounge. To celebrate turning in their grades. Garnet said she might go.”
Julian tucked his notebook in his pocket. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted to confront Garnet Patton. But just in case, he drove past the Silver Springs Lounge on his way back to the motel. It was an upscale establishment, and dark enough inside to allow for anonymous observations.
Eager to try out one of the local streams, Julian thought he’d get up early and fish Thursday morning. And maybe he’d spend the afternoon talking with Ms. Patton’s neighbors. Maybe he wouldn’t need a face-to-face meeting. Although he was curious to see how a woman with a missing daughter handled a night out on the town. Somehow, Julian didn’t think too highly of the mother of a missing daughter who went about her life as if everything was status quo.
CHAPTER TWO
JULIAN RELAXED BY a lazy river. Before the morning mist evaporated he’d caught two rainbow trout. Beauties he was sorry to release. Hungry for fish, he stopped for a burger instead at a biker bar he passed on his way back to the motel. Inside, he struck up conversation with a cold-eyed bruiser seated at the counter. “Julian Cavenaugh, North Alaska Tribune,” he said, inventing a paper. “I’m considering a follow-up on the Dale Patton story. Ever heard of him?”
“Yeah. But why would anyone want to stir that up again?”
Julian bit into his burger and licked the juice that trickled down his thumb. “I’m curious how Patton managed to slip away, even though there must’ve been posters and stuff all over the state.”
“So Dale’s slippery. End of story. Find a new one, pal.” Several tough guys in the room laughed. The bruiser took a last slug from his beer, tossed money on the counter, hitched up his pants and left. At least five others followed him out.
Hearing the roar of bike engines from out front, Julian tried asking his waitress, but she didn’t know Patton. She attempted to flirt, but Julian wasn’t interested. He left his burger, paid his bill and returned to the motel to shower and change. He decided to try his luck with Garnet Patton’s neighbors.
The first woman who answered his knock was treated to Julian’s best smile. The fact that he petted the woman’s fussy dog won him an audience with Anna Winkleman, senior citizen. “I’m writing a follow-up story on the missing Patton child,” Julian fibbed after introducing himself and showing her his false credentials.
“No doubt you’ve given accounts in the past, but I wondered if you’d mind talking about it again.”
“Mercy, I’m grateful her case hasn’t been forgotten. Poor Garnet’s exhausted herself and spent every cent she doesn’t absolutely need to live on, trying to find her precious baby. She’s so discouraged. Is it possible to find Sophie after so long?”
Still petting the pooch, Julian considered how to answer. “Anything is possible,” he finally said. “Mrs. Winkleman, how well did you know Dale Patton? Is he the type who could’ve hurt his daughter to spite his ex? She did file for the divorce, correct?”
“She did. But Garnet moved here after the kidnapping. I never met Dale. All I really know about him is hearsay. Rumor is that he got in with a bunch of no-good bikers who drank and caroused. Other people say he took Sophie on his motorcycle when she was a toddler. He bought her a helmet, but still…I say Garnet did the right thing divorcing him.”
“Was his taking their daughter for bike rides a big reason for the divorce?”
Anna looked blank. “I’m not sure. I believe it had some bearing on her seeking sole custody. But who can blame her? She said that about a month before she petitioned family court for sole custody, one of Dale’s biker friends was struck and killed by a logging truck. It was obviously not appropriate for a child to be on one of those things. Then, a few days after the judge’s ruling, before Garnet was able to get copies of the new court order to the school, Dale showed up at the preschool on his motorcycle and took off with Sophie.”
Julian jotted notes in his book. “Thanks, you’ve been very helpful. I’d like to talk to some of Ms. Patton’s other friends. Can you suggest anyone?”
“Her friends in this building, you mean? Well, there’s Hazel Webber downstairs, and John Carlyle, who lives next door to Garnet. However, I saw John leave to walk his dog. He has a rat terrier he takes up the street to the park. He’ll probably be at a picnic table playing checkers with his cronies.”
Giving Anna’s dog a last pat, Julian went downstairs to find the Webber unit. He hit a roadblock with the white-haired matron who opened the door. She gazed haughtily down her nose at him. “I don’t talk to nosy strangers, young man,” she said before slamming her door.
Julian crossed her off his list and left in search of Mr. Carlyle and his rat terrier. He found them two blocks from the complex. Julian stopped, mumbled his name and said, “I hope, sir, that you won at checkers.” He dived straight into his request for information on Garnet, hastily adding that Anna Winkleman had steered him this way.
“That busybody. Why can’t you get what you need from your paper’s archives? Ah, because you’re no reporter. Sonny, I’d say you look more like a cop.” Squinting, the old fellow studied Julian carefully. “Yes or no?”
Embarrassed at being found by the perceptive old man, Julian winced. Quickly, he showed him his badge, careful to explain that his role was strictly unofficial. “I’m just a cop who hates cold cases,” he said, feeling guilty nevertheless. “Sometimes a fresh take on old information can lead to apprehensions,” he added. That was true, and so was his next comment. “Some people feel intimidated by cops and are more comfortable talking to reporters.”
“Huh, well, some cops lack basic people skills. Not saying that applies to you, young fella. Now, I never met Dale Patton, Garnet moved in next to me after the kidnapping. But my checkers partner knew him. He swears Dale loved that baby, too. Swede, that’s my checkers buddy, lives on the other side of the park where the Pattons used to live. According to him, Dale felt shut out by Garnet’s friends. They didn’t think he was good enough for her. Swede said Dale dropped out of high school and came here from Washington State to work on the pipeline. A lot of young men did. When the jobs petered out, most went home. That’s not easy for a married man, especially if his wife has a good job. Mind you, Swede’s never said Garnet and Dale fought over who brought in the bread. But I figure it’d be a sore subject, particularly if you add it to criticism by a wife’s friends.”
As they meandered back to the apartments, Julian drew some conclusions of his own. He thanked John, then left him with his terrier at the entrance. Once in his Jeep, Julian studied the new data on Patton. It fit his observations of Lee Hackett.
Julian’s stomach tightened. Was his dad right this time? One stepson had said that Hackett once owned a motorcycle. Evidence pointed to Patton hanging with a biker crowd. The only fly in the ointment, so to speak, was that the school secretary’s