Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [113]
What continued to plague Martin, however, was the nagging thought that Clive Darrow was ready to move to Virginia tonight. Though he could imagine Darrow stopping by his home one more time, perhaps to pick up his mail, leave his keys, or gather the remaining pieces of furniture, he couldn’t imagine the man sleeping there for the night, with no sleeping bag, toothbrush, or pillow to be found. Something told Martin that Clive Darrow intended to hit the road for Virginia tonight, with the few possessions that remained in Connecticut tossed into the back of his pickup truck. But if this were the case, why would Darrow go through the trouble of locating a victim like Sophie Pearl, and put himself in the position to implicate Noah Blake in the crime?
For a moment, Martin began to wonder if Darrow’s plan was nothing more than a figment of his own imagination. Perhaps Darrow, a convicted felon, had burglarized the Pearls’ home earlier that day. Perhaps Darrow had left the house with Sophie Pearl’s jewelry collection stuffed in his coat pocket. Martin supposed that it could simply be a coincidence that Noah Blake, a registered sex offender, lived next door to the people whom Clive Darrow, also a registered sex offender, had robbed earlier that day. Perhaps in need of traveling money, Darrow had burglarized several homes this week, taking just what he could safely carry in his pockets.
Though this scenario seemed entirely reasonable to Martin, it nevertheless did not feel right.
Martin started the car and pulled out of the 7-Eleven parking lot in the direction of Newington. He would take a peek at the Pearls’ house, make sure that Darrow’s pickup was nowhere to be found, and maybe even keep an eye on the place for the night.
He would at least ensure that Sophie Pearl was not home alone.
Martin pulled into the parking lot alongside the basketball courts at 10:17. The lights of the park were turned off and the park was technically closed, though nothing could stop a guy from parking his car and shooting a few hoops, save the absence of illumination. Martin was relieved to see that the blue pickup was not parked in the lot as it had been earlier that day, and that the lights of the Pearls’ home, visible across the swath of grass that separated the park from the Pearls’ backyard, were off except for a single light in their kitchen window, probably over the sink. The Pearls were either asleep or still out on the town.
Prior to pulling into the parking lot, Martin had driven past the front of the Pearls’ home and down the block, making sure that Darrow’s blue pickup wasn’t parked anywhere in the neighborhood. Sherman Pearl’s Audi was parked in the driveway (a good sign), but there was no sign of Sophie Pearl’s Explorer. Though it could easily be parked in the garage, Martin had no way of telling from the street. He also drove to the parking lot adjacent to the tennis courts, one block down from his present location, and found that lot empty as well.
All seemed quiet.
Martin reclined his seat back a couple of clicks and relaxed. In all likelihood, the Pearls were on their way home from a night of dancing or were already sleeping soundly in their bed. Either way as long as Sherman Pearl was with his wife, Sophie would be safe tonight. Tomorrow he would prepare a letter for the Newington and West Hartford police, explaining everything that he knew about Clive Darrow and his possible plans for his client. Unable to locate any incriminating evidence in Darrow’s home, he had no other option. He would have to hope that the police would find something to implicate Darrow, and that Martin wouldn’t be implicated at the same time.
He didn’t think he would be. Even if he had left a stray fingerprint or piece of DNA evidence in the Pearls’ home (which he highly doubted), Martin’s fingerprints and DNA coding were not on file with law enforcement. In his mind, he had already canceled the Pearls as clients,