Mercy parked behind Detective Bolton’s vehicle, a strong sense of déjà vu affecting her.
I was just near this area.
The Hartlage home with the missing family was two miles away. Bolton had been there with her.
Memories of the sad, empty home and the small skull filled her thoughts. Alison and Amy. Mercy was no closer to finding their killer.
She got out of her car, pulled up her hood against the rain, and joined Bolton. The mobile home in front of them was dark.
“We were both just out here,” she said to Bolton.
“I had the same thought,” he said. “But I don’t know what this could have to do with that case.”
“Coincidence?” Mercy suggested, as her brain refused to accept the answer.
“Usually I don’t believe in coincidences.” He turned to the house. “Looks like no one is home. Let’s check.”
She followed him toward the house and then hung back, watching the home and windows as he knocked.
Silence.
He knocked again. “Joshua Forbes?” he said in a loud voice. “I’m Detective Bolton with Deschutes County. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Mercy felt a clock ticking down on their window of time to find Truman. Tick tick tick.
She moved to the side of the home, shining a flashlight toward the back of the house. “No fence.”
“Let’s take a quick look around.”
The two of them cautiously circled the house. Nothing was behind the home except for a wet garbage pile. “There’s no car,” Mercy stated. “I can’t tell if he’s been home today or not.” Frustration filled her at the minor roadblock. It was too early in the case for this.
“I think most guys who get out of jail immediately hit the bars or a steak house.”
“True. But I don’t want to search every bar for him. Either we look for some relatives or—shit.”
“What?”
“Joshua’s last name is Forbes. I interviewed a Kenneth Forbes about the Hartlages because he was the closest neighbor. He’s in a wheelchair and mentioned his son lived nearby and helped him out. That son has to be Joshua Forbes. I didn’t make the connection until now.” She dug in the pockets of her coat for her little notebook. “Kenneth Forbes gave me his son’s cell number so I could ask him if he knew the Hartlage family. I called and left a message, but he never called me back.” She quickly dialed the number and got voice mail. Dammit. “Truman didn’t mention the name of the guy with the fake license to me . . . not that I would have remembered. It was a few days ago.”
“Sounds like we need to visit the father for our next stop.”
“He’s not a pleasant person.” Mercy remembered the older man in the wheelchair. “Very bitter. I didn’t find out until later that he’s an SC, so don’t expect any help from him. Especially considering that his son was recently arrested.”
“Great,” replied Bolton dourly. “I’ll follow you.”
Mercy drove to Kenneth Forbes’s home and was pleased to see lights on. No other car was present except for the old abandoned sedan she’d noticed on her first visit. She lowered her expectations about finding Joshua Forbes tonight. She already had no expectation of help from his father.
Dammit. Are we chasing the wrong lead?
As on Mercy’s previous visit, Kenneth Forbes rolled out onto the porch before she and Bolton could reach his home. This time he had a rifle across his lap.
“What do you want?” he hollered at them.
“Mr. Forbes, I met you the other day,” said Mercy, holding up a hand to block his bright outdoor lights from her eyes. “I’m Special Agent Kilpatrick. I talked to you about the Hartlage family.”
“I remember. I’m not senile yet,” he snapped. “Who’s with you?”
“I’m Deschutes County detective Evan Bolton.”
“You’re the ones who locked up my boy.”
“So I heard,” replied Bolton.
“Damn fool. Thinks he’s untouchable.”
Mercy and Bolton exchanged a glance. And the father doesn’t believe his son should be untouchable? Mercy felt a little hope that Kenneth Forbes might cooperate.
“Is Joshua around?” Mercy asked. “We stopped by his home, but no one is there.”
Kenneth didn’t invite them in out of the rain. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him for days. Even before he was arrested.”
“Did you know he was released today?”
The man gave a short laugh. “Shit, yes. I posted his damn bail. I sent a friend to withdraw the money from my account and pay it.” He looked grim as he shook his head. “You’d think I’d hear from Joshua after that. No thanks or nothin’.”
Mercy realized he was slightly drunk and suspected that was advantageous for their questioning.
“Where do you think he went?” she asked.
“Hell if I know. Did you check the bars?”
“Not yet,” she admitted. “Where does he work at?” she asked, wondering if they could find him there in the morning.
“Not working. He’s between jobs. Usually works construction, but it’s been slow with the rain. And don’t bother asking me the last company he worked with, because that boy don’t tell me anything. He’s probably worked for a half dozen different companies in the last two years. Bounces around like a beach ball.”
Mercy suspected Joshua liked to get paid under the table.
“How about his friends?” Bolton asked a question for the first time.
Kenneth glared at him, and even through the rain, Mercy could see the annoyance in his sharp blue eyes. “You two act like I run my son’s life. I don’t know who he hangs around with.”
“Do the names Clint or Ryan Moody ring a bell?” Mercy wasn’t ready to give up.
He scratched his short beard. “Moody might be familiar. Don’t know the first names,” he said absently. Kenneth seemed to refocus, and suspicion narrowed his brows. “Why do you want him, anyway? You need to haul him back to jail? I just paid to get him out.”
“Nothing like that,” Mercy quickly assured him. “We want to ask him about a missing persons case.”
“That why you asked about the Moody name?”
“Yes.”
“Good luck getting him to answer any calls. I’ve left two voice mails and he’s ignored them.”
“Do you need some errands done?” Mercy wondered if he was low on groceries if his son hadn’t been around.
“Nah. I’m well stocked. Say . . .” He looked uncomfortable, as if he wanted to say more.
Mercy waited.
“Did you figure out what happened to those girls?” he asked gruffly.
Alison and Amy Hartlage. “They were murdered in the home,” she said in a quiet voice. Is that sympathy in his tone?
His eyes widened. “How do you know?”
“We found the remains. We’re working on the case.”
He shifted in his chair, looking down at his hands. “Just askin’.”
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Forbes. If I leave my card, will you have Joshua contact us when you see him?”
He shrugged. “I can’t make him do anything.”
Mercy went up the ramp to the porch to hand him her card. Now she smelled the alcohol. He took the card without looking at it.
She and Bolton walked back to their vehicles, and she wondered if they’d just wasted another twenty minutes.
“I’m going to check in with Lucas,” she said, dialing her phone.
“I’ll try the cell number for Joshua again,” replied Bolton.
Lucas had no news for her. No Tahoe. No Truman.
Bolton immediately reached Joshua’s voice mail.
“I’ll request a location and list of recent calls from Joshua’s wireless provider,” said Bolton. “But we probably won’t have a result until tomorrow. What do you want to do next? Checking bars seems fruitless.”
“I think we should shift gears and go to the Moody home.”
“Agreed.”
Tick tick tick.