chosen his home well. The exposure to the scene was perfect: a clear view of the garage in the backyard and the alley behind it. It was there, next to that garage, where Faith’s body had been found the morning after her disappearance, naked and lying under a four-by-eight sheet of plywood.
Kennedy had been lucky to find a place that offered an unobstructed look at the two places he needed to see.
“Any questions?”
“Not about the technology,” I answered him. “I think I’ve got that figured out.”
“Yeah?”
“One thing, though. Besides me, how many times in all these years have you seen someone who maybe looked a little suspicious?”
“Count ’em on one hand.”
“I don’t know whether to admire you or feel sorry for you for doing this.”
“Well, let me put your mind at ease. I don’t give a rat’s ass which one you choose. Or what you think of me. This is what I’m going to do until I get that bastard.”
“And you really think you’ll get him?”
His shoulders slumped a little, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “Some days I’m convinced that I’ll never see him, that he’s dead or he’s too smart or, like I said, he had cop help to get away with it and I’ll never get any closer than I am right now.” While he speaking he bent down to look through the video camera. “But there are other times when I know … I can feel it, that he’s still out there and one day he’ll walk into my camera shot and I can spring the trap. By the way, something I forgot — binoculars on that shelf over there.”
He pointed, and I looked at the shelf he was indicating, saw the binoculars.
I glanced at my watch. “You better get going.”
He nodded. “You good?”
“I’m good.”
“My bag’s down in the hall. I’ll grab it on the way out. House keys are on the table right by the front door. There’s some stuff in the fridge if you get hungry. I’ll text when I know more.”
“Listen, Marlon. I got this. Why don’t you just think about what you need to do in Nanaimo? And I want you to know I’m sorry about your wife.”
“Yeah.” He left the bedroom, and I heard him descending the stairs.
“One more thing!” he yelled from the main level of the house. “That rifle’s loaded … just so you know.”
I looked over at the rifle, a .30-06, and was still looking at it when I heard the front door close.
I walked back and forth between the two workspaces Kennedy had set up in the house. After twenty minutes of that I called Cobb, left a voice mail to say Kennedy had gone to catch his flight and all was quiet. Then I called Jill.
Though I was fairly sure I’d woken her, her voice gave no sign. I heard, “Hey, cowboy,” after she picked up. “How’s the spying going?”
“Okay,” I said. “Kennedy’s left for the airport. I’ve been checking the place out. The crazy part is that I can picture myself actually being sort of busy between watching, recording what I see, and checking the tapes to look at what I missed.”
“No, sweetheart,” Jill countered, “that’s not the crazy part. The crazy part is that you’re in a virtual stranger’s house looking for a clue into something that happened twenty-four years ago.”
“I guess,” I said.
She paused. “I’m sorry. It’s not right that I’m making light of it. I honestly feel terrible for that poor man who has given up his life for this. And I’m glad you called. I was kind of worried about you. Everything’s okay over there?”
“Everything’s fine,” I assured her. “I mean, this feels weird to me too, but I wanted to do this for the guy so he can be with his wife. And what’s weirdest of all, it feels like fishing. You sit there, you haven’t had a bite for hours, but you keep looking at your line in the water like at any second some fish is going to grab the hook, and bingo, you got ’im.”
“And you think you might see someone who could be the guy?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I mean no, I don’t really believe that. But I also find it impossible to say I’m not going to see someone. That’s the fishing part. I guess that’s how it must be for Kennedy. Anyway, I miss you and I need to hear the voice of the young lady who lives with you … if she’s up.”
“She’s lying here right beside me. Wouldn’t go off to her own bed until we’d heard from you. I think she has a crush on you.”
I heard a “Mom!” in the background and could picture the pained expression on Kyla’s face.
She came on the line. “I don’t know why you even go out with her.” I could hear the urge to laugh in her voice.
“I do it only to get her out of the house and give you a break.”
The laugh surfaced then. We didn’t talk long, but she did tell me she’d thought about it and decided that Mr. Kennedy should not take matters into his own hands. Jill had been right about her daughter’s need to analyze.
“You’re a terrific kid, you know that? It must be about time we hit Chuck E. Cheese for a night of my beating the tar out of you in every game in the place.”
“You wish!” She laughed again.
“You know what I really wish? I wish I could give you a hug right now.”
“What you have to do is give me a think hug.”
“And I do that how?”
“You think about the hug, and I think about the hug at the same time. It’s not as good as the real thing, but it’s better than no hug at all. Wanna try?”
I wondered if Kyla and her dad used the “think hug” method — then decided it didn’t matter.
“I sure do,” I told her, and I actually closed my eyes and imagined holding her.
“Did it work?” she said after a few seconds.
“You’re a genius,” I said. “I’m not going to be around much for the next little while, so we’re going to have to rely on think hugs, lots of them.”
“Okay.”
“Have a good sleep, okay?”
“You too, Adam.”
I promised her I would, but as we ended the call I knew it would be a while before I slept.
For the next three hours, maybe a little longer, I alternated between the upstairs and downstairs locations. I spent more time on the upper level — on the stool and looking some of the time through the camera and some of the time through the binoculars at the garage and the alley
