Page 26 of Justice Delayed

That jived with what Tim Nash had told him. Brogan looked up from his notebook. “How did she get along with the other members of your household?”

“Ruby left when Melender was only a preschooler, so they had no relationship prior to the girl’s arrival. We only took Melender in because she literally had no place to go. Besides, at sixteen and a junior in high school, the arrangement wouldn’t be for long.”

The coldness of that statement shouldn’t have shocked Brogan, but it did. Melender, grieving for the recent loss of her father and grandmother—and the only home she’d ever known—tossed into a foreign household where no one wanted her. Pity for the uprooted teenage girl stirred in his heart. “How did Melender get along with your kids?”

Quentin tightened his jaw. “Jared was nineteen at the time and attending community college. Jillian was a baby when Melender came.”

Unspoken was Jesse’s name, with whom Ruby must have been pregnant around the time of Melender’s arrival. “And what did Jared think about her?”

“I doubt he thought much about her at all.” The phone on Quentin’s desk buzzed, and he hit a button. “Yes?”

“Mr. Thompson”—his assistant spoke crisply—“five minutes until your lunch appointment.”

“Thank you, Anna.” Quentin released the button, then stood, signaling the interview was over.

Brogan closed his notebook, hit the stop button on his phone’s recording app, and got to his feet. He held out his hand to the older man. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“My pleasure.” Quentin gripped his hand hard before releasing it, the tone in his voice indicating anything but pleasure. “Mr. Gilmore, I strongly encourage you to be very careful. This story is old news, and raking up the past generally isn’t a good idea.”

Brogan stayed silent, sensing the man had something else to add.

“I’ve read your work. You’re a talented writer. I’m golfing with the publisher of theWashington Leaderlater this week. He’s always on the lookout for reporters.”

“TheLeaderis a fine newspaper.”

“I’ll mention that we chatted.” Quentin picked up his smartphone from his desk. “Anna will see you out.”

Quentin’s last comment echoed in Brogan’s ears as he left the man’s office. He understood perfectly what was being offered—a chance to work for theLeaderif he dropped looking into the disappearance of Jesse. The fact that Quentin had made such a statement quickened Brogan’s interest in digging deeper. A man like that didn’t do favors without strings attached. There must be something about the case Quentin didn’t want to come to light. Might be something that would embarrass the family. But it might be something that would point to another culprit in what happened to Jesse.

* * *

“What doyou mean there’s only a hundred dollars in the account?” Melender stared at the bank teller as a knot hardened in her stomach.

The teller, a young man wearing a powder-blue dress shirt with a magenta tie whose name plate identified him as Marvin Demaris, visibly wilted at her question, making Melender realize that she’d shouted at him.

“Sorry.” She rubbed her forehead, then reached into her purse. “Here’s the last statement I received from the bank.” She handed him the paper.

Mr. Demaris glanced at it, then back up at her. “This is dated six months ago.”

“And it shows I should have a little over twelve thousand dollars in the account.” Ruby had suggested opening a savings account with the insurance money her grandmother had bequeathed to her. Melender had readily agreed, too grieved over Sudie’s death to marvel that her grandmother had taken out a small life insurance policy on her son with the intention of leaving it to Bobby Ray’s only child.

Mr. Demaris frowned. “Let me check.” He turned to his computer.

As she waited, Melender stifled a yawn. She hadn’t slept well, her nightmarish dreams tangling her mind with images of the past. Jesse reaching his little hands toward her, a huge smile on his toddler face. Jillian and Jesse nestled against her on the porch swing as she sang mountain folk songs to them. The last time she saw Jesse, mac-and-cheese smeared on his cheeks as he sat in his highchair.

“Ah, I see what happened.” Mr. Demaris swiveled his computer screen toward Melender. He pointed to August 26. “You transferred $12,850 on Monday.”

Melender gasped. “No, I didn’t.”

“That’s what happened.”

“Where did the transfer go?” Her head began to ache as her stomach clenched tighter.

“Let’s see.” The teller moved the monitor back into place in front of him and clicked a few keys, then narrowed his eyes.

She crossed her arms on the ledge and leaned her weight forward. The wall clock read 4:15. Maybe she should try to take a quick nap before clocking in at seven. Her mind drifted to Brogan. He’d texted her yesterday that he would be meeting with Quentin this morning but hadn’t indicated when he might call her with any updates on his progress.

“Ms. Harman, your account co-owner made the transfer.”

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