I felt my body sway to the left as the room behind her moved to the right, almost like we were on a ship.
What came out of my mouth at that moment wasn’t eloquent or profound, but it was the best I could come up with before I fainted.
“Well, shit. Do I have to pay for those?”
Carter
Leaning back in the chair, Hurst thought over the question.
Given that he’d lived here since the first draft of the Bible had been written, I’d suggested to Alex that we ask him about the residents who’d lived here in 1998.
“Piersville’s population isn’t exactly huge, but that’s still a lot of people to think about,” he sighed, pressing his fingers into his temples and massaging. “Hell, I’ve got issues remembering my own family’s names, son.”
“Do you remember the kid going missing?” I asked, pulling out the photograph from the file and turning it for him to see.
I’d sat the test the department required for me to be promoted to detective just yesterday—not that I’d told anyone aside from DB—and working on these cases just reinforced my conviction that this was what I wanted to do.
Unfortunately, it was dependent on an opening for the position in P.V.P.D., and I didn’t see that happening any time soon. I also wasn’t one hundred percent sure I’d passed the test, which was why I hadn’t told anyone about it. But working on the cases was good practice and helped the department and citizens of the town out, so I wasn’t salty about the fact it’d probably take a while to get the promotion.
“Course I do. I was involved in the search for him. We combed the town for a whole month.”
“And you didn’t find anything?” Alex pressed, tapping his pen on his desk. “No one saw anything?”
“There was Mrs. Cleatus, but she was ninety-three at the time and had glasses like binoculars and couldn’t hear a damn thing. I think she said she saw a car stop and someone carrying the baby back to it, but she couldn’t remember the color of it or even any details.”
I decided to change direction slightly. “Okay, so what about people having kids. Do you remember any new births or people who had kids close to Ainsley Lewis’s age at the time?”
“There were loads of kids in 1998. Heck, I’m sure even Logan would fit into that category. And then—” he stopped suddenly, then looked back down at the picture of the baby on my desk. “Come to think of it, Barden MacGregor had a kid that age, but we didn’t see him until about three years later. Said the kid had a weak immune system, and he didn’t want him to catch anything in town.”
The name was familiar, but only vaguely. “What about when he went to school?”
Hurst frowned. “I’d have to ask Lindee, but I’m sure he homeschooled the kid. Barden’s one of those paranoid types who thinks Nixon’s in a secure location, waiting to come back for another term.”
I exchanged a look with Alex. In itself, that information wasn’t damning, but it was an interesting lead we’d be following up on.
“How does he make a living to support his family?” Alex asked as he scribbled down some information on the pad in front of him. “I’ve never come across him.”
“Lives out on River Road. There’s a dirt track with a gate blocking access to it. Last I saw, he had about five padlocks on it, keeping it shut tight. He comes into town to go to the store, but the best person to give you information is the guy who works for the delivery company that collects his packages.”
At our looks of confusion, he smirked. “He makes doomsday type boxes for people. Helmets, masks, canteens, camouflage, filters, and shit like that.”
Picking up my phone, I shot a text off to DB, asking if he’d come across Barden MacGregor at any point. While I waited for his response, Alex asked Hurst some other questions.
“Yeah, he’s got a wife, Kylie. She’s a lovely lady, real quiet and all. We didn’t think they’d ever have kids, so when they turned up with one, it was a shock. She must have given birth out at that old place of theirs.”
He looked to the side, frowning. “Come to think of it, he must have been the one to help her do it. Jesus, that poor woman. Lindee screamed her ass off when she had ours, and that was with drugs. Maybe he managed to get something or had a supply for his doomsday preparations?”
My phone beeped with a message back from DB.
DB: Lives out on River Road. Only time I’ve ever seen him was at the store. Saw me and ran the other way. Why?
Me: The cold case about the missing baby, Ainsley Lewis, from 1998. We’re asking Hurst about people who had kids around that time.