child. She wouldn't have given her name to her own mother.”
“But somebody trying to make Carol Dennison think it was her daughter might have,” Long observed slowly.
Case shrugged. Possibilities. They could drive a person crazy.
Long hesitated. “I've looked at the old case file, when Kelly Dennison was first listed as a runaway.”
“She wasn't the first,” Case said, “and God knows not the last. You grow up in a place like St. T., your opportunities are limited, if you know what I mean. The boys can look forward to a lifetime standing knee deep in fish guts and the girls to having a baby every year and getting knocked around no more than twice a year if they're lucky. They live on an island, for God's sake, and all they can see is life passing them by everywhere they turn. They best we can hope for is that they stay ‘til they finish high school, but that doesn't happen very often either.”
“Kelly Dennison didn't really fit that profile,” Long pointed out cautiously. “She lived on the beach. Her folks were rich. She had pretty good grades, would have gone to college. She had it made.”
“Yeah, well it might have looked a little different from the point of view of a fourteen-year-old. Her parents had just gotten a divorce, her grades were dropping, her friends were dropping her....”
“Drugs?”
“Could be. It doesn't make a lot of difference, though. She was messed up. A good kid deep down, but she just let everything get the best of her. Maybe she thought she could run away from her problems, maybe she was just trying to get some attention. But she had enough money to get her just about as far as she wanted to go, and there's nobody harder to find than a kid who's made up her mind she's not going to be found. You know that yourself. Anyway, after her mama got that second letter from her, postmarked Tallahassee, saying she was off to California to become a movie star or some such, it seemed pretty cut and dried to us. Another one bites the dust.”
“Yeah.” Long was frowning thoughtfully. “Except this one has a change of heart two and a half years later and calls her mama for help.”
“Maybe.”
“Begs her to come get her, only forgets to tell her where to come.”
“Looks that way.”
“What are the chances it is Kelly Dennison calling her mother and she's in collusion with this other dude somehow—hitting her daddy up for ransom or something?”
Case shrugged. Possibilities.
“Because she's going to a certain amount of trouble for a plausible story here. She says she can see the house. That means she's somewhere on the island, but she can't get to her mama.”
“Fishy,” said Case. “That's how the whole thing smells. Real fishy.”
Long nodded in agreement. “I sure would hate for the kid to be involved in this. Those poor folks have been through enough.”
“I won't argue with you there.”
“My gut tells me we've got a hoaxster and a paid accomplice. But I'll check out all the possibilities.” Long hesitated, then said, “I noticed that when the girl first disappeared, you investigated it as a possible kidnapping.”
“Not for long. Her mother was hysterical, and you can't take chances. We had to follow up on every possibility, and I tell you, there were a few rough days and nights there before we got that second note.”
Long looked down at his notebook, although it was clear he wasn't reading anything, just buying time. When he looked up again, his expression was reluctant and unhappy. He said, “I also noticed, during the first part of the investigation, Guy Dennison was a suspect.”
Case did not respond for a moment. He sipped his coffee, he glanced at the newspaper, and he thought, Three thousand students. Jesus, what a mess.
He pushed up from the desk and walked over to the window, coffee cup in hand. He spent a moment looking out, searching for some way to get a handhold on a day that had already begun to spiral out of control. Then he said,
“But somebody trying to make Carol Dennison think it was her daughter might have,” Long observed slowly.
Case shrugged. Possibilities. They could drive a person crazy.
Long hesitated. “I've looked at the old case file, when Kelly Dennison was first listed as a runaway.”
“She wasn't the first,” Case said, “and God knows not the last. You grow up in a place like St. T., your opportunities are limited, if you know what I mean. The boys can look forward to a lifetime standing knee deep in fish guts and the girls to having a baby every year and getting knocked around no more than twice a year if they're lucky. They live on an island, for God's sake, and all they can see is life passing them by everywhere they turn. They best we can hope for is that they stay ‘til they finish high school, but that doesn't happen very often either.”
“Kelly Dennison didn't really fit that profile,” Long pointed out cautiously. “She lived on the beach. Her folks were rich. She had pretty good grades, would have gone to college. She had it made.”
“Yeah, well it might have looked a little different from the point of view of a fourteen-year-old. Her parents had just gotten a divorce, her grades were dropping, her friends were dropping her....”
“Drugs?”
“Could be. It doesn't make a lot of difference, though. She was messed up. A good kid deep down, but she just let everything get the best of her. Maybe she thought she could run away from her problems, maybe she was just trying to get some attention. But she had enough money to get her just about as far as she wanted to go, and there's nobody harder to find than a kid who's made up her mind she's not going to be found. You know that yourself. Anyway, after her mama got that second letter from her, postmarked Tallahassee, saying she was off to California to become a movie star or some such, it seemed pretty cut and dried to us. Another one bites the dust.”
“Yeah.” Long was frowning thoughtfully. “Except this one has a change of heart two and a half years later and calls her mama for help.”
“Maybe.”
“Begs her to come get her, only forgets to tell her where to come.”
“Looks that way.”
“What are the chances it is Kelly Dennison calling her mother and she's in collusion with this other dude somehow—hitting her daddy up for ransom or something?”
Case shrugged. Possibilities.
“Because she's going to a certain amount of trouble for a plausible story here. She says she can see the house. That means she's somewhere on the island, but she can't get to her mama.”
“Fishy,” said Case. “That's how the whole thing smells. Real fishy.”
Long nodded in agreement. “I sure would hate for the kid to be involved in this. Those poor folks have been through enough.”
“I won't argue with you there.”
“My gut tells me we've got a hoaxster and a paid accomplice. But I'll check out all the possibilities.” Long hesitated, then said, “I noticed that when the girl first disappeared, you investigated it as a possible kidnapping.”
“Not for long. Her mother was hysterical, and you can't take chances. We had to follow up on every possibility, and I tell you, there were a few rough days and nights there before we got that second note.”
Long looked down at his notebook, although it was clear he wasn't reading anything, just buying time. When he looked up again, his expression was reluctant and unhappy. He said, “I also noticed, during the first part of the investigation, Guy Dennison was a suspect.”
Case did not respond for a moment. He sipped his coffee, he glanced at the newspaper, and he thought, Three thousand students. Jesus, what a mess.
He pushed up from the desk and walked over to the window, coffee cup in hand. He spent a moment looking out, searching for some way to get a handhold on a day that had already begun to spiral out of control. Then he said,
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