Chapter 23

“Itold you to leave.” Jared pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling the police if you don’t get out of my place in five seconds.”

Brogan gripped Melender’s arm. “We’re going.” He didn’t like the fear in Jared’s eyes. He hustled Melender down the stairs, ignoring her protests. They weren’t likely to get anything else of use from Jared anyway.

Outside the building, Melender wrenched her arm away and whirled on him. “Why did you drag me out of there? He didn’t answer your question about seeing Snake.”

“He wasn’t likely to.” He nodded toward the parking lot. “Let’s go to the car. No sense giving Jared and his neighbors a show.”

“Fine.” She stormed down the path, leaving him to catch up to her.

Once in his SUV with the AC running, he turned to her. “Listen, I’ll call the detectives investigating Snake’s murder and let them know about our conversation with Jared.”

“Do you think they’ll ask him if he saw Snake before the murder?” Melender clicked her seatbelt into place, some of the anger draining out of her voice.

“I don’t know.”

“Will you tell them Jared lied about the night Jesse disappeared?”

The hope in her voice touched him, but he couldn’t let her keep wishing for something that wasn’t likely to happen. “Jared’s story does differ from what he said eighteen years ago, but that doesn’t constitute new evidence in the case.”

“He lied.” Melender folded her arms, her voice regaining strength. “Jared probably killed Snake because the dealer could confirm Jared left the house to buy from him.”

“It doesn’t mean Jared had anything to do with Jesse’s—or Snake’s—death.”

“But it proves I was telling the truth about not being left in charge of the kids.”

“Look, I know you see this as a big step in proving your side of the story.” When she started to object, Brogan held up a hand. “I grant you it’s significant no one followed up on the inconsistencies of his and the nanny’s statements, but the fact remains a jury convicted you based on the evidence presented by the prosecutor. It will take more than a witness lying on the stand to officially re-open the case.”

Melender blew out a breath, tension radiating from every line of her taut form. “Jared knows something he’s not saying.” She whipped around to face him, her blue eyes intent on his face. “And it’s not that he slipped out to meet Snake. There’s something else.”

Brogan had also pegged Jared as hiding something. “What makes you think that?”

“He seemed very agitated about our asking about Jesse.”

“It could be a normal reaction.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She didn’t drop her gaze from his. “But the way he related those facts sounded rehearsed, like he practiced it. Besides, I noticed he had tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip and his micro-expressions showed fear.”

“That’s a lot of detail to notice.” Brogan didn’t bother to hide his amazement at her perception. Even he hadn’t pinpointed exactly what made him think Jared was withholding something. He relied more on his gut and experience of interviewing hundreds of people over the years than science.

“You mean because I’m not a trained law enforcement agent, it’s amazing I could pick up on such subtle changes in a person’s behavior?” The words, while spoken in a light tone, carried the weight of steel.

“Whoa.” How an innocent observation on his part triggered such an outburst, he hadn’t a clue. “I wasn’t—”

“Weren’t you?” She cut across his words. “I might not have had all the educational advantages of a traditional college, but I didn’t twiddle my thumbs behind bars either. I took whatever courses I could, and I studied hard.”

“Hey, I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did.” A becoming flush dotted her cheeks, but the spark in her eyes doused any tender feelings he had in the moment. “You said you believed me, but that could have been a ploy to get me to open up. Maybe you’re just like all the rest of the journalists who have hounded me over the years, after a sensational story to propel you to fame and fortune.”

Brogan’s own anger rose to the surface, fueled by the contempt in her voice. Ignoring the nudge that warned him against impetuous rebuttal, he plunged in. “I’ve been upfront with you from the start. If anything, you’ve been using me to further your own ends.”

“And what ends would that be?”

Her voice had dropped, along with her head. Something about her posture spoke of loneliness and uncertainty. Still he let frustration with the case and conflicted feelings for Melender override the voice that cautioned him to respond with gentleness.

“I understand you want to prove your innocence, but to find someone else to blame for Jesse’s kidnapping and death so you won’t have to own up to any part in it is wrong.”

For a long moment, Melender just stared out of the windshield. She didn’t say a word, the whiteness of her face a stark contrast to its earlier flush of anger. She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, and squeezed her eyes closed. A single tear edged out as if wrung from a washcloth.

In the growing silence, his words hung between them like a chasm too big to bridge. He’d regretted the words as soon as he had uttered them. Lord, forgive me. An apology formed on his lips, but he couldn’t find his voice because part of him still wasn’t sure she was completely innocent in the case. He did believe her, but he was beginning to wonder if she had repressed the memories of what happened that night and truly thought she had nothing to do with Jesse’s disappearance.

“I’d like to go back to your uncle’s now, please.” The request seemed to come from a different person than the one who minutes before angrily demanded he see her side of things. Now her voice hesitated, and she sounded tired, as if someone had deflated her like a tire losing its air.

At a loss as to how to verbally respond, he pulled out of the parking space, driving back to Fairfax in silence. An eighties music station on Sirius XM filled the void of conversation and kept at bay his insistent heart commanding him to make things right with her.

* * *

Brogan foundspace at the curb near the end of the Trent’s block to park. Although incensed by Melender’s demand to get out of the vehicle once she’d spotted the house, he refused to be sucked into another conflict with this beautiful but headstrong young woman.

After responding to a couple of work-related texts and calls on his cell phone, he dialed into his desk phone. Fallon insisted all reporters have a published number that rang to the Herald offices. Brogan had only one phone message, time stamped at eleven a.m. that morning from former FBI Special Agent Stanley Presley, who simply stated his name and asked for a return call.

Puzzled, Brogan punched in the number Presley had given. The call was answered on the second ring. “Stanley Presley.”

“Hi, it’s Brogan Gilmore with the Herald returning your call.”

“Mr. Gilmore, I hear you’re looking into the Jesse Thompson case.”

“How did you know that?”

“Let’s not waste time with superfluous questions. I think you might like to hear what I have to say about the matter.”

Brogan hadn’t considered his query gratuitous but let it go in favor of setting up a meeting with Presley. No sense in antagonizing the man beforehand by pressing how the agent found out about Brogan and Melender’s actions. “I’m free now. Where would be a convenient place for us to meet?”

“The Starbucks in Kamp Washington near the HoneyBaked Ham store. Can you be there in fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll be there.” Good thing Brogan was less than ten minutes away from the location. As he drove to the destination, he tried to tamp down his excitement over whatever Presley had to say and whether it would be another chink in the case against Melender or drive another nail of guilt in her coffin.

* * *

“She came to see you?”Quentin held the phone tightly to his ear and angled his body away from Ruby, who reclined on a chaise lounge beside their pool.

Jared mumbled something his father didn’t catch, then said more clearly, “She and that reporter, Brogan something. She asked me why I’d lied in court, pointing out that what I said differed from what was in the police transcript.”

Quentin firmed his jaw as Jared berated Melender in colorful language. Underneath his son’s tirade, he smelled fear. “No one’s going after you, not on a case that has gone to trial with a successful conviction. Melender’s served her time, so now she’s free to stir things up. She’s probably nitpicking these kinds of anomalies to deal with what she did.”

Jared exhaled into the phone. “I checked one of those Virginia law sites online, and there’s no statute of limitations on perjury. I could be sent to prison.”

“That’s only if a prosecutor brought charges against you.” Quentin didn’t want to reveal to his son why he knew that tidbit but doubted Jared would even ask.

“Is everything all right, Quentin?”

Quentin turned to see Ruby, her large sunglasses hiding her expression. He placed the phone on his chest to reply. “Just a business matter, my love. No need to worry.”

“I’m going inside. It’s too hot today.” She rose and walked into the house.

All he had done had been to protect his wife, to give her a life of ease after her impoverished upbringing. And she’d repaid him with loyalty, love, and two beautiful children.

Replacing the phone to his ear, he reiterated, “The district attorney’s office isn’t going to bother with perjury charges. Not after all these years and definitely not on a closed case.”

His words must have mollified Jared, who merely grunted, then said a quick goodbye. Quentin tapped the phone against his hand as he reviewed the conversation in his mind. His gut screamed that Jared’s uneasiness went beyond a fear of being charged with perjury, which meant something else about Melender’s asking questions had frightened his son. As he punched in a number, he moved off the pool deck and onto the covered patio to escape the sun’s brutal rays.

“Raines,” the man barked.

“I have someone else I want you to follow.”

“Name?”

“Jared Thompson, my son.” Quentin didn’t like spying on his firstborn, but he had to find out more about what was troubling him.

“Address?” If Raines was surprised that Quentin wanted his son under observation, his tone didn’t show it. Family members asking for surveillance on other family members was likely a large part of a PI’s business.

Quentin provided the information, then hesitated before asking his final request. As he disconnected the call, he questioned whether he wanted to know what Raines might uncover. Quentin headed to the house, certain that whatever the private investigator might find out couldn’t hurt his family as much as Jesse’s disappearance.

* * *

“So the lasttime you saw Melender was nearly four years ago?” Brogan sat across from former FBI agent Stanley Presley, thankful to have snagged a corner table at the busy Starbucks.

“Yes. At that time, she’d been in prison fourteen years, with at least three more to go to fulfill the rest of her sentence.” The older man leaned forward. “Did you know she turned down parole?”

“What?” Brogan wasn’t sure he’d heard the man correctly. No prisoner in her right mind would ditch a chance for freedom.

“Yep, she sure did. My partner and I talked to the warden before we interviewed Harman. The warden—this was at Fluvanna Correctional Center in Troy, Virginia, before Harman was moved to Deep Creek Correctional Facility—said Harman had been eligible for parole a few months before. The warden figured Harman would get it, too, what with her model behavior and exemplary record. Not one fight with fellow prisoners, which, considering the company she’d been keeping, was rather impressive. But when the parole interviewer asked her if she was ready to be released, Harman replied she wanted to serve her full sentence. The interviewer wrote her exact words. ‘I’d rather finish my sentence and be beholden to no one than be freed early and have to report to someone.’”

Brogan shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. “That’s quite an amazing statement.”

“I figured it was also smart. Once she’s served her time, with no parole hanging over her, there would be no leverage to make her tell where the body’s buried, now is there?” Presley leaned back in his chair. “She couldn’t be tried for the same crime and couldn’t be compelled to give up what she knew.”

Brogan still struggled with picturing Melender in a prison garb.

“My boss worked the original kidnapping case, and the missing body still bothered her. Whenever she had a couple of agents in her division between cases, she would authorize a trip to see Harman. My boss figured there was always a chance Harman might spill her secrets.”

Brogan stayed silent as the other man picked up his coffee.

Presley met Brogan’s gaze. “But as soon as Harman walked in the room and pulled out a chair to sit across from us, I knew she was a tough cookie and wouldn’t giving up anything.”

“You sound as if you admire her moxie.” Admittedly, Brogan had been taken in by her dark blue eyes, but he wasn’t a trained law enforcement officer.

“You’ve met her. Melender Harman was a beautiful woman even in prison.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” For some reason, hearing the older man describe Melender as beautiful got under Brogan’s skin.

Presley chuckled. “Yes, and before you get worked up, I wasn’t attracted to her. I’ve been very happily married for thirty-five years, and my missus would have my head on a platter if I even looked at another woman with lust in my heart.”

Brogan wasn’t sure he believed the former agent or not, but he let it go. “Did anything about her surprise you?”

“That one of the inmates hadn’t taken a knife to her mane of hair and sliced it clean off. After all, inmates don’t look kindly upon prisoners convicted of crimes against children.”

Brogan suppressed voicing his concerns over what Melender had experienced behind bars. To recover his emotional balance, he steered the conversation back to the actual interview. “What happened when you saw her?”

“Nothing.”

“What does that mean?” He should have sprung for a larger coffee. Maybe the extra caffeine would sharpen his brain and help to make sense of the information from Presley.

Presley smiled. “It means she studied our badges, gave a little half smile, folded her arms, and simply waited us out. It’s rare to come across anyone who could keep quiet for a solid hour. My partner, Belinda Carlisle, tried to engage her in girl talk, but Harman ignored her.”

Brogan considered what little information Presley had given him. “All you’ve told me is Melender’s reaction to visits from the FBI during her incarceration. If you don’t mind my asking, why did you want to meet with me?”

“I heard you were looking into the case.”

“So you said when you called me.” Brogan’s impression that this was a wild goose chase growing with every minute.

The other man regarded him steadily. “I’ve read the entire FB file of this case more than once because I thought justice hadn’t been served.”

“You think Melender’s innocent.”

“Despite the circumstantial evidence, my gut tells me that Melender Harman had nothing to do with whatever happened to that little boy.” The other man drained his coffee. “If I were looking into this again, I would start with the family.”

“You think someone in the Thompson household is behind Jesse’s disappearance?” Brogan wouldn’t be surprised if a relative—father, mother, sister, brother—harmed their own flesh and blood. He’d written too many stories over the years about the awful things family did to one another.

The former agent shook his head. “That I don’t know. What I do know is that Quentin is protecting someone. Whether it’s because that someone was directly involved with whatever happened to Jesse…” He let the thought trail off.

“That’s what you want me to find out.”

Presley stood, his gaze on Brogan. “I think it’s high time Ms. Harman had someone in her corner who will fight for her.”