That was it. She returned to her husband’s side, and Killian took over the podium again. As a reporter shouted a question, Killian held up a hand to say, “Not now.”
“I have another significant development to report today,” he said. “In the same location where we discovered the body of Shannon Blaine, we found the remains of two other individuals, which appear to have been there for a considerable period of time.”
All around me, people exclaimed in shock and disbelief.
“As of yet, we have not identified those bodies,” Killian added, tapping the air with his hands to shush the crowd, “and I don’t intend to waste my time or yours speculating. We will keep you informed as the investigationprogresses. Since the volunteer center will be closing, all future press conferences on this case will be held at the municipal center.”
What followed was a blizzard of questions, reporters wanting to know who owned the building, whether the killer could have worked there at some point, if there was any possible connection between Shannon and the other bodies, and so on. It wouldn’t take long for people to link the news to the disappearance of the two campers years ago.
Though Killian disclosed that the property was owned by the Catholic church, he blunted most of the other questions with an “I’m not at liberty to discuss at this time.”
So far, no one was picking up fully on the religious angle, but why would they? They hadn’t heard what the caller had said to me, and as far as they knew, the retreat center had been selected as a dump site simply because the killer had known it was abandoned.
As Killian prepared to finish, I scanned the parking lot for the Claibornes. They’d slipped away from the front and were making a beeline for an SUV. I snaked my way out of the crowd and hurried in their direction.
“Kelly, I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said softly, as our paths intersected.
“Thank you,” she muttered. She seemed to be holding it together, but her face was as white as candle wax.
“I’m not sure the police have told you this yet, but I was one of the two journalists who found Shannon’s body.”
“You? Are you the one who got the tip?”
“Yes, that was me. Kelly, do you recall giving my businesscard to anyone, or seeing someone pick it up from the table where you were sitting?”
She squinted, clearly trying to focus.
“I did leave it on the table but—I don’t recall anyone picking it up.”
So one of the volunteers or someone posing as a volunteer could have easily grabbed it.
“I know you need to get home to your family, but is there anything you can tell me about the retreat center? Did—did Shannon ever go on retreat there when it was in operation?”
“Look, my wife’s in no shape to be answering questions at the moment,” Doug said. With his tanned skin, sandy hair, and light brown eyes, he vaguely resembled a pair of chinos. He ushered Kelly into the car and then slid into the driver’s seat.
I spun around, hoping I still had time to catch Nolan, but he was already in his own vehicle, nosing out of the lot. I’d have to pay him a follow-up visit at the parish house. I wanted to learn what he knew about the Sunset Bay Retreat Center, and also pump him for more details about Shannon’s return to the church.
I glanced over to where I’d been standing earlier. The sheriff had backed away from the podium and the crowd was breaking apart, some people appearing shell-shocked, others looking fearful as they whispered frantically to each other. Alice spotted me and held up her hand, fingers splayed, suggesting we should talk in five minutes. I used the time to listen to the message from Kayla. She clearly thought I was a prospective buyer because she couldn’t have sounded friendlier, and when I returned the phone call two seconds later, sheanswered with the same pep in her voice. I introduced myself and said I wanted to talk to her about Amy Hunt.
“I don’t get it,” she said, her tone suddenly cool. “Why now, after all this time?”
“I’d like to learn more about the case for another story I’m doing,” I said. “I don’t know a lot about Amy’s situation, but it sounds as if the authorities didn’t pay enough attention to her disappearance.”
“Enough? Try zilch.”
“I’d love to meet you and discuss it.”
“Uh, sure, okay. I’ll be at work by ten tomorrow, so I could meet you at the dealership then. It’s not super busy in the morning.”
She provided the address and signed off. I spotted Alice heading toward me, zigzagging through departing cars.
“You wanna grab a bite at Jake’s after we both file?” she asked, reaching me. It was the restaurant where we’d had our first, very stilted conversation.
“Absolutely, but could you give me an hour and a half?”
“You bet.”
I drove back to the Breezy Point and quickly updated the draft of my post with details from the press conference. I forwarded it to Dodson and asked if there was anything else he needed from me, since the story up here had exploded.
