Truman’s stomach heaved at the odor, and Brick cursed like the professional wrestler he’d been.
Better here than in my vehicle.
TEN
Two miles away from the scene at the Hartlage house, Mercy parked at the closest neighbor’s home. Kenneth Forbes’s house strongly resembled the Hartlages’, but there was a long ramp to the front door. An ancient sedan without license plates sat beside the home, weeds growing around its tires.
Does he live alone?
Earlier a deputy had briefly visited Kenneth Forbes, returned to the Hartlage crime scene, and reported that Forbes believed Corrine Hartlage’s brother had lived in the home with the family, but didn’t know his name.
“What else did he tell you?” Mercy had asked the deputy. “When did Mr. Forbes see them last? Has he been by the farm recently?”
The deputy had looked at his feet and shuffled them. “He wasn’t very cooperative, ma’am. And he’s disabled. I didn’t want to pressure him.”
Mercy had exchanged a look with Detective Bolton. The deputy was very young. “I’ll go talk to Mr. Forbes,” Mercy stated.
Still in her vehicle, Mercy looked at the cat, who’d curled up on the passenger seat and gone immediately to sleep. I thought cats hated cars.
Should I stop at a pet shelter?
If a Hartlage relative wanted the cat, leaving it at a shelter could lead to a hot mess. Mercy decided she’d keep it until they heard if anyone was interested in it.
I’ll tell Kaylie up front that it might leave.
As Mercy got out of her vehicle, the front door opened, and a man in a wheelchair appeared.
“Mr. Forbes?” Mercy stopped ten feet from the ramp.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Special Agent Mercy Kilpatrick. I’m investigating your missing neighbors and could really use your help.”
The man gave a short laugh. “Help? Do I look like I can help anyone? You’re just here to ask more questions. I already told that other policeman all I know.”
Kenneth Forbes appeared to be in his midfifties. His short hair was salt and pepper, and his face was well weathered and lined. Even at this distance, Mercy could see his eyes were a piercing blue. Anger radiated from him.
“Did you know the girls, Alison and Amy? There’s a lot of blood in their room, and it appears they’ve been missing for months.” Mercy lobbed the loaded question at the man. If missing children didn’t affect him, he wasn’t human.
He was silent for five seconds. “Blood?”
“Yes. In all the bedrooms. The house hasn’t been lived in for a long time, but their belongings are still there.”
His cheeks tightened as he flexed his jaw, and he spun his wheelchair around. “Come in then,” he said over his shoulder.
It wasn’t the welcome she’d hoped for, but she’d take it.
The home was extremely plain inside, with wide paths for his wheelchair. He motioned for her to sit in an old easy chair by the front door. He maneuvered his wheelchair so he could face her, crossed his hands in his lap, and looked at her expectantly, his eyes still hard. “What do you need to know?”
No coffee. No tea. No small talk.
“When did you see any of them last?”
He grimaced. “I’m not sure. Last summer, I guess. And that was just passing them on the road.”
“But they’re your closest neighbor.”
“No, I’m their closest neighbor. My son lives a quarter mile away from me.” He frowned. “Just because I live near someone doesn’t make us friends. I didn’t need anything from them, so I rarely interacted with them. Are they dead?”
Mercy blinked at his bluntness. “We don’t know.”
“You said there was blood.”
“I did. But we didn’t find any bodies there.”
“Why does the FBI care about a missing family? Shouldn’t this be handled by the sheriff?”
“Missing children are always our business,” Mercy stated firmly. “Did you know the children?”
“I’ve seen them.”
Mercy waited.
“I’ve never talked to either one.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t even know their names if you hadn’t said them. I’ve only spoken with Richard. He told me his wife’s brother was living with them, and I got the impression he wasn’t very happy about the intrusion.”
“But you don’t know his name either?”
“No, but I’ve seen him once or twice.”
“Was the brother Asian?”
Kenneth gave her a confused look. “No. Why on earth would he be Asian?”
“Just following up on a possible lead.”
Who is the Asian skull?
“Do you know who can tell me more about this family?” she asked.
He looked beyond her, scratching his chin. “Maybe my son. If he’s met them, I’m unaware of it, but he is the next-closest neighbor.”
“Do you live alone?” Mercy asked curiously.
Defensiveness filled his face. “I do. My son brings my groceries and helps me out.”
“I noticed the car out front.”
“Haven’t taken it out since my accident ten years ago. Thrown from a horse.”
“I’m very sorry,” Mercy said awkwardly. His anger had returned during the statement.
“Me too. Fucking hate this chair.” The bitterness in the room was suffocating.
Mercy pulled out her business card and set it on the accent table. “Can you give me your son’s address?”
“Don’t need that. Just turn left after you leave my drive and then take the next left off the main road. But he’s gone for a few days.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No.” The anger rose again.
“Can I get his phone number?” She wrote down the number he rattled off. “Please call me if you think of anything that might help us figure out what happened to this family.”
“Don’t know nothing. I rarely saw them. I hardly see anyone.”
Mercy escaped the hostile-feeling house. She darted between the puddles in the yard and climbed into her Tahoe, shaking the drizzle from her hair. The sour atmosphere still clung to her. The cat raised its head, gave a jaw-stretching yawn, and went back to sleep. Mercy stroked her back, wondering how long the cat had been alone at the Hartlage home.
Does the cat miss her owners?
Mercy pictured the skeletal remains she suspected might be the Hartlages.
There’d been two male skulls in the culvert. One Asian, one Caucasian.
Kenneth Forbes claimed the brother-in-law wasn’t Asian.
If the Hartlage family was in the culvert, is the father or brother-in-law still alive?
“I might have gotten a cat,” Mercy told Rose over a late lunch.
“Might?” Rose asked in surprise, nearly dropping her glass of soda.
“I might have to give it back if someone claims it.” Mercy shared that morning’s cat-acquiring incident with her sister at the diner in Eagle’s Nest.
“Where is the cat now?”
“I stopped and bought cat litter, cat food, a cat bed, and a covered litter box and dropped her off at my place before coming here.”
“Does Kaylie know?” Rose grinned.
Mercy grimaced as she took a bite of her BLT. “I texted her so she wouldn’t be surprised when she walked in the door. She was ecstatic, of course.”