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He stuck the card in his shirt pocket. “Well, Miss Moretti, I don’t think you’ll be doing this town any favors if you go ahead with what you’re planning. People here would just as soon not have to deal with it all over again. For many of them, it’s still as real as if it happened yesterday.”
Dana swallowed her frustration and tried to blink the grit from her eyes. A glance at her watch told her she’d been going for more than twenty hours, catnapping only briefly on the plane. The adrenaline that drove her this far was beginning to slide.
She moistened her lips, trying to tamp down her impatience. “I’m surprised that no one wants to find out who the pedophile really was. He could still be someone in this community, hiding behind his public face.”
“We all agreed it was just some itinerant working in the area who’s since moved on.” Garrett’s voice was hard. “Not anyone who actually lived here.”
“You were here then?”
He nodded. “Lived here all my life.”
“Then maybe—”
He lifted the flap in the counter and gestured for her to follow him through the main area. “Maybe we’d be better discussing this in my office.”
Dana looked around the area at the small staff of reporters and graphic artists, suddenly aware that everyone was listening with open curiosity. “All right.”
She’d been stonewalled before and could play the game as well as anyone. But the knot in her stomach reminded her that this time the game was personal and far too important to let anything get in the way.
“Coffee?” Garrett asked, indicating a pot on a small table next to his desk.
“Yes, thank you. Black, please.” Right now a good jolt of caffeine was exactly what she needed to jack herself up again.
“It’s been a long time since all that nasty stuff happened,” he told her, handing her a Styrofoam cup and lowering himself into his desk chair. “I don’t know if you’ve done any research on Salado County or High Ridge itself, but they’re nice friendly places. What happened scared the bejeesus out of everyone, and they were grateful when it was over.”
It’s not over and done with for everyone.“So they just want to keep pretending it never happened?”
Garrett leaned forward, set his cup down carefully and steepled his fingers. When he looked at Dana his eyes were like hard pebbles.
“The last…incident…was different than the others,” he said slowly, “and then it just…stopped. Nothing’s happened since then. As far as this town is concerned, whoever it was didn’t come from around here. Maybe someone doing casual labor in the county for a couple of years. Someone who didn’t call attention to himself. You know people like that don’t appear much on the radar. Now he’s gone.”
Meaning he could have been one of the many illegals.But Dana didn’t think so. And she couldn’t say anything yet without giving herself away.
When she spoke she tried to keep the impatience from her voice. “What if they’re wrong? What if that person is still living here, a member of the community, laughing at everyone because of what he got away with?”
Garrett shook his head. A little too vehemently? “Not possible. It was a stranger. No one in this county would do anything like that.”
“But sometimes—”
“Everyone wants to bury the past and move on,” he cut her off. “A lot of families whose children were molested and killed still haven’t gotten past it after all this time. Talking to them would be nothing less than cruel.”
“I can assure you, I’m extremely circumspect when dealing with survivors.”
“I’m sure you are. Still…” He sighed and pushed back his chair. “All right. I’ve done my best. I guess there won’t be any talking you out of it. Your reputation precedes you. And legally I can’t keep you from looking at back issues.”
“So you have them.” She tried to keep the satisfaction out of her voice.”
“Yes, but they’re on microfiche and those rolls are packed away.” He swallowed some of his coffee, made a face, and set the cup down again. “I’ll need until tomorrow morning to get them out. Where are you staying?”
“Actually, I haven’t checked into any place yet. Maybe you have a suggestion.”
She didn’t know if the expression on his face was a smile or a grimace. “You’ve got your choice between Azalea Bed and Breakfast or the High Ridge Motel.”
“Which one would you recommend?”
He grunted. “Neither, to tell the truth, but at the motel you won’t have Betty Ann Morrison sticking her nose in your business.”
Dana rose from her seat. “Thank you. And thanks for agreeing to help.”
