“I understand the basics of the prosecutor’s decision not to pursue charges,” Mark said, “but what did they tell you? Anything different?”
She shook her head. “I can’t think of anything substantially different. It would have been what you heard — lack of usable physical evidence, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s my understanding.” She paused, swallowed, and said, “But then Ridley brought Sarah up and said he couldn’t remember where he’d found her. Then he stopped giving interviews to the police entirely. Offered no cooperation. The prosecutor was worried about getting the physical evidence into court, because Ridley had an explanation for it, since he’d carried her out. They also couldn’t ascribe a motive. Unless he’s just a sociopath, which is my vote.”
“When we talk about motive, we have to talk about your family,” Mark said. “I’m sure you understand that. Are there people you and your husband might have had problems with who—”
“No. No one who came to mind. And my husband died when Sarah was fourteen. I don’t think he left enemies behind. I think he just left a lot of emptiness and sorrow.”
“You said you think Ridley did it,” Mark said. “But who else do you wonder about? Who keeps you awake?”
Diane swirled her beer — it was still her first, the second one was warming beside it, untouched — and considered the question. “Who keeps me awake,” she said. “I like that. Yes. Excellent. That’s just the right question.”
Mark waited.
“Evan Borders,” Diane said. “He was the flavor of the week before Barnes.”
“What was your take on Borders? Obvious suspect, being the one who took her down to the cave, but is there more to it?”
“He was a troubled kid. Or at least from a troubled family. The family was just a wreck. Dad got arrested as often as most of us go to the movies. Mom went through jobs faster than that until she left, when Evan was maybe eight, nine years old. Then Dad, he’d take off, only he’d wander back, time to time. You ever read Huckleberry Finn?”
“Yes.”
“Picture that father, and you’ve got a sense of Carson Borders. Evan was pretty well on his own as a kid. Had an uncle who as good as raised him, a man named Lou Leonard. When Sarah started dating Evan, I thought that by showing him trust, I was helping him overcome that upbringing. But then... then it happened, and I wondered...”
“Right,” Mark said. There was no need to make her finish.
“It was probably for the best that Carson was out of Evan’s life, honestly,” Diane said. “Evan worked, he showed some initiative, and I think he carried a lot of shame, which I always felt bad about. It’s hard for a child to have to deal with that sort of family reputation, particularly in a small town.”
Mark nodded. It certainly was hard. He’d never known his own father, but he knew small towns and family reputations. He’d been raised by uncles who were on a first-name basis with every jailer in western Montana and northern Wyoming and a mother who changed her name almost annually to try to keep her scams from catching up with her. The worst part of the family burden was the lack of surprise people showed. The way they just nodded over the news, as if they’d been expecting it, and then they looked at Mark with eyes that said, Wonder when your time will come.
“Was Carson Borders ever considered a suspect himself?”
“Briefly.” Her eyes flickered away. “Then he was... cleared, I guess you’d say.”
“What cleared him?”
“His teeth.”
Mark cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. Diane Martin took a drink of her beer and said, “Someone mailed a bag to Evan with Carson’s teeth in it.”
“Good Lord.”
She nodded. “The package was sent from Detroit. Evidently Carson had tried to negotiate his way out of prison by giving up some information on cell mates from Detroit.”
“Evan must have understood something about them too. You get that package in the mail, you know why. It was a message to him.”
“If it was, he never explained it.”
“Which means the message was received.” Mark thought about that for a minute and then said, “Did Ridley have a similar reputation? Any history of violence, of crime?”
“He had a reputation, but not for being a criminal. He was viewed as an eccentric, that was all. But he was never right. He was always saying strange things, giving you strange looks. Ever met someone who doesn’t seem to fit into the world the rest of us share? People who seem to belong to another one, up in their own heads? He had that sort of reputation. He used to go caving with some of the groups around here, but he made them uncomfortable. He’d talk to the cave, he’d say odd things, and most people who went out with him once never went back to him again, even though he was apparently very skilled at what he did. He was as comfortable underground as any snake.”
You ought to spend some time down there. In the dark. Think about her, think about me.
“Anyone else?”
“Brett and Jeremy Leonard. They’re Evan’s cousins. Bad kids. He felt some loyalty to them, I think, but they were always trouble and he wasn’t, at least not back then. One of my rules for Sarah was that she was not to be around those two.”
“But you’d put money on Ridley?”
“Yes. If he had just stayed with the group and not broken off on his own, well, then his story would either hold up or it wouldn’t, right? Then we would know the truth. But instead, he went off alone and conveniently forgot the path he’d taken, so whatever happened down there became harder to prove.”
“He says he doesn’t remember anything. What do you think of that?”
She fixed that penetrating stare on him again but this time added are-you-kidding-me raised eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Mark said. “I know.”
“Total memory loss? Please. Something happened down there. He has to remember something.”
“I agree. Now, what happened once he was inside, we don’t know. But what about before he was called out?”
“He was already underground.”
Mark frowned. “He was inside the cave when this happened?”
“Another cave. Or so he says. The surveillance videos say he didn’t go into Trapdoor. But Ridley was the one person on earth who might have known another way in.”
“My understanding,” Mark said, “is that the police were never able to locate the spot where...where Sarah was found.” He was careful to say Sarah, not the body or the corpse or the remains.
“That’s right. And that’s another reason that Ridley Barnes becomes so hard to believe, because he’s an expert, right? He supposedly knows the place better than anyone alive, but he claims he can’t even begin to remember where he was when he found her?”
“Okay,” he said. “So it’s Ridley, Evan, and these cousins of his. Nobody else stands out to you?”
Diane went quiet. When she spoke again, her voice was lower.
“I lied to you,” she said.
“When?”
She turned to face him, and her eyes were bright with unspilled tears. “You asked who keeps me awake at night. I gave you three names. But I didn’t give you the one that matters most. I keep myself awake at night. I’m the one. Because isn’t it my job to see that someone finds out the truth, finds out who did it? Isn’t that my job?”