Page 64 of Forever Gone

The tension did not disappear, but it loosened.

Kelly watched a narrow creek flash between the trees. “I hadn’t thought about that in years.”

“Neither had I.”

“He must’ve known everybody could see it.”

“Mr. Latham never admitted anything,” Selena said. “He once parked his truck through the cafeteria wall and blamed the brakes.”

“The brakes did fail.”

“He’d left it running without the parking brake.”

Kelly smiled. “I forgot that part.”

Silence returned, though it no longer pressed against them in the same way. Selena turned onto a county road bordered by mailboxes and low homes built close to the hillside.

The navigation system directed them past a shuttered convenience store, then onto a narrower lane where the pavement had broken near the edges. Boyd Cutler’s address appeared on a tilted mailbox beside a gravel drive.

The property sat below the road.

A single-story house stood behind an uneven yard, its siding once white but now dulled to gray. Plastic sheeting covered one rear window. A black Ford F-150 occupied the drive, the truck old enough to match the registration record and scarred along the passenger side. Two garbage cans leaned against a chain-link fence. Beyond them, a washing machine rested beneath a blue tarp.

Selena parked behind the truck.

They got out.

A dog began barking somewhere behind the house. The sound came from inside a pen, followed by claws scraping against wire. Kelly adjusted her jacket, so her credentials and holstered weapon remained visible without appearing threatening.

The front steps bent slightly under Selena’s weight. She knocked twice.

Movement sounded beyond the door.

Locks turned. The door opened six inches, held by a chain.

Boyd Cutler stared through the gap.

Age had thickened him. His school photograph showed a narrow teenager with long hair and a defiant tilt to his chin. The man before them was broad through the chest and stomach, with graying hair cut close around a balding crown. Deep lines bracketed his mouth. A pale scar crossed one eyebrow and disappeared into his temple. He wore work trousers, a sleeveless undershirt, and socks without shoes.

His attention moved from Selena to Kelly.

“What is it?”

Selena displayed her credentials. “Special Agent Selena Raven, FBI. This is Special Agent Kelly Voss. Are you Boyd Cutler?”

His grip tightened around the edge of the door. “What’s this about?”

“We need to ask you some questions concerning Karen Sloane.”

The name altered him. Not dramatically, but the change was there. His shoulders stiffened, and the door stopped moving.

“I heard she got killed.”

“We’re investigating her death,” Selena said. “We’d prefer to speak inside, if that’s all right.”

Boyd glanced over his shoulder.

Kelly could see part of a living room beyond him. A television played loudly. Someone laughed on the program, followed by canned applause.