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Mrs. Morris gave a doubtful twist of her eyebrows. “I’ll do the best I can. Let me start by telling you my Trent works Monday, Tuesday Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. He’s been working that same early-morning shift at the same job since he got out of jail. He hasn’t taken off a single day or called in sick. On the weekends, he’s with us. Sometimes, our little family goes out for a meal or a weekend trip somewhere fun. What date did you have in mind?”
“Two dates,” Rachel said. “All we need to know is where he was on those dates and if someone could vouch for him that day.”
Mrs. Morris pulled her cell phone from her pocket and thumbed through the calendar app, stopping on the month Rachel had mentioned. The month in which Lindsay had been killed. The older woman clicked on the day. “Trent would’ve been working that day. He hasn’t asked for a day off since he started work there. You can check with his boss.”
Rachel gave Mrs. Morris the other date from fifteen years ago.
“You want me to remember a date from fifteen years ago?” She shook her head, then frowned. I didn’t have those dates saved on my calendar from that long ago. Sorry, I can’t help you.”
Rachel nodded.
“And for my record,” Mrs. Morris said, “My son did not commit rape, though he was convicted on circumstantial evidence of rape of a minor. It wasn’t a fair trial from the start. The girl he supposedly raped was his girlfriend. He was nineteen, seeing a sixteen-year-old. They had consensual sex. Her parents were shocked their daughter even knew what sex was. Their daughter didn’t want to testify. It was a disaster. My son spent fourteen years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rachel said.
“Are you going to take this little interview and twist it to sell to some news agency?” Mrs. Morris asked, her eyes narrowing.
“No, ma’am,” Rachel said.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Morris said.
Rachel thanked her and left with Griff.
“We can check with Trent’s boss at the feed store to see if he was truly there all day,” Rachel said as she climbed into the passenger seat. “I don’t think Trent is our guy. I’m not getting any sense of negative juju.”
“Since when do you believe in juju?” Griff asked, grinning.
Rachel laughed. “Since I bought some at a craft fair in Fool’s Gold. No, really, Trent isn’t our man. We can continue to follow through with his boss, but I’m betting he was working the morning my sister was attacked.”
“Next up is Rodney Smith.” Rachel read through the one-page description of the man. “Sounds like a big little man, beating on women. His image is murky, but I swear his face is a bit familiar. I just can’t place it. We can go to his place and ask him questions. If he’s not there, we can swing by his parole officer’s office.”
She keyed the address into the map app on her smartphone. Within minutes, they pulled up to an apartment complex with many units still under construction. They found the correct unit and walked up to the door.
Griff placed himself between Rachel and the door and tapped his knuckles on the door. They waited a long moment, straining their ears for the sound of footsteps coming their way.
No one answered.
Griff twisted the door handle. It was locked. He peered in through the window and debated breaking into the apartment.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.
“If you’re thinking of breaking and entering, I’m there.”
Rachel held out her hand. “Credit card?
He handed her one of his cards and watched how she slid the card between the door and the door frame. After several attempts, she was able to push the door open into a studio apartment. The place looked barely lived in, with a couple of empty beer cans lying around.
“He’s not living here,” Rachel said.
She and Griff performed a thorough search of the apartment, finding nothing of interest. No necklaces.
“If he’s not living here, where is he living?” Griff asked as they left the apartment, closing the door softly behind them.
“Good question. We should ask his parole officer.” She pulled out her cell phone and called the number on the printed sheet. The phone rang several times before going to voicemail.
“He’s out of the office until Monday.” Rachel settled into the truck and stared down at the image. “I should know this guy, but the name isn’t ringing any bells.”
“Give it some time. Maybe it’ll come to you,” Griff said. “Want to grab a bite to eat before we head back to the lodge?”
