Bred in the Bone (Widow's Island #4)(4)

Arlie Babcock’s name was faintly familiar. Cate raised a brow at Tessa.

“Arlie lives with his mother just outside of North Sound,” Tessa supplied. “He’s probably in his fifties now. His mother keeps to herself.”

Translation: not part of the knitting and activist circle like many of the older women on the island.

“Why do you ask?” Jon questioned.

“The date I asked about was when Samantha Bishop disappeared,” said Cate. “Last week some of her jewelry was found in the old pump house by the orchard.”

Jon looked stunned. “The pump house? How do you know the jewelry was hers?”

“Trust us on that one. It’s been verified by two reputable sources.” Tessa and me. “Would both Brad and Arlie have had access to the pump house?”

“Of course. Wasn’t like I locked it up.”

“Could it have been locked?” asked Cate. The pump house door had shown no evidence of a lock.

“Sure. There was always a chain with a lock on the outside. We never locked it because there was no point.”

“So anyone could have access to the inside?”

“I guess.” His thick eyebrows came together. “Are you saying that girl was locked in there? She was never found, right? I remember the big to-do when she went missing.”

“It’s a possibility. We’re not sure how else her jewelry could have ended up there unless she had been inside at one point.”

Embarrassment crossed his face. “I know teenagers sometimes used it for . . . well, you know.”

Sex? Drugs? Drinking?

“I didn’t care that much. Occasionally cleaned out a few beer bottles. No one ever caused any damage. I remember what it was like to need a place to get out from under your parent’s eye.”

“She could have partied there, is what you’re saying,” Tessa said.

He shrugged. “It’s possible.”

She would have dragged us along or at least told us if she partied there.

Tessa looked at Cate, her eyes reflecting the same thought.

If Samantha had gone to the farm without them, it wouldn’t have been willingly.

“Did Brad party with high school girls?” Cate asked bluntly. “He would have been around twenty at the time.”

Jon lifted his hands. “I have no idea. He came home to sleep. Sometimes not even for that. Was irresponsible in showing up to work when I wanted him to—of course, then he’d be pissed he had no paycheck. It never sunk in that the amount of effort he put into a job equaled how big his paycheck was.”

“Then why’d you give him a job?”

“He was my son,” Jon said simply. “No one else would hire him. For my own peace of mind, I had to at least give him the opportunity to prove himself. Never happened.”

“Where is Brad’s mother these days? Would she remember anything from back then?”

He snorted. “Hell no. She took off when he was five. Said she couldn’t handle the isolation of the island. She’s been living in eastern Washington since then—in a fucking very isolated town—and has remarried twice since she left.”

The island has a way of expelling the people who aren’t meant to be here.

The room was silent for a long moment, and the women exchanged a glance. They were done. Both stood.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Gill,” Tessa said, and Cate echoed the words. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

Jon appeared to shrink in his chair, but he took a deep breath and stood to give them firm handshakes. “Hope you find some answers,” he told them.

The sun had set by the time they pulled away from the apartments, and Tessa’s relief about the successful encounter was nearly palpable inside the vehicle.

“Remember how Samantha bragged about having pot that night . . . and she had a ride with someone,” said Cate. “I always had the impression it was someone older. Could it have been Brad Gill?”

“Can’t ask him,” Tessa said sourly.

Have we hit a dead end already?

“I want to check in with Samantha’s mother, and we need to talk to Arlie Babcock,” Cate went on. “What’s he like?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t had any encounters with him, so I guess that’s a good sign. If he works, I don’t know where.”

“Tessa.” Cate’s heart stopped at an abrupt thought. “Do we need to bring in ground-penetrating radar to check around the pump house and farm?”

Tessa’s knuckles whitened, her grip tight on the steering wheel. “Jesus. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because we didn’t want to consider that she could be . . . ” In Cate’s head, Samantha was alive somewhere, and now this personal belief had affected her investigation process. A rookie mistake that they’d both made.

“We can’t afford equipment like that,” Tessa stated.

“I’m sure the bureau has access to one.”

“But Samantha’s case isn’t active.”

“Missing children cases are always active. The necklace might be a strong-enough reason to get a GPR to the island.”

“There’s too much physical ground to cover. The orchard is huge, and just scanning the pump house won’t be sufficient. We need more evidence.”