Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [7]
“Why the stop at the sporting goods store?”
“She was picking up a baseball glove for her eight-year-old son. The sister said that Tom’s son had given it to him but it needed to be restrung. Kathleen swung by on her way to school so that her son would have it for his game the next day.”
Kendra studied the face of the woman in the photo, a woman with bright blue eyes and a brighter smile. A woman who could never have imagined what fate awaited her on a warm April evening when she would make what should have been one quick, routine stop.
“No mention to the sister of any unusual occurrence that day? Phone calls? Visitors?”
“No mention of anything in the report, but then there’s no indication that the question was asked either.”
“Do you have the witness statements?”
“Yes. Right here.” Adam sorted through his folders searching for the one that held his copies of the faxed pages the FBI had received from the state police earlier in the week. “And here’s a copy of the sketch their artist had done.”
Kendra slid into a chair and began reading the report.
Adam watched her eyes flicker from line to line, watched her expression change as she progressed through the report. She leaned one elbow on the edge of the table and rested her chin in her open palm. She looked exactly the way she’d looked that first time Adam had met her. He’d been sent to pick her up at her hotel and accompany her to interview a key witness in a kidnapping case. At first he’d thought he’d knocked on the wrong door. He’d expected someone older, more seasoned. The woman who had stood in the doorway had been delicate-looking and just shy of petite. Her light auburn hair had been piled casually atop her head and her eyes had been green and serious.
Pebbles Flintstone, all grown-up had been his first impression.
It had taken less than an hour of watching her at work to replace that image with one of a woman who was totally professional, totally absorbed by her work, totally sensitive to the subjects she interviewed. After all, who better to understand what family members were going through after a loved one disappeared than someone whose own family had suffered that same relentless pain?
“So we have two witnesses who saw Kathleen standing in front of Fanning’s Sporting Goods at a little before seven o’clock on a Thursday evening.” Kendra spoke out loud as if to herself, as if she’d forgotten Adam was there. “Both witnesses describe the man she was with as a stranger, not someone from town. Tall, dark-haired. Black jacket, blue jeans. Glasses.”
She picked up the sketch and studied it.
“One of the witnesses, an eight-year-old boy, was riding his bike on the opposite side of the street. He noticed Kathleen because he knew her son. They played on the same baseball team. The other witness, Mrs. Sims, had come from the pharmacy, which is apparently next door to the sporting goods store, while Kathleen and the stranger were chatting. She claims to have taken little notice of the man, she was in a hurry.” Kendra tapped an impatient finger on the table. “So how did the artist manage to produce a sketch like this if it was already getting dark, the area was not especially well lit, one witness was across the street and the other admitted she barely noticed the man?”
“I’m guessing he belongs to the ‘a poor sketch is better than none’ camp.”
She frowned. A poor sketch could only do more harm than good.
“May I see the rest of the photos now?”
Adam passed her the tan envelope. She tilted it to let the pictures slide out, then studied them carefully.
Kathleen Garvey no longer smiled for the camera. Black and blue halos