given the man?
Michael read on. Dara had been nineteen years old when she disappeared on a stormy March night. Her father and stepmother had gone to a movie. Jeremy Ireland was next door with the neighbors. Christine Ireland had been in the university library.
In the early hours of the morning, Ames Prince had reported his daughter missing. A search of her bedroom revealed missing clothing, a missing suitcase, missing cosmetics. There had also been a brief farewell note. Her stepmother said Dara often talked of leaving Winston. However, Christine Ireland, twenty-one years old at the time, insisted things remained in the bedroom and bathroom that Dara would have taken with her if she’d run away.
At this point Michael would have liked to see some details about what “things” of Dara’s remained, but nothing had been noted. He took another sip of beer, thinking. Christine Ireland no doubt remembered exactly what remained that Dara wouldn’t have left behind if she’d run away. He remembered Christine’s clear, open look in the store. She’d appeared shaken to hear of the body but also well in control of herself. She seemed sensible and smart.
She was also the sister of Jeremy Ireland, who Michael knew from a brief talk with Buck Teague this afternoon the sheriff believed had killed Dara Prince. “You know how those retards are!” he’d boomed at Michael, his bigface even redder than usual. “Hotheaded. Out of control. He probably tried to kiss her or rape her and she screamed and he lost what little mind he had. You mark my words, Winter. If that body turns out to be Dara Prince’s, our killer’s been right in Ames Prince’s own house for years and that sister of his has known what he did all along.”
Michael decided to talk to Christine again within the next twelve hours. Teague’s scenario didn’t make sense to him. If Christine knew her brother had murdered Dara, but there was no body, she’d be relieved so many people assumed Dara had run off. She’d encourage that line of thinking, not insist possessions of Dara’s remained that she would have taken with her if she’d run away.
He’d already received word that at the medical examiner’s, Ames Prince had identified the body as Dara’s. Of course, this identification was not considered official because it was based on the presence of a ring like one Dara Prince owned, not on identifying features of the body itself, like a pin in a once-broken bone. Or dental records, Michael thought, since the killer had knocked out the teeth. Still, Michael felt in his gut that Dara had finally been found, and he wanted to know who had brutally killed and tossed in the river the beautiful girl with the challenging eyes and the vulnerable mouth.
CHAPTER 6
1
“What?”
Streak blurted out.
Christine’s heart pounded, but her voice was calm as she read again, “ ‘I feel like someone wants me dead.’ ” She looked at Streak. “That’s the end of the entry.”
“Who’s she talking about?”
“Streak, lower your voice or you’ll wake Jeremy. I have no idea who she meant, but isn’t this the kind of thing we were looking for?”
“Yes,” Streak said slowly, “but it came as a shock to hear it right off the bat. Damn. She was afraid for her life and she said nothing? I don’t believe it. She must have been exaggerating.”
“People usually exaggerate to impress another person. Dara didn’t expect anyone else to read this diary.”
“Maybe she just felt that someone disliked her so much they wouldn’t care if she died. Patricia, for instance. Or you.”
“I didn’t—” Christine broke off. She’d already stated her feelings about Dara to Streak. She wasn’t going overit again. But she couldn’t help saying, “Dara had to know I didn’t wish her dead.”
“Read some more,” Streak said without expression.
Christine turned her attention to the diary, skipping to New Year’s Eve, when Dara had attended a party with Reynaldo
Michael read on. Dara had been nineteen years old when she disappeared on a stormy March night. Her father and stepmother had gone to a movie. Jeremy Ireland was next door with the neighbors. Christine Ireland had been in the university library.
In the early hours of the morning, Ames Prince had reported his daughter missing. A search of her bedroom revealed missing clothing, a missing suitcase, missing cosmetics. There had also been a brief farewell note. Her stepmother said Dara often talked of leaving Winston. However, Christine Ireland, twenty-one years old at the time, insisted things remained in the bedroom and bathroom that Dara would have taken with her if she’d run away.
At this point Michael would have liked to see some details about what “things” of Dara’s remained, but nothing had been noted. He took another sip of beer, thinking. Christine Ireland no doubt remembered exactly what remained that Dara wouldn’t have left behind if she’d run away. He remembered Christine’s clear, open look in the store. She’d appeared shaken to hear of the body but also well in control of herself. She seemed sensible and smart.
She was also the sister of Jeremy Ireland, who Michael knew from a brief talk with Buck Teague this afternoon the sheriff believed had killed Dara Prince. “You know how those retards are!” he’d boomed at Michael, his bigface even redder than usual. “Hotheaded. Out of control. He probably tried to kiss her or rape her and she screamed and he lost what little mind he had. You mark my words, Winter. If that body turns out to be Dara Prince’s, our killer’s been right in Ames Prince’s own house for years and that sister of his has known what he did all along.”
Michael decided to talk to Christine again within the next twelve hours. Teague’s scenario didn’t make sense to him. If Christine knew her brother had murdered Dara, but there was no body, she’d be relieved so many people assumed Dara had run off. She’d encourage that line of thinking, not insist possessions of Dara’s remained that she would have taken with her if she’d run away.
He’d already received word that at the medical examiner’s, Ames Prince had identified the body as Dara’s. Of course, this identification was not considered official because it was based on the presence of a ring like one Dara Prince owned, not on identifying features of the body itself, like a pin in a once-broken bone. Or dental records, Michael thought, since the killer had knocked out the teeth. Still, Michael felt in his gut that Dara had finally been found, and he wanted to know who had brutally killed and tossed in the river the beautiful girl with the challenging eyes and the vulnerable mouth.
CHAPTER 6
1
“What?”
Streak blurted out.
Christine’s heart pounded, but her voice was calm as she read again, “ ‘I feel like someone wants me dead.’ ” She looked at Streak. “That’s the end of the entry.”
“Who’s she talking about?”
“Streak, lower your voice or you’ll wake Jeremy. I have no idea who she meant, but isn’t this the kind of thing we were looking for?”
“Yes,” Streak said slowly, “but it came as a shock to hear it right off the bat. Damn. She was afraid for her life and she said nothing? I don’t believe it. She must have been exaggerating.”
“People usually exaggerate to impress another person. Dara didn’t expect anyone else to read this diary.”
“Maybe she just felt that someone disliked her so much they wouldn’t care if she died. Patricia, for instance. Or you.”
“I didn’t—” Christine broke off. She’d already stated her feelings about Dara to Streak. She wasn’t going overit again. But she couldn’t help saying, “Dara had to know I didn’t wish her dead.”
“Read some more,” Streak said without expression.
Christine turned her attention to the diary, skipping to New Year’s Eve, when Dara had attended a party with Reynaldo
Similar Books
