Page 12 of Den of Iniquity

“Yes, I do. This is her house, too, and she needs to know the whole story. She’d already figured out there had to have been something seriously out of whack at home for you to up and leave the way you did. That’s why she agreed right off that we should let you stay.”

“I thought that was you.”

“No,” I told him, “it was definitely Mel, and believe me, we’re both lucky as hell to have her in our corner.”

Chapter 5

Bellingham, Washington

Tuesday, February 18, 2020

I wasn’t around all those years ago when Kelly and Scott first headed off to kindergarten. I had a free pass back then because I was at work and Karen, their mother, was at home. But on that Tuesday morning, as Kyle was about to set off to finish his senior year at a brand-new school, I felt a sense of unease that was probably closely akin to what Karen felt back when that first-day-of-school shoe was on her foot as opposed to mine.

Kyle didn’t say anything aloud, but he, too, was clearly a bundle of nerves. I offered him food. He declined. I wanted to tell him I knew how he felt, but of course I didn’t. I went all through school—grade school and high school both—with the same bunch of kids. Here he was starting over from scratch eleven and a half years in. If people asked him about why he had suddenly moved away from his family to live with his grandparents, what was he supposed to say?If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t have wanted to tell them the truth, and I doubted he was going to, either.

That day when Sarah and I met up with Hank and Mr. Bean for our afternoon walk, Hank was curious.

“I missed walking with you yesterday,” he said, “but I noticed a lot of comings and goings around your place over the weekend. It looked like you had plenty of company.”

“Turns out we did and still do,” I told him. “There are some upsetting marital issues going on with our kids down in Ashland. Our grandson, Kyle, is going to be staying with us for the next little while.”

“Oh, boy,” Hank said. “How old is he?”

“Eighteen. He’s now enrolled as a senior at Bellingham High.”

“Good luck with that,” Hank muttered. “I’m glad he’s yours and Mel’s problem instead of Ellen’s and mine. I already did my time in that barrel, and I wouldn’t want to relive it for all the tea in China.”

“He seems to be a good enough kid.”

“I hope so,” Hank agreed dubiously, “but get back to me about that in a month or so and let me know how it’s going.”

“I will,” I answered.

The night before, while Mel and I were getting ready for bed, I had brought her up-to-date about the Gabe/Caroline situation. She was as troubled about it as I had been.

“So that’s the real reason Kyle left home, to keep Gabe out of harm’s way as far as Caroline is concerned?” she asked.

“That’s what it sounds like,” I said. “But the way people like that work, it was probably only a matter of time before she tried putting the moves on Kyle as well.”

“Could be,” Mel agreed, “but the idea of his leaving in the middleof the last semester of his senior year to protect his friend makes Kyle Cartwright a hero in my book.”

“Mine, too,” I said.

With that she had rolled over and fallen asleep. So did I.

As soon as Kyle left for school, I turned my hand to tracking down whatever information there was to be found on Caroline Richards, Jeremy Cartwright’s not-so-true-blue girlfriend.

Cops aren’t allowed to use police resources to look into any kind of private matter. Mel could have come up with all kinds of information on Caroline with only a few clicks on her office computer, but that would have been illegal and any resulting information would have been entirely off-limits. At this point Caroline was definitely a family issue, but as a likely sexual predator she might eventually become a criminal one. As for private investigators? They’re free to gather information wherever they happen to find it.

For starters I put in a call to my favorite nerd, Todd Hatcher. Mel and I had first met him while we were working for the Special Homicide Investigation Team, aka S.H.I.T. Officially, he’s a forensic economist. Unofficially, he’s a fount of information. He’s an absolute wizard at tracking down mountains of details on anything or anybody, and having him in my pocket makes my work as a PI immeasurably easier.

According to his voicemail, he was currently at a conference and would return calls as soon as possible. I left a message. “As soon as possible” turned out to be several hours later. He called back just as Sarah and I returned from our afternoon walk.

“What’s up?” Todd asked.

“It’s a family issue,” I told him. “I need to know anything youcan find out about someone named Caroline Richards, formerly of Medford, Oregon, and now living in Ashland.”

“Can you give me any other info?” Todd asked. “Having a date of birth would be helpful.”

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