Bone Box Page 10

  “Right,” he answered.

  “How do you get along with . . . ?” Natalie stopped herself. “Never mind.”

  “I have a tortured relationship with my parents,” McAdams said. “And I know it’s not all them. Sometimes it’s me, as much as I hate to admit it. But even if you two were very close, there was nothing you could have done or said to prevent this. Bad stuff happens.”

  No one spoke. Then Natalie said, “As a parent, you think . . . I should have asked more questions, I should have demanded more answers, I should have insisted she check in with me, I should have kept a tighter rein, I should have sent her to a different college. I should have kept her closer to home. You drive yourself crazy because you want to turn back the clock and you can’t.”

  Decker said. “What happened had absolutely nothing to do with you.”

  “Do you think it’s her?”

  “We don’t know.” Decker debated how much to tell her. “Clarion did the initial notification that she was missing, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then you filed with Greenbury police?”

  “Yes. They got involved—such as it was—as soon as we went up to the college. I think both departments kept on shunting responsibility back to each other. But Greenbury did do some investigating. They talked to her friends . . . her teachers . . . things like that.”

  “What do you know about her college friends?”

  “Not much, as I told you. I do know Emily Crowler because I know the family. Emily’s father, Bud, and Richard are both physicians in orthopedics. The Crowlers live in Cleveland.” Natalie wiped her eyes with a new tissue. “After it happened and the police weren’t getting anywhere, I went to the college and tried to resurrect Delilah’s life. I found out she had a boyfriend. Cameron Snowe.”

  Decker was leafing through a summary folder on Delilah Occum’s disappearance. “I see that Emily was interviewed, but not the boyfriend. Is Snow spelled S-N-O-W?”

  “S-N-O-W-E. I didn’t like him at all. I think he had something to do with her disappearance. And when I told the police, they said they’d check him out. Whether or not they did, I don’t know.”

  “Oh, here we go. I’m looking in the wrong place. Snowe was interviewed along with several other young men. The kids alibied one another.” He read the file. “It doesn’t say anything about him being a boyfriend.”

  “He probably denied it. And friends lie, you know.”

  “Friends lie all the time. Was he at the same party as Delilah the night she disappeared?”

  “Yes. It was a Morse McKinley party and he went to Morse McKinley. I heard that the two of them had a fight and she stalked off. She left, but supposedly he didn’t. Who’s to say he didn’t sneak out and follow her and do something nasty to her?”

  “Is that what you believe happened?”

  She sighed. “I’m just saying it’s plausible. But once he was alibied, the police took him off the list.” She leaned forward and crumpled, deflating like slack sails in a becalmed sea. “Do you think it’s Delilah? In the woods?”

  “I don’t know. But if it is her, I will do whatever I humanly can do to bring down whoever is responsible.” Decker paused. “When nothing happened with the police, did you try your luck with a private investigator?”

  “I see you’ve talked to parents like me before.” She blew out air. “We hired two private investigators. The first one only cared about money—Daniel Brewer. The second one was more responsive but equally unsuccessful. Her name is Ashley Corrigan. I have both sets of files and reports. Would you like me to retrieve them for you?”

  “That would be very helpful, thank you very much.”

  When she left, McAdams raised his eyebrows. He whispered, “How did you do this stuff for so long? It’s so fucking draining.”

  “Most of the time, the people turn up in one piece. Often they’re runaway teens or children kidnapped in custody disputes. Missing person cases have a fair amount of successes. What we’re working with are basically homicides but without bodies. And, yes, they are fucking draining.”

  Natalie returned holding several manila envelopes. “The files are here.” She handed him a third envelope. “These are her X-rays. I’d like everything back if it isn’t her.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I suppose I should thank you for taking the time to come out.”

  “Of course. We’ll keep you updated, Mrs. Occum.”

  “At this point, I don’t expect anything—from you or anyone else.”

  Decker stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry for all you’ve gone through. I promise you this. Even if it isn’t Delilah, I’ll take another look at her file. It’s been three years. Sometimes a fresh perspective helps.”

  She looked him squarely in the eye. “I’ll keep you to your word.”

  Decker took a card from his wallet. “My office number and I’ll write my cell number on the back.” When he was done, he handed it to her. “Call me anytime.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “He means it,” McAdams said.

  She turned to him. “Do you have a card?”

  “He’s full-time in law school,” Decker said. “I’m your contact man. And I’m sincere. I was a detective lieutenant in the Los Angeles Police Department. I’ve worked a lot of cases. I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll do my best.”

  “What will you do that hasn’t been done?”

  “Yes, it’s all been done, but sometimes, by rereading the files, there’s a lead that we missed first time around. Sometimes the guilty party has been questioned and the name is right there in black and white.”

  “So why the hell didn’t they get the person in the first place?”

  “Because files are thick and have a lot of extraneous information. It’s not that we’re incompetent, although sometimes we are. But it’s like a data-processing thing. Sorting all the junk from the useful information. If you didn’t like Cameron Snowe, he’s worth another look. Mothers have good instincts.”

  “For some odd reason, I believe you’re taking me seriously.”

  “I am taking you seriously.”

  “Too much to hope for.” She shook her head. “It’s okay . . . whatever.”

  Spoken like a woman who had given up on life.

  Heading southeast toward Philadelphia, Decker drove while munching on a breakfast bar, listening to a Jane Monheit CD that Rina had bought him. After walking around all day, she was worn out and had fallen asleep ten minutes into the ride, her head resting against the car door. The sky was black and cloudless, the night was mild: not nearly as hot and muggy as the evenings had been just a week ago. They still had a few hours of driving left before they reached the City of Brotherly Love. McAdams had closed his eyes.

  He said, “Who listens to CDs anymore?”

  Decker startled at the sound of his voice. He had thought that the kid had fallen asleep. “Obviously I do.”

  “What you need is an auxiliary feed on your media system. Then you can listen to everything you like on your phone instead of listening to the same twelve tracks over and over and over.”

  “I don’t like to fool around with music while I’m driving. That’s the problem these days. Everybody is on the phone or texting or fiddling with music or setting navigation.”

  “Or eating.”

  Decker ignored the gibe. “They’re doing everything except paying attention to the road.”

  “Spoken like a true codger.”

  “Nonsense,” Decker said. “I’m very au courant. I’ve got Pandora at home, fyi.”

  “I like that fyi. If you’d like me to drive, I will do so. I can actually multitask.”

  “No such thing. Your brain isn’t doing two things at once. It’s constantly shifting from one task to another in microseconds, which means you’re not really giving anything your full attention. No wonder all you youngsters have ADD.”

  “You’re just jealous because it
takes you forever to switch gears.”

  “I do prefer a symphony to a jingle. Besides, what is wrong with hearing twelve songs by Jane Monheit?”

  “I’m not commenting on your taste, just your delivery system.”

  “Okay, McAdams, I can see you’re bored. Tell me your thoughts on the case.”

  “This is what I’m thinking.” He sat up and cleared his throat. “Even if Jane Doe isn’t Delilah or Yvette, we still can’t rule out that Pettigrew and Jane Doe are connected. But if Doe is Delilah or Yvette, they have the added college connection.”

  Decker said, “Both Yvette and Delilah were murdered two years apart from Pettigrew. Was there any overlap in school with Pettigrew and the girls?”

  “There’s probably no overlap with the two girls. But it’s possible that Pettigrew overlapped with both of them.”

  “That would put at least two of them in the same time frame.”

  “Yvette vanished first,” McAdams said. “Maybe Pettigrew knew something about her disappearance. Maybe that was the real reason why Pettigrew dropped out of school.”

  “If so, why would he come back to Greenbury a few years later?”

  “To confront the murderer. Pettigrew was a different person from the one who had left school. Maybe after finding his true self, he finally felt the need to do the right thing.”

  “Then why not just go to the police?” Decker said.

  “Maybe he wasn’t sure. Maybe he wanted to feel the situation out.”

  “If Pettigrew came back to talk to the killer, who’d come out with the short end of the stick in that one-on-one?”

  “Maybe Pettigrew felt he could handle himself. He was a tall guy. Maybe he didn’t think whoever he confronted would dare to kill again.”

  Decker said, “If he thought that, he was not only naive, he never watched a true crime show in his life.”

  McAdams gave a half smile. “If Jane Doe is Occum, then you’d have to reverse it since Pettigrew disappeared first.”

  “That Occum saw Pettigrew being murdered?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then why wouldn’t the killer murder Occum and Pettigrew at the same time?”

  “Maybe the killer didn’t know Occum had witnessed the murder until much later.”

  Decker said, “And Occum—after witnessing a murder—would stick around in school a full year and a half after it happened and act like it was nothing?”

  The car went silent. Then McAdams said, “Maybe she was part of it?”

  “Occum had a part in Pettigrew’s murder?”

  “He was hit from behind by someone smaller.”

  “Okay, I’m open to anything. Let’s find out if Occum was even in the colleges when Pettigrew disappeared.”

  “Or if they knew someone in common.”

  “That’s more likely,” Decker said.

  The kid punched a button on the sound system and the CD popped out. “That’s the third time we went through the disc. Enough.”

  “Put on whatever music you like. Or not. I don’t mind the silence.”

  No one talked for a few moments.

  Suddenly McAdams announced, “We spend a summer bored shitless and just when we start to deal with something interesting, I’ve got to leave.”

  “You can come down on the weekends.”

  “My sublease is up in a week.” McAdams brightened. “I could stay with you . . . just until you get a solve—which won’t take long with your expertise and competence.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.”

  Silence.

  Then more silence.

  “Of course, if it would be an imposition for me to stay with you, I could rent something.”

  “Why don’t we see what plays out in the week you’re here?”

  “Sure.” McAdams looked glum.

  Decker tapped the steering wheel. “And if I’m floundering with the case—and that looks likely—I will be happy to have your help and your input. And of course you can stay with us. But I don’t get it. Tyler, you’re a very rich young man. Why don’t you just rent a place here for the year? The price is like pocket change for you.”

  “My own place would mean stocking my own fridge, doing my own laundry, and cleaning my own floors. If I stay with you, I get free room and board.”

  “So you’re a mooch.”

  “I bring you flowers and wine for dinner.”

  “You’re a classy mooch.”

  “Decker, you’re the one that always says that I’m one of your honorary kids.”

  “You are.”

  “If I’m an honorary kid, then I, like your other kids, should have mooching privileges.”

  Decker laughed. “That’s fine with me, Harvard, just as long as I don’t have to pay your tuition.”

  Chapter 13

  Rittenhouse Square was near downtown Philly. The area overflowed with people and apartment buildings, restaurants, cafés, boutiques, and clubs, all within walking distance from the city’s elite universities. In the daytime, traffic was bad: at night, the roadways were wall-to-wall cars, most of them looking for nonexistent parking spaces. Koby could walk to work, but Cindy wasn’t as lucky. She regularly battled traffic, but at least parking wasn’t the problem. Her building came with a space and she had left it open for Decker’s car.

  He, Rina, and Tyler arrived just as the sitter was putting the boys in pajamas. Nana and Grandpa’s appearance was a cause for celebration and the delaying of bedtime. The boys were tall and strong and talked over each other. When things started getting wild, the sitter announced that it was ten minutes until lights out; if they cooperated, Nana and Grandpa would read them two books and tuck them in.

  Just as the door closed to the boys’ room, Koby came home. Decker’s son-in-law was tall and lean, made even leaner by the demanding hours of medical school coupled with his advance to middle age. He was dressed in scrubs. After he excused the sitter, he said, “I’ll just go kiss them good night.”

  Cindy arrived five minutes later via cab. She’d left her car at the station house so parking wouldn’t be a problem for Decker. She was also tall and had lost the kind of weight that comes with fatigue rather than exercise. She looked the professional in black slacks, a white blouse, and black blazer with black flats on her feet. She had crossed the threshold into her forties and was beginning to show signs of wear and tear: white in her red hair and wrinkles around her bright, brown eyes, which instantly lit up when she saw her father.

  Gigantic hugs ensued. “Oh my God, it’s great to see you guys.”

  “Same here.” Decker regarded his daughter at arm’s length. “Detective Sergeant Kutiel. I don’t know if I like you outranking me.”

  “In name only.” She kissed his cheek and gave Rina a hug, then McAdams. “Hello, Tyler. Is he still picking on you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, better you than me. Are the boys asleep?”

  Rina said, “Koby’s with them right now.”

  Cindy checked her watch. “They’re still up?”

  “I think we’re to blame for that.”

  “Can’t fault them for being excited. I’ll just be a minute. Dinner’s ready by the way. I just have to heat everything up.”

  “I can do it,” Rina said. “I’ll set the table as well.”

  “Great. It’s the shredded beef and vegetables. There’s also a baguette in the freezer. Just stick it in the oven with the meat. And open a bottle of wine. We’re celebrating!”

  Cindy retreated to the boys’ bedroom. Decker and Tyler sat on a brown corduroy couch, the color not quite masking the multiple stains. Decker said, “What I should do is help Rina out. But what I want to do is just sit here. My conscience and my aching bones are embroiled in this internal debate.”

  Rina came into the dining area with a stack of dishes. “What debate?”

  “Should I help you or not?”

  “This is the deal. First of all, I slept on the ride here. Second, I’m already standing so I�
��ll do the work. When you get up, your goose is cooked.”

  “So as long as I sit, I’m exempt?”

  “Yes. How was your day?”

  “Long,” Decker said. “Most of it was driving. Why does driving make you so tired? It’s not as if you’re exerting any energy.”

  “Being bored is tiring,” Rina said. “Did you learn anything about Delilah Occum?”

  Cindy and Koby emerged from the boys’ room. She said, “Yeah, I want to hear about that.”

  Rina said, “Why don’t you two shower and by then everything will be ready.”

  “I’d love to, but don’t start without me.”

  Koby said, “Are you sure you don’t want help, Rina?”

  “I’m fine.”

  The couple retreated to their bedroom. Tyler stood up and stretched. “I need to be upright. What do you need, Rina?”

  “You’re making me look bad,” Decker said.

  “You don’t need me for that.”

  “Whoa,” Rina said. “Snap.”

  Decker laughed but didn’t move. With Tyler setting the table and Rina in the kitchen, he was irrelevant anyway. McAdams came back to the couch with two old-fashioned glasses of whiskey. He plunked one down in front of Peter. “At Rina’s behest. You don’t deserve her.”

  “It’s impossible to compete with an angel, so I don’t even try.” Decker kicked off his shoes and put his socked feet up on an ottoman. Then he picked up the glass of booze and this morning’s unread Inquirer, and put on his reading glasses.

  Old age did have its compensations.

  The household started early—to be expected with a med student, a cop, and two young boys. It was therefore convenient that Decker’s own workday also started at dawn.

  Radar was on the phone. “We got a situation up here. We found another body.”

  It shouldn’t have been a shock, but it was. Maybe because Decker was still in his pajamas. “When?”

  “We found a depression in the ground right before sunset. The bones were discovered about twenty minutes ago. Ben Roiters and Kevin Butterfield are up there now. Coroner should be here in an hour. What X-rays do you have?”