And still…
She felt no better. It was wrong, simply wrong. People changed, yes. It was a tough world, drugs were rife. But…Stuart? She whispered a quick prayer that he would continue to hang on, that he would live, that he would awaken and explain what had happened. Clear himself, his name, his reputation.
But what if he didn’t wake up?
“Well?” Jake said.
Marty had just hung up. After the meeting, they had spent hours on the phone.
Marty nodded at him. “We’re not going to get anywhere chasing after John Mast, Bordon’s old office manager.”
“No? He got out of prison six months ago. He was working at a halfway house in Delray.”
Marty looked surprised. “How did you know that? Sorry, stupid me. You never let it go, did you, Jake?”
“I knew where he was, yeah. I’ve made it my business to at least know where people were. That’s why I had you checking on him.”
“Well, don’t go thinking we can get anything on him.”
“Why not?”
“He’d been out of prison less than two months when the plane he was on went down just north of Haiti.”
So he was dead. Jake was irritated with himself. He’d been following people, but he hadn’t followed John Mast closely enough.
“We really need an I.D. on the new victim.”
“In the next few days, they’ll start doing a facial reconstruction. There’s no way we can use a picture, but a good artist’s rendering may get us a few bites.”
Jake picked up the telephone again, telling Marty, “I’m talking to the guys at the paper. We’ll make sure we’ve got them ready to help in every way. We’ll get the picture out there in print, big, and we’ll get it to the news stations, as well. Someone had to have seen her down here.”
As he dialed, one of the other lines rang. Marty picked it up, covered the receiver quickly and said, “I’ll take the newspaper. You probably want to deal with this.”
Jake frowned, hit the line button and said, “Dilessio.”
“Jake?”
Inwardly, he winced. “Yeah, Brian.”
“I saw the story in the paper. There’s a new murder victim.”
“I know that, Brian.”
“Maybe Nancy did know something she shouldn’t have known.”
“You know I’ve worked that angle damned hard.”
“Yeah, but now you’ve got another dead woman on your hands.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Yeah, I know…just thought I should check in with you. And…I’m sorry about the other night.”
“It’s all right.”
“If you ever need me to help out on this, in any way…”
“I’ll call you. I really will,” he added.
“I know how to do research, how to dig.”
“Brian, trust me, I’m hitting some major dead ends. I’d call for help in a second.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
Brian hung up.
“You two getting to be buddy-buddy now?” Marty asked, frowning.
“No—he showed up drunk on my boat the other night, ready to beat me up.”
“Ah. So he still believes…”
“Well, there is one thing we both believe. Nancy would never have killed herself. And she wasn’t prone to accidents.”
“Yeah, well,” Marty murmured, looking down at one of the old files. “Man, this drawing really sucked. We have to get someone better than Dankins.”
Jake glanced at the drawing done before they’d been able to identify their first victim. It must have been a hell of an assignment for the forensic artist, with so little of the face left, but there didn’t seem to have been much effort put into the likeness.
“Dankins was let go about two months ago,” he told Marty.
“I hadn’t heard.”
“That is a lousy likeness. Could be anyone.”
“Yeah, it looks like my aunt Betty—and drunk on Halloween at that.”
Jake stood and reached for his jacket. “You ready? We’ll start today with Mary Simmons.”
“Housemother for the old cult?”
“Yep, I found her. She’s joined with the Hare Krishnas, and she’s agreed to speak with us this afternoon.”
“You found her?” Marty asked quietly. “Or you’ve known where she’s been all along?”
“Does it make any difference?” Jake asked.
“Hell, no. I just love that music and visiting people in robes and Mohawks. Sounds like a great afternoon,” Marty said. “Can’t wait. Let’s get to some legwork.”
Finished with her messages, Ashley went to join a number of her classmates at the picnic tables. Arne had gotten her a hot dog and an array of little condiment packets. She thanked him as she sat. Besides Arne, Gwyn Mendoza, Dale Halloran and Izzy Rodriquez were also seated at the table.
As she sat, she was surprised to see Len Green striding toward them. He waved to the group as he came up to join them, smoothing back his hair. Despite the fact that he kept it fairly short, unruly dark blond strands were flying away. He had a good face, though, lean and aesthetic. He was an excellent subject for a drawing.