Page 60 of Peak Suspicion
“Oh?” Carter closed the lid of the cooler he had been loading with water bottles. “Do you know where he’s living now?”
“I wasn’t able to come up with that. But I found out a little more about his time in Santa Fe. Apparently, he was living there the same time a kid named David Ketchum was kidnapped and killed. After his conviction as a pedophile, local police questioned him about the murder, but he had an alibi. He served eighteen months in state prison, then was paroled. He was supposed to report to a parole officer, but after a few months he skipped town and apparently hasn’t been seen since.”
Carter’s stomach knotted, remembering what Mira had told him about David Ketchum. “So he could be here in Eagle Mountain.”
“If he is, you’d think Mira would have spotted him,” Dalton said. “It’s harder to hide in a small town.”
Maybe more difficult, but not impossible. “Maybe he changed his appearance, or has been careful to avoid letting Mira see him.”
“Maybe. Anyway, sorry I wasn’t able to come up with something more definite,” Dalton said. “But I did come across something else that was kind of interesting.”
“What’s that?”
“I decided to see what I could dig up about Mitch Anders. Did you know he was born in Santa Fe?”
“The sheriff told Mira about that. That means he would know all about the David Ketchum case.”
“Did Mira know Mitch in Santa Fe?” Dalton asked.
“No. She didn’t meet him until she started work at the school.”
“He and his mom moved away when Mitch was two,” Dalton said. “But maybe Mitch went back there to visit relatives.”
“His dad—Ed. Did he live in Santa Fe?” Carter asked.
“I could check, see what I can find out.”
“Thanks.”
He went back to work on the Jeep, but his mind was still on their conversation. What if Mitch was the one who had sent those letters to Mira? The person who had attacked her on the trail? Carter fought the instinct to find Mitch and confront him. First of all, he might be wrong. Second, even if he was right, the man was built like a tank. Carter had never been a fighter. He hadn’t had to be. He’d been able to talk his way out of every tight situation. Once, in a bar back in Vermont, a drunk man had been enraged when he caught Carter flirting with his girlfriend. Carter had ended up talking the guy into buyinghima drink and the two had ended up playing darts so long the girlfriend had given up and left.
It wouldn’t do to act rashly. But he had no words left for anyone who would hurt Mira.
Chapter Eighteen
“I’ve been thinking about Mitch Anders,” Carter said, shortly after he arrived at Mira’s apartment Friday evening.
“What about him?” She settled back on the sofa and regarded him warily. She hated to have outside problems intrude on their time together, but it was unrealistic to try to have a relationship in a bubble. And now that he had brought up the subject, part of her was curious to hear what he had to say.
He sat down beside her, the sofa cushion sinking under his weight. “If he’s from Santa Fe, wouldn’t you think he would have mentioned it to you?” he asked.
“We never really talked that much,” she said. “And I gather he moved away when he was pretty young.”
“Still, he could have heard about David Ketchum’s murder. And how could he live in the same house with his dad and not know Ed was writing those letters to people in town? I have to wonder if Ed didn’t say something about David, and maybe even about you.”
“It doesn’t make sense to me,” she said. “It’s so convoluted and, frankly, pointless. There’s not one shred of proof to link me to David’s death. Why would Ed—much less Mitch—want to hurt me? They don’t even know me.”
She hugged her arms across her chest. “I’m really struggling to accept that Mitch had anything to do with the child abductions here. I mean, I know better than anyone that people can fool us. I just can’t believe I’ve misjudged someone so badly twice.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Carter rubbed his hand up and down her leg. “Maybe Mitch has nothing to do with any of this. I just thought it was interesting.”
“There haven’t been any more attempts to kidnap children,” she said. “And I haven’t received any more letters. Maybe whoever was responsible got scared or left town—or both.”
“I hate to think they got away with their crimes,” he said.
“Maybe the sheriff’s department knows something we don’t.” She patted his knee. “Can we talk about something else? Have you heard anything about Craig?”
“I called his social worker and she said he’s settling into a new home. After he’s been there a month or two, maybe I can see him.”
