In Her Tracks (Tracy Crosswhite #8)(45)

“What the hell does that mean? That park is in my backyard. If someone got murdered down there, I have a right to know. As my wife said, we have two kids.”

“We didn’t find a body.” Kins spoke calmly. “We just wanted to follow up and ask you a few more questions.”

Headlights preceded a car turning the corner. It drove past the house—a white van.

“That’s Franklin Sprague,” Nancy Maxwell said, noticing Tracy watching the van.

Tinted windows prevented Tracy from seeing the driver, but as the car passed under the street lamp, she thought she saw someone through the windshield in the passenger seat. The van turned into the Sprague driveway.

“Did you see anyone in your backyard Wednesday night?” Kins asked.

“Oh God,” Nancy Maxwell said.

“You think someone hurt that young girl and was in our backyard?” Paul asked.

“Right now, she’s just missing, and we’re trying to find her. Did you see anyone in your backyard?” Kins repeated.

“No,” Paul said. Nancy shook her head.

“And you didn’t hear anything?”

“No,” Nancy said. She looked pale, like she might be sick.

“It looks like your lawn was recently mowed,” Kins said.

“I told you,” Nancy said. “Evan Sprague mows it every other Thursday. It gives him a job and, I think, something to do. And since there are no fences in the back, it makes sense for the neighbors to share in the cost.”

“And he mowed it this past Thursday?” Tracy asked.

“Yes.”

“Was that his regular day?”

“Thursdays. He keeps to a schedule because Franklin says he doesn’t remember well.”

“How well do you know Brian Bibby and his wife?”

“We’re friendly. Neighborly,” Paul Maxwell said. “Lorraine used to teach at the school across the street. I think Bibby worked for Boeing. They’re both retired now. They like to fish. He does anyway. I think his wife humors him. They keep a boat out at the Edmonds Marina during the summer months.”

“They’ll let us know if they’re going out of town,” Nancy Maxwell interjected. “They have a motor home. When they travel we keep an eye on the house.”

“Does Bibby smoke?” Tracy asked.

“I don’t know,” Paul Maxwell said.

“And the Sprague brothers? What can you tell us about them?”

“Mostly they keep to themselves,” Paul Maxwell said. “We don’t know them well, but they’re friendly.”

Tracy and Kins thanked the Maxwells for their time and told them they would keep them apprised of what they could.

As they walked back to the sidewalk, Kins said, “Let’s go talk to Bibby.”

“Let’s talk to the Spragues first. I’m fairly certain I saw someone in the passenger seat.”

They walked down the street and knocked. As before, the porch light flickered on just before Franklin Sprague pulled the door open. “Detectives. I noticed some activity in the park today and saw you talking with Nancy when I drove by. Has something more come up? Did they find that young girl?”

Tracy looked down at Sprague’s feet, but he wasn’t wearing shoes. He stood in his socks. When she looked up, Sprague was watching her.

“Are your brothers home?” Kins asked.

“Evan’s home. Carrol is still at work.”

“That’s the Home Depot in Shoreline?” Tracy asked.

“That’s right. I gave him your card. Did he not call you?”

“No,” Kins said.

Sprague shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll remind him again when he gets home.”

“Is Evan up to talking to us?” Kins asked.

“Sure. He’s still under the weather and looks pale, but he’s feeling better. I took him into the doctor this evening to make sure it wasn’t a bacterial infection and he didn’t need antibiotics. Did I mention last time that Evan is a little slow?”

“You did.”

“Let me get him.”

Again, Sprague did not invite them into the home or leave the door open. Tracy heard him call out to his brother from the other side of the threshold. “Evan? Come on out here.”

Franklin opened the door accompanied by a man as tall as him though not as stout. Tracy estimated Franklin Sprague to be 230 to 250 pounds—certainly large enough to carry a young woman. Evan had a slighter build, perhaps two hundred pounds, though it was hard to be certain because he wore baggy sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt with the hood up. He kept his hands in the front pouch. Like Franklin, he was also wearing socks but no shoes. His face looked sallow under the porch light.

“These two people are detectives,” Franklin said. “They want to ask you a few questions about Wednesday night.”

“Okay,” Evan said.

“I understand you like to go for walks,” Kins said.

“I do it to get exercise.”

His speech was slow, but the words clear. “What time do you usually walk?”

“After I get my chores done, but I’ve been sick. I haven’t walked the last few days.”

“Did you walk Wednesday?”

Evan seemed to give that some thought. “I’m not sure. I don’t remember.”