“This Wyatt character sure doesn’t like to travel,” he said. “There’s nothing. Unless he had a wad of cash, this guy stayed in Nebraska and didn’t leave, at least for the last eight years.”
“Same for Judith,” Dan answered. “Thanks. Now take these and destroy them. And don’t tell anybody what we were doing here today. I mean nobody.”
The seriousness of his tone and the somber look on his face was enough to send the message home to the young man.
When Ron was just about to leave, Dan stopped him.
“One last favor,” he said. “This time use the computer. Get Wyatt Slate’s phone number and Judith’s as well and see if there were any calls made from either phone to Andrew Slate’s present number or vice versa in the last eight years. Can you do that? And how many calls were made.”
“No problem now that you’ll let me use technology,” Ron joked. “I’ll have it in minutes.”
Ron was good to his word. He called Dan exactly five minutes later from the big room with a single word answer: “None.”
That meant that as far as anyone was concerned, Slate’s parents and sister hadn’t been in contact with Andrew in the last seven years. While that wasn’t exceptionally strange in this fast paced world, it did raise a question in Dan’s mind…why? The answer didn’t lay in the computers in the big rooms; it could only be found in the suburbs of Omaha , Nebraska , or Juneau , Alaska . Knowing that Lisa would inform Louis immediately if Dan asked her to book a flight, he decided to have Richie do it from home. It would be just an overnight so nobody would get suspicious.
Four hours later, he was in the air trying to write down what questions he wanted to ask Slate’s parents, that was if they would see him. He also had to come up with a cover story so that they wouldn’t suddenly alert him. By the time the plane landed, he had decided to pose as an insurance adjuster trying to settle a claim on behalf of Andrew. He’d tell the Slates that their son’s car had been stolen and recovered totaled, and he had the check but that Andrew had moved. It was a weak story, but he found usually people opened up when money was involved. In order to give it some credibility, he took a blank check from his own book and made it out to Andrew Slate for $25,000. This way he could flash it quickly but never really give it to them.
Taking a taxi from the airport, he arrived at the Slate home in early evening. Wyatt answered the door and invited Dan in, then he called his wife. She was a frail-looking woman who looked much older than her real age. It was obvious Wyatt was taking care of her by the concern he showed as she slowly entered the room.
“You said money?” Wyatt asked.
“Yes,” Dan answered as all three people sat down at the dining room table. “I have a check for $25,000 dollars made out to your son from the Constitutional Insurance Company in replacement for a car he owned that was stolen and totaled. Our problem is that Andrew moved and we have no forwarding address. I was wondering -.”
He stopped speaking as Janet Slate began weeping.
“Your son is okay,” Dan interjected. “It’s just his car that was damaged.”
The explanation did nothing to give comfort to the woman as she lowered her head onto her hands and began sobbing even harder.
“I don’t know what your game is,” Wyatt said angrily, standing up from his chair; “but I want you out of this house.”
“I meant no harm,” Dan said trying to plead his case while he was rising from the chair. “I’m not selling anything, I swear. I just want to give Andrew his check and then I’m on my way.”
In desperation, he pulled out the phony check and flashed it in Wyatt’s face, moving it around so the old man could only get a glimpse of the number and not much else.
“See, it’s the actual check,” Dan said, putting it away. “I just need Andrew’s address.”
“Don’t make me get physical,” Wyatt threatened. “Now get out of my house or I’ll call the…just get out.”
He had hesitated on saying “police” Dan noticed. The old man was willing to get physical, but he didn’t want to bring the authorities in on this. Dan decided to try a bluff.
“Sure, let’s call the police,” he said taking out his cell phone. “Maybe they can straighten this out.”
“No,” Janet cried out. “Please no police.”
Wyatt stopped and turned to his wife, tears still running down her cheeks.
“Tell him no police,” she pleaded to her husband. “Tell him.”
Wyatt Slate stopped, the belligerence now gone. In its place was the face of a man who held a big secret that he didn’t want revealed.
“Our son doesn’t want the money,” he said. “Keep it. Give it to charity. Give it back to the company.”
Now Dan knew he was onto something; no one gives up $25,000.
“Look,” he said. “I’ll keep your secret and nobody has to know. I’ll say I couldn’t find your son but only if you tell me why I should lie for you. I want to make sure I’m not getting involved in a criminal action.”
Wyatt looked at his wife then back at Dan. He didn’t want to say anything, but he was afraid Dan might push the issue. This way it might be kept among the three of them; but if he refused to say anything, it might cause Dan to investigate on behalf of the insurance company.
“Our son is dead,” Wyatt said. “Seven years ago.”
“Dead!” Dan exclaimed.
“It was an accident,” Wyatt said. “He and his sister were snowmobile riding; she was driving. She was showboating, driving recklessly, and they hit a wire stretched across a fenced in area. She was thrown clear and was okay with only bruises, but the machine came down on his chest crushing him and killing him instantly. I was on another snowmobile following and witnessed the whole thing. When I got there, I saw he was dead. Shock had set in on her. I put him in the back of my truck and her in the cab. We were afraid the police would charge her with manslaughter, so I took him to a friend of mine who runs a mortuary. He took the body and had it cremated as a John Doe. Meanwhile we took her to the hospital and told the whole story minus the fact that her brother was riding with her and was killed. She had snapped. They kept her in the hospital for three weeks under a suicide watch, mental problems they said. When they let her go, she was a changed person. She spent six months in a sanitarium. To this day, she has no memory that she killed her brother or that he is even dead. We told her and people he knew that he moved away to get a better job. If she ever found out that she was responsible for his death, I think it would be too much for her mind to handle, any way we couldn’t take that chance. We lost one child and, hopefully, saved the other one. You don’t have to report this, do you?”
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