Faith interrupted. "I'm Special Agent Faith Mitchell. This is my partner Will Trent. We're here to meet with Judith and Henry Coldfield. I assume you're related?"
"My folks," the man explained, a prominent pair of buckteeth sticking out as he smiled at Faith. "They're in the back. Dad's kind of unhappy about missing his golf game." He seemed to realize how inconsequential this seemed to them. "Sorry, I know what happened to that woman was awful. It's just that—well—they told that other detective everything that happened."
Faith kept up her sweet side. "I'm sure they won't mind telling us again."
Tom Coldfield seemed to disagree, but he motioned for them to follow him to the back room anyway. Will let Faith go ahead of him, and they all had to pick their way around boxes and various piles of items that had been donated to the shelter. Will guessed Tom Coldfield had been athletic at one point in his life, but his early thirties had beaten that out of him, giving a round spread to his waist and a stoop to his shoulders. There was a bald spot on the crown of his head, almost like a tonsure that a Franciscan monk would sport. Without even asking, Will guessed that Tom Coldfield had a couple of kids. He looked like a textbook soccer dad. He probably drove a minivan and played online fantasy football.
Tom said, "Sorry about the mess. We're short volunteers."
Faith asked, "Do you work here?"
"Oh, no. I'd go crazy if I did." He gave a chuckle at what must have been Faith's surprised reaction. "I'm an air traffic controller. My mom guilts me into helping out when they're shorthanded."
"Were you in the military?"
"Air Force—six years. How'd you guess?"
Faith shrugged. "Easiest way to get training." Then, probably to bridge a rapport with the man, she added, "My brother's in the Air Force, stationed in Germany."
Tom moved a box out of their way. "Ramstein?"
"Landstuhl. He's a surgeon."
"That's a bad mess over there. Your brother's doing the Lord's work."
Faith was in cop mode now, her personal opinions set aside. "He certainly is."
Tom stopped in front of a closed door and knocked. Will looked down the hallway, seeing the other end of the shelter, the counter they'd stood in front of while they waited for the woman to come out of the bathroom. Faith noticed this, too, and she rolled her eyes at Will as Tom opened the door.
"Mom, this is Detective Trent and—I'm sorry, is it Mitchell?"
"Yes," Faith confirmed.
Tom introduced his parents, though this was certainly a formality as the room contained only two people. Judith was sitting behind a desk, a ledger opened in front of her. Henry was in a chair by the window. He had a newspaper in his hands, and he shook the paper, creasing it carefully before he gave Will and Faith his attention.
Tom hadn't been lying when he'd said his father was annoyed about missing his golf game. Henry Coldfield looked like a parody of a grumpy old man.
"Should I get some more chairs?" Tom offered. He didn't wait for a response, disappearing before anyone could answer. The office was regular-sized, which was to say it was big enough for four people to occupy without knocking elbows. Still, Will stood in the doorway while Faith took the only other vacant chair in the room. Normally, they figured out ahead of time who would do the talking, but they were going into this interview cold. When Will looked to Faith for guidance, she only shrugged. The family was hard to read. They would have to figure this out as they went along. The first step in an interview was to make the witness feel comfortable. People didn't tend to open up and start being helpful until you made them realize that you weren't the enemy. Since she was sitting closest to them, Faith started.
"Mr. and Mrs. Coldfield, thank you for meeting with us. I know you already spoke to Detective Galloway, but what you went through the other night was very traumatic. Sometimes it takes a few days before you remember everything."
"We've never really had anything like this happen to us before," Judith Coldfield said, and Will wondered if she thought people routinely rammed their car into women who had been raped and tortured in an underground cavern.
Henry seemed to realize this as well. "Judith."
"Oh, dear." Judith put her hand to her mouth, covering the embarrassed smile on her face. Will saw where Tom had gotten his buckteeth as well as his easy blush. The woman explained, "I meant to say, we've never talked to the police before." She patted her husband's hand. "Henry got a speeding ticket once, but once was enough. When was that, dear?"
"Summer of '83," Henry answered, the set to his jaw indicating he still hadn't gotten over the experience. He looked at Will as he spoke, as if only a man would understand. "Seven miles over the limit."
Will tried to think of something that sounded commiserating, but his mind drew a blank. He asked Judith, "You're from up North?"
"Is it that obvious?" She laughed, putting her hand to her mouth again, covering her smile. She was painfully self-conscious about her protruding teeth. "Pennsylvania."
"Is that where you lived before you retired?"
"Oh, no," Judith said. "Henry's job moved us around a bit. Mostly in the northwest. We lived in Oregon, Washington State, California—but we didn't like that, did we?" Henry made a grumpy sound. "We were in Oklahoma, but not for long. Have you ever been? It's so flat there."
Faith cut to the chase. "How about Michigan?"
Judith shook her head, but Henry supplied, "I saw a football game in Michigan back in '71. Michigan and Ohio State. Ten to seven. Nearly froze to death."
Faith lighted on the opportunity to draw him out. "You're a football fan?"
"Can't stand it." His frown seemed to indicate he was still unhappy about the situation, though most people would kill to see a rivalry game.
"Henry was a salesman" Judith supplied. "He traveled around quite a bit even before that. His father was in the army for thirty years."
Faith took over, trying to find a way to open up the man. "My grandfather was army."
Judith jumped in again. "Henry had a college deferment for the war." Will guessed she meant Vietnam. "We had friends who served, of course, and Tom was in the Air Force, which we're really proud of. Isn't that right, Tom?"
Will hadn't realized Tom was back. The Coldfields' son smiled an apology. "Sorry, no more chairs. The kids are using them to build a fort."
"Where were you stationed?" Faith asked him.
"I was at Keesler both tours," he answered. "I started out my training, then worked my way up to the Three-Thirty-Fourth's Master Sergeant in charge of tower class fundamentals. They were talking about sending me to Altus when I put in for discharge."
"I was going to ask you why you left the Air Force, then I remembered Keesler's in Mississippi."
The blush came back in full force, and Tom gave an embarrassed laugh. "Yes, ma'am."
Faith turned her attention to Henry, probably guessing that they wouldn't get much from Judith without Henry's blessing. "Ever leave stateside?"