Yet maybe that was why no one noticed anything suspicious. Because there were more people out that evening in the neighborhood.
Max was pretty certain that the police would have done due diligence and gone through the security logs at the gate. But were there other ways to get onto the property? Did they log all individuals in the car, or just the driver? Could someone have been hiding in a vehicle? Why would a stranger kill Peter? If he’d been abducted from a park or public place, Max could see a stranger abduction. But there was no sexual assault—and that was doubly odd. Most children who were abducted by strangers were sexually assaulted. Not Peter.
And not the other three young male victims.
That connection alone made John’s research compelling.
The gated community, however, made it much more difficult for a stranger to sneak in. Not impossible, she’d already had her assistant David talk to the security firm who handled the community. They had surveillance cameras at the two entrances—one was manned 24/7, the other was for residents only and accessed by a card key. There were cameras on the clubhouse, the first and eighteenth holes, the community swimming pools, gym, and playground. Essentially, the public areas.
Individuals could be a member of the golf club with access to the course from 6:00 A.M. through sunset, or the clubhouse during regular hours—6:00 A.M. to 10:00 P.M. The could only come in through the main gate and had to check in.
Golf club membership was expensive, which expanded the suspect pool beyond residents, but it was still a known list.
Or the killer could have stolen the card key and used it to access the back entrance. Highly unlikely, as that would have come out during the investigation. It would also show premeditation, and yet Max couldn’t discern a motive for Peter’s murder using that theory.
Someone who lived or worked in the community or who had checked in at the gate for the party at the clubhouse had specifically targeted Peter Caldwell. They knew enough to know which bedroom was his, that his window would be open, and that his parents were gone.
How long would it have taken? The walk from the house to the sand pit where he had been buried would have taken approximately ten minutes. He hadn’t been discovered until search dogs had been brought in at noon the following day, ten to twelve hours after he went missing. They’d closed the golf course because of the search … otherwise he may have been found earlier.
Reports indicated Peter had been suffocated, wrapped in a blanket from his bed, then buried in the sand. No physical evidence had been found on the body—that detail Max had picked up from both John and Blair’s lawyer, though neither flat-out said as much. If there was physical evidence, Blair and her attorney wouldn’t be so confident they could win.
Why did the police suspect Blair? The only logical explanation was either she’d gone missing from the party and no witness could state that she was there during the window of death, or they had a witness who saw her not at the party. If there was a witness, Blair would have taken the plea deal—unless the witness was somehow unreliable.
Why didn’t the police suspect John? Did he have a firm alibi? What about someone with a grudge against one or both of the Caldwells?
“Sit, John, I have a few questions.”
Max led John to the kitchen, where he sat down at the breakfast table. They were surrounded on three sides by windows.
Max wished she didn’t have to do this.
“Did the police interrogate you before or after they found Peter?”
John nodded slowly. “I don’t think they ever looked at anyone else. I mean, I don’t know. Do you know how it is when you remember some things so vividly, and other things are all fuzzy? I remember the party, and walking home with Blair—it was a beautiful night. And coming home. I walked Jordan home—she told me not to bother, but there were a lot of drunk people coming from the party and I didn’t want her to have to deal with someone being rude or reckless. People think that golf carts aren’t cars, but you can still hurt someone, you know?”
She nodded, because she wanted him to continue. She wished she could steer him better, but she didn’t want to interrupt his train of thought.
“She only lives three blocks away. I watched her go inside, then I walked back home.”
“How long did that take?”
“Less than ten minutes. Ten minutes at most.” He paused. “That’s exactly what the police asked me.”
“They just need to establish a timeline.” Timelines were crucial. Max lived and breathed her cases on timelines.
“As soon as I walked in, Blair told me she couldn’t find Peter. That he wasn’t in his bed, he wasn’t in the house. I searched the house again. Called for him. I … I looked in the pool. Peter is a great—was a great—swimmer, but even good swimmers…” His voice trailed off. “He wasn’t anywhere. Blair called nine-one-one and I called Jordan. She came back with her dad, and we all looked for him.”
“All of you together?”
“Bob and I looked together. Blair and Jordan stayed in the house to wait for the police. Jordan looked everywhere a second time, under beds, closets, cabinets. She was so upset. I wasn’t—not then. I was certain there was a logical explanation.”
That was so much like John. He was a numbers guy. Everything was orderly. Math had rules. Finance had rules. He would think linearly.
“Peter was always a curious kid—he was a good kid, he didn’t get into trouble much, but there were times he’d do kid stuff, you know? Like once he was pretending to drive the golf cart when he was six and accidentally turned it on and it started moving. I was right there watching him but I was listening to music while working on my laptop, and I didn’t hear it start. And then he once climbed into the attic—I didn’t even know he knew how to pull the ladder down, that he was strong enough—he was only five. But he’d watched me bring in the stepladder, and I used to bring him up there with me and we’d go through old toys and he’d pick what to give to charity. Sometimes, when he did something he knew was wrong—like coloring on the walls—he would hide, not wanting to get into trouble. H-h-he was such a great kid. A normal, wonderful kid.” He pinched his eyes.
“Were the windows open when you went into his bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t actually go into the bedroom when you got home.”
He frowned. “No, but Blair said one window was open and the screen was off. That’s why we were looking outside. Not just our pool, but all the pools that he might be able to access from the golf course.”
“When the police interrogated you, did they ask for an accounting of your time at the party?”