My Sister's Grave (Tracy Crosswhite, #1)(70)

Clark stood and approached the lectern. Again, he was brief. “Vern, how many acres are those foothills?”

“Hell, Vance, I wouldn’t know that.”

“It’s a big area isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s big.”

“Is it rugged?”

“Depends on your perspective, I guess. It can get steep and there’s a lot of trees and shrub. Dense in places, that’s for sure.”

“A lot of places for someone to bury a body and not have it found?”

“I suppose,” he said, and he glanced at Edmund House.

“Did you use dogs?”

“I recall they had dogs in Southern California but we couldn’t get them up here. They wouldn’t fly them.”

“As systematic as your search was, Vern, do you believe you covered every square foot of those foothills?”

“We did our best.”

“Did you cover every square foot?”

“Every square foot? No way to know that for sure. It’s just too big. I guess we didn’t.”



Dan followed Downie with Ryan Hagen, the auto-parts salesman. Hagen took the stand looking like he’d put on thirty pounds since the Saturday morning when Tracy had surprised him at his home. Hagen’s jowls fell over the collar of his shirt. His hairline had further thinned, and he had the ruddy complexion and bulbous nose of a man who liked his daily cocktails.

Hagen chuckled when Dan asked if he had a purchase order or other document to confirm his trip on August 21, 1993.

“Whatever the company, I’m sure it’s long since gone out of business. Most of this is done over the Internet now. The traveling salesman has gone the way of the dinosaur.” As she watched him, Tracy thought that the salesman might have left, but Hagen still had the salesman’s smile and mannered charm.

Hagen also couldn’t say which news broadcast he’d been watching.

“You testified twenty years ago you were watching your Mariners.”

“Still a fan,” Hagen said.

“So you know the Mariners have never been to the World Series.”

“I’m an optimist.” Others in the audience smiled along with Hagen.

“But it didn’t happen in 1993, did it?”

Hagen paused. “Nope.”

“In fact, they finished in fourth place and didn’t make the play-offs that year.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that. My memory isn’t that good.”

“Which means their last regular season game was Sunday, October 3, a seven-to-two loss to the Minnesota Twins.”

Hagen’s smile waned. “I’ll take your word for that also.”

“The Mariners weren’t playing in late October, 1993, when you claimed to have seen this broadcast, were they?”

Hagen kept smiling, but now it looked strained. “It might have been a different team,” he said.

Dan let that answer linger before shifting gears. “Mr. Hagen, did you make service calls on any establishments in Cedar Grove?”

“I don’t recall,” Hagen said. “I had a big territory.”

“Natural salesman,” Dan said.

“I guess I am,” he said, though he no longer looked the part.

“Let me see if I can help.” Dan picked up a Bekins box and set it on the table. He made a production of pulling out the files and documents. Hagen looked perplexed by this turn of events and Tracy noticed his gaze shift to where Roy Calloway sat in the gallery. Dan pulled out a file Tracy had recovered from the file cabinets in Harley Holt’s garage and moved to a position beside the lectern, blocking Hagen from making eye contact with Calloway. The records in that file documented regular orders of parts by Harley Holt from Hagen’s company.

Dan asked, “Did you not call upon Harley Holt, the owner of Cedar Grove Service and Repair?”

“That was a long time ago.”

Dan made a production of flipping through the documents. “In fact, you called on Mr. Holt fairly regularly, once every couple months or so.”

Hagen smiled again, but he’d flushed and his brow glistened with perspiration. “If that’s what the records show, I won’t quibble with you.”

“So you did spend some time in Cedar Grove, including during the summer and fall of 1993, didn’t you?”

“I’d have to check my calendar,” Hagen said.

“I did that for you,” Dan said. “And I have copies here of purchase orders that contain both your and Harley’s signatures on them, dated the same day that your calendar indicates you called upon the Cedar Grove Service and Repair.”

“Well, then I guess I did,” Hagen said, sounding less and less sure.

“So I’m wondering, Mr. Hagen, during those visits with Harley Holt, did the subject of Sarah Crosswhite’s disappearance come up?”

Hagen reached for a glass of water next to the chair, took a sip, and returned the glass to the stand. “Could you repeat the question?”

“During your visits with Harley Holt, did the subject of Sarah Crosswhite’s disappearance come up?”

“You know, I’m not really sure.”

“It was big news in Cedar Grove, wasn’t it?”