All the Dark Places(40)

CHAPTER 27


Rita


THE LITTLE TOWN OF MOUNTCLAIR IS BISECTED BY TWO MAIN ROUTES, two-lane highways that get a fair amount of traffic, people cutting through on their way to somewhere else. We meet Sheriff Skinner in the parking lot of the Mountclair Dry Goods store on the corner. He’s a burly man, late fortyish and well fed. His eyes are dark and direct and convey a sense of let’s get this done.

After introductions, Chase and I hop back in our cruiser. He insisted we drive a department vehicle, not trusting my van to make it through New Hampshire mountain country. The air is raw, damp and cold, but at least it’s not snowing. We follow Sheriff Skinner. There are a few businesses on either side of the road: a car-repair place with old tires piled along an outside wall, an ice cream shop, a small pink motel, a gas station with two pumps, and a bar. We turn into the Mountclair Tavern lot and jump out.

“This is where Ms. Robb was drinking with her boyfriend the night of the Fourth,” Sheriff Skinner says.

It’s a small place, painted gray, reasonably new with unlit neon beer signs in the two big front windows. It’s dim inside, not open this early in the morning, but we follow the sheriff through the front door.

There’s a thirty-something man behind the bar stocking glasses.

“This is Sid Jenkins,” the sheriff introduces us, and Sid offers a meaty hand. His bulging biceps are on display. He’s wearing a T-shirt despite the cold weather.

“Annalise and Lyle were sitting in that booth.” Sheriff Skinner points to a spot near one of the front windows. “The place was packed.” He glances at Sid.

“We do a good business on the Fourth,” he affirms. “Summers are always busy, especially on a holiday.”

“Locals or weekend people?” I ask.

“Both.”

“You know most of the people who come in?”

Sid tips his head, chews a toothpick. “Most.”

I had read over the statements the sheriff sent me. The investigation looked pretty thorough. “You didn’t see anyone who was paying undue attention to Annalise?” She was an attractive young woman. Blond wavy hair, a nice smile.

Sid shakes his head. “Annalise and Lyle used to come in once a week at least. Usually Saturday night. I didn’t see anyone bothering her. Most people know her.”

I glance at the sheriff. “You definitely eliminated the boyfriend?”

Sid answers, “It wasn’t Lyle.”

“How do you know?”

“He worshiped the ground she walked on. He wanted to get married.”

“What were they fighting about?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Same old stuff. She wanted to move. See some of the country, but Lyle’s a real hometown boy. He wasn’t interested in that.”

“So emotions ran high?”

Sid shakes his head. “Lyle wouldn’t hurt a fly and especially not Annalise. He’s devastated.”

The sheriff clears his throat. “We’re pretty sure it wasn’t him, Detective.”

“It wasn’t a townie,” Sid says. He picks up a rag and starts wiping the bar.

“What makes you say that?”

He stops his cleaning, looks up. His gaze meets mine. “Everybody loved Annalise. We all would’ve protected her.”

You can feel the hurt this woman’s disappearance has had on him and the sheriff as well, like a heavy cloud before a thunderstorm. You get the feeling that Mountclair is a tight-knit community. “She left sometime around one a.m.? Said she was going to walk home?” I ask.

“Yes. It’s not too far, but the road between here and there is through the woods, not too many people out that way,” Sid says. “But there’s a lot of traffic in the summer. People up from the cities looking to cool off. Outsiders looking for a good time.”

We follow the sheriff out the door and get in his vehicle. I’d asked to see where Annalise was abducted, so we set off along the two-lane road. We turn a corner, and I see what Sid means. There are woods on both sides of the road. There’s literally nothing out here. Not a good place for a woman to be walking alone at night.

“Where’s her house?” I ask Sheriff Skinner.

“Up this way about another half mile.”

“What else is up this road?”

“Nothing much until you get over the mountain. There’s a good bit of traffic, though, between here and Anderson, the town on the other side. There’s a turnoff to another road about halfway that heads straight up the mountain.”

“Who would access that road? What’s up there?”

“Half-dozen houses. Weekend places mostly.”

“The Bradley place?”

“Yeah. That’s up there.”

The sheriff told me earlier that everyone in the houses on the Bradleys’ road was questioned the day after Annalise’s disappearance. No one was home at the Bradley place, but the sheriff had placed a call to Dr. Bradley, who said that he and his guests had all left early and that they had all been at the house and didn’t hear or see anything out of the ordinary. That sent the sheriff and his department in other directions. They literally had a lot of ground to cover. Anyone driving the busy main road could’ve picked her up, and that became their focus. But now, with the discovery of the necklace in Dr. Bradley’s filing cabinet, that has all changed. And it also means that Dr. Bradley knew about the missing woman; either he had something to do with her disappearance, or the sheriff’s call informed him of the fact. Either way, he knew.