A Shred of Evidence (17 page)

Will stood motionless until the noise died down to a hum and then jumped in. “I hear your voices! And see your picket signs! Let me assure you that my department is working with the FBI to do everything possible to find Sarah Beth Hamilton. You should also be made aware that the man who spray-painted the Hamiltons’ house has come forward—and admitted that the
only reason he thought Ross Hamilton was a child molester was because a drinking buddy said so.”

The crowd began to mumble among themselves and Will held up his palm again. “Please, let me finish … no one wants justice any more than I do. This investigation is far from over, but let’s be clear: All the talk about Ross Hamilton being a child molester is hearsay There’s no evidence to support that he is—or ever was—a child molester. This has gotten blown way out of proportion.”

“Open your eyes, Chief,” a man shouted. “This guy’s an experienced liar! You gonna wait till another kid dies before you do something?”

Valerie Mink Hodges stepped forward and began to chant. “We-want-the-truth. We-want-the-truth.” She turned around and faced the others, her hands waving as if she were directing an orchestra. “We-want-the-truth. We-want-the-truth.”

The noise went up another decibel as the crowd began to chant with one voice, their placards lifted higher in a show of unity.

Will put his lips to Rutger’s ear. “So much for persuasion.”

Julie Hamilton pulled back the kitchen curtain and watched the protesters marching along the sidewalk.

“There are more of them now than there were an hour ago,” she said to Ross. “Chief Seevers said something to them, but nobody’s leaving.”

“They can call me anything they want,” Ross said. “The only thing I care about is getting Sarah Beth home safe and sound.”

It’s been too long
, Julie thought. She let the curtain fall back and glanced over at Sarah Beth’s empty booster chair, desperation tearing at her heart. And how could Ross really think if they found her alive they would return her to them now? Didn’t he get it? Either way, they were going to lose her.

Ellen turned on the six o’clock news, then took an onion and a bell pepper from the refrigerator and placed them on the counter. She was only half listening until she heard Chief Seevers’s name mentioned and looked up at the TV and saw a crowd of people carrying picket signs.

“…. And the tension continues to mount this evening outside the Hamilton residence where protesters have been gathering since early afternoon. More than a hundred local residents have joined together to send a message to Chief Seevers and the FBI that they feel Ross Hamilton is a danger to their children, and should not be allowed to reside in Seaport.

“WRGL News got this statement from Chief Seevers after he spoke to the crowd just after two this afternoon. ‘I don’t know how much clearer I can state my position regarding the Hamilton case. Every effort is being made by my department, the county sheriff’s department, and the FBI to find Sarah Beth Hamilton. But we’ve uncovered no evidence that the girl’s father is guilty of sexual abuse or that he had anything at all to do with the child’s disappearance. Any speculation to that effect is based on hearsay and gossip and only serves to confuse and distort the facts.’

“Also present in the crowd was reporter Valerie Mink Hodges of the
Biloxi Telegraph
, who has written several articles about Ross Hamilton’s questionable history of accidental deaths and disappearances. Hodges had this to say: ‘How many children does this insidious predator have to kill before the people rise up and demand justice?’

“Chief Seevers would not comment on the specifics of the case. But sources inside the police department confirm that Ross Hamilton is not the chief suspect at this time. We will continue to keep you apprised of all new developments.

“In other news tonight, the president and vice president have …”

Ellen turned off the TV and sat at the breakfast bar, annoyed that Valerie had had the audacity to come here, and wondering what Ned Norton’s reaction would be to the flood of public opinion. She was aware of Guy standing in the doorway.

“Honey, why are you trying to chop vegetables with that sore hand. Let me take you out.”

“Oh … I wasn’t thinking.”

Guy came in the kitchen and sat on the stool beside her. “You still mad about your little run-in with the police chief?”

“No, but you should see how things have escalated.” She relayed to Guy the scene she had just witnessed on the news.

“Well, you shouldn’t be surprised. People feel safer when they have someone to blame. But the crowd mentality worries me. I just wish they’d sit tight and let the police do their job.”

“They meaning
me
?” Ellen arched her eyebrows.

“At least you’ve confined your opinions to me and the police chief. By the way, how was your walk?”

“Very nice. I met the most interesting man on the beach.” Ellen told Guy everything she could remember about Ned Norton and her conversation with him.

“Sounds like a wise fellow. And a better person than I am.”

“Yeah, me too.” Ellen rested her elbows on the breakfast bar, her chin on her palms. “I never even considered praying for Ross Hamilton. Doesn’t say much for my spiritual life, does it?”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“How sincere could my prayers be? I believe Ross Hamilton should be punished for what he’s done.”

Guy shook his head. “Ellen, for the umpteenth time, you don’t know what he’s done or not done. And I’ve yet to see God’s forgiveness keep a convicted criminal out of jail. Natural consequences and eternal consequences are entirely different. Why don’t you pray that Ross Hamilton comes to the understanding that God is far more forgiving than people are?”

Ellen held her husband’s gaze. Now
you decide to get spiritual on me!

Gordy Jameson shook hands with the new customers at table ten and looked up just as Will Seevers walked in the front door of the crab shack.

“Enjoy your meal,” Gordy said, “and the key lime pie’s on the house.” Gordy noticed the deep lines on Will’s forehead and walked over to him. “You here for dinner? Where’s Margaret?”

“She plays Mahjong on Thursday night. I was hoping I might be able to get a fried shrimp dinner and eat it in your office—and maybe unload a little, if you’re free.”

Gordy slapped Will on the back. “Good timin’. I’ve made the rounds. Go on back, and I’ll tell Weezie what I’m doin’. You want a baked potato and blue cheese on the salad?”

Will nodded. “Yeah, same as always.”

Gordy waited by the kitchen door until Weezie approached with a handful of orders.

“Busy night,” she said. “The grilled grouper’s goin’ fast.”

“Will Seevers is here and wants his usual. Think you can handle things while I sit with him in my office?”

Weezie smiled. “With one arm in a sling. You want me to deliver?”

“Would you mind—and make that two?”

“You got it.”

“What did I do before you started workin’ here?”

She laughed. “A whole lot more than you’re doin’ now.”

Gordy went down the hall and into his office where Will Seevers sat, his feet on the desk. “You look lousy. I heard about what’s goin’ on. So what’s the story?”

Will moved his head to one side and then the other until his neck cracked. “In a nutshell: A growing group of locals are
organizing. If we don’t arrest Ross Hamilton, they’re threatening to run him out of town.”

“Can they do that?”

Will stifled a yawn. “Not legally But public sentiment is building against the guy, and I’m worried it could get violent. I can’t imagine he’d want to live here when this over.”

“You say that like he’s not gonna get charged.”

“Come on, Gordy, don’t start with me. I’ve had about all—”

“Hey, I’m not carryin’ a picket sign. Did I hear right? Hamilton’s not a suspect anymore?”

“I
never
said that. I said the investigation is far from over, but there’s no evidence to support that he is, or ever was, a child molester. Not that anybody bothered to listen.” Will opened his eyes wide and blinked several times. “Man, I’m beat up. All I need is an angry mob when half the department’s out working with the FBI. And to add insult to injury, we have no solid leads on the Hamilton girl.”

“Have you seen the parents lately?”

“Yeah, they look like they could lay down and die. Breaks my heart. I keep hoping something will split this case wide open.”

“You don’t think he did it, do you?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think, Gordy. My job is to weigh the facts. And right now, we’ve got zilch.”

E
llen Jones stopped jogging and looked eastward at the glowing golden rim separating earth and sky and the streaks of orangey pink and purple that looked to her as surreal as every artist’s expression of it on canvas.

She inhaled the damp, salty air and listened to the surf hiss as it washed up on the sand, and the sound of laughing gulls echoing across the expanse. She was aware of a boat whistle and a dog barking and the Friday morning traffic in the distance.

Ellen walked away from the surf and sat cross-legged in the dry sand, relieved that Guy had been too busy this morning to run with her. She’d tossed and turned all night, her conscience nagging her to pray for Ross Hamilton. She couldn’t seem to find the words and didn’t see how praying would change how she felt.

It will
Ellen didn’t argue with that still small voice. She closed her eyes and let her heart get quiet and waited for the words she didn’t feel. Finally, she began to speak in a whisper.

“Father, I’m sorry for the way I’ve judged Ross Hamilton and for the things I’ve said about him. I don’t have to know anything more than he’s a sinner who needs salvation. You forgave me when I didn’t deserve it, and I ask the same mercy for Ross. I’m making the assumption that he hasn’t asked Jesus to take control of his life. So, Father, please put someone in his path that will point him toward Your Son. Soften his heart and make him receptive to Your saving grace.

“And be with Julie throughout this nightmare. Comfort her. Draw her to Your Son. Put someone in her path that will make a difference. I pray these things in Jesus’ Name.”

Ellen sat in silence for a minute, then opened her eyes. She didn’t feel differently, but got up and started jogging again, satisfied that she had at least made a breakthrough.

Gordy Jameson heard the front door of the crab shack open and glanced at his watch. “That you, Billy?”

“I am here, Mister G,” Billy Lewis said. “I will work now.”

Gordy got up from his desk and walked out into the dining area and caught Billy before he went out on the deck. “You’re forty minutes late, son. Is everything all right?”

“I—I was need-ed at home.” Billy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes darting from side to side, his cheeks flushed. “I will do an ex-cel-lent job. An
ex-cel-lent
job!”

Gordy felt bad he had embarrassed Billy and wondered if the groom had been romancing his bride. “I know you will. But I expect you to be here on time, just like the rest of my crew. You’re scheduled to work from 8:30 to 10:30 so you’ll be finished in time for us to get the deck ready for the lunch crowd.”