Missing Pieces(43)

She immediately dismissed Hal’s house as an option. As far as she knew, they were still conducting a search of the home. The Penny Café or Dean and Celia’s house were also out—there was too much of a chance of someone walking in on her while she read.

In the end she decided to drive out into the country and find some lonely out-of-the-way road. She drove outside Penny Gate about ten miles and turned onto a gravel road that appeared to lead to nowhere. No homes, no barns, no other cars, just miles and miles of cornfields. Sarah pulled off to the side of the road in a spot that allowed her to see if any traffic approached both from the front or the rear.

She reached into her purse and retrieved the large envelope. It was bottom heavy and she fingered the contours, trying to figure out what was inside. She pulled out a file folder and opened it to find a thick stack of typed transcripts and set it on the seat next to her. She reached back in and her fingers landed on what was indeed a metallic box. She pulled it out, and found an old Sony Walkman cassette player and earphones. She peeked into the envelope and saw three cassette tapes resting in their protective cases. Sarah tipped the envelope and the tapes tumbled out onto her lap, along with an unopened pack of batteries, courtesy of Margaret, Sarah was sure. Each audiotape was numbered and labeled in small, neat handwriting: May 30, 1985, Lydia Tierney. Sarah found the cassette tape number one, picked up the Walkman, pressed the eject button and slid the tape inside.

Sarah slid the earphones over her ears, pushed the play button and nothing happened. She removed the corroded batteries from the Walkman, replaced them with a fresh set and was immediately plunged back in time to the year her husband was fifteen and the day he found his mother’s bludgeoned body. The audio was scratchy and slightly muffled. Sarah turned the small wheel on the side of the player, increasing the volume.

Gilmore: This is Deputy Sheriff Verne Gilmore. Seven thirty-five p.m. on May 30, 1985. Interviewing Jonathan Paul Tierney, known as Jack, fifteen years of age. Jack?

Jack Tierney: (Inaudible.)

Gilmore: Speak a little more loudly, son. Right into the recorder here.

Jack Tierney: Sorry.

Sarah gasped at the sound of her husband’s voice at fifteen. A little higher pitched, but it was Jack. Her Jack.

Gilmore: That’s okay. I’m going to ask you a few questions about the events of today. We can stop at any time. Just let me know if you need a break, okay?

Jack: Okay.

Gilmore asked Jack a series of simple questions. His address, his age, birthday, the names of his parents and his sister. Jack, his voice initially tight with nervousness, relaxed with Gilmore’s gentle, casual probing. He was even able to get Jack to laugh a little, remembering the time when Gilmore, Jack and his father went fishing together and all three ended up falling into the pond.

The questions turned more serious, though Gilmore’s tone remained friendly.

Gilmore: Jack, tell me about this morning.

Jack: I got up, helped my dad, ate breakfast, got on the bus like usual.

Gilmore: What time was that?

Jack: What time I got on the bus?

Gilmore: Yes, and the time you got up. First, what time did you get up this morning?

Jack: Six thirty.

Gilmore: Then what did you do?

Jack: I helped my dad for a little bit. Fed the dogs.

Gilmore: What did you and your dad talk about?

Jack: Nothing really. Said good morning. He told me to feed the dogs.

Gilmore: What else?

Jack: Nothing. We didn’t talk. He went out into the fields.

Gilmore: What time was that?

Jack: I don’t know. Seven or seven fifteen?

Gilmore: Which was it, seven or seven fifteen?

Jack: I don’t know. I’m not sure. Probably seven. I was in a hurry. I still had to shower and eat. I thought I was going to miss the bus.

Gilmore: What time did you get on the bus?

Jack: Seven thirty.

Gilmore: Seven thirty?

Jack: Seven twenty-five. Seven twenty-five. The bus always comes then.

Gilmore kept hammering Jack on the timeline. What time Jack arrived at school, what time he left, what time he arrived at home. He then spent several minutes asking Jack about his mother’s actions that morning. What they talked about, if his mother seemed worried or acted out of the ordinary. Sarah choked back tears when Gilmore asked Jack about the interaction he had with his mother just before he and Amy went outside to catch the bus.

Jack: She said (Inaudible).

Gilmore: What was that?

Jack (crying): She said, “I love you, Jack, I love you, Amy. Be good.”

Gilmore: Let’s take a break. (Inaudible.) It’s okay, Jack. It’s going to be okay.

Sarah’s intense focus on the tape was suddenly disrupted by the low hisses of a pair of turkey vultures fighting over an animal carcass on the road ahead. Three more soared above, flying in slow, wobbly circles.

Part of her wanted to shove the recorder and tapes back into the envelope and return them to Margaret. It seemed wrong, almost unholy, to be intruding on this very private moment in Jack’s life. But there was no turning back now. She had to hear the rest. She took a deep breath, settled back and slid the headphones over her ears.

Gilmore: You said you got home from school at three o’clock?

Jack: Yes, around three.

Gilmore: Amy wasn’t on the bus?

Jack: No, she had 4-H, I think.

Gilmore: But the bus stops at your house at three?