The Dollmaker(The Forgotten Files #2)(15)

“Do you know the name of any of Jimmy’s associates?” Sharp asked.

Both shook their heads, but Mrs. Jones was the first to speak. “We try and stay clear of any dealings to do with Jimmy.”

“What about Terrance’s friends? What were they like?”

“All good boys. Ronnie and Garcia were his best friends. All three of ’em would rather play football than eat.” She rattled off their full names.

Sharp noted the names. “Do you know where I can find these kids?”

“In school, no doubt,” Mrs. Jones said. “And after school the football field for practice.” The old woman leaned forward, pinning Sharp with a surprisingly piercing gaze. “You’re going to find out who killed my boy.”

“I’m going to do my best, ma’am.” As much as he wanted to promise justice, cases like this didn’t always end in arrest. He handed Mrs. Jones and Henry cards with his contact information. “If you think of anything else, call me. And I’ll call you if any new information comes up.”

Mrs. Jones clutched his card tightly in her hand. “Thank you, Agent Sharp. I know you’re going to find out.”

Tension banded Sharp’s lower back. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I need to know why,” she said. “Why would someone hurt such a good boy?”

“I want to know that, too,” Sharp said. “I want this killer caught.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“No, ma’am.”

Henry walked him to the door, and he passed another collection of pictures featuring Terrance smiling and holding a football. “Is it smart for Grandma to get her hopes up? I know how it goes. The killer isn’t always found.”

The screen door squeaked as Sharp pushed it open. He imagined this same scene playing out twelve years ago with Roger and his mother.

There wasn’t a hole deep enough for this killer to crawl into. “I’m going to turn this place upside down looking for an answer.”

Henry flexed tense fingers at his side. “That would be real good.”

Sharp shook hands with the man and moved to his car. Once inside, he reached for a cigarette. He fumbled with the rumpled package, cursing when he realized it was empty. Crushing it, he tossed the packet onto the passenger seat and started the engine. He promised to give the damn habit up before it killed him. Soon.

He drove across the small town to the Quick Mart on Route 1. The store appeared to have been a part of a larger chain store at one point and then converted into a local business. A couple of cars filled the small parking lot.

Inside, Sharp moved to the register and showed his badge to a tall gawky kid. “I need to see the manager.”

“Yeah, sure.” The kid rushed around the counter toward the back of the store. Seconds later a heavyset man in his late forties ambled out. He wore a short-sleeved shirt emphasizing arms covered in tattoos.

As the kid returned to the register, Sharp again showed his badge. “I’m Agent Sharp with the Virginia State Police. I’m investigating a murder, and I was hoping you have surveillance footage from Sunday night at about eleven.”

The manager gave Sharp a long, pondering look as he slowly shook his head. “Tell me it ain’t Miss Edith’s grandson. She’s been looking for Terrance since Sunday.”

“We found him. He’s dead.”

The manager jabbed thick fingers through thinning hair. “Shit.”

“The surveillance tape?”

“Yeah, sure. We keep the recordings backed up to a hard drive for thirty days. Come on back in the office.”

The office was piled high with boxed inventory. In the corner was a small desk covered with papers huddled around a computer screen. The manager sat and typed a few keys. Black-and-white images appeared on the screen. The time stamp was 9:00 p.m. He tapped the screen as Terrance entered from the right of the computer screen. “That’s Terrance. And I’m working the register.”

The two watched as the boy, who was wearing the same jeans, white T-shirt, and school jacket as when Sharp saw his body, made his way into the store, chose two items near the counter, and paid for them with coins and rumpled bills.

After sharing a laugh with the clerk, Terrance left and crossed the lot as a white sedan drove up. Terrance leaned toward the passenger-side window and spoke to the driver. At first his face was blank, almost stoic, but soon he was laughing. The driver got out and hugged Terrance, who nervously glanced around. Sharp thought about the boy’s father, Jimmy, fresh out of prison and lurking around town.

As the car pulled away, the camera caught a partial shot of the license plate. “Can you freeze that and enlarge it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sharp removed a small notebook and recorded the four visible plate numbers. “Thanks. Can I get a copy?”

“I can e-mail the video.”

Sharp gave him his card. “Thanks. That would be a help.”

After the manager copied and sent the footage, he turned back toward Sharp. “Still can’t believe the kid is dead.”

Death of a youth always struck the core. “Know anyone who didn’t like Terrance?”

“No. He was in here a lot, like most of the locals. Nice kid. Never made a fuss.”

“Seen the boy’s father around?”