“Sounds like he really was a dick,” Brian said as he watched his phone. When they came into the next small town, he got a signal and found the number. Brian called, and Hilliard pulled over. Brian let him explain what he’d suspected and what he’d done.
“That’s good. … Yes.” He explained things once more, describing the women, then smiled. “I’m glad you can help.” He ended the call and pulled back onto the road. “It’s a state agency, and they said they would have someone out there and that they knew just how to handle the situation.”
“But—”
“They assured me that their people understood what they needed to do and that they would be careful to make sure the women stayed safe and were going to be treated well and get the help they needed.” He continued driving. For the moment, at least, Brian was much more worried about the women than he was about himself. “Where did you stop next?”
“At the lighthouse in Point Reyes. Gramps wanted to see it, but when we got there, he wasn’t able to actually get to the light. There are a lot of stairs from the visitor center down to the light itself. He was able to see it from the center, though.”
“That seems like a shame. This was a trip for your grandfather.”
“I know. But it’s, like, three hundred steps, and there was no way he could’ve made it. But Gramps found ways to keep himself occupied. He insisted that I make the trip and take pictures for him. So I went down, took pictures on my phone, and sent them to his phone.”
Hilliard pulled off to the side of the road. “Do you still have those? And the texts?”
Brian nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure I do. I don’t delete things like that. I tried to show that to my lawyer and the police, but they weren’t interested and discounted it as proof of nothing.”
Hilliard shook his head. “We’ll get images of those when we get back. They were wrong, and your lawyer was inept. That’s all I can say about that. He should have been looking for anything to help you. That was his job. It could help build our case that you were elsewhere. It probably isn’t enough to conclusively show that you were here because it would only mean that someone with your phone took the pictures, but they could help bolster the case.” He pulled back on the road. They turned inland for a ways until they came to the turnoff for Point Reyes and then entered the national park. Brian wondered in passing if they kept track of cars that came and went, but figured that was too much to hope for. They made the twenty-mile drive out toward the light.
“I can’t believe you’re doing all this to help me,” Brian said as they reached the visitor center. They had already been on the road for a couple of hours and would still have the entire drive back.
“Stop. If there’s a way to prove you were with your grandfather, then we will.” He patted Brian’s leg. “Now, since we’re here, why don’t we go on out to the light and see if there is anyone who might remember you.”
Brian got out and joined a group of others as they made their way down the path. He hadn’t been kidding about the stairs. It took them ten minutes or so to get down the path and the cliff face to the actual outcropping where the light stood. A ranger was giving a general talk about the light and when it was built. No one seemed familiar, but that wasn’t a surprise. It had been years, and hundreds of people visited every day.
Brian went out to see the light itself more closely and realized that Hilliard wasn’t with him. He paused to look for him but went on, getting a good look at the lens before wandering around the equipment building. By the time he reached the trailhead once more, he found Hilliard speaking to one of the rangers.
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Hilliard said as he approached. The ranger went inside and returned a few minutes later shaking his head. “Well, thank you. I knew it was a long shot.” Hilliard turned away.
“What?”
“They have cameras because of security and the foot traffic, but they only keep the footage for six months and rotate it out.” He shrugged.
“It’s going to be that way everywhere,” Brian told him. “It isn’t like anyone is going to remember me or Gramps after all this time, and even if they think they do, they aren’t going to be able to testify to it. Too much time has passed.” He turned toward the steps and the trek back to the car. “We might as well head back. There isn’t any more to see.”
“Okay. But we aren’t giving up. There has to be a way. We just need to find it.” Hilliard started back up the steps, and Brian sighed. They had found nothing, and yet it had been a very long time since anyone had been so stubborn for his benefit and in his defense. One thing was for sure: if there was a way to prove he was innocent, Hilliard was determined to figure out what it was.
Chapter 7
“DO YOUwant a beer or something?” Hilliard asked Brian once they were back in town. It was well after dinnertime, and Hilliard was more than a little hungry. He led the way inside, and Brian flopped down on his great-aunt’s fussy sofa. The old piece of furniture groaned but stayed in one piece.
“I could use one… or three about now.” Brian held his head. “Sorry for being a downer.”
Hilliard got two bottles from the refrigerator and handed one to Brian. “For a guy who didn’t think we had much chance….”
Brian nodded. “I guess I was putting more hope into finding something than I thought. I guess I had really wondered if there might be something to help me. And the answer is there might have been at the time, if anyone had looked. I had no idea what I should do, and my appointed attorney—”
“Didn’t do his job,” Hilliard interjected. “And now the information that could have proven your innocence is gone. At least to the south. You said that you went north too.”
“We did. We went south first and then continued past Mendocino on the way back and headed north for a while. But we can’t do that today.”
“My question is, how did you do all that in a single day?”
“Gramps was always an early riser, so we left first thing in the morning, and Gramps slept part of the way on the return trip north, so by the time we got back here in the afternoon, he had energy and wanted to keep going.”
Hilliard leaned forward. “When was the burglary supposed to have happened?” He was trying to build a more accurate picture of the day’s events.
“They said between approximately twelve thirty and three in the afternoon.”