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“That was a nightmare, not PTSD.” Kane grinned at her. “I wasn’t in Afghanistan. I was defending you against a zombie. I shouldn’t watch shows with zombies. Next time you want to come over to watch a movie, I’m picking it, okay?”
“Sure.” She sucked the mayonnaise from her fingers and looked at him. “Forget movies for a minute. What else did you find out today?”
Kane gave her the details of the clown’s sister, the Party Time connection between Macgregor and Price, and his visit to the Triple Z Bar. “We checked about half of the local businesses and asked the waitresses at Aunt Betty’s Café. Susie Hartwig came up with someone with the tattoo. She danced with a blond man at the rodeo dance last summer with a similar tattoo but she can’t recall anything else; she thinks she has seen him in town. She said he was rough and smelly. He had strange eyes. I tried to push her to give me a more detailed description but she only said he was around fifty and had a beer belly.”
“Okay, that’s a start.” Jenna heaved a sigh. “I couldn’t get into the sealed files of Lizzy Harper’s court case, so I have zip.”
“I have another bit of information.” Kane’s eyebrows furrowed. “I called Rosemarie Harper and told her we were investigating a case similar to her daughter’s and needed her help. She backed away at first but when I mentioned more than one man appeared to be involved, she opened up. She recently discovered her husband was not the father of Lizzy’s son. The kid became ill a year ago and has a genetic disease. The doctor performed a DNA test and the kid has a different father. As Lizzy refuses to tell anything about her ordeal apart from a few sketchy details, her mother believes this is proof she was subject to more than one man’s abuse.”
“That’s frightening.” She nibbled at her sandwich. “Anything else?”
“Since killing her father, Lizzy is under treatment and on medication for behavioral problems. I can place her in the area during the time we have for Price’s death. The Harpers live one block away from the crime scene.”
Jenna sighed. “All circumstantial. I need proof.”
“I don’t have proof but a theory. Many people in town use the Harpers’ cleaning service for kids’ parties and it is reasonable to assume they would run into the entertainment. It’s possible, and as Price’s contact details are online, maybe Lizzy pretended to be a kid he’d met as a clown and asked him to meet her at the house.”
Jenna nodded. “It’s feasible. She did have a master key to the house but how did she lure him there? Would she know about those online chat rooms you mentioned?”
“Yeah, if she watched TV, I’m sure she would be aware of the danger of chat rooms for kids.” His brow creased. “It’s common knowledge predators pretend to be kids online. There are so many groups on Facebook alone and the FBI can’t monitor them all. She would just use a ‘come get me’ username and they would flock to her.”
Jenna sipped her coffee and observed him over the rim. “The problem is widespread. I researched the frequency of cases today and there are literally thousands ongoing in the state. It’s like an epidemic.”
As a shadow darkened her doorway, she glanced up to see Rowley. “Yes?”
“I have Mr. Stickler in the interview room.” Rowley’s eyebrows rose. “He came in without a problem but seems a little confused about why you want to speak to him.” He walked toward the desk and placed a sheet of paper in front of her. “Here is the list of tradespeople the real estate agency uses for the properties they manage. The ones highlighted are those who worked at the crime scene.” He met her gaze. “Another thing I found interesting: The properties owned by Rockford were all rentals and managed by the agency. The same master key accesses them all. The cleaning service has one of the keys, and so does Stickler.”
“Okay, thanks.” She glanced at Kane and stood. “I’ll add that info to the whiteboard now and add it to the case file later. We need to speak to Mr. Stickler without delay.” She scribbled on the whiteboard then hurried from the room.
In the interview room, Stickler sat hands clasped on the table and looking nervous. The smell of sweat drifted toward Jenna as she entered the room. Stickler, in his early twenties, was lean and muscular. Jenna sat down and smiled at him. “Thank you for coming in. This is Deputy Kane.” She waved a hand toward him. “Do you mind if we record the interview?”
“What’s this all about?” Stickler’s expression was grim. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” He brushed at the beading sweat on his upper lip with trembling fingers. “Okay, record the interview but I want it known you haven’t read me my rights.”
You sure look like you have something to hide. She turned on the recorder. “I haven’t arrested you, Mr. Stickler. This is just a friendly chat. If I did arrest you then I would read you your rights. What you tell us today would not be admissible in court.” She smiled. “For the record, it is two thirty and in the room with Mr. Adam Stickler is Sheriff Jenna Alton and Deputy David Kane. Mr. Stickler has volunteered to speak to us today.” She glanced at her notes then lifted her gaze to Stickler. “Miss Alison Saunders, from the real estate office, discovered the body of a man in the house at 3 Maple Lane. I gather you did some work there recently?”
“A body? Anyone I know?” The color drained fr
om his face.
“Just answer the question.” Kane crossed his arms across his wide chest and glared at him.
“Yeah, I had to attach new handles to the kitchen cabinets. I finished last week on Friday morning.”
Jenna leaned forward. “Were you there before the cleaners? I mean, did the place look as if it had been cleaned prior to an inspection?”
“Nope, I was there before the cleaners. Miss Saunders told me to be out of there by noon. I left around eleven.”
“Can you account for your movements between Friday last week and Wednesday of this week?”
“Yeah, I worked Saturday over at Blindman’s Peak on old Mr. Starkey’s roof. I was there all day. Spent Sunday with my folks. Monday through Thursday I went back to finish Mr. Starkey’s roof.” Stickler eyed her with suspicion, took out his cellphone, and scrolled through the screen. “I can give you their numbers and you can check.”
Jenna took down the numbers. “Do you know a man by the name of Amos Price?”
“Nope.” Stickler stared at her and a small shadow of doubt crossed his eyes. “Just a minute, yeah, I do know that name. I’m pretty sure he is the clown my parents hired for my sisters’ birthday parties when we lived in Blackwater.” He narrowed his gaze. “I’m the eldest of seven, six girls and me.”
“Yeah, that’s him. He was found dead in the house on Maple.” Kane rubbed the dark stubble on his chin. “Are you aware Amos Price was a pedophile?”
“No!” A look of anguish crossed Stickler’s face. “Sweet Jesus, do you think he was involved with my sister’s disappearance?”
