Cold Truth

Epilogue

Regan lifted the last box and hoisted it against her chest before starting down the basement steps. She figured her father’s old papers had rested quite comfortably in the basement for all these years, they could remain there for a few more. She’d hoped to get more sorted out, but she was running out of time. She had promised her editor a first draft of the book about the Bayside Strangler in ten weeks. She’d have to go through the remaining boxes another time-right now, they were proving to be a distraction.

She slid the box onto the storage shelf and turned to go back up the steps, when her foot caught on the edge of a smaller box that must have fallen from a nearby shelf. She tripped over it and landed on her hands and knees.

“Damn.”

She picked herself up and leaned over to lift the box. The bottom, having apparently spent too much time on the damp basement floor, fell out, spilling its contents.

“Shit,” she muttered, and knelt down to gather the papers that littered the floor.

She scooped them together, stuffing them back into the file they’d slid from, then she realized what she was looking at.

She took the file to the light, and read the name. Puzzled, she gathered the rest of the papers and carried them upstairs, where she deposited them on the top of her desk.

Old elementary school report cards, all bearing the name of Edward Kroll.

Odd…

The doorbell rang and she left the file on the desk while she went to the front hall. She opened the door, to find Mitch Peyton on the other side.

“You’re late,” she said. “I thought you’d be here a couple of hours ago.”

“Oh, sorry. I got caught in traffic on I-95. Is now a bad time?”

“No, it’s not a bad time. Come in.” She stepped aside to permit him to enter. “I have the items you were looking for, they’re all ready for you.”

“I can’t believe I left all those reports here. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

They went into the office and she handed him a fat brown envelope. “Everything’s in here.”

“Thanks, Regan. I appreciate it.”

His gaze fell onto the papers that were stacked upon the desk. “You started the book already?”

She nodded. “I did, but that file isn’t part of it. I don’t know what that is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I found a box downstairs that held some old report cards. Look, they’re all for someone named Edward Kroll, who, back in the forties, attended St. John the Baptist Elementary School in Sayreville, Illinois.”

“Who’s Edward Kroll?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never heard the name before.” With a finger, she drew out first one, then another of the report cards. “I can’t imagine why my father would have had them.”

“Maybe Kroll was someone your dad was investigating.”

“Maybe.” She picked up one of the report cards and read a written comment aloud. “’Eddie is an asset to the class. He has an aptitude for math, is inquisitive, and is an excellent reader.’ Signed by Sister Mary Matthew.” She flipped the card over. “Second grade.”

“Well, his name is sure to turn up again, if your father was interested in him enough to keep his report cards from grade school.”

“That’s what I thought, too. I’m sure there must be other files. But…” She dropped the report card on the desk.

“Right. With your dad’s filing system, who knows where they might be.”

“Same old story.” She laughed. “It certainly makes going through his papers an adventure. I never know what I’m going to find. Sometimes I wonder if he didn’t plan it that way, just to keep me intrigued.”

“I guess I’ll get this to my car.” Mitch patted the envelope and headed for the door. “Thanks again, Regan. I appreciate it. I don’t think my boss would be too happy if he knew I’d left some of my investigative reports here.”

She walked him to the door, and watched him open the trunk of his car. He dropped the envelope in, then walked to the driver’s side.

Closing the front door, Regan wished she could think of something to say that would bring him back inside, if only for a while. She’d been thinking a lot lately that the house seemed so quiet, so empty, since the Strangler case had been wrapped up and Mitch had returned to Maryland, and she was once again alone.

The doorbell rang.

Wondering what Mitch could have forgotten, Regan opened the door.

He stood there, a dark blue blazer slung over his shoulder.

“I was just wondering-now that we have work completely out of the way-if you’d like to go out to dinner with me. If you don’t have other plans for tonight, that is.”

“You mean, like a date?”

“Yes.” He grinned. “Like a date.”

“Oh.” She smiled, waved him inside, and closed the door behind him. “Give me a minute to change.”

“You don’t have to change. You look perfect.”

“Well, I’ll need my keys…” She disappeared into her office and returned with her handbag.

“So,” she said as they walked to the door, “what did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking about this Mexican place outside of Princeton. I had dinner there one night and thought maybe you’d like it. They have one of those sort of traveling trios that roam around the restaurant, singing to the customers.”

“I know the place. It’s one of my favorites, actually.” She locked the door after they both stepped outside.

“Mitch.” She grabbed his arm when they were halfway to the car. “Did you really forget to take those files?”

“Of course not.” He grinned. “I made copies of a few reports and left them on the desk. You don’t really think I’d leave my files someplace, do you?”

“I thought it would be out of character.”

“I just wanted an excuse to come see you.”

“I’m glad you did. I’ve been dying to tell you about this old case I found in the bottom desk drawer last week…”