Canaan Camp

Chapter Seventeen

Close To Home

Rural Hawthorn County, 5:20 PM

          Dimmed by a stagnant haze, the sun could be look at directly.  Even the dark spots blemishing its surface could be seen, recalling the sci-fi paperbacks Richard had devoured as a kid.  He thought idly about the virtually eternal hell-fire fusion there that made life on the skin of his planet possible.  The light-colored asphalt curled to the right before descending into a darkening wooded valley.  Spider veins of drizzled tar filling the cracks and weathered seams of the road surface patterned it like the back of huge serpent.  Such thoughts and images came often to him during his ceaseless retracing of the county's familiar roads.

          He slowed preparing to investigate a pop-up camper parked on the almost non-existent shoulder, but the car pulling it gave the proper signal and crawled back onto the road in front of him.  He was considering whether he should give the tourist a warning for the careless maneuver, when the radio came alive.

211.

          "Okay, guys and gals, listen up."

          Richard shook his head at the unconventional manner of the dispatcher.  Shug had justified the procedure with his typical common sense.

           "Anyone interested enough to listen to a scanner knows the codes anyway, so who are we going to fool?" 

           "Be on the look out for a late model dark blue, maybe black van, possibly with Missouri plates.  Suspect is a tall, well-built white male in his late twenties or early thirties---short dark hair and wearing blue jeans and light blue long sleeved shirt.  Attempted abduction near the college.  Van last seen going east on Middleton.  Be advised, suspect is armed, and has fired on civilians."

          Richard's first thought was that he hadn't seen a van even vaguely matching the description.  His second was that it was Paget.  His shift was nearly over and he wanted to get the campus as soon as possible.  He keyed the mic.

           "Carter," he said quickly.  "I'm on D about half way between Singletree and the W junction.  No sign of such a van, but I'll run from here back to town on the lookout."

           "Negative, Richard.  Shug wants all deputies on the road until further notice." 

 

Blue Creek Campus, 7:30 PM

          When she came down the steps from the library, Jill was surprised to see Richard still in uniform and sitting on the hood of his car.

           "I thought you were supposed to get off at five-thirty," she said.  "You had to work late?"

           "A little," he said, sliding off the car to put an arm around her.  "I thought I'd come in and pick you up."

           "And what did you think we would do with my car?"

           "Let campus security to take care of it until morning," he said, relieving her of the heavy valise she always lugged back and forth to work.

           "That would be Mr. Love.  He has other things to do I think."

           "We're eating out tonight---that is if you don't mind being seen with a man in uniform."

           "Dining with my husband for a change would be nice."

          He opened the door for her.  "I guess you heard about the attack today?"

212.

           "No!  What happened?"

           "Someone tried to force a girl into his vehicle just off campus around four-thirty.  You didn't hear?"

           "I've been in the library since four.  Who was she?"

           "Stephanie Dobbs, a sophomore at the college.  Know her?"

          Jill shook her head.  "And you think it is Paget of course.  Did he hurt her?"

           "No.  Let's get going and I'll tell you about it."

          Jill finally processed the meaning of what he had said.

           "Should you not be trying to find him?"

           "I am.  I told Shug I didn't want you driving home alone, so he said I could patrol the streets near campus until you got off.  I though we could grab some fast food and . . . you could ride with me for awhile." 

          Like many rural deputies, Richard owned his own car.  The police package had been added at county expense.  The thinking was that it was good for the sheriff's department to be seen as often as possible.  Even when not on duty, the deputies were on call.  Although not regular procedure, family members often rode as passengers, but taking Jill along on patrol was definitely more than bending the rules.

           "You may get into trouble again," she said.

           "I'll risk it."

          She could see there was no use arguing with him.  "How did it happen?"

           "I'm not clear on that.  All I know is that a couple of guys came along just as he was trying to force her into his van."

           "How sure are you that it was Paget?"

           "My gut's certain.  My head not so much.  Tanner and the rest of the feds think he has to be in Oregon.  So maybe he's our killer, and maybe he's a local, but the girl's description sounds like Paget.  Her rescuers descriptions don't match what she remembers.  Eyewitnesses are notoriously unreliable---ironic because it's the most believable testimony in court.  Maybe she saw his picture on television and remembered more than she actually saw."

           "Productive rather than reproductive memory," she mused.  "The mind is a powerful pattern finder.  We are built to make sense of sensation."

           "Yeah.  Well under fire the mechanism tends to malfunction.  I haven't read the statements yet, but I was told that both the guys described the attacker as a big man, and one said was blond."

213.

           "How could that be?"

           "Same reason they didn't get a license plate.  They were too busy eating dirt."

           "Stop with the American idioms."

           "He shot at them.  That tends to distract a person.  They dove for cover and weren't in any hurry to stick the heads up for a second look."

          She nodded thoughtfully.

           "How he approached her?"

           "I don't know.  At some point he used a gun trying to force her into his van.  I haven't read her statement."

           "If he tried to charm her first then I think it was Paget," she said.

 

          Richard forgot about dinner as they discussed the incident and scoured miles of rural blacktop looking for the van.  When Jill noticed that all dusk to dawn lights had disappeared, she asked where they were going.

           "Through Mark Twain and on up to Mountain View."

           "I thought the national forest was in the eastern part of the county."

           "Bits and pieces of it are all over the place," he said, concentrating on the curving two-lane and keeping an eye out for deer.  "If he's going to Mountain View he'd have a better a chance of avoiding detection this way than on 60.  Cathy Howard's car was left there, so maybe that's where he's been staying."

           "What he did today is different, isn't it?"

           "He's starting to lose it.  This was high-risk, foolish."

           "He's more dangerous," she said.  "Now nothing will scare him away.  That's why you picked me up tonight."

           "It was just off campus.  That's too damned close."

          Sobered, they drove in silence for a while.

           "Still hungry?" he asked.

           "Actually, yes.  When does your shift end, or will it?"

           "Technically I'm already off.  What say we swing by the Scottish restaurant over there."

           "Scottish?  What do they serve?  Haggis?"

214.

          "If they do, I'll pass.  Can you and the kid handle a Big Mac?"

 

          While ordering, Richard looked for the young man he had talked to the night he found the car.  He didn't see him.

           "Your order, Sir," announced a tired teenager doing her best to sound appropriately perky.

           "Miss, I spoke with a young man who works here---or he did work here back in May," he said.  "I'd like to speak with him again if he's here."

           "About that guy who killed all those people?  Cool beans," she said obviously delighted to be even a small part of the drama.  "Vernon's not here anymore.  He's taking summer classes at SEMO."

           "Would your manager a number where I could reach him?"

           "He quit, so I doubt it.  He's living in a dorm I think.  Wait a minute.  Barb will know.  She's his girlfriend."

          The girl went to the window separating the cooking and ordering areas.

           "Hey, Barb!  Come here!" 

          A moment later a tall, dark-haired girl with a square jaw and a serious demeanor came from the back.

           "Barb," this guy's a sheriff.  He wants to talk to Vernon about that killer guy."

           "I'm a little busy now.  If you take your order to a table I'll be back out as soon as I'm finished."

          Being summarily dismissed irked him, but before he could say anything, Jill tugged at his arm.

           "Let's sit for a moment," she said.

 

          A good fifteen minutes later the young lady finally emerged from the kitchen.

           "Why do you need to talk to Vernon again?" she asked, not at all awed by the situation.

           "It was something he said back in May that I need to clear up," replied Richard.  "Do you have his phone number?"

           "He's living in Myers Hall," she said with a voice to match her cool demeanor.

          Tearing off an order blank she printed a phone number in neat evenly spaced numerals and handed it to him.

           "Could you tell me Vernon's last name?" he asked.

          She arched a thick eyebrow critically at what she obviously thought was his professional ineptitude.

215.

           "Walker.  Vernon Walker.  Do you want me to spell it for you?"

           "No.  I think I've got it.  Thank you, Miss."

          She nodded her dismissal and turned back to the kitchen.  Jill suppressed a laugh, but smiled broadly as they passed through the double glass doors to the parking lot.  Finally, she succumbed to the laughter she had been holding back.

           "She was not impressed with you, dear."

           "I don't impress many people," he said.  "Don't guess it would do me much good to run for sheriff when Shug retires."

           "I would vote for you," she said, taking his arm.  "Can we go home now?  I have to work to do."

           "You haven't finished your burger."

           "It is monstrous.  I can eat no more.  I will wrap it up for later."

           "Richard," she said when they were back in the car.  "Why do you need to talk to that young lady's boyfriend again?"

           "He was working a double shift the day Paget left the car over there," he said, nodding toward the mall lot.  "We have a newer sketch of Paget that I'd like him to look at.  And I'd also like to ask about other people who came into the restaurant that day."

           "Why?"

           "I'm not sure.  It's just a little tickle.  Probably doesn't mean anything."

 

          They took highway 60 back.  On the way Jill frowned as they passed a professionally lettered sign.

           "What an odd logo for a church," she said.  "It has a one of those old-fashioned camper trailer things with a big ‘W' on it."

           "Doc told me the Wilderness Church---that's what the Canaan campers call themselves---started with a bunch of Airstream trailers.  They used to wander around the country from campground to campground.  Pretty eccentric, huh?"

           "I have seen that somewhere else," she said, searching her memory.

           "They've got it painted on their trucks."

           "Yes.  And on bumper stickers too," she said, suddenly remembering where she had seen the image.  "That nice man who helped me at the service station must be one of their members.  I suppose he was practicing what they preach."

           "Doc says the more traditional sects around here don't give them credit for being real Christians, but I guess they're at least good Samaritans."

 

Blue Creek, June 20

          Richard had just taken his second cup to the back porch when Jill came outside, toweling her hair and wearing only a bath towel.

216.

          "Barefoot and pregnant," he observed.  "All's right with my world."

          She ignored his pseudo-chauvinism.

           "Richard, if Paget was the attacker yesterday then he has been here all along.  So why did he go to Oregon and then come back?"

          Thinking about Paget as soon as he got up was usual for Richard, but that Jill should do so bothered him.

           "Maybe he's just got a good hiding place."

           "Someone is aiding him?"

           "Maybe he's got someone like Cathy Howard again.  He could easily be hiding out in an empty vacation cabin or even an abandoned trailer.  They're all over the place.  Having another captive would explain the van though."

           "He could have just stolen it."

           "But nothing's been reported.  It's just speculation, but he could have taken it from someone just passing through."

          If that were the case then there were more victims, more bodies to be discovered.  He decided not to share the thought.

           "Jill, let me pick you up again this afternoon." he said.

           "I will be perfectly safe at the campus.  My car is parked right in front of the library and I will leave well before dark."

           "You're not driving by yourself until we catch the attacker, whoever he is."

           "I am careful.  Besides he would be foolish to try anything near the college again so soon."

           "Don't ague with me," he said sharply.

          The surprise on her face made him realize at once that he had crossed the line.

"Jill, I need you to do this.  I'd be out of my mind worrying about you.  Please let's do it this way."

           "Okay.  But please do not use that tone of voice with me again."

 

          Once Jill was safely at campus, Richard phoned Myers Hall at the SEMO campus.  Vernon Walker had already gone to class, so he left his name and number with a request to call back.  Restless, he fidgeted around the house until nine-fifteen and then went to the department.  On his way to the inner office, he checked with Betty and learned there was nothing new on the van.  When he knocked at the door, its opaque glass rattled it in its enclosure.

           "Come on in," called Shug.

217.

            He frowned when he saw Richard.  "What's the opposite of prodigal, Carter?"

           "You mean like in prodigal son?"

           "That would be the reference.  You're my only deputy who hasn't mastered the fine art of wasting company time?  You got the day off, remember?"

           "I'm off the clock.  Just thought I'd drop in and talk shop if you got the time."

           "Nothing on the van yet.  I can't imagine it being stolen locally and no one reporting it."

          Shug levered himself from his squeaky swivel chair.  "Coffee?"

           "Been through two pots already," said Richard, waving him off.

          Shug looked askance at him as he filled his own mug.  "You jumped on the idea that it was Paget from the get go.  Why couldn't this be a copycat, a home grown creep inspired by all Paget's mayhem in Arkansas?"

           "Because that's a more complicated explanation.  I say we go with Paget until some fact eliminates him."

           "Keep an open mind, Carter."

           "That's what Tanner keeps telling me.  Can I look at the report on the attempted abduction?"

           "Why not?  You're heading up the Huck Finn Task Force."

          For a moment Richard thought he was serious.

           "Isn't that all we need?" continued the sheriff.  "If reporters hear us say something like that, we'd have a real circus.  By the way, we asked the Dobbs girl if she saw the new sketch of Paget on TV.  She said she he didn't look like that."

          Richard frowned. 

           "You got some ideas you'd like to bounce off the cracker sheriff?"

           "We should show her the actual sketch.  Let me read the statements first and then talk to you about it---that is, I'd like to do that."

           "Sure.  I've got an open mind," said Shug pointedly.

          Richard took the case file into the outer office and read over the statements taken from Stephanie Dobbs and her two rescuers.  With minor differences, the stories meshed except for the descriptions of the attacker.  She described the man who had tried to force her in the van as tall, strong, dark, and good looking.  One of the men gave no description at all, while the other thought the attacker had light brown or blond hair.  The discrepancy was typical for eyewitnesses to unexpected violence.

          What interested him most was the woman's story.  She described her attacker as "charming," so much so that she had almost gotten into his van of her own accord.  She had even made arrangements to meet him later at a bar.  He only turned violent when she refused to get in.  The behavior dovetailed what Cathy Howard had said about Paget.

          How long did you wait to do this after you killed those people in Oregon?  Ten days or so?  You're coming apart at the seams, Bobby Lee Paget.

218.

           He took the statements back to Shug's office.

           "The behavior she describes fit with what Paget did when he kidnapped the woman from Elsinore," he said.

           "Yeah," said Shug.  "I noticed that, but the way our guy seems to come and go as he pleases means that he's got a place to stay and transportation that doesn't raise eyebrows.  That sounds like a county resident, not some berserk drifter."

           "He's got a good place to hide.  That's for sure."

          Richard suddenly thought of a place where Paget could be staying where people might be paying little attention to the recent havoc in the county.

           "You checked out that church camp yourself.  How sure are you---"

           "He's not there, Carter," said Shug tiredly.  "You know, I'd take offense at that question if I didn't know you flunked diplomacy one-o-one.  Just being thorough, huh?  That's your usual excuse for irritating people."

          Shively rocked back in the chair as if to get up, then settled back.

           "No.  You're right to ask.  I know he's not in there because I know the guy that told me he wasn't.  Before he decided to join up with them, Kenny Phillips was a regular guy, a member of the community here.  He was---still is---a friend of mine.  He's good people.  I've never known him to lie, and he sure wouldn't about something like this."

          Richard nodded, still not altogether convinced.

           "Now you listen to me," said Shug.  "I know this."

           "Well if he is out there it would explain a lot."

           "Why do you think it was one of the first places I checked?  As isolated as they are it would be a great place to hide, at least for a while.  Kenny said no one new had shown up at the camp."

           "I wouldn't think he'd go there," said Richard, "But I keep remembering that he has a remarkable ability to gain people's trust."

          Shug nodded.  "You go out there if you have a good reason---I mean other than a hunch.  Do you?"

219.

          "Nothing other than just not knowing of anywhere better to look."

 

          Richard tried to think of a plausible justification for going out to talk with Ken Phillips again, but couldn't come up with anything that he thought would fly with his boss.  Back at the car, he saw that it was eleven-thirty, so he decided to pick Jill up for lunch.  On the way he reminded himself to think about the baby and family things instead of the case.  He might as well have decided to stop breathing.

 

           "It all comes down to the same two questions," he continued as they waited for their orders to arrive.  "Where has he been staying?  And where did he get his transportation?"

           "In Oregon he disappeared into that militia place.  Shane Sanders virtually disappeared when he went to the church camp.  Could he not have gone there?"

           "I've been thinking the same thing," he said, not really surprised that she had considered the same thing he had.  "But Cathy Howard says church stuff really sets him off.  Tanner says that fitting in isn't really his thing, and I think you'd have to do that in a place like that especially if you wanted to stay any length of time."

           "As a working hypothesis, it accounts for everything:  his transportation, his invisibility, and why the bodies were left where they were."

          It seemed surreal that Jill was discussing it so dispassionately.

           "Well we've got a great theory," he said.  "But Shug checked it out right after we found the car over at Mountain View.  He has an old friend out there who told him that no one had come into the camp for over a month."

          Jill sipped her tea thoughtfully.  "When you go out there talk to Shane.  I want to know how he is."

           "What makes you think I'm going out there?"

           "I know you."

           "Right.  But Shug kind of told me to have something more than a hunch before bothering them.  Maybe I can talk him into letting me show the updated sketch around to the folks in there and kind of appeal to their community spirit or something."

           "There's a new picture of him?"

           "From a sketch artist out in Oregon.  It's run on the TV news."

            "I haven't seen it," she said as she finished her salad.  "But with a whole community like that, surely someone there would have seen it.  So why have they not contacted the authorities?"

220.

            "Maybe they consider all us outsiders infidels."

            "I think you should go see.  And you should talk to several people, not just this man that Sheriff Shively knows.  The first rule of research is never to rely on just one source."

            "Verify, verify, verify."

            "Exactly."

 

           Richard spent that afternoon at the Assessor's Office looking up the tangible property that the Wilderness Church, as a corporation, had to file with Hawthorn County in December.  The list of twenty vehicles didn't include a van.  He emerged from the echoing dark enclosure of the old stone building into the afternoon heat of the usual "June drought," squinted at his watch, and saw that it was time for Jill to get off.

 

           Jill worked at the cutting board while he peeled boiled eggs.

            "Of course they could have bought the van later," he said.  "I'll check DMV tomorrow."

            "For arguments sake," he continued.  "Let's say he has been staying there.  How did he get in?  Do you just walk up to the gate and ask to join?"

            "Perhaps.  Religions always want converts."

            "But how did he get here from Mountain View without a car?"

           He dropped the last egg in a bowl and wiped his hands.

            "Where's the phone?"

            "In the living room.  Who are you going to call?"

            "Doc.  He seems to know more about those people than anyone else does."

           He left the kitchen.

            "Jill, where in the living room," he called.

            "You're a detective," she said with a laugh.

            "I'm a road deputy," he answered with a laugh of his own as he snatched the phone from atop the TV.

221.

             He punched in the number as he opened the screen door onto the deck.

            "Doc?"

            "Ah, my erstwhile head case.  What can I do for you, Richard?"

            "I was hoping you could tell me something about the recruiting practices of the Wilderness Church?"

            "Seen the light, huh?"

            "I'm serious.  I need to know how they go about collecting members."

            "Do you know how many politically incorrect assumptions you're voicing?"

            "Forgive my insensitivity and help me out here."

            "Word of mouth, I think.  I know they send people to talk when someone shows interest."

            "High pressure sales pitch?"

            "You mean like the usual subtlety:  ‘You're gonna go to Hell if you don't change your ways.'  I don't know.  They've never proselytized me."

            "Well do you know if they recruit at large---accost the general public."

             "I've never been accosted.  As far as I know, none of them ever leave camp except for business purposes, or for buying supplies, or if someone asks them for, I guess you'd call it an interview.  Old Joshua's people only go where they're invited."

             "Have you seen any of their recruiters?"

             "I think ‘missionaries' is the proper term," Hoag corrected.  "Yes, I have.  Why?"

             "What do they look like?"

             "Like ordinary people.  Which, by the way, is what they are."

             "No special dress or anything like that?"

             "You mean like a uniform or a robe of something?  No.  Joshua wants them to be seen as a big happy family composed of ordinary people, not as a collection of odd balls.  The women stick to the middle of the fashion spectrum.  You won't find body piercing, odd jewelry, or revealing clothes, but you'd never mistake them for Mennonites or Pentecosts.  Why are you so interested?"

             "A couple of his missionaries were at the McDonald's over at Mountain View the day Paget was there.  I'm thinking maybe they brought him back to their camp.  It would be a perfect place for him to hide."

            After a moment Hoag spoke again.  "If you have to bother those good people, Richard, try to remember that they deserve the same respect as any other church."

222.

             "I'm religiously unaffiliated, Doc."

             "Which does not preclude you being a bigot."

            The retort was beyond Hoag's usual bluntness.

             "How did I put your tail in a twist?" asked Richard.

             "I'm just sick of the God-fearing Christians around here spreading lies and trying their best to make these people feel like they don't belong here," said Hoag.

             "Well, I don't care about them one way or the other.  So if you're through going off on me, I'd like to ask you another question."

             "Like what?"

             "Well, as someone trained in psychology---"

            Hoag snorted.  "I did a residence in neurosurgery too.  Want me to open up your skull and putter around in there?"

            The facetious barb meant his friend's mood was improving to mere crankiness.

             "As one more trained in psychology than you average flatfoot, give me your opinion on Paget's chances of fitting in out there."

             "You're serious?"

             "It's a serious question."

             "You're going to pester me all night if I don't give it a go, right?  Okay.  First a disclaimer:  I probably don't know what the hell I'm talking about, so if you act on what I say and end up with your tail in crack, it's your own damned fault."

             "So stipulated."

             "Two questions then, not one.  First, could Paget fit in?  In a religious community everyone but the high muckety-mucks subordinates himself to the whole.  He would not be a muckety-muck, and probably lacks the discipline to subordinate himself to any group for any length of time.  Anti-social types don't do long-term stuff.  No stable relationships of steady jobs---it's the reason they wash out of the military."

             "They can't put up with crap?" suggested Richard.

             "For a few days maybe," said Hoag, pausing to yawn.  "But there's a more basic question:  could he make them think he's a true believer?  I would say that he could, but only for a short time.  Church people want to be fooled.  Scratch that.  They want to believe it when someone says they've seen the light.  So, he could be accepted, but it wouldn't be a stable situation.  Oh, and there's one other thing.  All the hard physical labor they do out there---that's probably not his thing."

             "He's been doing plenty of his thing if these bodies and the attack the other day was his work," said Richard.

             "Well I gave you a theoretical answer.  Now I'm going to give you my opinion.  Paget may be in the area, but Canaan Camp is a stretch because they don't just come and go as they please.  Old Joshua runs the place like a monastery.  A new convert would never have that kind of freedom." 

223.

             "Doc, I appreciate your help.  Mind if I ask you one more question?"

             "Probably can't stop you."

             "How do you come to know so much about the Wilderness Church?"

             "I'm a student of human nature," he said, hanging up before Richard could reply.

            He looked at the phone in surprise, and then clicked it off.

             "Did you have a dropped call?" asked Jill from the kitchen doorway.

             "Yeah.  Doc dropped me."

             "Did he clarify things for you."

             "I'm less sure of things now than I was before."

            Soon he was to be even less sure.

 

            After dinner they went out to the back porch and watched the woods dim and the first stars appear.  When mosquitoes drove them inside, they showered together.  Later, as they lay in bed, Jill pressed herself to his bare chest, molding her body to his.  He caught the light scent of her perfume and sought her lips---and then the phone rang.

Jill finally answered on the fourth ring, listened, and then handed it across.

             "This is Vernon Walker," said a young male voice.  "Is something wrong?"

             "No, Vernon," said Richard as he swung his feet out of bed and sat up.  "I'm sorry if I worried you.  I'm the deputy who talked to you the night the car was found over at Mountain View.  I need to ask a few follow-up questions."

             "I told you all I knew then."

             "I'm sure you did, but maybe I didn't pay as much attention as I should have, or maybe I didn't ask the right questions.  Could we go through it again?''

             "I suppose."

             "You said something about two men who came to the restaurant that day.  When was that?"

             "The Jehovah's Witnesses?  It was sometime in the afternoon . . . I think after four because it was around shift change.  I remember thinking that if Jeanie hadn't called in sick, I'd be off."

             "What made---"  Richard checked himself.  He had to phrase his questions so as not to encourage a particular response.  "How did you find out they were Jehovah's Witnesses?  Did they say that they were?"

             "I guess I just assumed they were," replied the boy defensively.  "There were two of them, and they always go out in pairs, don't they?  Or is that Mormons?"

224.

             "And you said you overheard them talking to someone?"

             "Yeah.  They were trying to convert him."

             "Did you hear them say anything in particular?"

             "When I took them their drinks, I heard one say that he should go with them."

             "Where?" asked Richard, his pulse quickening.

             "I didn't hear that part."

             "Okay, Vernon.  Did you get a good enough look at the one they were talking to describe him for me?" he asked gently, trying to rein in his excitement.

            The young man laughed.  "Yeah.  He's about nineteen, kind of chubby, real pale complexion.  It was Johnny Harmon."

            Richard felt the sudden deflation as his promising lead evaporated into the common place of coincidence and misperception.

             "You know him," he said dejectedly.

             "Sure.  He comes in all the time."

            He ended the call quickly, then fell back on his pillow, and squeezed his eyes shut.

             "So much for that."

             "So it was someone he knew," said Jill.  "What was that about Jehovah's Witnesses?"

            He shook his head.  "Doesn't matter.  It's a tangent.  It has nothing to do with Paget.  Man!  I thought it was all coming together.  Missionaries from the Wilderness Church took Paget to their camp."

            She propped herself on her elbow.  "Richard, perhaps they spoke to Paget also and the boy did not notice."

             "Doc says they only go where they're invited as far as potential converts are concerned.  They wouldn't have known Paget from Adam."

             "That may not have made any difference," she said, sitting up and hugging her knees, an intense look upon her face.  "What do we know about him?"

            The pose made her look cute, and even younger than she was.

             "You tell me," he said, slightly amused at her manner.

             "He is adept at seizing opportunities.  He saw Cathy Howard's compassion, and faked a heart attack.  He saw that girl in Fayetteville argue and part with her boyfriend, and convinced her to go with him.  Yesterday he almost Jessica Dobbs into getting into his van."

225.

             "So, he's a good actor."

             "Very.  He correctly evaluates a situation, devises a strategy, and manipulates people into trusting him.  He overcomes their wariness with guile and perhaps charm."

             "Except for the last one."

             "She was very lucky that she came to her senses I think."

             "Okay," he said.  "So you're thinking he overheard these guys talking, and found a way to convince them to take him with them."

             "It is possible."

             "So even though Shug told me that his friend says Paget never came there, I should go and verify that."

             "We still do not know that Paget is the one who did all these terrible things, but you must."

            That she still wasn't convinced that Paget was in the area surprised him.

             "Then you were talking hypothetically a moment ago?"

             "Of course.  We have verified nothing yet."