‘No thanks, we’re fine,’ said McCabe.
Maggie sat at a small round patio table near the kitchen door. McCabe leaned against the railing. Kenney seemed edgy, but that wasn’t strange. People talking to cops in a homicide investigation were usually edgy, even when they didn’t have anything to hide. Kenney emerged from the kitchen. He was sipping a bottle of Geary’s and carrying a bag of potato chips. He slipped into the chair next to Maggie. ‘So what do you want to know?’
‘Tell us about Katie,’ said McCabe. ‘Everything you can think of, even if it doesn’t seem relevant. We’re going to record the conversation.’
‘Oh yeah? Why’s that?’ asked Kenney.
‘Let’s just say we’re not real good at taking notes.’ Maggie put the small digital recorder on the table and turned it on.
‘That’s okay. I’m not much of a note-taker myself.’ He focused his attention on Maggie instead of McCabe. Maybe he found her attractive. Or maybe just less threatening.
‘What can I tell you about Katie?’ He shrugged. ‘She was a good kid. Smart. Real good player. I guess you know, I’m assistant coach of girls’ soccer. I met Katie coaching the freshmen my first year in Portland. For her age, she was about as good a player as I’ve ever seen. Small but fast. Great moves. If this hadn’t happened, she had a good shot at making all-state this year. She was already getting some interest from Division I schools, and she’s only a junior. Was only a junior,’ he corrected himself.
‘You played at UVM?’ asked Maggie.
‘Yeah. Three years varsity. Mostly second string. I was okay but no great shakes.’
‘Was Katie popular with the other players?’
‘I think so. She never acted like a big star. Just tried to fit in. Pretty girl. Big smile. Always seemed lighthearted. Except on the field. There she was totally different.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked McCabe.
‘She was an aggressive, competitive player who couldn’t stand losing. She pushed herself harder than the other players – harder than the coaches – ever did. It was like she was trying to prove something. Y’know, it’s hard to believe she could actually be dead. Who the hell could do something like that?’
‘Somebody bad,’ said McCabe. He paused, watching Kenney and letting the silence hang to see if it would provoke a reaction. It didn’t. Kenney just sipped his beer, looking from one detective to the other, waiting for the next question. Finally McCabe asked, ‘Did you ever see anyone hanging around at practice sessions that maybe shouldn’t have been there? Guys particularly. Anyone that made you suspicious?’
‘You know, when she went missing, I thought about that. Occasionally we get scouts from college teams. Mostly we get to know them, but there were a few this year I didn’t recognize.’
‘Any of them seem particularly interested in Katie? Interested enough to talk to her? Get to know her?’ asked Maggie.
‘Sure. They all wanted to talk to Katie. Pitch their schools. Like I said, she was our best player by far and still only a junior. It’s gonna be a tough year without her.’
‘Do you usually talk to them?’ asked Maggie.
‘They’re supposed to let us know they’re there. Sometimes they don’t. Y’know, now that you mention it, one day after practice, the same week she disappeared, I saw Katie talking to some guy I didn’t recognize.’
‘What about him in particular?’
‘Just that she seemed real excited. Nodding and smiling a lot. After he left I asked her who he was. She said a scout from a school down south. That surprised me. Our players – even the good ones like Katie – don’t usually attract a lot of interest outside New England. She didn’t tell me his name.’
‘Remember which college?’
‘Yeah,’ Kenney said thoughtfully. ‘I’m trying to remember what she said. University of Southern Florida … Western Florida … something like that.’
Florida again. McCabe asked, ‘Can you describe the guy?’
‘I didn’t get a good look at him. Mostly from the rear.’
‘How about his size?’
‘Big. I’d say around six foot two. Built like an athlete. Trim. Broad shoulders.’
‘Hair?’
‘Well, he had hair. Unlike yours truly.’ Kenney flashed a smile at them. ‘Dark, I think. He was wearing a cap, so it was hard to tell. Back of the hair was trimmed short and neat. Conservative. They talked for a while, then he got in his car and left.’
‘What kind of car?’
‘Oh, Christ.’ Kenney paused. It came to him. ‘An SUV. One of the expensive ones.’
‘Color?’
‘Dark. Green, I think.’
‘Did you notice the plates?’
‘Didn’t even glance at ’em.’
‘What was he wearing?’