Read Online Silent Son by Gallatin Warfield - Free Book Online Page B

ahead,” Meyers prompted again.
    Granville fidgeted with the pencil, and hunched across the paper.
    Nancy Meyers and Gardner waited patiently.
    Soon, Granville put the pad down on the floor.
    Gardner pushed his forehead against the glass. The page was empty.
    Jenneane Dorey was a wide-eyed, alert eight-year-old. Her hair had been plaited by her mother, and she wore a bright blue
     jumpsuit. She fidgeted with one of her plaits as she talked to Brownie. Both were seated at the kitchen table. Mom was in
     the living room, watching the evening news.
    “Did you know my daddy?” she asked, looking at the detective.
    Brownie smiled. “No. Afraid not.”
    “He was a narcotics officer.”
    Brownie was beginning to understand what her mother had said earlier. This child was mature beyond her years. Her words were
     grown-up. “I heard that,” Brownie said softly. “He was a good man.”
    Her eyes showed no grief, no clouding over like her mother’s. She had accepted the loss as if it was natural. Daddy was home,
     and then he wasn’t. If the hurt was there, it was long buried.
    “Jenneane, I’d like to talk about the day you went to see the cave,” Brownie said, easing the subject matter back on track.
     “Do you think we can talk about that?”
    The little girl nodded. “All right.”
    “Good. Now I’m just gonna ask you a few questions, and if you can, maybe you can answer them. Okay?”
    Jenneane nodded again. “Okay.” It was clear that she liked Brownie and trusted him. She would try very hard to help.
    “After you left the cave, you got on the bus, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “And do you remember where you were sitting? In the front or the back of the bus?”
    The girl twisted her hair and answered immediately. “All the way in back. By Wendy.”
    “Wendy Leonard?” That was one of his earlier witness rejects.
    “Yes. She and me are friends. We always sit together.”
    “Okay.” Brownie made a note on his steno pad. “And did you sit by the window, or by the aisle?”
    “Window.” Again, there was no hesitation.
    “And did you look out the window while you were driving from the cave, or were you talking to Wendy?”
    “Lookin’,” she said, “and talkin’.”
    Brownie smiled. “Was it more lookin’ or more talkin’?”
    Jenneane switched plaits. “Lookin’ and talkin’…”
    “Okay.” Brownie got the picture. Two eight-year-olds chatting and sightseeing as the bus cut its path through the countryside.
     “Now, did you see any cars pass as you were going down to the Bowers’ store? While you were looking and talking to Wendy.”
    “Couple.”
    “Okay. Now, do you remember anything about the cars. What kind they were? What color? Anything at all?”
    “Two cars and a truck,” Jenneane said.
    Brownie blinked. This was unbelievable. Such recall. And from a kid no less. Adult witnesses seldom came out with that kind
     of detail.
    “Uh, Jenneane, are you sure? Two cars and a truck?”
    “Uh-huh. A blue one. A black one, and a red one.”
    Brownie was writing furiously. It was incredible, but it might be true. Traffic was scarce on the western end of Mountain
     Road. Maybe the vehicles somehow imprinted themselves on her fertile young mind. He had to follow it up. “Jenneane, do you
     remember which way the cars were going? I mean, did they pass you going the same direction, or were they coming the other
     way?”
    This time she hesitated, as if she was trying to piece the scene back together. “Two of ‘em goin’ the other way, and one zoomed
     past us…”
    Brownie was still writing. “Now, sweetheart, can you tell me which one passed you. Car or truck?”
    “Truck.” No hesitation on that one.
    Brownie tensed. “And can you tell me what color it was?”
    “Red. Old red truck.”
    Brownie let out his breath. “Did you see any people, driving or inside?”
    She looked up, as her mind scanned the scene again. “Guy was in the back…”
    “In the back?”
    “The place where