Blood Vines

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Tuesday, March 9

11:30 A.M.

Fifteen minutes later, Reed crossed the large lobby to where the brothers stood. Rachel, he saw, had joined them.

“I appreciate you waiting,” Reed said as he reached them. “How can I help you?”

“Is there somewhere more private?” Treven asked tersely.

“Of course. Follow me.”

Reed led them upstairs to one of the interview rooms. He closed the door behind them as they sat. No one spoke.

Harlan broke the heavy silence. “I want to see him,” he said, voice shaking. “The baby.”

“The remains,” Treven corrected.

Reed moved his gaze between the two men, then shifted his attention to Rachel. She looked at her father, her expression naked with pain. In that moment she looked like the teenager whose life had been shattered. Truth be told, she may have been the one hurt most by Dylan’s abduction.

“I can’t bear not knowing.” Harlan’s voice thickened and both his brother and daughter laid a comforting hand on his. “Finding that baby… Seeing Alexandra… it’s brought it all back to me. I can’t stop thinking about him… I can’t stop wondering…”

He lifted his stricken face to Reed’s. “I can’t sleep. I have no appetite. I have to know. Please… I have to.”

Reed cleared his throat. “I understand, Harlan. And I have no problem with you viewing the remains; however, they’ve transferred them to the lab at Sonoma State and I’m not certain where in the process the forensic anthropologist is. In addition, I’m worried you’re expecting more from what we have than you’ll get.”

“I don’t care, I have to see them.”

“I have photos,” Reed said. “If that will do, I’ll arrange it.”

“Harlan,” Treven said, turning toward his brother, “I beg you to reconsider. Don’t put yourself through this. You won’t be able to tell if it’s Dylan, so what’s the point?”

“I agree, Dad,” Rachel said. “You’re upset enough already.”

Harlan didn’t waver. “And do you think burying my head in the sand will change that?”

Treven looked at Reed. “Don’t let him do this, please.”

Reed was torn between sympathy and duty. Times like these, he hated being a cop. “It’s his decision. I’m sorry.” He turned to Harlan. “I want you to be prepared. The remains aren’t pretty. In fact, they’re shocking.”

“I have to do it.”

Treven snorted, obviously frustrated. Harlan laid a hand on his brother’s arm. Interestingly, when he spoke his voice no longer shook. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but nothing I could see with my eyes could match the horror of my nightmares.”

He shifted his gaze to Rachel. “Are you with me on this, honey?” She nodded and Harlan turned back to Reed, suddenly appearing the strong, confident man he had been all those years ago. “Let’s do this.”

“All right. It’ll take me a few minutes to assemble the photographs. Drink machine and restrooms are down the hall.”

He slipped out of the room. Rachel followed. “Dan, wait!”

He stopped and she caught up with him. “Question?” he asked.

“I wanted to… I just-” She looked away, then back. “It feels like the world’s splitting apart at the seams. Same as it felt back then, after Dylan disappeared.”

“Your dad’s been through a lot, Rachel. He’ll get through this.”

“It’s not just Dad. I heard about that altar, off Castle Road in Bartholomew Park. And about the doll in Hilldale’s vineyard.” She lowered her voice. “And I heard about that animal… how somebody planted it at Alex’s. What the hell’s going on?”

“How did you hear?”

“We hear everything that goes on in the valley, Dan, you know that.”

He understood the first two, because the wine community was as close knit as it was competitive. Information, especially juicy rumors, spread faster than a wildfire in the High Sierras.

But Alex was most certainly not hooked into the local grapevine.

“But who’d you hear it from?” he pressed.

“Clark.” She searched his gaze. “Why?”

“How news spreads interests me, that’s all.”

She didn’t believe him. He saw it by the speculative gleam in her eyes. He also knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t hesitate to throw her cousin under a bus if the opportunity presented itself.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said, answering her original question. “But I will. I promise you that.”

He watched her as she walked back to the interview room, thinking of his promise, wondering if he would be able to keep it.

Reed gathered together the photographs. He instructed Harlan to take a seat, then laid them out.

Harlan stared at them, throat working. He grasped the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles were white. Seconds ticked past. No one spoke. Harlan seemed not to even breathe as he gazed at the images, his expression twisted with pain.

“It’s him,” he said finally, the sound broken. “It’s my baby. My Dylan.”

“How can you be so certain, Harlan?” Reed asked as gently as possible.

“A father knows his own son.”

Reed glanced at Treven’s stunned expression, then at Rachel’s horrified one, before turning back to Harlan. “I hate to do this to you, but look again. It’s been years, these remains are-”

“I know my own son! My Dylan… my sweet, sweet boy.”

He broke down sobbing. Rachel put her arms around him, her own tears flowing.

Reed collected the photographs. “We’re trying to establish if there’s any viable DNA-”

“We’ll pay for any tests,” Treven offered, “if that will give us the proof-”

Harlan turned on him. “What more proof do you need? I was his father. I know my son!”

“This is too important to make a mistake on. What if you’re wrong and he’s not dead? What if he’s-”

“Uncle Treven,” Rachel said sharply, “that’s enough! I’m taking Dad home.”

He went with her without resistance. As soon as the interview room door had shut behind them, Treven turned to Reed. “I don’t care what it costs, we need proof that’s Dylan.”

“I understand completely, Treven. But it simply may not be possible.”

“Nothing is impossible. That’s been my lifelong credo. There must be something you can do.”

Reed thought a moment. “We could turn the skull over to a forensic sculptor. The re-creations can be uncanny. However-”

“Yes, let’s do it.”

“However,” he continued, “the best reconstructions are still generalized, and baby skulls are exceptionally difficult because the facial features aren’t fully formed yet. Our best bet is still DNA, if we’re able.”

“I want it all, every test. We’ll pay.”

“I appreciate that. But at this point, it’s not about money.”

“It’s always about money,” he said. “My brother needs closure. If this will give it to him, I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.”

“Harlan expressed conviction,” Reed said softly. “It seems to me that it’s you who needs the closure, Treven.”

“My brother’s an emotional mess. I think we can agree on that. An hour from now, he’ll be doubting himself. You wait and see.”

Reed thought of Rachel, her pain. And then of Alex. Her mother. The entire community. Closure, he thought. A funeral. A way for the family to move completely past this.

“I’ll see what I can do. There are procedures that need to be followed.”

“Harlan ID’d him. So the remains are ours now. Isn’t that the way it works?”

“It’s not that simple. Or that immediate.”

“I’m Treven Sommer. I can make it simple.”

Reed held on to his temper by reminding himself of what this family had endured. “The remains cannot be released to you or anybody else until forensic testing is complete. When that’s happened, I’ll see what I can do.”

Reed could see Treven wasn’t happy with his answer. Obviously, when you were Treven Sommer, you weren’t accustomed to waiting.

“All right, Dan. But just so you know, I’m prepared to sue the department if it comes to it.”