Page 16 of The Dollmaker

The man pushed open the screened door. “My grandmother is in the kitchen. I’m Henry Jones. I’m Terrance’s older cousin. All the grandchildren have been taking turns with my grandmother since Sunday, trying to keep her spirits up while we waited on news about Terrance.”

Sharp noted the white walls decked with framed pictures featuring dozens of different children over the last few decades. Several looked like school pictures taken of a younger Terrance.

“Grandma’s been raising Terrance since his mother died eight years ago. His father is in prison mostly. Terrance is a good kid. Grandma expects the sports scholarship to come through and for him to go to college next fall.”

“It’s a nice collection of pictures.”

They entered the small kitchen outfitted with a narrow Formica countertop, a vintage 1950s stove and refrigerator, and an oval-shaped table rimmed with a dull stainless-steel ribbon and encircled by four matching chairs.

An older woman sat at the table with a steaming cup of tea in front of her. Graying hair, which hung loose around her round face, drained her of color and aged her by another decade. She looked up from the stoneware cup, and when she saw Sharp’s face, tears filled her eyes. She rose and faced him. “Where is Terrance?”

“This is my grandmother,” Henry said. “Edith Jones. Grandma, this is Agent Sharp.”

“Mrs.Jones,” he said, softening his voice. “We found Terrance dead about five miles from here.” He never delayed this kind of information. Better to get it out and end the agony of not knowing. “I am very sorry.”

Her chin trembled as she dropped back into her seat. She pressed wrinkled hands to her mouth and for a moment closed her eyes. “Are you sure it’s my Terry? Are you sure? He only went to the Quick Mart to get candy and an energy drink. He called me and told me he was coming right home.”

“Yes, ma’am, we’re sure. He was carrying his driver’s license.” Moments like this, Sharp wished he had the words to ease the gut punch he understood too well.

Mrs.Jones shook her head. “You must have made a mistake. He came to church with me on Sunday. It was his birthday.”

“Yes, ma’am, we’re sure.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. There’s no mistake.”

Tears spilled, and for a long moment, she didn’t speak as Henry stood beside her, his arm draped over her shoulders as she sobbed. Finally, she raised red-rimmed eyes. “Did my boy die quick? Did he suffer?” Mrs.Jones asked.

Sharp didn’t need a medical examiner to tell him the knife wound had been devastatingly efficient and had ended his life swiftly. “He did not suffer.”

She folded her face into her hands and wept. “My poor baby. How did he die?”

“The medical examiner will make the final determination.”

Henry glanced up at Sharp, his gaze full of fury. “Who did this?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Sharp stood still. “I know this isn’t a good time, but I need to ask you some questions about Terrance.”

Henry’s gaze darkened. “Can you just leave her be? Shit, she’s crushed.”

Mrs.Jones shook her head and looked up with tears in her eyes. “It’s okay. I owe it to Terry to tell what I can. Agent Sharp, go ahead and ask me any question.”

Sharp took the seat beside her. “I understand you filed a missing persons report on Monday morning.”

“We were expecting him home by eleven on Sunday. He’d been out with friends and said he was on his way home when he got a line on a job with the maintenance company that gives him work from time to time. We needed the money, so I let him stay out longer.”

“What was the job?”

“I just assumed it was Mr.Ralph Dobbins. He owns Dobbins Maintenance. Terry worked there part-time last summer. Had to quit for football practice and school.”

Sharp scribbled down the information. “Do you know where he was calling from?”

“He said he was outside the Quick Mart on Route 1.”

“What time was that?”

“Just after nine on Sunday night.” Her voice cracked, and more tears pooled in her eyes. “I thought the job was cleaning out an office building or hauling trash. I should have known it was trouble. Who offers a boy a job on a Sunday night? I should have told him to come home.”

Henry raised his chin. “Terry was a good kid. Straight arrow. He worked for a friend of mine last summer, and I heard he was a hard worker.”

“When’s the last time you saw Terrance?”

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