“Just looking,” he said.
“Come to gawk where that young girl was found?”
“It’s hardly gawking,” he mumbled. “Do you live around here?”
“That house over there,” the man said. “Been there almost fifty years.”
“So you lived through it all when it happened,” he said. “When Rene Connors was murdered and found here?”
“I did,” the man said. “What’s your interest in it?”
He was toying with being honest. What could it hurt? Maybe he’d get some sympathy from the guy who could have some answers. Hiding who he was might not be smart.
He put his hand out. “I’m Rory Connors. Rene was my sister.”
“Austin Robinson.” They shook hands. “You looked familiar.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Yeah. I read everything I could on that case. Scared my wife and kids back then. My wife wanted to sell the house, but I said no one would buy it. It was a hard time for months, years, being here.”
“Tell me about it,” he said.
“Is this your first time back?”
“It is, since the end of the trial.”
“Are you looking for answers?”
“I am,” he said. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind talking sometime. What you remember or thought of at the time. Anything that could be different from what the police have.”
“I could,” Austin said. “The thing is, I’m not sure I can help much. I told the police everything I remembered and my mind was fresher back then. It should be on record. Bet you could get copies of that.”
“I’ve got them,” he said. But he didn’t remember Austin giving any statements. Was it possible his family hadn’t been given everything?
He wouldn’t write anything off at this point.
“Then you know what I said,” Austin said. Austin was looking around now as if he was worried someone might see them talking.
No reason to argue with the guy. “I’ll go back through it. Don’t suppose you could give me any theories you’ve had? Everyone has them.”
Austin’s eyes shifted, he moved out and looked up and down the street. Jesus, they were the only two people out right now. Did he think there were cameras in the bushes or something recording him?
“Just watch who you ask what to.”
“I’ve heard that. That the town is still skittish. I don’t understand that. My impression is they figured it was another tourist at this point.”
It was one of many theories. No one knew for sure.
“Could be,” Austin said. “Or a local who carries some power and doesn’t want this brought up again. Doesn’t want ears, eyes or mouths flapping about something they got away with.”
“Do you think that happened?” he asked.
Austin shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I think, just that many people on this street gave statements and then minded their own business. Some quieter than others when they saw the McGregor trucks coming and going. Just like they did a lot the week before your sister’s death.”
There was nothing in any of the reports about that. Why would something like that be left out if more than one person saw it?
It was the way Austin narrowed his eyes with that statement that made Rory ask, “Why? You said people in the area with power. Were locals getting threatened to not speak?”
