Chapter XXXVII

The discussion about how best to handle Lester Boulier and his mother took place behind closed doors; officially, it never took place at all. Present were Pascal; his partner McCard; Loren Noyes, deputy chief of the Augusta PD; and Rodd Turin, the commander of the Bureau of Criminal Investigations, who had served as Pascal's mentor when he first joined the force. Pascal shared with them exactly what Sabine had told him, leaving nothing out, not even his own qualms, including the possibility that he was interpreting what he had heard in a manner that would justify targeting Lester Boulier. He wanted Boulier to be the culprit, he knew, because he, as much as the Walters family, needed closure.

When Pascal was done, Turin turned to McCard. "What do you think of all this?"

"I only just got here," said McCard.

"You brought your ears. I can see them on the sides of your head."

McCard jerked a thumb at Pascal. "Then whatever he said."

"You know how many psychics contact us for major cases?" asked Noyes. "We could open a touring show, we got so many of them on the books."

"I don't even believe in God," said Pascal, "so I can't figure out if psychics represent an easier or harder sell."

Noyes addressed Turin.

"If this gets out, we'll be inundated with crystal gazers, not to mention being made to look a laughingstock."

"Only if Sabine Drew is wrong," said Pascal.

"And maybe not even then," said McCard. "We've had no solid leads so far. To be seen to be doing something is better than to be perceived as not doing enough."

"We've been working flat out on this," said Turin, "you and Pascal as much as anyone."

"Yeah, I know that, and you know that, but tell the public."

"Boulier fits," said Pascal.

"Fits how?" asked Turin.

"We were looking at known pedophiles, as well as men with previous criminal records involving harm to children, but Boulier was clean. Either he'd been careful in the past, or this was his first time. I'm now leaning toward the latter. Again, assuming Drew is correct, and we take at face value what she's telling us, Boulier panicked when Verona lashed out at him. If he'd been practiced at abduction, a young girl wouldn't have managed to get the better of him, however briefly; and if he'd planned the snatch, he'd have come better equipped. He'd have used cable ties, not rope, and brought along a proper gag to keep Verona quiet."

"You're thinking crime of opportunity?"

"Yes," said Pascal, "if it's him."

"If."

Noyes spoke again.

"Suppose you do find something," he said to Pascal, "how will you explain it to the press, or a judge?"

"I'll tell the truth."

"And if we find nothing?"

"Then we've lost nothing."

Noyes let it play out in his head, taking time to explore each divergent path, following it to its end.

"How do you want to work it?" he said at last. "We ought to inform the State Police and the Kennebec County Sheriff's Office, out of courtesy."

"If we go in heavy," warned McCard, "we might spook the old woman."

"And if too many people know that we're looking at Boulier," said Pascal, "it'll send vibrations down the wire, the kind he might pick up."

"Gotta tell them," said Turin. "You know how it is."

"Then the less notice they receive, the better."

"I can live with that," said Noyes. "When do you want to start?"

"Tomorrow morning," said Pascal, "after Boulier leaves for work. He's at Hatch Hill right now, but won't be for much longer. Doesn't give us enough time to work on the mother."

"What about monitoring Boulier in the interim?" asked Turin.

"He clocks off in an hour. We can stay with him unti he enters the property, then put two men in the woods across from the entrance for the night. It won't be comfortable, but the overtime is always welcome. It's one route in and out, so we'll spot him if he leaves. There's a self-storage place on Middle Road. We can station a second car out back of it in case he heads north, and keep another behind Annie's Variety if he goes south."

"Can't do that and not inform the other agencies," said Turin. "If someone makes a call about strangers in cars, you'll have twitchy state troopers shining lights in their eyes."

"My brother uses that self-storage," said Pascal. "No one goes there after dark, and even if they do, you'd need X-ray vision to spot a car among the trees. Same for Annie's. It closes at eight p.m., and after that it's deader than dirt. Worse comes to worst, we'll show our badges to the troopers and ask them to forget they ever saw us."

"If Estelle Boulier refuses to allow a search," said Noyes, "we'll have tipped our hand to her son. We can't keep eyes on him all the time, not over forty acres of private woodland. If Verona is buried there, he'll have ample opportunity to dispose of the body. Lord knows what kind of chemical crap he has access to out at Hatch Hill. He could probably dissolve her in a barrel."

"Then," said Pascal, "we have to make sure that Estelle Boulier doesn't turn us down."

THE NIGHT WAS UNEVENTFUL.Lester Boulier was followed to his home and did not leave it until morning, except for half an hour spent hitting the punching bag before dark. The next day, he was tailed all the way to Hatch Hill. As soon as he commenced work, Pascal and Loscarso drove to the Boulier property and parked in the yard shared by the two houses. Estelle Boulier lived in the main one, while her son occupied the smaller, permitting each of them privacy and independence while allowing Lester to keep a close eye on his mother.

Estelle answered her door on the third ring.

"Been waiting long?"

"Not at all," said Pascal.

"I must have missed the bell," she said. "I didn't have my glasses on. What can I do for you? My son's not here, if you're looking for him. He's at work."

They identified themselves and displayed their badges. Pascal reminded Estelle that they'd met before, but she didn't recall him.

"Would you mind if we came in?" he said. "We'd like to talk with you about something."

"I ought to call Lester," she replied. "He looks after my affairs."

"Do you really want to do that?" said Loscarso. "He's probably very busy, and this won't take long."

Pascal knew that Loscarso was ambivalent about what they were doing. She hadn't signed up as a police officer to manipulate confused seniors. Pascal had been forced to remind her that Verona Walters was five years old and potentially buried on this woman's land.

Estelle Boulier winced at the idea of her son being disturbed. Conceivably, Lester had a temper, or simply suffered from the occasional moments of frustration that were an inevitable consequence of dealing with a parent whose memory was failing. Whatever the reason, his mother had no desire to irritate him further.

They sat with her in a living room with faded wallpaper and scuffed boards, in which only the TV was modern. Loscarso asked Estelle about her late husband, and the two officers were shown faded wedding photos over bad coffee. Estelle could remember her wedding day, and the names of everyone in the pictures, but when Pascal tried to turn the conversation to their previous meeting, she again regarded him blankly, even though he'd reminded her of the circumstances of it on the doorstep only a short time before. He was conscious of time passing. They'd made discreet inquiries about Lester Boulier's routines, and established that he took his lunch at Hatch Hill, but Pascal had been a detective for long enough—had been alive long enough—to know that the last thing you wanted to happen was generally the first thing that did.

"Mrs. Boulier," said Loscarso, sensing Pascal's growing impatience, "we were hoping to take a look around your property—if it's okay with you."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"We've lost something, and we think it might be here."

"What did you lose?"

"A little girl. Her name is Verona."

Estelle scratched at her bony hands, which resembled the claws of a bird. "I haven't seen a little girl."

"That's a lot of land you own, most of it planted with evergreens," said Pascal. "Hard to see much, trees excepted."

"I ought to call Lester," said Estelle. "He looks after my affairs."

"I know," said Loscarso, "but you didn't want to bother him, remember, in case he was busy. I bet he works hard."

"He does. He's a good boy. He looks after my affairs."

"We can always call him later to explain. No sense in hauling him from his place of work without cause."

"I guess. He won't be mad, will he? Because he looks after my affairs."

"We'll make sure he understands," saidLoscarso. "Do we have your permission to search the property?"

"As long as Lester won't be mad."

Pascal didn't want to interrupt, but they needed more than that. He tapped his right foot against Loscarso's left and set his phone to record.

"Is that a yes?" asked Loscarso.

Estelle Boulier's eyes went blank and Pascal was convinced their moment had passed. Then Estelle spoke again:

"Yes," she said, "you can take a look around the property. But don't leave a mess."

It was decided that Loscarso should stay with Estelle. They didn't want her to reconsider and try calling her son. While they had her permission to enter and conduct a search, a smart lawyer could seize on her mental condition to seek an emergency court order preventing them from proceeding. Loscarso, therefore, was forced to make more coffee and look at further photos of the dead before Estelle eventually fell asleep in her chair.

By then, the cadaver dogs were already yapping.

AT HER HOME INHaynesville, Sabine Drew sat in the kitchen, a newspaper open to the crossword. Her mother was nearby, clearing up after breakfast. She turned at the sound of a cup shattering on the floor, to see her daughter stretch out her right hand to caress empty air.

"Oh, honey," said Sabine. "Yes, I hear the dogs, too. They're coming to get you. They're coming to set you free."

PINE TREES SPREAD THEIRroots thinly, and there were only so many clear patches of ground in which Lester Boulier could have interred Verona Walters.

They located her within the hour.