Page 96 of What She Saw
The old man shifted, drawing attention to his bony shoulders under his shirt. “She said Debra could do better.”
“Kevin told Taggart he was cool with the breakup. Said he had moved on.”
“That’s not how I heard it. Carrie was out with Debra one evening. Kevin was following them.”
“Following them? Maybe it was a one-off?”
“Debra commented that she was tired of him always being there.”
“Kevin was a stalker?” The picture on his mantel proved he hadn’t forgotten her.
“I don’t think it got that bad. We live in a small town. But Carrie said Kevin tended to be around.”
Taggart had pulled Kevin in for questioning. He had been cleared of all charges. “Do you remember where Kevin lived then?”
“Close to the furniture factory—now the computer company—where he works.”
“That factory closed, correct?”
“About thirty years ago.”
“How many jobs were lost?”
“Fifty or so. It was a hard blow to the town.”
Kevin had left town after the trial. Folks treated him differently. Not everyone thought he was blameless. He’d moved back several years before Taggart died. “Did Carrie go to the concert?”
“No. I wouldn’t let her go. No good comes out of young people fueled on booze and music.” Mr. Lawson shook his head. “She was mad as a hornet.”
Patty had been a year or two older than Carrie. She’d been at the festival for work, not fun. Sara, when she drank, grumbled that she’d told Patty not to take the job. But I’d never blamed Patty for chasing the money that could set her free. “Did you follow the trial?”
“Everyone did. Hard not to. That consumed us all for almost eight months. Reporters flocked to town.”
“That would’ve meant a local revenue bump,” I quipped.
He grunted. “Mayor Briggs said as much once.”
How much money had been made off the backs of those dead women? “Any theories about the location of the bodies?” It was a Hail Mary kind of question. They rarely worked, but every so often I scored.
“I always thought they were close. So many hiding places then. Old wells, rock quarries, sheds, barns.”
“The search crews spent months combing the area.”
“They didn’t start up for a good ten days after the festival. And we were going through a hot spell that year. Human remains don’t look human after a week or two in the heat.” Mr. Lawson sniffed. “Have you talked to the man serving life in prison for four murders? Rafe Colton knows.”
“Working on getting that interview. But I’m not in a rush.”
“Why not?”
“Everyone hangs on his every word. And he likes that. I’m in no rush to dangle the bait only to have him snatch it away.”
“I’d let him rot. He’s been in prison for almost thirty-one years and will die there.”
“He’s up for parole. He’ll get out if I don’t find those bodies.”
Mr. Lawson muttered an oath. “Wouldn’t that be something. He gets out because Taggart didn’t find the bodies.”
I wondered if Taggart was turning over in his grave. “Colton’s aware that I’m working on this article. It’s nice to think he has plenty of time in his cell to think about what I’m writing about. I want him to wonder and maybe worry a little longer.”
