Melick to the short list, followed by Detective William Keys, although they could both be dead by now.
Naomi had been in the library longer than she'd realized. Three of the stations had been vacated while she did her research. The girl was gone. Just one elderly woman was left in the last one, perhaps researching her ancestry, which in a way was what she herself was doing. Although her ultimate purpose was different.
Armed with her notes, and copies of the news items that had run in the Tribune during the investigation, Naomi left the library and drove to the faded red brick building on Corona Street which housed the River's End Tribune.
Someone must know something, and there was only one way to find out.
Chapter Eight
"Good story," Editor-in-Chief Len Hayward said, leaning back in his chair far enough to make it squeak. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he studied Naomi over his bifocals. "You sure you want me to run it?" One scraggly salt and pepper eyebrow raised slightly.
"Of course I'm sure, that's why I'm here. I realize it happened a long time ago, but...."
"Twenty-eight years ago."
"I know that. But cold cases have been solved before. Someone might know something. Maybe someone saw something and chose for one reason or another not to come forward at the time. From what I've read of the case, there sure wasn't a big push to solve it. It seems a Native girl was not all that important a loss."
He nodded slowly, brought the chair forward with another hard squeak, picked up a pen and twirled it in his hand, his eyes never leaving her. "I knew your mom—your adopted mother, Lillian Waters. Not well, mind you, but we were acquainted. You realize, of course, you'll quickly go from being the daughter of a respected nurse and labour leader to being a child born as the result of a vicious rape on a Native girl."
Heat flooded Naomi's neck and face. His words brought a sting of shame at her very existence, something only her Aunt Edna had ever been able to make her feel. Was this how certain people made Mary Rose feel?
Her reaction wasn't lost on him. "Please, don't be upset, Miss Waters. I didn't say I felt that way. But bigotry still exists in this town, and anyone who thinks it doesn't is dreaming." His voice had softened. "I assure you, I don't. We're all children of God, if he's up there at all, and I have my own issues with that. But you need to know what you're up against. Your mother guarded you against the circumstances of your birth for good reason."
With that, the big man, in dark rumpled pants and rolled-up shirt sleeves, got to his feet, and motioned to someone outside the glass cubicle. Turning his attention back to her, he swept a hand over thinning hair.
"I'm happy to run your story, Ms. Waters. Why not? It's got all the elements that sell newspapers sex, violence, even a minor celebrity angle considering your mother was well-known in River's End, and you yourself are not an unknown quantity. In fact, you're my granddaughter's favourite books-on-tape narrator. She'd kill me if I didn't get an autograph." He pushed a sheet of paper across the desk at her. "Emily," he said, smiling. "She looked you up on the net so I recognized you from your picture."
She addressed it To Emily, wrote a brief note, signed her name and passed it back to him.
He folded the paper and slid it into the pocket of his brown Columboesque trench coat hanging on a rack by the door. "I just wonder if you're prepared for the fallout, that's all."
"To be honest, I didn't give the matter much thought beyond finding her killers," she said. Now that she did she knew just the briefest hesitation, and felt cowardly for it. "She deserves some justice," she said with a sudden welling of anger. "It's right that I should be the one to try to get that justice for her."
Len Hayward shrugged an okay, then gestured to someone walking by the glass cubicle office.
The door opened and Naomi turned to see a bearded man in
Naomi had been in the library longer than she'd realized. Three of the stations had been vacated while she did her research. The girl was gone. Just one elderly woman was left in the last one, perhaps researching her ancestry, which in a way was what she herself was doing. Although her ultimate purpose was different.
Armed with her notes, and copies of the news items that had run in the Tribune during the investigation, Naomi left the library and drove to the faded red brick building on Corona Street which housed the River's End Tribune.
Someone must know something, and there was only one way to find out.
Chapter Eight
"Good story," Editor-in-Chief Len Hayward said, leaning back in his chair far enough to make it squeak. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he studied Naomi over his bifocals. "You sure you want me to run it?" One scraggly salt and pepper eyebrow raised slightly.
"Of course I'm sure, that's why I'm here. I realize it happened a long time ago, but...."
"Twenty-eight years ago."
"I know that. But cold cases have been solved before. Someone might know something. Maybe someone saw something and chose for one reason or another not to come forward at the time. From what I've read of the case, there sure wasn't a big push to solve it. It seems a Native girl was not all that important a loss."
He nodded slowly, brought the chair forward with another hard squeak, picked up a pen and twirled it in his hand, his eyes never leaving her. "I knew your mom—your adopted mother, Lillian Waters. Not well, mind you, but we were acquainted. You realize, of course, you'll quickly go from being the daughter of a respected nurse and labour leader to being a child born as the result of a vicious rape on a Native girl."
Heat flooded Naomi's neck and face. His words brought a sting of shame at her very existence, something only her Aunt Edna had ever been able to make her feel. Was this how certain people made Mary Rose feel?
Her reaction wasn't lost on him. "Please, don't be upset, Miss Waters. I didn't say I felt that way. But bigotry still exists in this town, and anyone who thinks it doesn't is dreaming." His voice had softened. "I assure you, I don't. We're all children of God, if he's up there at all, and I have my own issues with that. But you need to know what you're up against. Your mother guarded you against the circumstances of your birth for good reason."
With that, the big man, in dark rumpled pants and rolled-up shirt sleeves, got to his feet, and motioned to someone outside the glass cubicle. Turning his attention back to her, he swept a hand over thinning hair.
"I'm happy to run your story, Ms. Waters. Why not? It's got all the elements that sell newspapers sex, violence, even a minor celebrity angle considering your mother was well-known in River's End, and you yourself are not an unknown quantity. In fact, you're my granddaughter's favourite books-on-tape narrator. She'd kill me if I didn't get an autograph." He pushed a sheet of paper across the desk at her. "Emily," he said, smiling. "She looked you up on the net so I recognized you from your picture."
She addressed it To Emily, wrote a brief note, signed her name and passed it back to him.
He folded the paper and slid it into the pocket of his brown Columboesque trench coat hanging on a rack by the door. "I just wonder if you're prepared for the fallout, that's all."
"To be honest, I didn't give the matter much thought beyond finding her killers," she said. Now that she did she knew just the briefest hesitation, and felt cowardly for it. "She deserves some justice," she said with a sudden welling of anger. "It's right that I should be the one to try to get that justice for her."
Len Hayward shrugged an okay, then gestured to someone walking by the glass cubicle office.
The door opened and Naomi turned to see a bearded man in
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