Not a problem, Alan said. His heart was racing a mile a minute and his jaws felt like they were wired together. If itll help close this case, Im sure as hell not going to turn it down.
This time the chuckle sounded genuinely amused. Spoken like a cop, son. Guess the apple didnt fall all that far from the tree. So- he cleared his throat loudly -anyway, the guys name is Faulkner-Bob Faulkner. He was a homicide detective down in Baltimore-retired, acourse-getting on in years, though. Met him a while back-I forget now what the occasion was-and we got to talking about old times, old cases. You know how it goes. Anyways, he was telling us, Bucky and me, about this case he had, way way back, but it stuck with him because, he said, the kids were just so doggone nice, squeaky-clean, and the case never did make any sense. Anyways, when Bucky told me youd called, it was the first thing we thought of, both of us. Went ahead and looked him up-turns out he still lives in Balmore. Hes expecting your call, if you want to talk to him.
It was a moment or two before Alan could reply, and he had to clear his throat first. Okay, Ill do that, he said. He listened to the number, jotted it down, then added, Thanks.
No problem. Glad I could help. There was a long silence, and then a gruff and raspy, Think you could maybe give your old man a call sometime, when youre not so busy?
The knot in Alans chest became a fist, squeezing the breath out of him. Sure. Yeah. Ill do that.
After hed hung up, he sat for a few minutes, clammy and sweaty, waiting for his heart rate to slow down. When he looked up, he found Carl watching him.
His partners somber expression brightened into a smile. Hoo boy, for a minute there you looked like you were talking to a ghost.
Alan laughed without humor. You could say that. Thatwas my dad.
After hed hung up, he sat for a few minutes, clammy and sweaty, waiting for his heart rate to slow down. When he looked up, he found Carl watching him.
His partners somber expression brightened into a smile. Hoo boy, for a minute there you looked like you were talking to a ghost.
Alan laughed without humor. You could say that. Thatwas my dad.
Seriously? Alan nodded. Carl tilted his head thoughtfully. Interesting
Yeah, Alan said sourly. Glowering, he picked up the phone again, consulted the number hed written down on a notepad and dialed it.
It was answered after four rings, by a voice that sounded out of breath. Alan was picturing a frail old geezer on oxygen, until, after hed identified himself, he heard a robust cackle.
Caught me a little ahead of myself, Bob Faulkner said. I was just lugging the file box up out of the damn basement. Gimme a minutelemme catch my breath.
Sure, Alan said, take your time.
Whoo-been a few years since I looked at those files. Used to haul em out every now and then, go through everything all over againkept thinking Id see something Id missed. You know how it is. Or if you dont, you will. Every homicide cop, if hes on the job long enough, has one-the case that wont let him alone, you know? SoLieutenant Cameron-thatd be your dad, I guess?
Right.
Good man-good cop. He tells me youve got a case you think might be connected with this one? The suppressed excitement in the old detectives voice came over the line, loud and clear.
Maybe, Alan said cautiously. Uhyou have any objections to my recording this call? Make it easier to go back over things.
Sure, no problem.
Alan poked buttons, put the call on speaker, then said, Okay, were on. Im looking for- What could he say? A double homicide? But it hadnt been that, had it? Might have been missing persons, probable homicide-young couple, maybe mid-twenties, early thirties at the most. Would have happened around the first of September, 1969.
Times right. Faulkner was silent for a moment. Sos the age. And its interesting, you know, you calling it a probable homicide. We had it as a missing persons case for a while, but I always did figure they was dead, leaving their kid behind like that.
Alans scalp prickled. They had a child?
Little boy. About five years old when they disappeared. Theyd left the kid with a neighbor and went out to dinner and a movie. It was the neighbor called the police when they didnt show up to collect the boy. Wasnt until the next day they found the couples car in a downtown parking lot. Not a trace of the two of them, then or since. Faulkner made a tsking sound. Shame. Nice kids. Really nice. Thats what made it so hard, I think.
What can you tell me about them?
James and Karen McKinney. Lord, sometimes I think I know those names bettern I know my own kids. Squeaky-clean-I mean really. Not a thing in their past history, no debts, no vices, no enemies-hell, they hadnt been in town long enough to make enemies. Theyd just moved here-came from someplace up in northern Pennsylvania, one of those dying coal-mining towns, you know? High school sweethearts-she was as pretty as a picture, and he was good-looking, too. They got married right outa high school and she got pregnant right off the bat, but they didnt let it hold em back. Nah, they were going places, those two. She went to work so he could go to college while her mother watched after the baby. Then her mom passed away about the time he graduated, and he got a job down here. Teaching-yeah, he was a damn schoolteacher, you believe that? Or woulda been. He was set to start the new job when school started, woulda been right after Labor Day, thats the way they did, back then. Way I always figured it, those two kids were out celebrating their last free weekend before the new job, the new school year started. Andpoof. They justdisappeared off the face of the earth.
People dont just disappear, Alan said. You must have an idea, some kind of theory what might have happened.
There was another long pause. Most everybody thought it was probably a random thing-some psycho, you know?-and those kids just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Most everybody. But you dont think so.
Didnt feel right to me-I dont know why. Well, for one thing, usually with those kinds of things, the bodies turn up sooner or later. Or else theres more killings. This was just too clean. Struck me as beingprofessional.
Professional. As ina hit?
I know, I know. The question is, why? Another pause. You wanna know what I think? If it was a hit, then somebody got it wrong, thats all.
You mean- Alan felt a sudden chill.
Yeah. I think the reason those two kids got whacked, somebody made a mistake, got the wrong people. It was just a case of mistaken identity.
Alan didnt say anything. He couldnt. He felt queasy-physically sick.
YeahI always did think it was kind of funny, because according to the landlord, the couple that had the apartment before the McKinneys moved in, seems theyd done a midnight flit-skedaddled in the middle of the night, left owing a months rent. Woulda made sense, if they knew there was a contract out on them. Thing is, I looked into them, too. Nothing. After a moment Faulkner cleared his throat. So, am I getting this right? Your dad says you think Karen McKinney might be alive? After all these years
There was a break in the old mans voice, and it struck Alan that Faulkner had spoken of the couple-the McKinneys-as if they were people hed known personally and well. As maybe he had, he thought, maybe better than those whod called themselves neighbors and friends of the couple, even family. Hed studied every detail of their personalities, their lives, had lived with them inside his head for years, even decades. They probably were as close to him as members of his own family.
Too soon to tell, he said gently, not wanting to get the guys hopes up in case the Jane Doe pulled out of the Chesapeake turned out to be unrelated to the Baltimore case. Can you fax me whatever photos you have of Karen McKinney?
Sure can. Ill send you the whole damn file, soon as I get somebody to drive me to the post office. I dont drive in the city these days-too damn dangerous.
Thanks, Alan said. I do appreciate it.
One more thing you should know.
Yeah? Whats that?
Remember I said it had been quite a few years since Id looked at those files? Well, last time wasoh, maybe ten, fifteen years ago. Somebody else was looking into the case-came to see me in person, in fact.
Really. Alans spine had straightened involuntarily.
Faulkner chuckled. That got your attention, didnt it? Yeah, fella was a private dick out of Atlanta. Ive got his name right here, but I dont think hes in Atlanta anymore. I think he moved out west somewhere. But if hes still licensed, you ought to be able to locate him easily enough. P.I.s name was Holt Kincaid. Said he was James and Karen McKinneys son.
Alan didnt have to look to know his partner had swiveled back to his computer and was already typing in the name. By the time hed given Faulkner his fax number and the address where he could send the McKinney files, finished his goodbyes and signed off, Carl was sitting back, staring intently at his monitor screen.
Whatve you got?
Carl flicked him a glance. Would you believe your P.I. lives in L.A. now? On Laurel Canyon. But thats not all.
Alan was on his feet, looking over the other mans shoulder. Carl tapped the screen. Take a look. Could be a coincidence, I guess.
You know what I think about coincidences, Alan muttered, then read aloud from the information on the screen. Date of birthNovember1964. He shot Carl a look, but didnt point out the obvious. A moment later, he straightened up, one hand clamped to the top of his head. Sonofa- he whispered.
The full name given on the application form was James Holt Kincaid.
Jimmy?
Lindsey had been for a long run in Mission Bay Park that morning. Shed been doing a lot of running the whole past week, but today being Saturday, shed decided to push herself. She was in the shower cooling off when she heard her doorbell ring, and because she wasnt expecting anyone, for a while she tried to ignore it. But obviously, whoever it was didnt seem inclined to give up. The ringing went on and on, sounding more and more insistent.
Finally, she swore, shut off the water, wrapped a towel around her head and shrugged into a short terry cloth robe. Coming! Im coming, already, she hollered, tying the robes belt as she stomped angrily and barefooted down the stairs. In the entryway she took a quick look through the peephole. Then, as her insides performed what she knew to be physically impossible feats-her stomach dropped, her heart turned over, etc.-she looked again. And with shaking hands, unlocked and opened the door.
Alan-uh, Detective Cameron, she managed to say, then stood clutching the collar of her robe and mopping self-consciously at her wet face with it, while her visitor pulled off his sunglasses and moved past her. He was dressed casually, in cargo pants and short-sleeved knit shirt with a collar, but in spite of that she could see he was in full cop mode, judging from the way he came into her house as if he had every right to be there.