“Yeah, I guess,” Joe muttered. “Hey, was that an apology?”
“I’m apologizing for being a jerk. I still don’t think she should be out here,” Jeremy said.
Joe ignored that, turned to Rowenna and asked, “You two are going back to the museum, right?”
“Yes,” she said.
But when she looked to Jeremy for confirmation, he looked hesitant.
“Sorry, I’m going back to the museum,” Rowenna said to Joe.
“I’ll meet you there before five,” Jeremy told her. “Joe, you’ll see to it that she gets there safely, right?”
“You bet,” Joe promised him.
Jeremy walked over to her and paused, meeting her eyes briefly before taking her hand and kissing her cheek. Then he nodded to Joe and headed for his car.
Rowenna watched him go, puzzled, suddenly feeling as if the entire focus of the last few minutes had been argument for the sake of argument, like some kind of bizarre male bonding ritual, and she’d just been the excuse.
Joe joined her on the shoulder of the road, then walked with her over to his car.
“That was weird,” she said as she settled herself in the passenger seat.
“Not really,” he told her, glancing in his rearview mirror as he pulled out on the road.
“Yes, it was,” she assured him. “First he was going crazy worrying about me, and then it was like he forgot all about me.”
He just grinned and glanced at her. “He was in a panic when you weren’t where you said you’d be. Now he knows you’re safe, and he had something else on his agenda.”
“Am I hearing this right? You’re standing up for him?” she said, eyes widening in surprise.
He shrugged. “The kid’s okay,” he said.
She laughed. “He isn’t a kid.”
“Hell, if you’re me,” Joe said, “he’s a kid. And so are you. Leave it at that, huh?”
She fell silent and stared out the side window, watching the rows and rows of corn sweep by them. After a while she glanced over at him. “I take it you think you know where he’s going?”
Joe’s lips twitched. “Logically?” he asked her.
“Logically.”
“He’s stopping by the MacElroy place. He’ll want to meet Ginny and Doc MacElroy himself.”
Rowenna leaned back, thinking of the ridiculousness of little Ginny MacElroy dragging anyone weighing more than ten pounds through a cornfield.
But then there was Doc MacElroy. She had gone to school with his kids, and MacElroy himself would have fit in in Beverly Hills. He was lean and tanned, with a full head of thick, silver-white hair. His eyes were blue like the sky, and he’d always been a handsome man.
Dr. MacElroy a murderer? No, never. She remembered how he’d made her laugh about teddy bears or Barbie dolls to take her mind off the sting whenever he had to give her a shot. She remembered him at her parents’ funerals, telling her that he was right there next door if she ever needed him. She could picture him holding up one of his granddaughters, making her giggle with delight as he spun her around the room.
No. No way was he a killer.
Joe glanced at her. “MacElroy was out of town on Halloween.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Medical convention in Orlando,” he elucidated.
She smiled, relieved to have her faith confirmed.
“You know, I’m sure he’s been out to see Eric Rolfe,” Joe said. “He called the station, asking for the address. Now…there’s a strange fellow.”
Rowenna frowned, turning to stare at Joe. “He’s not strange, he’s artistic.”
“You don’t think our murderer was ‘artistic’?”
She shook her head. Yes, she could see why Joe would find it easier to see Eric Rolfe as a sadistic murderer than the kindly Dr. MacElroy. But they both seemed like equally unlikely suspects to her.
“I admit I haven’t seen Eric since high school,” she said, “but he was a nice guy.”
“He was weird. Just because he found a place to go where weird is in, that doesn’t change the fact that he was one weird kid who built some really twisted scarecrows, then grew up into a pretty weird adult,” Joe said firmly.
“Joe Brentwood, that’s exactly the kind of attitude that forced Eric to run out west. Well, that and the obvious fact that that’s where he could use his talents to make good money,” she said.
He looked at her. “We both know it was a local who did this,” he said. “When you were doing your thing today, you knew it. He targets out-of-towners. He keeps prisoners. He knows where to put up his displays. He knows the area.”
She felt a sinking sensation. Joe was obviously thinking that he needed to keep an eye on Eric Rolfe, which was just ridiculous. Eric was just…Eric.
Then again…
How well did she really know him? She hadn’t seen him in years. In fact, just how well did anyone ever know anyone else?