Where the Blame Lies(80)

“Can you describe this man?”

“Tall, dark hair, he kept his face turned from me mostly, but there was something familiar about him, I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe someone who had visited the Merricks before. I’m sure that was it, it’s just that he was acting cagey.”

Josie glanced around the pretty house as Zach asked a few more questions. She loved these older homes that had been updated, but still retained their vintage charm. She’d glanced at what she knew was the Merrick’s old family home as they’d approached Mrs. Parsons’s door and a small frisson of guilt had trembled in her stomach. That house was where Professor Merrick’s wife and daughters had sat eating dinner or watching TV as she’d had sex with their husband and father. Regret still shook her. But now she knew just how many women he’d slept with over the years. Had he once thought of his wife and girls as he’d recited Wordsworth to yet another gullible coed?

There was a photo gallery of the Parsons family hanging on the wall next to Josie and her eyes moved over it, taking in the happy smiles. Dawn Parsons and her husband had obviously adopted. They stood with two beautiful young black women in what looked like the most recent photo. There were other pictures of the family as a group and the two girls from babyhood to present. One photo in particular snagged her gaze and she frowned, standing so she could see it better. Josie tilted her head as she stared at the photo, her blood turning to ice in her veins. “Who is this?” she asked hoarsely.

Both Mrs. Parsons and Zach stopped speaking and walked to where she stood looking at a photo of five children sitting at a picnic table in a backyard, plates of food in front of them. Josie’s eyes moved slowly from Dawn’s two daughters, to the Merrick girls, and to the beautiful little boy—older than all four girls—sitting at the end, a large smile on his face, a slice of watermelon in his hands.

“Oh, that’s Charlie.”

“Charlie?” Josie asked. She felt slightly out of her body.

Dawn nodded, a frown appearing on her face. “Yes. Many years ago, Vaughn and Alicia fostered a little boy named Charlie.” She seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Sorry. I . . . have to admit, I pushed the idea. My husband and I had a wonderful experience with the foster to adopt program. Our girls completed our family. I sang its praises. They took in a boy, oh he was about ten or eleven at the time I suppose. Their . . . well, he wasn’t a great fit for their family, and they weren’t able to keep him.”

Josie’s heart had started beating triple time.

“Do you know Charlie’s last name?” Zach asked.

Dawn wrinkled her forehead in thought. “No. You’d have to ask Alicia.”

“What about another picture?” Josie asked, her voice thin, reedy.

Dawn cast her eyes away in thought for a moment before she turned abruptly. “Hmm . . . let me see.” She went to a bookshelf and pulled a photo album down, leafing through it for a moment.

“Mom?” They turned as one of Dawn’s daughters stopped in the open doorway. “Did I hear you say Charlie’s name?”

“Yes, honey. Ah, this is my daughter, Nia,” she said, glancing at Zach and Josie. “Nia’s a junior studying graphic design at the Art Academy.” She turned back to Nia. “Why do you ask about Charlie?”

Nia looked from her mother to Zach and Josie. “I saw him a few years ago. I don’t think I ever mentioned it. You were out of town, and I just forgot.” She shrugged. “He recognized me and said hello. I don’t think I would have recognized him otherwise. I was so young when he lived next door.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he said he was doing great. He asked after the Merricks and I told him about the woman who’d been yelling on their lawn about Mr. Merrick and gotten arrested by the police.” She paused, looking down, seeming embarrassed. “I probably shouldn’t have. It was gossipy. But he just laughed, said, ‘same old Vaughn.’ I don’t know if it’s important or not, but I know you’re trying to solve those cases and I heard you mention his name, and that memory came to me.”

“Thank you, Nia,” Zach said. “We appreciate the information.”

“Could that be why the man on the Merrick’s porch looked familiar, Mrs. Parsons?” Zach asked.

She appeared to think about that but then shook her head. “I can’t say for sure. Possibly, but no way I could swear to it. I just didn’t get a good enough look at him.”

Nia left the room and Dawn turned around, continuing to leaf through the album. “I’m ashamed to say I hadn’t thought about Charlie in a long, long time,” she said, replacing that one and pulling another one down. “I suppose he must have felt like a throwaway boy.” She flipped another page, and another. “In some ways, I suppose he was right.” She stopped, turning to them. “Ah, here we go.”

Zach and Josie both met her in the middle of the room. They stared at another photo—this one closer up—of all five kids standing on the curb, backpacks slung over their shoulders, a first day of school sign held in the only boy’s hands.

He was young, just a kid. But Josie knew him immediately. It was Cooper.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX


As it turned out, there were thirty architectural firms in downtown Cincinnati. Zach called into the station and put out an APB on Cooper Hart. Jimmy was calling the firms Cooper might work at in an effort to locate him. Josie tried his cell phone number again and shook her head when Zach looked at her, indicating his voicemail had picked up once again. She looked shell-shocked, distant.