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“Letters he wrote during the war.”
“We didn’t write each other during the war. You wouldn’t want to put anything on paper you wouldn’t say to a room full of people. The censors were watching everything.”
“Not to y—” Jason caught the glint in Doc’s eyes and realized he was being led down another rabbit hole. “He wrote letters to his family, some of which were published in your local paper.”
Doc said reminiscently, “That used to happen back then. People were eager to hear from the boys overseas. A lot of papers used to print letters like that. Roy had a colorful turn of phrase.”
“Right. But do you know what happened to the original letters? To Roy’s letters that weren’t published in the paper.”
“I guess the family would have those.”
“Bert says he believes you have his uncle’s letters.”
“Bert wouldn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.”
Jason smiled. “You didn’t answer the question, Doc.”
Doc tipped his head, regarding Jason. “I’ll tell you what, Agent West. You come back and have a real drink with me some evening, and maybe I’ll tell you what you want to know.” He grinned. “Or maybe I won’t.”
So okay.
It could have gone better, but then it could have gone worse too.
Doc almost certainly had those letters of Roy’s. Whether he would hand them over remained to be seen. It wasn’t unusual to have to interview witnesses more than once in complicated cases, and this case was nothing if not complicated.
As Jason walked down the peaceful shady street to his rental car, he tried to decide how much of what Doc had told him was the truth. On the whole, he thought Doc had been candid. He had tried to avoid outright lies. But he had also prevaricated. He might not know everything, but he knew more than he had been will
ing to share.
He had not seemed to recognize the name Emerson Harley. That was a relief. Not conclusive, of course, but moving in the right direction.
He would take Doc up on his offer and come back another time. Sometimes it took a while to establish trust.
Unfortunately, a while was a luxury Jason did not have.
Chapter Nine
Jason had just turned the key in the ignition when he noticed a familiar blue compact rental car pull up across the street from Doc’s house.
De Haan got out of the car and crossed the street.
Jason turned off the car engine and went to intercept him.
De Haan spotted him, checked, and his narrow face took on a defiant look.
“What are you doing here, Hans?” Jason asked.
De Haan straightened his shoulders, as if bracing for the reprimand he knew was coming. “The same thing as you, I think.”
“The difference being I’m an agent of the federal government and you’re—”
De Haan burst out, “I’m not breaking any laws. I have a right to ask questions.”
“And these people have a right not to answer them. Look, it’s not about: do you have a right; it’s about what’s going to get the results we need. If you start duplicating my efforts, that’s liable to end with our witnesses shutting down and refusing to talk to either of us. They’re not eager to talk now.”
“I can’t sit and do nothing.”
“You can if it’s the best way to get results.” Jason hardened his heart. “Maybe it’s time to go home.”
