Gone(30)

He looked in the direction of the Leifson house. He could only see part of it — the autumnal trees blocked his view. But it wouldn’t be long before Henry Leifson would say “enough waiting,” pack his wife into the car and make the hour trip to Burlington regardless. Rondeau felt the same way.

What had Connie been doing? Why the mysterious trip away for a couple of days? She hadn’t been under any obligation to tell him.

He looked at his brother-in-law through the windshield: his big body, flannel shirt, and dirty pants. Millard was putting on more sanitizer, looking back at the deputy’s car with a dour expression.

The best thing he could do now was continue to work the Kemp case. If it connected to Connie’s accident, he’d discover it by figuring out what happened to the missing family. Or, he would learn who the unsub was as soon as the state police had the info. Probably it was unrelated. Probably it was just an unfortunate coincidence.

It was hard, though, not to link it, after a computer voice had threatened you over the phone.

He walked around the Subaru, the Kemp family vehicle. A modern station wagon, with two child seats in back, one big, one smaller. He stooped and cupped his hands to better see inside. Britney Silas and her CSI team had already scoured the car, and he’d looked at the report. Nothing much to tell. He could see a bit of paper trash strewn about on the floor. In the back, a couple of children’s books. A plastic toy that was some kind of miniature princess. He circled the vehicle. In the back hatch, a couple of plastic shopping bags, empty. All of this had been logged and recorded. A man’s belt, for some reason, near the bags. A piece of ribbon that could have been a severed balloon string, or package wrapping. And two pieces of plastic, as if broken off from some larger item.

Rondeau looked over the vehicle at the house. The windows reflected the colorful trees. He thought he caught movement of the tech inside. CSI had done trace analysis on the vehicle, and matched fingerprints with those found in the home. Lily Kemp’s prints were on file with the hospital. Both Hutch’s prints and Lily’s prints were found in the vehicle, along with three other sets. Two were determined to be the children’s, as they matched prints in the home found on toys, on the child’s highchair. One set of prints was still being cross-referenced. Cross-referencing prints could take days.

Addison Kemp’s prints had been found in the home — just a partial, located on the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. CSI worked logically, starting with the most obvious places, things people frequently touched, such as doorknobs and cabinetry and bureaus. They dusted remote controls and computer keyboards.

Kemp’s keyboard was gone, of course. There hadn’t been a computer found in the entire house.

Aside from Addison Kemp’s prints, there were three other unmatched sets. Including those found in the vehicle. So whoever had been in the Subaru had not necessarily been in the house. Could have been anyone — someone Lily had given a ride to at work, or maybe one of Hutch’s colleagues. Maybe the drone operator, Paul Palmirotto.

One family, one registered vehicle. At least that made things a little bit easier.

Rondeau left the vehicle and headed to the house. He’d been pining all morning to get another look. Alone, undistracted. Letting things reveal themselves. Police tape fluttered in the breeze, stretched across the front door. He was distracted, now, though, big time.

“I told her about them,” Millard said.

Rondeau stopped halfway between the Subaru and the house. Millard had gotten out of the truck and was standing beside it.

“Millard, just wait for me. Get back in the truck and w . . . You talking about Connie?”

Millard was embarrassed, nervous, or both. He looked away. “Yeah. I told Connie about them.”

“About who, Mill? About who, exactly?” There was a sharp edge to his tone, but he couldn’t help it.

“I told her about the shadow men.”

“The shadow men.” Rondeau followed Millard’s gaze. The rainbows were still there, fading. Misty raindrops glittered in the sun.

“Sometimes they’re called the zero ring men.”

Rondeau took a deep breath. Part of him wanted to reach out and throttle his brother-in-law. Shake him back and forth, jiggle loose whatever insanity had battened on to him when Jessy died.

“What did you say to Connie, Millard?”

“That they’re untouchable. Very high up.”

“High up?”

Millard said nothing, but his eyes betrayed the answer.

“Millard,” Rondeau said patiently, “I’m the government, buddy. Okay? Does that mean I’m one of these shadow men?”

“No.” He winced, as if Rondeau’s question was absurd. “Of course you’re not. You’re not thinking of it the right way.” Millard broke eye contact. “Forget it. I’ll wait for you. I’m tired. I know how you feel about me, you know.” He moved to sit back down in the car.

Rondeau took a step closer. “Did you tell her something about the Kemps?”

“How would I tell her about the Kemps? I haven’t seen her in a month.”

“I’m just trying to figure out what you’re talking about, okay? Connie’s hurt. She was in a car accident. And you just told me—”

“I told her that they watch,” Millard said. He straightened his back defiantly. “They watch me. I’m on a list. For things I’ve done, things I’ve seen.” He pointed at the Kemp house. “And they were too. He was.”