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Chapter 28

Amelia Harding awoke with a start. She sat up in bed and looked nervously around the room, almost expecting to see the menacing flames that had invaded her dreams. Her eyes took in her surroundings: the shabby hotel room with cheap prints on the wall, the antiquated TV bolted to a battered dresser, and the cracked vinyl easy chair in the corner with a pillow and hastily folded blanket laying on the seat. As the sleep-induced fog in her head cleared, the events of the night before came rushing back. Her house, her car, and nearly all of her worldly possessions were gone, up in flames. With a groan, she swung her feet over the side of the bed and sat on the edge, wondering how things could possible get worse.

She heard the key rattle in the lock and the hotel room door opened to reveal Charlie Quinn, drink holder with two Styrofoam cups balanced in one hand and a slightly greasy white paper sack in the other. He stepped into the room, shut the door and walked over to Amelia’s bed. He placed the bag on the nightstand and handed her one of the cups, which she accepted without a word.

“There’s creamer and sugar in the bag, if you need it,” Quinn said. Amelia was surprised at how subdued he sounded. He walked over and sat in the chair, tossing the pillow aside as he did so.

“I’m fine, thanks.” She removed the lid and took a cautious sip.

“There’s breakfast for you in there, too.”

Amelia opened the bag and peeked in.

“Donuts?”

“Well, we are cops, right?” said Quinn, the joking tone of his voice falling a little flat.

“You are. I’m not sure what my employment status is after last night,” she said gloomily.

“I called your office and spoke to Detective Gregory. He seemed quite relieved to hear that you’re OK.”

Relieved that there will be less paperwork, more likely.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Yes. You’ll be happy to know that you’re no longer a suspect in Darrow’s murder.”

“Wonderful,” she said flatly. She took one of the crullers out of the bag and took an unenthusiastic bite.

“He also thinks it would be a good idea for you to be out of the area for awhile, until this whole thing blows over. He believes what happened last night is back-lash over the publicity surrounding Darrow’s alleged wrongdoings.”

“What do you think?”

“I’m keeping an open mind.”

Amelia resisted the strong urge to throw the donut at his head.

“After everything the Mr. Woodward told you, you still think that—?”

“I said I’m keeping an open mind. My first choice of a suspect may not be correct, but I still think the cases are connected. Whether what happened last night has to do with the case or is random, I still think we need to be cautious, and I think we still need to continue our investigation.”

“Oh, sure, what have we got to lose? Oh, wait, I have nothing left to lose.” Amelia’s voice rose in anger.

A pained look crossed Quinn’s face.

“I know, and I’m sorry all this has happened to you. You don’t deserve all of this trouble. Neither did Brian. But the fact is, it has happened, and we need to find out why.”

Amelia sighed in frustration. She hated to admit that he was right.

“So what do you suggest we do?”

“I looked up the man you told me about, Gabriel Montgomery. I found his office number and called to leave a message to set up an appointment. The voice mail message provided his cell number and I called him. He’s willing to meet with us this morning at 7:30. Apparently he likes to get in the office early on Mondays and can spare half an hour.”

“I think you better meet with him without me.”

Quinn looked at her with surprise.

“Why?”

“He has no great love for the members, past and present, of the Pine Mountain Sheriff’s Office. He’d probably be much more amiable to answering questions if I wasn’t there.”

“Oh.”

“I could...show you where the building is located. It can be kind of tricky to find if you’re not familiar with the city.”

Quinn looked at her for a moment and then smiled with relief.

“Thank you, Amelia.”



Just before 7:30, Quinn and Amelia arrived at the parking garage across the street from the DCF building. Quinn quickly found an available metered space and parked his car.

“Mr. Montgomery said he’d meet me at the front door. Are you sure you don’t want to come along?”

“Trust me, it’s better this way. A few words of caution though: watch your step. Montgomery isn’t as...mellow as Mr. Woodward.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Quinn exited the garage and walked across the street to the front entrance of an imposing brick building. As soon as he arrived, the front door opened and a tall, broad-shouldered man in a slightly rumpled suit beckoned to him.

“Mr. Quinn?” His voice was soft but deep, with a slight twinge of a rural accent. Quinn walked over and nodded.

“I’m Gabriel Montgomery. Please, follow me.” Montgomery turned and led Quinn through the lobby and down a long narrow hallway. After making a left turn down another hallway, he stopped at one of the office doors and unlocked it. He flipped on the light and held the door open for Quinn.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. I need to finish copying a few things and I’ll be back.” Quinn walked into the office and sat down in one of the chairs in front of a large wooden desk. Montgomery left the door ajar and disappeared from view.

Quinn glanced around the office which was cluttered but organized. He got up and walked around, reading the degrees posted in plain frames on the wall and the certificates of service and commendation. On the wall opposite the desk he saw a framed photograph and moved closer to examine it. It was what appeared to be an informal family portrait. In the center was a middle aged couple seated on a picnic table bench. The man was thin and rangy, with thinning brown hair and blue eyes behind round wire framed glasses. He was looking at the camera with an amused expression. The woman had honey-blonde hair and dark grey eyes and was smiling happily at the camera. On the woman’s left sat a boy and a girl, late teens or early twenties, who were dressed in identical coveralls and appeared to be waving merrily. They both had the same honey blonde hair as the woman, and the girl was quite beautiful, her angelic face alight with merriment. The boy was winking at the camera and wore a mischievous grin. On the man’s right were seated a young man and woman, early to mid twenties, both with brown hair and blue eyes. The young man wore a rather serious expression but was waving at the camera as well. The young woman was smiling shyly and looking rather embarrassed by the whole situation. On the ground between the older couple’s feet was a teenaged boy with light auburn hair and blue eyes. His expression was innocent and open, with a bright smile on his face. His right hand was raised, but instead of waving it was facing palm out, fingers splayed, with the middle two fingers folded down over the palm. Seated cross-legged on the table behind the couple was another boy that Quinn recognized as a teenage Gabriel Montgomery. He too was waving at the camera, but his expression was not as cheerful as the others.

“I see you’re admiring my family, Mr. Quinn.”

Startled, Quinn turned around to find Montgomery standing behind the desk and looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“Ah, yes. It must be nice for you to have such a large family. I’m an only child, myself.”

“So am I.”

Quinn gave him a puzzled look. Montgomery walked around the desk and looked at the picture before turning back to Quinn.

“I call them ‘my family’ because they were more of a family to me than my own. I left home as soon as I was able to escape my abusive father and alcoholic mother.”

Quinn was rather shocked at Montgomery’s openness.

“I—”

“But enough about me. I understand you have some questions that you think I might be able to answer.” Montgomery walked back to his desk and sat down, an expectant expression on his face. Quinn returned to his own chair and tried to decide how to phrase his first question. He decided to get straight to the point

“Mr. Montgomery, I need to ask you some questions about the Eastman family.”

Montgomery’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he glanced up at the photograph.

“Why?”

“I understand that you knew them very well and I need some information that I think only those close to the family could provide. You were close to them, correct?”

An ironic smile crossed Montgomery’s face as he continued to stare at the photograph.

“Yes, they were like family.”

Quinn followed Montgomery’s gaze, them mentally slapped himself. He pointed to the picture.

“Those are the Eastmans?”

“Most of them.”

Quinn returned to the picture and examined it even more closely.

“Which one is Eleanor?”

“She’s not there. She borrowed my camera to take the picture. She wanted a family portrait to take with her when she went away to college in New York.”

Quinn turned back toward Montgomery and saw that his expression was now guarded.

“Do you have a picture of Eleanor?”

“Mr. Quinn, what is this all about?”

“About two weeks ago there was a family that was murdered in my town. During the course of the investigation we learned of the Eastman family murders and the similarities between the two. I’m trying to track down as much information about the two families.”

“I see. Why are you so interested in Eleanor?”

“Because she survived the first attack, but then disappeared. I thought...maybe if we could find her she could help us, tell us about what happened leading up to the attack. Maybe we can find a connection”

“I take you don’t believe that Lucas was responsible for his family’s death.”

“No, I don’t.”

Montgomery gazed at Quinn with an expression that was a mix of anger, curiosity and sadness.

“Mr. Quinn, I can tell you about most of the events in the days before the attack, and I can tell you a lot about the Eastmans, but if you’re looking for Eleanor, I would say you’re out of luck.”

“Are you saying that because you can’t help me find her, or you won’t?”

“I’m telling you that because she is dead.”

“Disappeared, yes, and declared dead, but since they never found her...”

“Oh, but they did.”

Quinn sat in stunned silence, not sure if he had heard correctly. Finally he managed to croak out a question.

“What do you mean, they did? It was my understanding that she had never been found.”

“There hasn’t been anything official put out yet. About a month ago, I saw a small piece in the local paper. I probably would have missed it myself if I hadn’t been reading carefully. It reported that a group of hunters had found a set of human remains in a ravine not far from the hospital from which Eleanor disappeared. The piece said they had been sent to the state forensic anthropologist, and the preliminary results indicated that they belonged to an 18-year old white female. She estimated that the remains had been there for over 10 years, but were too weathered and broken up to get a good idea of any injuries or cause of death. The...skull was missing, so no dental comparison could be made, and she said DNA analysis was probably not feasible.”

“So, you don’t really know...”

“Mr. Quinn...I do know. If she were still alive she would have...contacted me. This just gives more concrete proof.”

Quinn sat in stunned silence. Montgomery gazed at him for a moment and continued.

“Do you really believe that there is a connection?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And if you solve your case you will solve the Eastman murders as well?”

“I...yes, I do.”

“Then I will do what I can to answer your questions.”

Quinn struggled to recover from his shock. He sat for a moment and then withdrew a small notepad and pen from his pocket.”

“Tell me about the family. What were they like?”

Montgomery leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“They were wonderful people. They welcomed me with open arms and treated me like one of their own. They were a very close-knit family. Even when some of the older kids went off to college, they kept in touch and came home to visit often. Lucas went to a special school here in Charleston, but he came home as often as he could and the family also visited him often, especially Eleanor. They were very close.”

“How did you meet them?”

Montgomery smiled ruefully.

“As I said before, my home life was not anything out of a Norman Rockwell painting. I participated in school sports as a way to avoid being home. Because I found it difficult to study in that environment, my grades were horrible and I was in danger of getting kicked off the team. In my freshman year, my vice principal, Mr. Woodward, suggested that I join a ‘peer tutoring’ program that had been started that year by another student. He arranged for my first tutoring session with the one who started the program.” Montgomery chuckled dryly at the memory. “I expected it to be some nerdy guy with horn rims and a pocket protector. It turned out to be Eleanor Eastman.”

“So you first had contact with the family through her?”

“Yes. I worked with her for 2 weeks, and at the end of that time she said she didn’t understand why I was doing so badly. She said, ‘You’re smart, Monty, you should be doing better.’ Something about her made me want to open up, and I told her about my family. She offered to let me study at her house on the weekends, and that’s how I met the rest of the Eastmans.”

“Did you know of any problems that they had with anyone in the community? I understand there was an incident with Eleanor in high school, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Incident?”

“With another student, resulting in the injury of that student, a Jason Marshall.”

“Oh, that. Jason decided to grope her breast one day while she was walking down the hall. She slammed him into a locker and he cut his head on one of the vents. I told him not to mess with her but he apparently thought it would be fun to see her reaction. He got more than he bargained for.”

“No one was upset enough over that incident to retaliate?”

“The general consensus was that he deserved what he got. He was too embarrassed at getting his ass kicked by a ‘geek girl’ to press the issue.”

“Are there any other incidents that you remember?”

Montgomery’s expression darkened.

“Darrow.”

“Jacob Darrow, the Sheriff?”

“Yes. He liked to harass the high school kids, pull them over for no reason and issue bogus tickets. There was a rumor that sometimes he planted stuff to blackmail kids into working for him in some of his scams, but it was never proven.”

“So what happened with Darrow and the Eastmans?”

“He started following Eleanor while she was driving me home one night. He pulled her over and read her the riot act, then tried to get her to let him ‘search’. She was ready for him, and promptly recited all of the laws, regulations, cases, and judgments which justified her refusal to let him search, and then informed him that if he decided to press the issue that she would see him in court with one of her family’s lawyer friends, plus all of the other victims of his bogus stops as witnesses. Darrow was completely unprepared for someone like her, someone he couldn’t intimidate. After that incident I heard rumors of how much he hatred her and how should would ‘pay’ for embarrassing him.”

“So, after the murders, you thought...?”

“That it was Darrow, covering up his own crime? Yes, but I knew he’d never be charged. He was too powerful in the community and had too many friends that would cover for him, no matter what.”

“You do know that he was murdered a few nights ago?”

“Yes. Considering the life he led, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” Montgomery gave a derisive snort. “Lucky for me, I was in full view of multiple witnesses when it happened, otherwise I’d probably be cooling my heels in a cell.”

Quinn shifted uncomfortably in his seat and decided to change the subject.

“Do you know of any other problems? Disagreements in the family about associations with outside people, that sort of thing?”

“Nothing major.”

“But the minor things?”

Montgomery stared at Quinn for a moment before replying.

“Mrs. Eastman was not altogether happy with Eleanor’s college friends, but I never heard any outright arguments about it.”

“Why wasn’t she happy with them?”

“Well, they were all older, and some were a little...wild. Eleanor belonged to a theater group at the college, and all of her college friends belonged to it, too. She joined because she wanted something to do after classes while waiting for her mother to finish teaching. She started out just doing technical stuff, lighting, sound, special effects, that sort of thing. Some of the older students convinced her to try out for the plays and she started doing that as well. Her family wasn’t sure if that was the best use of her talents, but since it made her happy they didn’t say much.”

“Her talents?”

“Apparently she was some sort of electronics genius, but she didn’t really talk with me about that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, actually.”

Quinn studied his notes.

“You said some of her friends were a little ‘wild’? What did you mean by that?”

“There was this one time, the whole theater group decided to disguise themselves as senior citizens and see how people reacted to their appearance. One of them wrote an article for the college newspaper about ‘perceptions’. It caused all sorts of havoc, apparently. They also enjoyed testing their ‘special effects’ stuff out in public places. No harm was done, but they didn’t make any friends.”

“Special effects?”

“Stage explosions, flashpots, smoke boxes, that sort of thing. Eleanor explained that they were perfectly safe, but people tended to get nervous about that sort of thing. She thought they were overreacting.”

“Do you know the names of these people?”

“I probably have an old program somewhere at home. I could fax it to you.”

“Thanks. That would be great. You...mentioned that Eleanor was going away to New York to college. Was that a problem for the family?”

“Well, financially it wasn’t a problem. Mrs. Eastman’s brother was footing the bill, and Eleanor was going to work for him part time to get experience. The thought of a family member being so far away did not make them happy, especially Lucas, but Eleanor promised to visit as often as she could.”

“What sort of would she have been doing?”

“Her uncle owned an engineering firm, so something along those lines, I’m guessing.”

Suddenly a light went on in Quinn’s head. An engineering firm...

“What was your impression of him? Would you say that he was close to the family?”

“I only met the man once, but Mrs. Eastman told me that he and Eleanor got along better than anyone ever expected. Apparently he was rather distant with everyone but her.”

Quinn looked at his watch. Their time was almost up, but he had one more question.

“What was his name?”

“Eli Glinn.”

Trying not to show any reaction to the name, Quinn rose from his chair and extended his hand. Montgomery rose and shook it.

“Thank you for your time Mr. Montgomery. You’ve been very helpful.” He handed Montgomery a business card.

“Here is my fax number if you find that program”

Montgomery nodded curtly.

“Good luck, Mr. Quinn. Please keep me informed, won’t you?”

“No problem. Good day.” Quinn turned and walked out the door towards the entrance. He passed several people who gave him a quizzical look, but paid them no attention, his thoughts elsewhere. He left the building and crossed the street to the garage, where he found Amelia dozing peacefully in the car. She awoke with a start when he opened the door and climbed inside.

“Well?”

“I think we just got our first big break.”



Gabriel Montgomery sat as his desk, staring at the photo on the wall opposite his desk. He had put it there for many reasons. He used it as a focus piece for some of his clients, neglected and abused children as he had himself been, to show them that not all family relationships resembled the horror that they (and he) had endured. For many, it did encourage them to open up and to want to be helped. For others, well, there were other techniques he had tried with more success. Another reason was to remind himself why he did this job. He had taken up social work as a way to honor them, his true family, for turning him around. He had loved them dearly, and felt the pain of their loss every day. The third reason was a little bit of self-punishment that he thought he deserved. The picture helped serve as a reminder that there was at least one family member that could have been saved...

Slowly he withdrew his wallet from his suit jacket and removed a small laminated photograph, frayed at the edges and wrinkled with age. It depicted a prom portrait, two teenagers in formal attire, the boy in a black tuxedo and the girl in a dark grey satin gown. The boy stood behind the girl with his arms around her waist, her gloved hands resting on his. The girl’s dark auburn hair was braided and curled in as fancy a style as her mother had allowed, her dark grey eyes alight with laughter. Montgomery stared at the picture and thought back to the last time he had seen this girl laugh.

They had been coming home from her friend’s house where they had gone to pick up her graduation dress. They had been driving along, windows down, laughing and singing along with the radio. The tune had just switched from Bad Moon Rising to Paint it Black when their last conversation started.

“Someone down at the oldies station is in a morbid mood today”, she had said with a giggle.

“I don’t understand why you listen to that anyway. Time to step out of the past and into the future, or at least the present.”

“Today’s music sucks. Besides, you try growing up in a house with a Beatles fanatic and not like listening to ‘the oldies’.”

“Speaking of the future, let’s talk about it.”

“What is there to talk about? We’re both going to college next fall, me in New York and you in Colorado. It’s what you wanted, right? You worked hard to get that scholarship.”

“It’s good for now, but I’m talking about afterwards.”

“I suppose I’ll be working at my uncle’s firm, unless I get a better offer. You’ll be helping kids, just like you wanted. Why, are you having second thoughts about social work as a career?”

“I’m having second thoughts about being separated from you.”

She had stared at him in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I want us to be together.”

“So, what you, want to transfer to NYU? Give up your scholarship? That’s silly...”

“Damn it, Eleanor, you know what I’m talking about! Stop being so obtuse!”

“I...don’t.”

“I want us to be together forever. Do you want me to spell it out?”

She had fallen silent and sat staring out the window until they arrived at her house. He had been fuming inside, angry with himself for screwing up what should have been a wonderful moment. She had opened the door and climbed out without a word, grabbing her dress from the back seat as she went.

“Eleanor? What...what time should I pick you up tomorrow? We’re still going, right?”

She had turned and looked at him, the shock still apparent in her expression.

“I...I don’t think that’s a good idea, Monty. I have a lot to do tomorrow.” She had turned and walked to the house without a backward glance. The next day, when he heard about the attack, he couldn’t help thinking, that DJ wasn’t morbid. He was prophetic...

Montgomery’s thoughts soon switched to the last time he had ever seen her. He had gone with Eleanor’s friend Becca to the hospital so he could tell Eleanor goodbye before leaving for college. Before then, he had avoided the place, even after the doctors said she could have visitors, because he just couldn’t deal with it. He had hated himself for it.

You still hate yourself for it, he thought.

Becca had told him what to expect: the scars, the deathly pallor of her skin, and her lack of response to anyone who approached, but what he had not been prepared for were her eyes. Those eyes, so intelligent, so full of life, were flat and dead. She looked like a life-sized doll, battered and broken. He had been unable to stay more than a few minutes and had been filled with self-loathing at his weakness. Before he left, he had squeezed her hand, hoping for some sort of response. There was none.

Montgomery’s thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of people returning to their offices after a long weekend, and soon the strident ringing of the phone on his desk called for his attention. Bringing his focus back to the present, he quickly replaced the picture and put his wallet away while removing a handkerchief from his coat pocket. He dabbed his eyes quickly, cleared his throat, and reached for the phone.

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