“Come look for the lilies with us!” Sam said to Jed.
Jed ignored Sam. Hearing Kate’s footsteps, he turned toward her. His eyes were kind, soft brown, and held her gaze. He looked alarmed, almost afraid. She found herself wanting to reassure him, not spook him, learn everything she could.
“Hello, Jed,” she said, sticking out her hand. “I’m Kate.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, shaking her hand. His was cool from the swim.
“I’ve seen you at the Academy, haven’t I?”
“Yes,” he said. “Beth helped me get a job there.”
“I thought you were based in New London.”
“I was, till I got the job. I still have meals there sometimes, but living around here is closer to work.”
She nodded. “That makes sense.”
“So now everyone knows each other,” Sam said, sounding impatient. “Can we please search for the lilies?”
Jed glanced at Kate, apprehension in his eyes, as if trying to tell whether she preferred he not join them. She wondered what he’d think if he knew that in the back pocket of her shorts was the blurry black-and-white photo, the sonogram, she had taken from his tent.
“Sure, Sam,” Kate said. “Let’s go.”
“The thing is, I have an appointment later this afternoon,” Jed said. “So I can only look for a little while.”
“No prob,” Sam said.
The three of them headed single file down the path toward the old quarry, Popcorn leading the way, Kate bringing up the rear. She wondered what appointment he had—she was sure Conor wouldn’t let much time pass without interviewing him. Kate walked behind Jed now, stared at his back, never taking her eyes off him for a second.
36
Jed Hilliard didn’t have transportation, so instead of having him come to the Major Crime Squad, Reid arranged to meet him at three o’clock at Black Hall’s Paradise Drive-In. It was a popular ice cream stand, with picnic tables next to a marsh overlooking the mouth of the Connecticut River. Reid ate a mint chocolate chip cone while waiting.
Jed was a few minutes late. It worked out well; Reid was able to finish his cone. He tossed the napkin into the trash as he watched Jed approach, an orange backpack slung over his right shoulder.
He looked disheveled, but in an appealing way: maybe it was the artist in him. Despite what Reid knew about Jed’s beleaguered financial circumstances, he would have a hard time seeing him with the Osprey House crowd: long hair, shaggy beard, tall with a loping stride, alert and intelligent eyes. He had a strong handshake. Reid asked if he wanted something from the snack bar, but Jed said no.
They sat at a picnic table, under a yellow-and-white-striped umbrella. Reid had his back to the sun. Jed had the disadvantage of having it in his eyes, and he squinted at Reid. The sadness in his face was unmistakable.
“I know you want to talk about Beth,” Jed said.
“That’s right,” Reid said, waiting.
Jed seemed comfortable with the silence. He didn’t rush to fill it, and he didn’t fidget.
“She was the best person I ever knew,” he said finally.
“I’ve heard that from a lot of people,” Reid said.
“She loved ... the world,” Jed said. “She saw the good in people, and she took care of everyone.”
“Including you?” Reid said.
“Oh yes,” Jed said vigorously, as if he wasn’t the least bit ashamed of it. “She believed in me. My art especially. But me as a person too. I was in prison.” He looked Reid straight in the eye when he said it. “That’s where I met her.”
Reid had to respect him for coming right out with that—or maybe Jed had his con down pat, and being forthcoming was part of it.
“I’ve heard that,” Reid said. “But what I’ve been wondering, Jed, is how did you wind up here in Black Hall? I looked up your record, and it says you’re from Warwick, Rhode Island.”
