Page 31 of Line of Sight (Second Sight #4)
GARY SMILED as Dan came into their office. “We have an appointment.”
“You talked to Mark Wilson’s parents?”
Gary nodded. “They live in Boston. They’re expecting us at four o’clock.
” They’d sounded surprised that the police had reopened the case but pleased that Mark hadn’t been forgotten.
“I’m putting together a list of questions for them.
They’ll have been asked at the time about anyone with a possible motive for killing him.
I don’t expect to hear anything different. ”
“But you’re hoping to learn something about him.”
Gary sighed. “Anything. I also tried to contact Jennifer Sullivan, but unfortunately she’s on a business trip. I’ll try again when she gets back.”
“And what do you want to learn from her?”
“Whatever she can tell me about this camping trip she and her friends went on. Who organized it? Who paid for it? Who else went besides the other three? Whose idea was the early morning boat trip?”
“And speaking of which,” Riley said as he came through the door, “I finally managed to talk to someone who’d been around in ’97 and who knew how to get hold of the records. Took him half the day to find them, mind you.” He beamed. “And I did some digging about the camping trip. Hit pay dirt.”
“So what do we have?” Gary asked.
Riley consulted his notes. “The boat trip was paid in cash by… wait for it… one Thomas Harris.”
Gary blinked. “Didn’t he write The Silence of the Lambs ?”
“Yessir, he did.”
“I don’t suppose there was a description of Mr. Harris?” Dan asked with an obvious note of hope in his voice.
Riley huffed. “Are you kidding? It was as much as he could do to find the booking details. And it gets better. The campsite? That was booked and paid for in cash by….” His eyes sparkled. “Jeffrey Deaver. And in case that name isn’t familiar to you, he wrote The Bone Collector .”
Dan’s expression grew stony. “He’s laughing at us.”
“Then we’d better make damn sure we have the last laugh,” Gary declared.
4:00 p.m.
MR. AND Mrs. Wilson were in their late sixties, a polite couple who insisted on making tea and serving cake and cookies with it.
Their cozy living room was crammed full of photos of their family.
Mark had had one older brother and two younger sisters, and judging by the photos, there were a lot of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Mrs. Wilson poured the tea, her hand trembling slightly. “The one thing I remember vividly is Mark’s excitement. He’d lined up interviews with two companies.” Her brow furrowed. “Now, what were their names?”
“Eli Lilly & Co. and Merck & Co. Inc.,” Mr. Wilson supplied. “Either one would have been a good choice. Mark would have gone far, I have no doubt about that.”
“Tell us about Mark.” Dan accepted the delicate china teacup in its fragile saucer. “Did he have any hobbies? I know you told the detectives at the time that he was a regular climber.”
Mr. Wilson nodded. “We lived in a small town in Maine back then. Camden. It wasn’t far from there to Acadia, and we used to take him there for vacations.”
“Remember the first time he saw the Precipice Trail?” Mrs. Wilson chuckled. “He took one look at all the metal handles they’d put all over the place to help people climb, and his eyes were huge. He must’ve been about eight or nine at the time. He told us he wanted to climb to the top.”
“I persuaded him to wait a year or two, and he wasn’t happy about it, but he agreed.” He smiled. “That was it. He was hooked.”
“Did you ever meet Jennifer Sullivan, the student he was doing the research with?” Gary inquired.
Mrs. Wilson gave a nod. “A lovely young lady. She and Mark got along so well.”
“We saw her picture in the paper the year after Mark died,” Mr. Wilson added. “She went public with the breakthrough.” He swallowed. “She talked about Mark, about how her success was due to both of them. I thought that was decent of her.”
Dan had the impression the couple had never really gotten over Mark’s brutal death, which was understandable. He decided to tread lightly.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, I know Detective Mitchell told you on the phone that I’m working with Boston Police Department. The truth is, I’m a psychic. I’ve been helping the police since the summer, when they called me to consult on—”
“That nurse who killed all those men!” Mrs. Wilson stared at him. “I thought your face was familiar.”
“And now you’re working on Mark’s case?” Mr. Wilson frowned. “Have you discovered anything?”
“That’s why he’s here,” Gary explained. “We’re hoping you have some of Mark’s possessions, preferably something he would have worked with or touched frequently.”
“I’ve seen things like this on TV.” Mrs. Wilson glanced at her husband. “There are boxes in the attic, and I think there are one or two in the garage.” She turned to Dan. “All his climbing gear is in there.”
Dan’s pulse quickened. “Ooh. That would be awesome. It doesn’t have to be anything huge.”
Mr. Wilson stood. “I’ll be right back.” He left the room.
Dan rose too and went over to look at the photos. “Are these your children?”
She joined him and pointed to the largest pictures. “That’s our son Jason, and his wife, Katy. This is our daughter Lorraine, and her husband, Simon, and our daughter Anna, and her husband, Peter.” She beamed. “We have eight grandchildren and ten great-grandchildren.”
“I bet they keep you busy,” Gary remarked with a smile.
She laughed. “Oh yes. Our children take it in turns to have us stay with them during the holidays.” Her smile faltered. “It took me so many years before I stopped insisting that we set a place for Mark.” A sigh rolled out of her. “The pain never really goes away, you know.”
“I lost my brother two years before Mark died,” Gary said in a low voice. “A similar death, in fact. And you’re right. It doesn’t go away.”
Mrs. Wilson’s eyes glistened, and she clutched Gary’s hand and squeezed it.
The door opened, and Mr. Wilson walked in, carrying a box.
“I found a few things.” He set it down on the coffee table.
Dan peered into it. He saw a pair of climbing gloves, a helmet, and a coil of rope.
“Are these any use?” Mr. Wilson asked.
Dan smiled. “They’re perfect.” Before reaching into the box, he met Mr. Wilson’s gaze. “I’ll tell you the same thing I tell everyone. This isn’t an exact science. Sometimes I’m able to glean something about the person, sometimes not. I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
Mrs. Wilson wiped her eyes with a dainty handkerchief. “We understand.”
Dan picked up the gloves and closed his eyes, focusing on them. Instantly, a wave of exhilaration washed over him.
“He really loved to climb, didn’t he?”
“You can feel that?” she asked.
He nodded. “I get a sense that this was when he felt most alive.”
Her breathing hitched. “Yes.”
Dan couldn’t pick up on any other strong emotions, however. He opened his eyes, replaced the gloves in the box, and picked up the coil of rope. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
Minutes passed, and there was no sound in the small living room except for the mingled breaths of those present. Nothing to pick up on, either, except….
Oh. Now that’s interesting.
Instinct told Dan to say nothing. He didn’t think Mark’s parents would understand.
He expelled a breath and looked at them. “That’s all.”
Mrs. Wilson’s expression of disappointment cut through him, and he hated that he’d given them a glimmer of hope, only to dash it.
“Thank you for trying,” she said at last. “I’m sorry it didn’t bring you any closer to learning who killed him.”
“Thank you for agreeing to meet us.” Gary shook Mr. Wilson’s hand, and they were shown to the front door. Once outside, Gary gave Dan an inquiring glance.
“Was that all?”
Dan shook his head. “Mark was nervous. In fact, we’re talking a state of heightened nervousness.”
“Maybe that was related to his climbing?”
“Uh-uh. Something was on his mind, and it must have been important because it’s as though he kept repeating it over and over again.”
“Repeating what?”
Dan glanced at him. “ Don’t let them find out .”
As for what Mark had been so desperate to keep secret, Dan had no idea.
“So nothing that points to Jennifer?”
He chuckled. “Sorry, but no. I know Riley would love us to prove his theory right, but there’s no evidence for it.”
Riley wasn’t the only one who wanted to prove a link between Jennifer Sullivan and Mark Wilson’s death. The coincidence of the little band of friends being such a short distance from where Wilson’s body was discovered, the names given in the bookings….
Dan’s gut told him there was a link.
All they had to do now was find it.