“I don’t recall it ever seeming ordinary to me,” she told him. “It always seemed exotic and thrilling. Then again, I always thought there was a touch of the exotic about my dad, though maybe a better word might be dramatic. There was a bit of drama around everything he ever did.”

“I’d say recent events bear that out.”

They ate in silence for a moment.

“Dorsey, I didn’t mean-” Andrew began, and she silenced him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s true. I know. It’s true.” She sighed. “His role in this case has complicated things. I thought I could look at this as though he hadn’t been involved, and I’m finding I can’t. I keep thinking there must have been a reason why he zeroed in on the Beale kid and wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t look for other suspects. I haven’t seen anything that would have convinced me that the only option was that this boy had killed her. I want to see it through my father’s eyes, so I can understand, but I just don’t seem to be able to. I’m just not seeing Beale at all.”

“Maybe because we already know that Shannon was alive, but no one knew that back then.”

“Someone knew, Andrew,” she told him solemnly. “Someone knew. We just have to find out who it was. Maybe then we’ll know how my father could have messed up so badly.”

“Do you think someone could have deliberately led him in the wrong direction?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. If he’d had all the facts, would he have assumed Eric Beale was guilty?”

Andrew put his fork down and appeared to be considering what she’d just said.

“You’re thinking maybe I’m not being objective, aren’t you?” she asked.

“The thought did cross my mind, yeah.”

“If at any time you feel my actions are not objective, or might compromise the investigation, you can tell me to leave.”

“I wouldn’t have a choice,” he said softly, “but I’d hate for that to happen. You’ve been helpful so far. You have good instincts, good skills. I’d hate to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’ll do my best to make certain you’re not put in that position.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

They ate in silence for a few more moments, then Andrew said, “So, what are your thoughts at the end of day two?”

“It seems like it’s been more than two days, doesn’t it?”

He nodded. “We’ve covered a lot of ground in a short period of time. Anything stand out?”

“Yeah. The more I see of the Randalls, the more screwed up they seem.” She chewed a bite of chicken thoughtfully. “I mean, here you have their daughter, sister, granddaughter back from the dead, so to speak. But definitely dead this time. Wouldn’t you expect more emotion? Wouldn’t you have thought the daughters would have been at their parents’ home? Did you see any sign that the family was gathering together to mourn?”

“Nope. Everyone seems to be off doing their own thing. Business as usual,” Andrew agreed. “Paula Rose certainly didn’t appear heartbroken.”

“I haven’t even heard anyone mention a word about a funeral, not even Paula Rose. Did she seem like she was immersed in preparing a service for her beloved, long-lost sister?” Dorsey picked at the cole slaw on her plate. Before he could respond, she went on. “And another thing. Everyone so far seems to think she was kidnapped. Forced to leave. Even back then, they all knew this money was missing from the church. How come it never occurred to anyone that she might have taken it and run off?”

“You know, if she took the money from her grandfather’s desk on or before Wednesday afternoon, it means she knew she would be leaving home Wednesday night.” Andrew looked up at Dorsey. “Would she have gone home to pick up clothes and maybe some more money? Would she have left Hatton with nothing but the clothes on her back?”

“She might if she was running away from something. But she could have packed some things in her backpack before she left for school that morning. It wasn’t found in Eric’s car, remember. They only found her assignment book. So let’s assume she had that with her when she left. She could have had at least one or two changes of clothing in there, maybe whatever money she had saved up in a bank or something at home.”

“So maybe she had it planned, knew about the money from the carnival, and decided to take that too.” He paused. “So who smacked her around? And how did she get out of town?”

“Someone had to have driven her. Maybe the same person who smacked her.”

“But everyone connected to her had an alibi,” he reminded her. “Except Eric Beale, and I don’t believe he helped her run away. He’d have said so. And if he’d taken her someplace, like the bus station here in town, someone would have seen her, right? All the publicity this case got back then, if she’d been there, someone would have said so. But no one did.”

“True. Same thing if she tried to hitch a ride. Someone would have had to have seen her.” Dorsey nodded. “But again, no one’s stepped forward to say they did, and as you point out, that wouldn’t follow, in a case like this. It’s hard to imagine someone not reporting having seen her, or having picked her up.”

“What about Dad?” Andrew took another bite of his dinner, and barely seemed to notice. “We don’t know what time he got back to the house that night. The report said he was at the church until 7:30 or 8:00 that night-then he went home and went directly into his study.”

“Paula Rose said her father was in the study all night, working on his sermon for Sunday.”

“I don’t think she said she saw him, though.”

Dorsey drew small circles on the table with the tip of her index finger. “The most common reason for girls to cut is because they’re being abused, and most abusers are someone in or close to the family. Same with girls who run away-look hard enough, and you’ll probably find she was running away from someone who was hurting her.”

“It’s no secret that most girls who turn to prostitution have been sexually abused,” Andrew noted. “Doesn’t look too good for Reverend Dad, does it?”

“He’s at the top of my list.” Dorsey appeared thoughtful. “You know, if he was abusing Shannon, chances are he had been abusing one or both of the older sisters. Or still was. He might not have moved on to Paula Rose just yet, but I’m betting Natalie and or Aubrey knew what was going on.”

“So we’re going to have to talk with him sooner rather than later. Which I’m guessing he won’t like.”

“If he doesn’t cooperate, we could ask Chief Bowden to invite him down to the station for a chat.”

“He’ll like that even less,” Andrew told her. “We have a meeting with Bowden first thing in the morning. With luck he’s found the PD’s file and we’ll see exactly what Franklin said back then.”

Dorsey looked across the room to the clock on the wall.

“It’s really late. I think we need to get back to the inn. Our meeting with Bowden is at what time?”

“Eight.”

Dorsey groaned. “I’m thinking we should probably be staying here in Hatton after tonight. We still have a pretty good drive ahead of us.”

“That’s not a bad idea. We passed a motel out on the highway, coming into town. Maybe we can stop there on our way in from Deptford in the morning and get a couple of rooms. Plan on driving your car and we’ll meet up there in time to be at the police station by eight.” He signaled for their bill. When it arrived, Dorsey reached for it.

“That’s mine. Dinner’s on me,” she reminded him. “Never let it be said I’m a poor loser.”

He laughed and handed it over, just as his cell phone rang.

“Shields.”

He listened for a minute, then said, “We have an appointment first thing in the morning and I don’t know how long we’ll be tied up. But if we could meet with you later in the afternoon…yes, four would be fine. The address?” He fished a pen from his pocket and scribbled on a paper napkin. “Thank you. Yes, I’ll see you then.”

He snapped the phone closed and returned it to his pocket. “That was Senator Randall-Scott. She and her sister Aubrey would like to meet with us tomorrow.”