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45
GAFFER'S RIDGE SHERIFF'S STATION
FRIDAY MORNING
Booker Bodine sat stiffly in a chair across from his own desk in his own office, his jaw locked, his eyes looking down at his big watch that even gave him the time in Hong Kong. And Griffin studied him. Perhaps it was petty of him, but the sheriff’s office was the only private place in the station house.
Griffin said, “I read your files on Heather Forrester’s disappearance, Sheriff Bodine. You were obviously very thorough. After all, Heather’s family has lived in Gaffer’s Ridge for years and you know them well. Now, as for the teenagers missing from Marion and Radford, those investigations also appear quite intensive. All three reports determined the girls were kidnapped, even though there were no demands for money. All the reports indicate there’s no direction to go in now, and they’re awaiting further developments. You were in Marion yourself yesterday, weren’t you? Did you discover anything to help us?”
Sheriff Bodine looked up from his watch. “No, I didn’t. It’s Sheriff Bud Bailey’s town, so sure he was thorough, as was Chief Mule Lindy in Radford.”
“Mule? That’s his name?”
“Not until he got kicked in the head by his pa’s mule when he was a kid, no harm done. Look, the reports I gave you are everything Bailey and Lindy had. Of course, there’s nothing to go on, or we would have solved the case. Look here, this town doesn’t run itself, I’ve—”
Griffin said, “Sheriff, I don’t like the fact I’m sitting here at your desk any more than you like me doing it. You might get it back if you work with me. Now, answer a question for me. In Mule Lindy’s report, it’s noted several times Amy Traynor was a very independent girl with a mind of her own, always questioning her parents and her teachers.”
“Yeah, she was known as a flat-out little hellion. But that didn’t give anyone the right to take her.”
“No, but it is interesting. In your report and in the Marion report on Latisha Morris, the missing girls are close to sainthood. Now, Sheriff, give me an account of what you saw yesterday.”
There was just enough threat in Griffin’s voice to make Booker’s lips seam, but he wasn’t stupid, he managed to swallow his bile. Griffin had known Booker would push him, challenge him. In his position, Griffin supposed he’d do the same.
“I met with Sheriff Bud Bailey in Marion, but he didn’t have anything new to add except whoever took Latisha was real smart. Then I went to talk to Ms. Sulina Morris—she’s Latisha’s mother, a social worker with five kids. Latisha recently turned sixteen and she’s the oldest. Ms. Morris couldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, anything that isn’t in the reports.” Booker shrugged. “When I told Bud the FBI was involved now, he spat in his wastebasket.”
“Was this a sign of approval or disapproval?”
Booker chewed this over, thought better of lying about it. He said, reluctantly, “Bailey thought it couldn’t hurt to have fresh eyes on the case. Said to tell you he was now considering that maybe Latisha was tired of taking care of all her younger brothers and sisters, and had run off. Maybe there were drugs involved, but nothing solid. I think he was shooting off his mouth, wanting to impress you.”
“I trust you told Sheriff Bailey you agree with FBI involvement?”
“Me? Doesn’t matter what I think, does it? I can’t remember exactly what I said.”
Griffin said, “Let’s leave the drugs aside. I saw there was no mention of Ms. Morris seeing any strange boys around or seeing any strangers at all near her daughter.”
“Look, Ms. Morris’s got five kids, no husband, and a full-time job. I doubt she notices much of anything. Still, she was frantic, said her daughter has to be kidnapped or she’d have gotten in touch with her. The trip was a waste of time. My time. Nothing new, only Sheriff Bailey’s lame ideas about drugs.” Booker shrugged, looked bored.
“Where is Rafer’s SUV? It’s evidence from the crime scene. Where is it?”
Only a slight pause, then, “I asked Rafer in the hospital, and he said he didn’t know, said he was going to report it stolen.”
“And you know nothing about it?”
“Of course not. You know, Rafer’s lawyer, Mr. Jobs, said you couldn’t hold Rafer, said he was going to file for habeas corpus. Rafer’s going to leave the hospital today.”
Griffin knew this. Mr. Jobs had already called him, pointed out there was no evidence, presented him with a release warrant, so Griffin had agreed to his staying with his parents when he left the hospital. And he was to stay there until further notice. Mr. Jobs had grumbled, but finally agreed.
Bodine said, “Rafer didn’t do anything, neither did anyone else in my town.”
Why not lay it out? Griffin said, “Let me add I’ve met his mother, Cyndia Bodine. She’s a person of interest, along with her son and your brother. Tell me, Sheriff, did you call her or your brother at Rafer’s house before you brought Dr. DeSilva and me in? Did one of them tell you to remove the evidence? Or vice versa?”
Booker snapped back in his chair, his face flooded with furious color. “No, I didn’t call her! I didn’t call anyone!”
Griffin studied him a moment, knew he’d never get the truth out of him. He rose as he said, “Be here tomorrow morning, Sheriff.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“You’re right. So not too early, say eight o’clock?”
