Page 49 of 44.1644° North
Peter Weber, minus his fedora, was in the dining room when Rory and I came down to breakfast.
He energetically waved us over and insisted we join him, and as much as I didn’t want to, there didn’t seem to be a polite way to decline.
“I had no idea you two were staying here,” Weber greeted us. “I thought you were staying in the cabins behind the Swiftwater.”
An elderly waitress arrived with coffee. Rory asked for MUD\WTR, and they went down the list of available options while Weber and I waited politely. Rory settled at last on English Breakfast tea, and we ordered our cooked-to-order omelets.
“How late did the party last?” I asked Weber once the waitress left with our orders.
“We closed the place down.” He added, “I saw you two sneak out early.”
“Sneak,” Rory repeated.
“We were starving. It was a long day,” I said.
“I imagine so. What did you think of the vigil?”
“I thought it was very touching.”
Weber nodded, sipped his coffee, said with an edge in his voice, “Can I ask you managed to get Pat O’Donnell to speak to you?”
“I asked. He said yes.”
That seemed to further annoy him. “Really? That easy, was it?”
“I guess the oldest girl, Grania, listened to some of my podcasts.”
Weber rolled his eyes. “Of course. The theory of the stranger in the car.” He shook his head.
“I know you lean toward the theory of the tandem driver.”
Weber said, “I don’tleantoward it. It’s theonlyviable theory. Everything else is smoke and mirrors. There was no stranger in a car. No frat guys followed her from UMass. Rusty Bailey didn’t kidnap her or set her adrift in the wilderness. Deputy Dempsey didn’t do away with her for reasons unknown. Tommy didn’t kill her. Pat certainly didn’t kill her. There was no serial killer. She didn’t run into the woods and die of exposure. For God’s sake. The poor woman’s not evendead. She’s living her best life in Canada and no doubt wishing everyone would just forget about her.”
“Huh? You now think she’salive?”
“I’ve known she was alive for years.”
I felt like my head was spinning.
Rory asked, “Who was the tandem driver?”
“Pat, probably.”
At my expression, Weber said, “Yes, I admit I initially thought Pat might be responsible for her death. His behavior was highly suspicious.”
“You mean because he didn’t want to talk to you?”
Weber’s small eyes narrowed. “No. Because everything he told the police wasobviouslya lie. There was never any car-shopping. The four thousand dollars Pat pulled out of his bank account was to finance Deirdre’s getaway. They planned it together for weeks, from the moment she realized she was pregnant.”
Rory’s cell buzzed. He glanced at his phone and excused himself. As he vanished through the dining room entrance, I felt a little pang. I was already missing him, and he hadn’t even left yet.
I returned my attention to Weber. “Four thousand dollars isn’t a lot to finance a new life in a foreign country.”
“These aren’t wealthy people.”
“True.”
Weber scrutinized me. “Deirdre was much more complex than people realize. After she disappeared, everyone from the media to her family wanted to canonize her, but she had a dark side. As we all do. The lying, the drinking, the shoplifting, the credit-card fraud, the promiscuity, the reckless driving. She was smart and beautiful, but she was also very troubled. She may have been bipolar.”