Gone (31 page)

Lowney lifted the glasses, put them to his eyes and squinted through them. He lowered them and again began to wipe the lenses in slow circles. “I asked her how old the boy was. Don’t remember what she told me, just now. I do remember though that I made a point of showing her the new stuff I just got in. While she was in here, I asked her where she was from, how long she was going to be in town—you know, the usual chit-chat, talking up the tourists. I always ask what brings them to Farley and how they heard of our town. That’s my attempt at market research to attract more tourists. I keep after the town council about doing more to increase Farley’s profile to expand our tourist trade.” He waved a hand in a quick gesture. “I just get the same rhetoric about not enough in the budget etcetera.” He replaced his glasses with a rough, impatient movement.

“What did she say when you asked what brought her to Farley?” Jake asked.

Lowney frowned. “I don’t recall what she told me. Sorry, it’s been some time.”

“Did she mention that she was meeting anyone in town?” Clare asked. “That she knew anyone from Farley?”

“I don’t think so.” Lowney shook his head slowly. “Anyway, I don’t think she ended up buying anything and left.” He shrugged. “That’s the last I saw of her. Some time later, not sure how long, detectives from Columbia came in asking about her. Sheriff Nobleton was with them.”

“How long was she in the store?” Clare asked.

Lowney puffed out his cheeks. “Can’t say to the minute, but it wasn’t long.”

“Did you notice where she went when she left here?” Clare asked.

“Out of my store is out,” Lowney said. “If there’s no chance of a sale, I don’t pay any attention.”

“Did anyone else come into the store while Sara was in here?” Jake asked.

Lowney plucked at his lower lip in thought. “No one that I can recall at this moment. Like I said, it’s been some time.”

“Anything else, Clare?” Jake asked.

She shook her head.

“Earl, if you remember anything else about your conversation with Sara, we’d appreciate a call.” Jake left a business card on the display counter.

Lowney’s eyes widened in blatant interest. Clare recognized that look when he’d been seeking to exploit her need for a place to stay.

“I gotta ask,” Lowney said. “After all this time, why the interest? That mean you are reopening the investigation?”

His eyes were round and avid, his gaze darting between Clare and Jake with a speed that reminded Clare of a bouncing ping-pong ball. Looked like he wanted to be able to spread some gossip. Whoever was responsible for Sara’s disappearance—if he was from Farley—might react to hearing that the investigation was being reopened, Clare thought.

“That’s exactly what it means, Mr. Lowney,” Clare said.

Clare made her way to the door. Jake was already at the door and swung it open for her to precede him.

As Clare reached the sidewalk, Rich Dannon passed by the surplus store. He glared at Clare, then continued down the street at a brisk pace.

“You know Rich Dannon?” Jake asked as he stepped up behind her.

“I questioned him about Beth.”

“Didn’t go too well, I take it. He looked pissed.”

Clare rolled her eyes. “He hit on me and I turned him down. Bruised what has to be a monumental ego if he’s still angry about it.” She squinted into the sunlight at the row of stores across the street. “The pharmacy, next.”

Clare hobbled across the street, alongside Jake. The day was winding down and was still a scorcher. Perspiration matted Clare’s dress to her back. She was feeling the heat and the exertion and was panting by the time she’d made the short walk to the pharmacy.

“You okay?” Jake asked.

She took a breath. “Fine.”

The glass door to the pharmacy was propped open with a chunk of dark wood. Two tall fans oscillated inside, making a soft hum. A middle-aged woman, pushing a broom across the tile floor, sang an off-key rendition of “Satisfaction,” the Rolling Stones tune.

“Hello, Roberta,” Jake said.

“Hiya, Jake.”

The woman stopped sweeping and cupped her hands atop the broom handle. Jake made quick introductions.

“What brings you ’round?” Roberta asked after exchanging a greeting with Clare.

“Need a word with your dad,” Jake said. “He in?”

“In the back. I’ll get him.”

A few minutes later, Roberta returned. A man wearing a lab coat followed in her wake. Clare judged him to be about seventy, though his brisk stride was that of a much younger man. He was very tall and walked with his head tucked slightly into his neck, tortoise-like, Clare thought.

“Hello, Clem,” Jake said.

“Something I can do for you, Jake?”

Jake introduced Clare.

“Good morning to you,” Clement Potter said with a slight nod.

Jake stated the reason for the visit. Clare handed Potter the photograph of Sara. Potter removed a pair of glasses from the pocket of the lab coat and put them on. His gaze lowered to the photograph and the man’s thin face pinched further.

“I remember her,” he said.

“What do you remember about her, Clem?” Jake asked.

Potter’s wrist jerked as he practically flung the photograph back at Clare.

“I was getting ready to close for the day when she entered,” Potter said.

“Why was she in here?” Clare asked.

“She came to me,” Potter went on, “and asked where I shelved the prophylactics.” His lips compressed briefly.

“Go on, Clem,” Jake said.

“Not much more to tell, really.” Potter’s posture straightened, bringing him to his full height. “Prophylactics are contrary to the teachings of the bible. I don’t carry that product and told her so.”

“How did she react?” Clare asked.

“I believe she found my response amusing. I told her that I was closing the store and directed her to the door. Her time here was very brief and that was the extent of my dealing with that young woman, I’m very pleased to say.”

“Did she mention where she was going?” Jake asked.

“No.”

“Did you notice what direction she took, Clem?” Jake asked.

“Absolutely not. I could not close the door behind her fast enough. I had no more time to waste on the likes of that young woman.”

“I don’t suppose she mentioned who she was planning to use the condoms with, Mr. Potter?” Clare raised her brows.

Potter glared at her. “Certainly not. As I said, my dealing with the woman was very brief. I was elated to see the last of her.”

Clare leaned toward Potter. “You did hear that she went missing, didn’t you, Mr. Potter? That she’s been gone for four years? You’ve got family, a daughter.” Clare gestured to Roberta. “Doesn’t hearing that a young woman disappeared give your gut a little twist?”

Flushing, Potter addressed Jake. “Your partner has no call to go talking to me like that. She’s trying to intimidate me.”

“I’d think hearing of a young girl who’d been in your store going missing would unsettle you, Clem, no matter how you were told.” Jake slapped a business card on the counter. “If you recall any other details about your conversation with Sara, give us a call.”

* * * * *

The last person on their list was Joan Bass, a school teacher on summer vacation. The woman who answered Clare’s knock at the Bass residence was a trim forty-something who was wrapping a towel around her waist. Water trickled from her hair and sky blue bathing suit down a long, tanned body. She wore an assortment of jewel-toned rings, and a neck chain of ruby red stones.

“Well, hello,” the woman said and greeted Clare, and then Jake, with a bright smile.

“Good morning, we’d like to speak with Mrs. Bass.” Clare showed her ID.

“FBI?” She widened her eyes and her smile. “I’m Joan Bass. I can’t imagine why the FBI would come calling, but it’s been a slow day. Why don’t you come on in and tell me?”

Joan’s reaction to having the FBI at her door was a new one in Clare’s experience. It was unusual to receive an exuberant welcome once she introduced herself as a federal agent. Clare caught Jake’s eye. Maybe he was thinking the same thing. He looked amused. Though whether his amusement was at what Joan Bass had said or at Clare’s surprise at the comment, Clare wasn’t sure.

Joan led them through a spacious hall, her bare feet slapping softly against the tile. The hall was in deep shadow, making the room cool. She went through the kitchen and to a sliding glass door that opened onto a cement patio. Two young boys wearing swimming trunks and life jackets sat on lounge chairs.

“Okay, Trevor, Thomas, I’m back. You can go back in the water now,” Joan called out.

The two boys, one a bright red head, the other dark-haired, jumped into the pool that took up most of the small yard, splashing water on the backs of Clare’s legs.

Joan Bass narrowed her eyes at Clare in a sympathetic look, her gaze lingering on the crutch. “You might want to take a load off.” She pointed to the chairs the boys had vacated.

When both Clare and Jake were seated, Jake explained to Joan why they wanted to speak with her. Clare offered Joan the photograph of Sara. Joan cradled it in her palm and took some time gazing at it. When she handed it back, she nodded slowly.

“I remember her,” Joan said. “I talked with Sheriff Nobleton and two detectives down from Columbia about this girl. Since you’re here asking about her again, I guess she hasn’t ever been found?”

“No,” Jake said.

“Some of my students aren’t that much younger than this girl,” Joan went on. “A parent’s worst fear, I think, to have your child disappear. I’ll answer any questions you have.”