Page 12 of Hunting the Crossbow Killer

He briefly closed his eyes, then sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “You obviously read my record. Everything is in my files. Why do you want me to talk about it?”

“Because I want your perspective, your side of it, not what police officers and lawyers summarized in their reports. You’ve lived most of your life in Nashville, right? That’s where you met Elly?”

He sighed deeply, then cleared his throat. “Her name was Elly Larsen back then.” He cleared his throat again. “My parents came here from Dublin when I was a teenager. That’s the Irish brogue you mentioned. They moved several times until they settled in Nashville, bought a house two doors down from the Larsens. Our parents became best friends. Elly and I naturally became friends, too. That lasted through high school, then college where we began dating. A few years after graduation, once I had my furniture-making venture up and running, we got married.”

“Furniture-making. You started your own business right out of college?”

“Pretty much. My grandparents on both sides were woodworkers all their lives. Although my father wasn’t into that, I was fascinated by the stories my grandparents told and loved the carpentry and carving projects they involved me in whenever they visited. The only reason I went to college was to learn about running a business so I could start mine as soon as possible.”

“Judging by this cabin, the sixty-plus acres that you bought with it, your business must have done really well.”

“It’s eighty-plus now that I bought out the only other neighbor on top of this mountain. You really did read up on me.”

“That’s part of my job.”

He shrugged and took another sip of beer.

“How long was it before you and Elly had your son, Niall?”

He stared at her a long moment before answering. “He was born seven months after we got married. Elly lied during the entire pregnancy to her parents, telling them she wasn’t as far along as she was. When he was born she swore to them that he was a preemie. She didn’t want them to know we’d slept together before marriage. Considering that Niall was eight pounds at birth, and her parents weren’t stupid, they obviously only pretended to believe her to help her save face.”

“They sound like loving parents, not wanting their daughter to be embarrassed that she didn’t follow tradition, or perhaps her religious beliefs.”

“Both, and yes, they were loving, good people. Still are.”

“Where’s your son now?”

He glanced sharply at her. “With Elly’s parents, my former in-laws.”

“Did your parents try for custody?”

His throat tightened. “No. They had me late in life and weren’t in the best of health when…all of this began. They didn’t want to start over with a young child. They left the raising of Niall to the Larsens and moved back to Ireland when I went to prison.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. For your son, and for you.”

“Don’t be. My parents are…different. I know they care…about both of us. It’s been difficult on them and they needed help I was no longer around to provide. They’re with extended family and do what they can to keep in touch long-distance.”

“So then Niall is with the Larsens full-time.”

“Yes. The court terminated my parental rights and Elly’s parents adopted him. My lawyer sends my child support payments to their lawyer and provides basic updates on Niall’s health. But that’s it.”

“Child support. He’s not an adult yet?”

“Almost. He turned seventeen back in the spring.”

“So when your wife died, he was—”

“Five years old. I doubt he even remembers me. I hope to hell his grandparents are keeping his mother’s memory alive for him. She deserves that.” He took another swig of his beer and eyed the whiskey on the bar in the great room, longing for something stronger.

“Elly’s parents didn’t bring your son to visit you while you were incarcerated?”

“Why would they after what…what I did? I wouldn’t have wanted them to even if they’d offered. Prison is no place for a child.”

“So you’ve never seen him, not even after you got out a year ago?”

“Twelve months and ten days ago. Aside from an annual picture the Larsens’ lawyer sends my lawyer, I haven’t seen Niall since the day the Larsens took him away. My lawyer has made an open invitation that if Niall ever wants to meet me, the lawyer will arrange a supervised visit on neutral grounds. But I doubt his grandparents have ever even passed the invitation along. I can’t blame them. He’s better off without me in his life. Dredgingup old memories, a painful past, wouldn’t do him any good.” He crossed his arms again.

“I’m sorry. About your son.”

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