Page 67

Chapter Eighteen
Robert Merkelstill cut an imposing figure, even seated in a wheelchair. Over six foot, barrel-chested with a full shock of white hair and matching bushy eyebrows, he glowered at the team as they filed in to take chairs lined up beforehim.
“If there’s damage to my house, I want to know who’s going to take care of it,” he thundered. “Someone’s going to pay for the damages, and it’s not going to beme.”
“We’ll cover the expenses,” Ethan told him. He’d run that by Campbell and follow-up to make sure it happened. “In the meantime, the entrances to your home are being repaired as we speak.” The doorways were being replaced with plywood sheets until new doors were purchased. He doubted that news would calm the man downmuch.
“I still don’t have an explanation for what happened.” The man thumped his cane on the floor for emphasis. “Whose genius idea was this? What’d you think, that a seventy-year-old man was running a meth lab in hisbasement?”
Ethan leaned forward in his chair. “Mr. Merkel, your name and address showed up on an ID bearing your name used by a dangerous criminal we’re tracking. When we checked out your identity and discovered you hadn’t been inhabiting the house for weeks, we had to entertain the possibility that someone else could be there in your absence. I understand that you spend your winters in Florida and are gone months at atime.”
“Yes, but even though my home is outside of town, I have my share of nosy neighbors,” the older man scoffed. Clearly, he hadn’t forgiven the intrusion into his house. “Can’t throw a stone without hitting one of them. Wouldn’t take long for someone to notice if a stranger was coming and going from myhome.”
“Can you explain the clothes in a much smaller size in the blue bedroom? One of the T-shirts bore a New Brunswicklogo.”
He looked puzzled for a moment. “That room used to belong to my son, Carl. He lived in New Brunswick for his first job. He was here a few weeks ago when I landed myself in the hospital with this bum hip. He must have left some things at the house. Haven’t been back there, so I can’tsay.”
It was a shot in the dark, but Ethan asked, “Do you have a photo of yourson?”
It took several moments for the man to shift position in the chair enough to dig into his back pocket for his wallet. He extracted a picture and held it out. Ethan got up to look at it. The image showed a couple posed with two children. The man looked nothing like the offender’s sketches or the photo on the fakelicense.
Ethan handed the picture back and then drew out a copy of the fake driver’s license photo from his pocket. Unfolding it, he showed it to the man. “Have you seen this manbefore?”
The older man stared at it intently before slowly shaking his head. “Don’t recognize him, but I don’t know everyone in town. Is helocal?”
“Probably not.” Ethan decided to begin wrapping things up. “Have you been notified by any companies that your personal information has been breached? Perhaps at a merchant or hackedonline?”
Merkel let out a hearty laugh. “Son, unless they break into the Old Age Security or Canada Pension Plan systems, I’m safe. I’ve never had a credit card in my life. If I can’t pay cash for something, I don’t buy it. That’s the problem with the country today. Too many people are buying things on credit, putting all their business out there for anyone to grab. I had something similar happen…oh, must have been twenty years ago or so. Someone used my ID to try to buy a car. Caught him red-handed, of course. Turned out to be one of the foster kids we had thirty years ago or so.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “You try to do God’s work, and that’s how you getrepaid.”
“Mr. Merkel,” Alexa spoke for the first time, giving the older man a friendly smile. I’m Dr. Alexa Hayden, a consultant on this case. Can you tell us more about your fosterchildren?”
“Which ones? We probably fostered forty, forty-five over the years. Mostly males, because I know how to talk to boys, having had a son. I’m a pastor, and I thought if I could bring God’s word to children desperately in need of it, I’d be doing the Lord’s work.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “I did what I could but these kids…just a stream of sad stories from miserable backgrounds. A few went back home, but most bounced around in foster homes until they aged out of thesystem.”
“I imagine you have quite a few stories from those days,” Alexa said encouragingly. Her manner would calm the most volatile of subjects. Ethan watched the fiery-tempered older man from a few minutes ago visibly relax under herquestioning.
“More stories than I can remember. Claire, my wife, used tell me to write them down, but truthfully, they were more heartbreaking than joyful. We had such a revolving door of kids for so many years, I just couldn’t keep the names straight. I’d given them a name from the Bible that began with their first initial. Sort of as a memory device. But it was always the Biblical one I’d recall when I needed to. Claire was better at that kind ofthing.”
“Did you ever have a foster child who was fascinated byinsects?”
Merkel raised a hand. “Boys and bugs. They go together, don’t they? Why, I remember one time, we had a kid who asked for a jar to catch a Banded Garden Spider to bring inside for a pet. Then there was another boy who could spout the Latin name for any insect you could imagine. I put that knack of his to good use by having him memorizing his prayers in Latin.” He thumped his cane again. “A talent like that is a gift from the Lord and should be used to serve Him. He begged and pleaded one year for an ant farm for his birthday to keep in his room. I said absolutely not. He was already bringing all sorts of creatures into the house when we weren’t looking. But Claire…she had a soft heart. Found one at a garage sale and wrapped it up for him. Which turned out to be a mistake, just like I told her it would be. The dog got into the room and jumped up on the table, knocking the glass case off. Ants all over the house. Finally had to call anexterminator.”
A buzz of interest started in Ethan’s veins. “Do you recall that boy’sname?”
The question brought the man up short. His eyelids drooped, and his lips moved silently as if running through an ancient list decades old. Which he likely was. Finally, he said, “I sure don’t. Not even the Biblical name I gave him. It’s been too longago.”
And they’d have almost zero luck getting those records opened by Nova Scotia’s Child Protection Services to jog his memory, Ethan knew. He sent a surreptitious glance at the clock on the wall beyond the older man. “Well, thank you for yourcooperation…”
But Alexa wasn’t done. “What about your son?” she asked the man. “Would he remember theboy?”
“Carl would have been out of the house by then. I could call him if you like, but he wouldn’t have known any of thesekids.”
“Would you,please?”
Ethan slid a glance at Alexa. She was spinning her wheels on what was very likely a dead end, but another few minutes here wouldn’t hurt. A nursing home assistant brought Merkel’s cell to him, and he placed the call. On his other side, Jonah Bannon pulled out his phone and started researching mail forwarding addresses. Which was likely another long shot. Ethan felt a bolt of frustration twist through him. They were inching closer to the offender, but he remained tantalizingly out of reach. Even with the safeguards they had in place, Ethan was well aware of the dangers the UNSUB still presented. His gaze went involuntarily to the woman beside him. Danger to Alexaincluded.
“That’s it!” Ethan’s attention jerked to Merkel. He wore a broad grin as he listened some more before saying, “I can’t believe you recall all that.” There was another moment of silence. Then the man chuckled. “You’ve got your mother’s memory, son. Thank the Lord for that.” Ethan’s impatience reared while the man chatted for another minute before disconnecting and smiling triumphantly atAlexa.
“Carl remembers the whole ant story. He’d graduated from the university before the kid was there, but it happened in his old bedroom, so he took an interest.” He laughed again, pleased that he’d finally placed the memory with his son’s help. “Adam Ant, Carl called him. Guess he has his own memory devices. Neither of us recalls his real name, but that should be easy enough to discover. Carl reminded me that there was a big write-up in the papers when the kid went back home to live with his birth father. The man used to lock the boy in the cellar. Then he went and had himself a heart attack, and no one found him or the boy for days.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Like I said earlier, not many happy stories to remember from thosetimes.”