Page 41 of The Summer Guests

“I’ve known him for a few years now,” said Maggie. “He’s a good man, a reliable man. A man you can always count on for help.”

“What sort of help?”

“We’re both farmers, and that’s what farmers do. We help each other round up stray livestock, repair fences, pool our eggs for sale. I have never seen him lash out in violence, against people or animals. He adores his granddaughter, and she adores him.”

“And that’s why you believe he’s innocent.”

“Yes, I do.” Maggie looked at Jo, who sat stiffly in her chair. “You know Luther, too, Jo. Do you really believe he hurt that girl?”

“It doesn’t matter what she believes,” said Alfond. “Zoe’s blood was found on the passenger seat in his truck.”

“How much blood?”

“Enough to show up when they sprayed it with luminol.”

“So only trace amounts.”

“Because he probably tried to clean it up. We also have surveillance video from the Bluefin restaurant. It showed his truck going down the same stretch of Route One where the girl’s backpack was found.”

He was talking about the footage that Declan and Maggie had shared with Jo. And now they were using it against Luther.

“That footage doesn’t prove anything,” Maggie said. “Hundreds of other vehicles drive that same stretch of road every day. And Luthersaidhe went to Augusta. That’s the road he would have taken.”

“Then there’s the issue of where he actuallydidgo. His cell phone data tells us he only passed through Augusta. But then he kept going. All the way to Lewiston.”

This Maggie didn’t know. She looked at Jo, who gave a resigned nod.

“So you see why I’m not inclined to rely on your judgment regarding the character of Mr. Yount,” said Alfond. “We know he lied about where he went. What else did he lie about?” Alfond glanced at his watch and stood up. “Call me if he decides to talk,” he said to Jo.

Maggie was silent as Alfond walked out of the building. His nearly full coffee cup was still on Jo’s desk, waiting for someone else to throwit away. How nice to go through life assuming your messes would be cleaned up by someone else.

“It doesn’t look good,” Jo admitted.

“Let me talk to Luther.”

“You know I can’t do that, Maggie.”

“Alfond never needs to know. Give me just a few minutes alone with him. He trusts me. Maybe I can shake out the truth.”

Jo tapped her fingers on her desk as she considered Maggie’s request. While Jo did not know all the details about Maggie’s previous career, she did know it involved human intel, and she knew Maggie had a particular set of skills that might prove useful in this situation. She also knew that discretion was built into Maggie’s DNA and that this little breach of protocol would never reach Alfond’s ears.

“Empty your pockets,” Jo said. “Your phone stays here with me. Your watch too.”

“Seriously?”

“Do you want to see him or not?”

Sighing, Maggie took off her watch and laid it on the desk with her phone. She turned her pants pockets inside out, emptying them of two quarters and a wadded tissue. She even stood up and let Jo pat her down. Jo might be breaking the rules, but she was bloody well going to do it by the book. After confirming that Maggie had no dangerous weapons, nothing with which to commit a prison break, Jo walked her to the door leading to the detention area and unlocked it.

Maggie had never set foot in this section of the Purity Police Department, and her first impression wasneeds paint, but that was no surprise. When it came to apportioning funds from the town budget, updating the jail’s appearance was on no one’s priority list, especially when that jail consisted of only two cells. The walls were a sickly institutional green, and the paint had been chipped off and scuffed over the past half century. In a town as quiet as Purity, with so few serious crimes, these cells were probably vacant for most of the year, occupiedonly occasionally by a hell-raising tourist or a drunk driver. Seldom would they hold anything as exotic as a kidnapping suspect.

It was unfortunate that Lutherlookedthe part. He was as unkempt as always, with his wiry nest of hair and dirty fingernails. They had not allowed him to change his clothes when they arrested him, so he was still wearing his farm boots and baggy jeans. When Jo unlocked the cell, he didn’t even look up but stayed slumped on the cot, his head bowed and his shoulders sagging. As Maggie stepped into the cell, Jo swung the door shut and locked it behind her.

“You have ten minutes,” Jo said.

“That’s not long enough.”

“I’m already doing you a favor, Maggie. I’ll be back when your time’s up.”

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