Chapter 12

The mobile home park where Danny lived in was full of campers, trailers, and tiny homes, all varying in size. While clean, the address numbers, which had once been stenciled on the curb in black paint in front of each residence, were faded to the point of being unreadable. Locating which lot was Danny’s was not easy.

As I puttered my way around the park, I saw an older woman eyeing me. Her long, gray hair was swept back into a ponytail, and she was doing circles around the park on an aqua-colored adult-size trike with a white metal basket on the back. On her third lap, she pulled to a stop beside my car, using her knuckles to tap on the window.

I put my window down, and she said, “Are you looking for someone?”

“Danny Donovan,” I said. “He’s in Lot 48. Do you know him?”

“Sure do. What do you want with Danny?”

I thought about how best to answer the question and decided to keep it simple. “It’s personal.”

“Personal in what way?”

Keeping it simple didn’t seem to be working.

“I’d appreciate it if you could point out his place of residence,” I said.

She tapped a finger on the bike’s handlebar and looked me up and down. “You’re about the furthest thing from Danny’s type, driving around here in your vintage Jaguar and fancy attire. I’m guessing you’re not here for a good time. If you want me to tell you where he lives, I’m going to need more to go on.”

My patience was wearing thin.

“I’m Georgiana Germaine,” I said. “I’m a private detective. I just need to ask Danny a few questions.”

“A private eye, eh? What’s he done?”

“Nothing. Are you going to tell me which place is his or not?”

She moved a hand to her hip. “No, I don’t believe I will.”

“Fine. There are plenty of other residents who live around here. I’ll ask someone else.”

I started to put the window up, but she stuck her bony arm in to stop me.

“Now, wait just a second,” she said.

“Why should I?”

“My name is Dorothy. Danny is my brother.”

“Your brother? Why didn’t you say as much in the first place?”

“Danny doesn’t get a lot of visitors, not ones who look like you, at any rate. I suppose I can be overprotective at times, but why shouldn’t I be? You’ve gone out of your way to tell me nothing about why you want to question him.”

I was stunned.

I sat there as I tried to contemplate the best way forward.

Did I tell the truth?

Did I tell a partial truth?

Would it even matter whether I told the truth or not?

“As his older sister, I have a right to know why you want to speak to him,” she pressed. “He doesn’t like visitors much, and he doesn’t like talking to people he doesn’t know. I guess what I’m saying is, if you don’t have a good reason for being here, you can just turn your car around and head right on out of here.”

“How long have you lived in the area?” I asked.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“If you answer my question, I’ll tell you.”

“All my life. I was born in Cambria. We moved around a bit. Lived in this mobile home park for the last ten years. Why?”

“Do you remember the teenagers who were murdered twenty years ago?”

“Who doesn’t? Made national news. All sorts of people were hanging around town during that time. The Feds even got involved. Not that them being here made one bit of difference. The case was never solved.”

“It wasn’t, but I’m hoping it will be now. The case has been reopened.”

Dorothy gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Why?”

“The victims’ parents deserve to know why their children were murdered. I’m hoping to solve the case and bring closure to everyone involved.”

“I think it’s a marvelous idea. Whose idea was it to reinvestigate?”

In the interest of protecting Cora and the fact she was back in town, I said, “One of the original detectives who worked on the case came out of retirement about a year ago. He asked the chief if he could look into it again, and since there are no other homicide investigations going on right now, his request was granted.”

“I see. How do you fit into the mix?”

“My agency has agreed to consult on the case.”

It wasn’t the full truth, but it seemed convincing enough.

“And this pertains to my brother how?” she asked.

“Your brother was living in a cabin close to the crime scene.”

“I remember. Detectives spoke with him a few times. Don’t think he was much help.”

“I’m hoping if I talk to him he might recall something now that he didn’t back then, something to help us solve the case this time.”

Dorothy went quiet for a moment and then said, “I don’t think he’ll agree to talk to you, but I suppose it’s worth a try. I’ve thought about those poor kids a lot over the years, and I’ve wondered how their families are doing. I imagine it’s hard to go on living when you’ve lost a child.”

It was.

A fact I knew all too well.

“Do you live with your brother?” I asked.

“Oh, no. We could never share the same space. We tried it once before. It didn’t work. I’m a minimalist, and he’s … well, a hoarder. A clean hoarder, but a hoarder all the same. He lives a few doors down from me, which is the perfect arrangement. We both enjoy our personal space, but we do get together for dinner and that sort of thing.”

She gestured for me to follow her. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to his place.”

I drove around the corner, parking in front of a newer fifth-wheel attached to a large pickup truck. Danny may have been a hoarder, but the exterior of his place was well kept. There was a flower garden out front, and I didn’t spot a single weed in sight.

Dorothy hopped off her bike, and we walked together to the front door. She knocked, and we waited. Danny opened the door, beer in hand. He took one glance at me, and his eyes widened. He looked to be in his mid-sixties, and he had salt-and-pepper hair, which was slicked back. He was an attractive man, though a bit on the rugged side.

Addressing his sister, he said, “Who’s this, Dorothy… a friend of yours?”

“Nope, we just met. She’s here to see you.”

He took a step back, set his beer on a nearby table, crossed his arms, and said, “Why?”

“You remember those poor dears who died some twenty years ago?” Dorothy asked. “The ones who were murdered at the cabin?”

“What about them?” he grunted.

“The case was never solved.”

“I’m aware.”

“It’s a shame, don’t you think?”

“Get to the point, sis.”

She lifted her chin in my direction. “This here is Georgiana Germaine. She’s a private eye, and she’s just informed me that the cabin murder case has been reopened. Can you believe it … after all these years? Maybe there’s a chance it’ll be solved this time. Imagine what peace it would bring to the families.”

Danny bent over at the waist, placing both hands on his legs as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Danny, are you all right?” Dorothy asked.

“I … yeah, I’m fine. What does any of this have to do with me?”

Since it appeared he had no interest in addressing me, I cut in. “I have been asked to assist with the case. I understand you used to live in a cabin close to where the teenagers were murdered.”

“What of it?”

“Do you remember the conversations you had with the detectives back then?”

“Nope. And even if I did, why would I want to talk about it again? It didn’t have anything to do with me.”

“You might not feel like you have any information to share,” I said, “but sometimes the smallest thing leads us in a direction that changes everything. I’m not asking for much of your time. Just a few minutes.”

“Yeah, well … I’m busy.”

“No, you’re not,” Dorothy said. “You’re retired, and by the looks of it, all you have going today are a bunch of reruns and a six-pack of beer.”

“You don’t get it. The way they treated me, like I had information I wasn’t sharing. Nothing I said satisfied them back then, and it won’t satisfy them now. So, like I said … I’m busy.”

Danny attempted to close the door, and I pressed a hand against it.

“A metal bat was found not far from the cabin you were renting at the time,” I said. “Right at the edge of the property. Do you have any idea how it got there? Did you see anyone suspicious in the area at the time or hear anything unusual on the day of the murders?”

Danny reached for a set of keys, which were hanging on a hook on the wall.

At first, I thought he was holding them out to me, until I noticed something dangling from the keyring. As I stood there, contemplating what he was about to do next, my eyes began to burn, the bubbling sensation blinding me.

I stumbled back, reaching for my gun.

But it was too late.

The damage had already been done.