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She recalled the day Lindsey had announced she was a big girl and could dress herself. She had one outfit she kept returning to—a pink princess gown, which had originally been a Halloween costume. She and Kevin had taken her out to restaurants and to the park in it on many occasions—though not nearly enough. She took a deep breath, composed herself again and pointed to the third boy. “Do you happen to know who that kid is?”
“Yeah. Ricky… Can’t remember his last name. He was Chad’s cousin.”
Chad’s cousin, Ricky… Could this be the Rick Jensen who Trent had told her was Palmer’s only living relative?
Albert continued. “Those cousins were thick as thieves. I know because Taylor would go on about how lucky he was they paid him any attention. Think he really felt like he’d been admitted to a club.” The tail end of Albert’s sentence was riddled with sadness.
It was certainly a club Albert had wished his son had never joined.
She got up from the table and said, “Thank you for your time and cooperation.”
“Sure.”
His short response had Amanda looking at him.
Albert went on. “I can understand why I’d look guilty. I’d have motive, and Lord knows I thought about taking my own revenge over the years. The only thing holding me back—besides my family—is knowing that Taylor never would have approved. He didn’t want me carrying hate in my heart, and I’d be lying to say it’s all gone, but I’m taking things one day at a time.”
Amanda dipped her head and briefly shut her eyes. “I appreciate your honesty.”
With that, she headed back to the department car, her heart heavy with feeling for a man who’d lost his son, but she was also fired up. She would honor her daughter’s memory by sticking to her word, doing the right thing, and see Palmer’s case through.
Twenty-One
A quick call to Karen Smith was all it took to firm up Albert Ferguson’s alibi. Amanda was jealous that hers wasn’t so easy. She drove back to Central District where she figured that she and Trent would catch each other up, but Trent hadn’t returned yet.
It was sort of like the good ole days before she’d been saddled with a partner. So quiet, no one to loop in or bring up to speed. Trent was okay as a person, but she didn’t need a partner, and the second this investigation was over she would be tossing Trent back at Malone so fast his head would spin.
She took the necessary steps to get a be-on-lookout bulletin issued for the powder-blue Caprice. They didn’t have a plate, but they had a description and that would have to be enough. Two people had now confirmed Palmer’s connection to the car so finding it might lead them somewhere worthwhile in the investigation.
She was just finishing up when Cud walked past her to his cubicle. She followed and rapped her knuckles on the partition. He slowly looked at her, as if she’d interrupted something he was working on.
“Yeah?” He was chomping on gum in his usual fashion and arched an eyebrow.
She perched on the edge of his desk. “Why didn’t you mention that Palmer’s business partner was murdered?”
“What are you talking about?”
The fact he hadn’t said anything at the crime scene had niggled at her enough, but now he was playing stupid. “Jackson Webb. You were the lead detective on the case five and a half years ago. Apparently, a messy murder scene.”
“What about it?” Cud tapped his pen against his other palm and swiveled so he was more face-on.
“You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?”
“Why would I?” He enlarged his eyes and regarded her as if she were crazy.
“I dunno. Two business partners murdered…”
“Didn’t know Palmer was murdered,” he said, flippant. “I’m guessing that was confirmed.”
“It was.”
“A gunshot?”
“Ah, so you do remember the Jackson Webb case.”
“Sure. Never denied remembering. I just don’t see the connection.”
She studied him.
