“Yes—and that’s why this is so frustrating! We were there from eight thirty until nearly two in the morning. It’s the big annual ball after the spring tournament. A lot of my clients have a membership, I had to go, talk to people. But I talked to so many people. I don’t know if I talked to Kingston at ten thirty and Jim at eleven thirty and Don at midnight—I just know that I talked to them.”
“And Blair was asked the same questions.”
“Yes, we were both there, together. I don’t know why they think she could do something so horrific.”
“John, Blair’s attorney believes the evidence is all circumstantial, but the prosecution must have a reason for filing these charges. They don’t prosecute unless they have something to hang their hat on.”
“No—”
She interrupted. “And my guess is that Blair was missing for a period of time at the party—that after they put together all the witness statements and created a timeline, they realized she was missing for a long enough duration to go home and return to the party without you noticing she was missing.”
“Why are you doing this, Max? I thought you wanted to help.” His voice was anguished. Max had to stay resolute or she would be able to help no one.
“I do, John. But I don’t have the information the police have. I can’t retrace their steps, interview their witnesses. I don’t have access to the coroner’s report or the trace evidence report or anything to prove or disprove their theory. I have to go by what people tell me.”
John got up and left the kitchen. Max thought for a moment that he was expecting her to follow—or to leave. He returned a minute later with a thick folder. “This is a list of every resident in this community, and the names and ages of everyone living in their houses. It also includes everyone who signed in at the front gate the night of the party and their license plate numbers. I have many friends here, and while the police also have this information, there’s nothing prohibiting them from sharing with me—other than privacy laws. And I don’t give a damn about privacy laws at this point, not when my son is dead and my wife is being blamed for something she didn’t do.”
Glancing at the thick file, this was one of the few times Max was grateful that they had a staff at NET who could follow up with all this in short order. She stuffed the folder into her bag.
“This will help,” she said. It might only help to pound a nail into Blair’s coffin, if none of these people had the motive, means, or opportunity to kill Peter.
“I hope so, but … what are you going to do with them?”
“First thing is to run these names and find out if anyone lived near the locations of the three cold cases or is connected to any of those families.”
Now for the hard question. The one thing she had uncovered that connected the three cold cases—the one fact that John didn’t know, or may not have considered when he read the press reports.
“John, complete disclosure. Have you ever had an affair?”
He stared at her as if he hadn’t heard her question.
“John, were you having an affair last April when Peter was killed?”
“How can you ask that? I love my wife.”
“I need to know. It’s important.”
“I’ve never had an affair. I’ve never cheated on Blair or any woman I dated.”
She didn’t know if she believed him. She wanted to believe him, because the John Caldwell she had known in college had been honest. He was a good guy. But she hadn’t seen John in years and marriage changed people—sometimes for the better, sometimes for worse.
“What about Blair? Was she having an affair?”
“Blair? No! This is ridiculous, Max. What are you doing?”
“Covering all the bases.”
She was more likely to believe that Blair was having an affair than John, but he could have changed. And it’s possible John didn’t know if his wife was cheating on him. Max didn’t want to explain to John why she needed to know—but she might not have a choice.
“This was a mistake,” John said. “You really have changed, Max. I didn’t think you would come here and use me, use my son, for some exploitive show. Sex? Affairs? My son is dead! You want to drag us through the mud?”
“Never, John,” she said, but she didn’t think he heard her.
The door leading from the garage into the laundry room adjacent to the kitchen opened. Blair walked in. She stared at Max. “What are you doing here? I said I didn’t want you in my house!”
“Blair, honey,” John said, taking her hand. “Max is leaving.”
“You let her in?”
“She’s just trying to help.” But by his tone, Max sensed he’d shifted his faith away from her. He hadn’t liked her questions, now he was unsure how he felt.
“No, she’s not! She can’t do anything except create problems with my case. I explained all this to you, John! Charles explained it to you!”
“Someone needs to find out who really killed Peter.” John’s voice was a whisper as Blair’s grew in volume. Max had been around grieving families, and they drained her. This was much worse. John was a friend.
“After the trial,” Blair said. “After I’m cleared. I just want to move on with our lives. The last nine months have been hell, John. For both of us.”
“I’m leaving,” Max said. “I’ll call later.”
Blair burst into tears and ran down the hall.
Tears?
John ran both hands through his hair and stood there as if he was going to collapse. Then he shook his head and straightened his spine, but his eyes were still as haunted as they’d been when Max saw him last night. “She’s on edge, Max. Just—I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Maybe I’m doing everything wrong.”
“Finding the truth is never wrong,” she said. But sometimes, the truth hurt. Some people needed lies to survive.
Max wasn’t one of those people.
“I need to go to her. Please let yourself out.”
Chapter Four
By the time Max was done interviewing Peter Caldwell’s third-grade teacher, Barbara Pritchard, her staff had located John’s housekeeper, Jane Nunez.
She hadn’t learned anything she didn’t already know from Ms. Pritchard, but it was always helpful to have an outside opinion of individuals involved in any case and to confirm information. According to the teacher, Peter was a good student who enjoyed school and had many friends. John was an attentive father who participated in field trips more often than Blair. In fact, Ms. Pritchard couldn’t remember a time that Blair had gone on a field trip with the school. Ms. Pritchard also talked about how John treated his son and wife with love and respect, so much that Max wondered if the teacher was a bit jealous or perhaps simply a romantic.