“Have you heard from them since?”

“Not a peep,” she said. “I saw Shawn when Patrick died. He spotted the obituary in the paper and drove down for the funeral.”

“Drove down from where?”

“Belicia,” she said, mentioning a little town an hour and a half north of us. “He was calling himself Shawn again, using Dancer as his last name. He looked wonderful. Tall and handsome. He has a shop up there where he builds furniture. He showed me photographs and the pieces are beautiful. He also does custom cabinetwork.”

“You think he’d talk to me?”

“I don’t see why not. You’re welcome to use my name, or I can call him if you like.”

“When you saw him at the funeral, did you ask about Greg and Shelly?”

“Briefly. He told me both of them were gone. To tell you the truth, I didn’t care that much. As far as I was concerned, Greg had been dead to me since the summer of ’sixty-seven. We parted from them on bad terms, and anything that happened to them afterward was irrelevant. Except for the business with Rain, of course.”

It bothered me that much of what she’d told me ran counter to my intuitions. “I’m sorry to keep harping on Mary Claire, but I have trouble believing they’d resort to snatching her. That’s hard-core for a pair who weren’t seasoned criminals.”

“Look. I know what you’re getting at and I agree. I can’t imagine Greg doing any of this even under Shelly’s influence, but Patrick felt if they were desperate enough to take Rain, they wouldn’t be all that scrupulous about trying again. We paid without hesitation. If the plan worked once, why not twice?”

“I wonder how they fixed on Mary Claire? Did you know the Fitzhughs?”

“To speak to. We didn’t socialize with them, but we were all members of the Horton Ravine Country Club.”

“But the Fitzhughs said they’d pay, didn’t they? I mean, they agreed to the ransom the same way you did.”

“They also notified the police, which they were told not to do. The kidnappers must have figured it out.”

“But how?”

“I have no idea. Maybe they sensed their luck had turned. Somehow they understood if they picked up the money, they’d be caught, so they left it where it was.”

I said, “If they decided to forfeit the ransom, why not just hit the road? Why kill the child?”

“I can’t believe they meant to hurt her. Greg might have been stupid and greedy, but he’d never harm a child. Not even Shelly could have talked him into going that far. To be fair, I’ve questioned whether she was capable of anything so heinous. Patrick thought it was totally in character. As for the hole being dug on our property . . . whatever the intention . . . Greg and Shelly could have chosen the location, thinking it was safe. To my way of thinking, the similarities between Rain’s abduction and Mary Claire’s are too obvious to discount.”

I said, “The one obvious difference is the introduction of a ransom note during the second kidnapping. As I understand it, when Rain was taken, the contact was strictly by phone.”

Deborah slowed and I was surprised to see we’d almost reached the wharf by then. I’d been so focused on the conversation I hadn’t been aware of the walk itself. By now the fog had fully enveloped us and the air was so saturated with mist that my sweatshirt was damp. I could see beads of moisture in Deborah’s hair, a veil of diamonds.

I was quiet, running the information in a quick loop, and I found myself itchy with misgivings. “Something’s off. You and the Suttons were good friends. If Greg was one of the two guys digging in the woods, Michael would have recognized him.”

“That’s true. On the other hand, Greg and Shelly had their druggie pals who kept them supplied with dope. They sat out in the bus and smoked so much weed, I could have gotten high myself. I realize now I should have turned them in to the police, but I was still hoping the problem would go away of its own accord.”

“Did you meet their friends?”

“I never laid eyes on them. They’d park around the corner and approach on foot, which allowed them to bypass the house and go straight to the cabana where the bus was parked. One of them had a motor scooter. I remember that because every time he left, I could hear it puttering down the street.”

“I wish I could make sense of it.”

“You and me both,” she said. “Oh, before I forget. Rain’s driving up from L.A. for a few days. She took over the family business after Patrick died. I’m sure she’d be willing to tell you what she remembers. It isn’t much, but you might pick up a useful tidbit.”