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 physical description of Dale Patton in no way matched Lee Hackett.
Even so, Julian wasn’t ready to pack it in and go home. Instead, he made a second trip to the high school. This time he managed to bump into a pair of teachers who exited the building with Ms. Patton. He approached the two women after they left Garnet at her car, and they were plainly curious about him. The younger teacher, who introduced herself as Jenny Hoffman, immediately acted coy with Julian. The second woman gave her name as Molly Eberhart, but neither seemed eager to talk to him about Garnet other than to defend her.
“Any man who’d steal a child from her mother is a creep. I never liked him,” Jenny said scraping back her long hair. “Garnet’s so far out of his league. The mystery is why she married him in the first place. Tracy Williams and I were right to voice our objections to him at the custody hearing. Look what he did.”
“He had more decency than you and Tracy gave him credit for,” Molly ventured.
“So he phoned the preschool and told the secretary Sophie was okay. He still waited two days and notice he phoned before the police tapped the line.”
Molly tsked. “Jenny, that call kept Garnet from falling apart. I think she wishes she’d never asked for sole custody.”
“You haven’t seen Garnet cry her eyes out. She’ll never be her old self until Sophie’s back safe and Dale’s behind bars.”
Julian listened to the women sparring. He finally excused himself. “Ladies, I appreciate your insight. I guess I need to go read all the old articles,” he said, carefully keeping the reporter persona intact.
Jenny caught up with him as he approached his Jeep. “You can verify everything I said with Garnet. Sorry I didn’t think to mention it earlier, but a small group of us are going to the Silver Springs lounge to celebrate the end of school. I’ll introduce you two. Just remember, I saw you first.”
“All I’m after are some unbiased opinions.”
“Huh, you won’t find any friend of Garnet’s with an unbiased opinion.”
Julian offered a smile as he climbed into in his Jeep. He had, in fact, found two unbiased opinions. One belonged to Molly Eberhart, the other to John Carlyle. Tossing off a wave, Julian pulled out of his parking space. He spent the next hour at the library poring over old records. The story had been front-page news for months, then, as was typical, it tapered to nothing when leads fell off.
Julian shut down his laptop and thanked the archive specialist. He dropped his stuff at the motel. Then, because Larry Adams had left a message to meet him at a nearby pub, Julian dashed out again.
Lingering in the doorway of the smoky, noisy bar, Julian let his eyes adjust while trying to pinpoint the cop he’d met only twice before.
Larry recognized him, came over and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Wow, I’d never have known you if I’d bumped into you on the street,” Julian said.
“That’s the point of an undercover disguise,” Larry said, leading Julian to a booth at the back of the pub where two beers sat in sweaty mugs. He slid in first, and Julian took the opposite bench. “What’s up in Atlanta? Are they fresh out of crime? With your workaholic reputation, I never expected you to make it to my neck of the woods.”
Taking a swig of cold beer, Julian shrugged. “It’s my reward for finally nailing a sleazebag who terrorized women in one of our burbs for over four months.” He went on to describe the case in more detail.
Larry spun his mug, staring at the wet rings it left on the tabletop. “I’m glad I work Narc now. I had to get out of Violent Crimes. How’d you keep from plugging a guy like that and claiming he tried to escape? We had one recently who walked on a technicality.”
“It happens. My partner’s a twenty-year man who lost his oldest daughter to a repeat offender. He and I go the extra mile to make sure our collars are by-the-book so our evidence holds up.”
“That’s good. Alaska courts have been known to accept that our citizens are entitled to a wild and woolly lifestyle. Or maybe we attract more than our share of renegades and malcontents.” The topic trailed off as Larry perused a worn menu.
As Julian picked up his own, he considered asking Larry if he knew anything about the Patton kidnapping. It’d help to get a professional opinion
