Harvestland

THIRTEEN

They shot out of Smith's Grove early in the morning for the long drive. Daybreak met them on the road in brilliant beams of sunlight.

Around noonday the familiar countryside welcomed Eliza and Andrew as they hopped off the highway some miles outside of Riggsboro. Eliza drove past acres upon acres of corn fields freshly seeded for the season.

Andrew said, "We should have at least called Alison's parents, just to get the confirmation that she was in fact adopted."

"I don't want them asking too many questions yet," Eliza said, "wondering what we're looking into, especially if it was a closed adoption."

"Well, it would have to be," Andrew said. "If they knew it was the Phelan's kid, they would have known why Alison was killed."

"Right," Eliza said, "And the Browns are listed as the parents on her birth certificate. If Alison was indeed adopted, it was in secret. And who do we know that could have birth certificates faked?"

"David Collins."

"And if the Browns are keeping Collins's secret, going through them won't work. Plus, they're grieving enough. No, to do this right we're going to have to backdoor it."

"I want to find proof just to see the look on that smug bastard's face."

"Well, if things work out, hopefully we won't see him at all."

Andrew was shaking his head. "You believe his giving us the run-around about letting his seventeen-year-old daughter get married, move into a starter home with her beau? Dylan knocked Melissa up and Collins gave them a house just to make it look legitimate. Can't let a teen mother daughter sully his public image. Then after the murders he washes his hands of the baby completely."

"Maybe he did the kid a favor," Eliza said. "She didn't have to grow up with the stigma of being the kid whose parents were butchered."

Andrew shrugged.

"Either way," Eliza said, "we're not going to find proof the old-fashioned way, going through the adoption registry."

"Shit, the only legal documents that passed hands in that deal were dead presidents. But if we can't go to Alison's parents and there's no adoption records, that leaves the police. And we already saw there's no mention of a baby in any police report. That's another dead fucking end right there."

"No, we stay clear of the chief's office this time. I don't want anyone to know we're here, least of all big-mouthed McDermott. He'll run off to the papers again, let everyone know the case is still active, he's still getting the job done with outside help. No, it'll probably come out eventually, but I want to stay hidden as long as we can, get what we're coming for before Collins gets wind."

"So what do we do?"

"We go back in time, visit the chief's office circa 1980."

"Huh?"

"Neil Gerety. He was police chief when Dylan and Melissa were murdered. He would know. And I think we can make him talk."

"And if we can't," Andrew said, "there has to be someone. Another cop, an EMT, someone who was there before Collins had a chance to cover it up. And people had to know—old neighbors, family friends at least—that Dylan and Melissa had a baby. If the baby really is Alison, then she was around for over a year before the parents were killed. Maybe there's some old timers around who would talk to us."