Page 23 of Bring Them Home

Amanda and Trent wiped their feet on the mat, a ratted and threadbare patterned fabric. It suited the house and barn. The Mannings hadn’t invested in a makeover inside or out; everything appeared original, including the wood floor that was dull and scratched.

Shelley took them down a hallway with framed generational family photos on the wall. The Mannings with young children at various ages, including wedding photos of them, and others with new little faces. They were grandparents and that realization made her feel more empathy for Rhett making such a grisly discovery.

They passed by the kitchen, which was dated, with an old woodstove in the corner. Its black pipe snaked up the wall and vented outside.

“Rhett, detectives are here to speak with you.” Shelley passed through the doorway into the living room.

Dated like the rest of the home, the furniture was faded and frayed. The floral pattern on the couch was washed out. The cushioned chairs were decades old, as were the beaten coffee tables. A flat-screen television on a stand was the only modern touch in the room. Another woodstove took up residence against an exterior wall. Was this house so outdated that fire was the principal heat source? It could explain the absence of central air and the oscillating fan in the corner.

A gray-haired man was sitting in a rocking chair next to a window that overlooked the front lawn to the road. His gaze had a faraway look that mirrored those with dementia or Alzheimer’s. She imagined Rhett was wishing he’d never made the discovery he had.

Rhett turned to face them, and said nothing.

“Detectives Steele and Stenson,” she said and added, “Amanda and Trent.”

Shelley met Amanda’s gaze, a softness passing between them. The woman picked up on the kindness in Amanda offering their given names. “Sit wherever you would like,” Shelley told them. “Rhett, you going to be all right, dear? Would you like another tea?”

He shook his head and blinked slowly.

“Could I get either of you a tea or water?” Shelley asked Amanda and Trent.

“Not for me, but thank you, ma’am,” Trent told her.

“I’m fine too. If you like, you could join us.” Amanda had a reason for asking. Her presence might have a stabilizing effect on her husband. Jensen hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d mentioned this guy was taking this hard. Though who could blame him?

Shelley sat on one end of the floral couch next to a table with a glass half full of water.

Amanda and Trent each sat in a chair, and Trent took out his notepad. He was often the notetaker between them and alternated being old-school and using a department-issued tablet for making his notations. His choice complemented their surroundings.

“We’re very sorry you had that experience, Mr. Manning,” Amanda began, and it drew his gaze to hers.

“The most horrible thing I’ve seen in all my years, and that’s saying a lot.”

I bet… Though she had no basis for making that determination. She didn’t know the man, but from his statement, he must have seen horrible things. “We just wanted to get an idea of how you came to find him. Could you tell us?”

“As I told Officer Jensen, I saw the birds. Circling, ya know.” Rhett lassoed a finger as if to further his point. “When that happens, it’s nothing good. But I just expected that a deer or some other animal had died in the field. I never expected…” His eyes blanked over again like they had been when they first walked into the room.

“There’s no reason you would have.” In no way did Amanda view the elderly man in front of her as being involved in any of this. Even though she knew one couldn’t judge from appearances, she felt confident in trusting her impressions here. And why would any killer dispose of a body on their own property? To draw their culpability into question… The answer fired back at her, but she dismissed it. “We just have a few other questions we need to ask you. It shouldn’t take long. Did you touch anything in the area surrounding the body? Or the body itself?”

“Absolutely not. I just headed out to where the birds were hovering. Saw the mess and called nine-one-one as fast as I could get my fingers to work.”

“The man’s name was Paul Archer, resident of Dumfries. Does the name sound familiar to you?” Trent asked.

“Dumfries? What in the blazes is he doing out here?” His face became a knot of irritation and confusion.

“We’re trying to figure that out,” she told him while Trent wrote in his notepad. Whatever he recorded was brief, and he was looking up mere seconds after sinking his head down.

She imagined he’d documented something along the lines of, person who found the body to be treated as a witness only, not suspicious. Or she was projecting her own impression. The man was devastated and in obvious shock. She felt for what he’d suffer once the adrenaline retreated and the full impact of his experience sank in with harsh clarity. “When was the last time you were in that section of field?”

“Back at the start of the season. Otherwise, there’s no reason for me to walk through the thing.”

That meant that Paul’s body could have been there since Saturday, assuming he was taken the same day as his wife and daughter. If so, had he also been killed and disposed of all in one day? And if that was the case, why bother taking him at all? Then again, it was possible the birds got to his remains quickly, and he hadn’t been out there rotting that long. There was no way to say when Paul was killed or put in that field. They’d need to wait for those answers.

“We have thirty-five acres, Detective,” Shelley inserted. “There’s no way Rhett or I can be on top of it all the time.”

“Understandable,” Amanda said while watching Trent’s pen move along the page again. “Do you employ anyone to help you out? Maybe your children pitch in.”

Shelley shook her head. “No money to hire people. As for our son and daughter, they have lives and families of their own, Detective. Busy making their way in the world. We wouldn’t want to impose caring for the farm on them.”