Pitch Black (21 page)
G
ABE’S CELL PHONE RANG EARLY the next morning while he was on his way to check out the railroad overpass. He was still in a funk from a sleepless night spent digging up details he wished he hadn’t—details that painted an entirely new picture of Ethan Wade. Sluggish as he was, he answered his phone without checking caller ID.
“Hey, little brother.”
“Hey, Grant,” Gabe said. Why hadn’t he checked before he answered? “Before you start ragging my ass, I already did the Chamber of Commerce thing.” Grant was their father’s campaign manager, a job he took very seriously—unlike his slacker little brother.
“Good. That’s not why I’m calling.”
“Oh?” Grant never called for idle chitchat.
“I want to know what the hell is going on over there. Can’t make it a freakin’ week without hitting the news? Christ, you’re killing Dad’s ‘Safety in Our Cities’ platform.”
Gabe’s jaw tensed. He’d been interviewed once by the local TV news, but had been too busy investigating deaths to actually catch a broadcast. Who knew what kind of picture they were painting? “Buckeye isn’t a city.”
“Exactly. If you can’t keep your sleepy little town clean, what does that say about places with big problems?”
“You think I’m having people offed in my county just to upset the campaign?”
Grant took on his big-brother stop-being-so-damn-preposterous tone when he said, “All I want is for you to tell me you’re getting close to an arrest.”
“I could tell you anything you want to hear. But that won’t change the fact that it’s still early in the investigation.”
“Damn it, don’t give me that public statement bullshit. How many goddamn suspects can you have in that backwoods county?”
“Just because my haystack is smaller than most doesn’t make it any easier to find the needle. Did Dad ask you to call?” It wasn’t like his dad to initiate this kind of pressure tactic, but since he was slipping in the polls he might be feeling desperate.
“You want me to push the state lab for results? I have a few friends there.” The fact that Grant ignored Gabe’s last question answered it; Dad had no idea.
“I’ve got it covered, thank you. Even us hicks know how to use a phone and a little finesse.”
Grant ignored his comment. “I’m hearing it’s some crazy kid from up north.”
Jesus.
Gabe closed his eyes for a second and pressed his lips together to keep from yelling the curses that shot through his mind. The last thing he needed to do was to tweak Grant’s interest in the subject. If Grant put himself to the task, he’d discover the same thing about Ethan that Gabe had last night. Once it was out in the open, it would start a wildfire.
He said calmly, “And what
official
gave you that information?”
“I have my sources.”
“I see. Since I’m heading up this investigation and have made no comment on persons of interest, let alone suspects, I can only imagine your ‘sources’. If you and Dad begin judging people guilty based on gossip and public opinion, how’s that going to look to the citizens of the great state of Tennessee?”
“Don’t lay that crap on me. I’m the one watching Dad’s back here. Get that mess cleaned up . . . and fast. I can only manage so much damage control.”
Gabe ended the call.
Sometimes just hearing Grant’s voice pissed him off. Sanctimonious, image-conscious bastard. Gabe had no doubt that Grant would sleep like a baby if Gabe arrested an innocent person, as long as it resulted in a positive media spin.
If what he’d discovered became common knowledge . . . Public opinion could indeed bury Ethan Wade, just as Maddie had feared—unless Gabe could zero in on another suspect, and soon.
He stopped his Jeep about a quarter of a mile from the railroad overpass. It was the closest safe place to leave a vehicle.
Before he got out and walked to the railroad, he called the lab and asked for Barbara, the one who had promised to have the prints from the beer cans processed by tomorrow. He’d already received a report on Colin’s blood alcohol level. No surprise; it was three times the legal limit.
When Barbara got on the line, he said, “This is Sheriff Wyatt in Forrest County. I know you said Wednesday—”
“I was just about to call you. I stayed late last night and ran the tests.”
Of course, this information wasn’t going to do Gabe much good until he had prints to try to match. He would have to take Ethan’s and J.D.’s—with the hope that at the very least, he could clear them both of being the one who gave Colin the beer.
Barbara continued, “You’re not going to believe this.”
“Oh?”
“There were only one person’s prints on
all
of those cans—the victim, Colin Arbuckle.”
“You mean only one clear set—”
“No, Sheriff, I mean only one set. Not a trace of any other person’s prints. And with the plastic six-pack loops still on some of the cans, we know they didn’t come out of a box.”
“That is interesting.” The only way for that to be possible was if they’d been specifically wiped clean before Colin held them. Stockers, sales clerks, somebody had to have touched those cans before Colin Arbuckle drank them. “Do all of the cans have prints?”
“Yes. All the victim’s. I’ll fax this report to you.”
“Thanks for the rush job, Barbara.”
“No problem.”
Gabe put his phone away and sat there for a minute, massaging his aching eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Whoever had purchased that beer for Colin must have had some idea that there would be a reason for the cans to be tested.
Which meant someone had known Colin was going to die.
AS GABE WALKED TO THE RAIL OVERPASS
, he mulled over possibilities. He didn’t like where the trail in these deaths, meager and circumstantial as it was, was leading. It was nearly impossible to consider Colin Arbuckle’s death wasn’t in some way connected to Steve McPherson’s.
There was no way around it. Gabe was going to have to send the hat and button he’d picked up on the bridge to the forensics lab. Again, meager and circumstantial. Yet those small pieces of circumstantial evidence were growing into a substantial collection.
Had Colin Arbuckle seen what happened to McPherson? Had he witnessed a murder, then kept his mouth closed about it?
Gabe had trouble believing that was the case. There had been nothing in Colin’s initial interview that gave Gabe the slightest vibe of anything except the truth. Plus, his facts were in complete agreement with J.D.’s story. Neither boy had acted as if they’d been threatened or were in any way afraid.
If Colin had kept what he’d witnessed secret for the first four days, due to threats or some other unknown reason, why would he have started making such a public statement and
not
informed the police or his parents—people who could protect him?
It didn’t make sense. Gabe had discovered that Colin liked to be the center of attention. Had his mouthing off been nothing but bluster? Had that fabrication drawn a killer down on him?
As Gabe reviewed what J.D. had told him after Colin’s death, one thing stood out: Colin had called J.D. to go out there with him on Friday night, had specifically said J.D. had been “invited” by whoever got the beer.
Were all of the boys targets?
Right now, the idea of Ethan being a target held slightly more appeal than the alternative.
He quickened his pace. He wanted to get finished here and go talk to J.D. again.
The only things Gabe found on the rail overpass were old broken bottles and several cigarette butts. When he laid eyes on the first one, he felt a little thrill of excitement; it was a Marlboro, just like those near where McPherson was killed. Good news: They were just like the ones on Bobby Gray’s desk. Bad news: They were just like those in Ethan’s jacket.
As he looked further, he found butts from several other brands.
He bagged them all, useless as they were likely to be.
Just as he was climbing down from the overpass, he heard the approach of the grinding diesel of Whetzel’s tow truck. Gabe met the man as he climbed down out of the vehicle.
After the good mornings, Gabe said, “There’s a big rock in the backseat. Just leave it where it is and don’t touch it.”
“Don’t touch things inside people’s cars.” Earl shifted the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, took off his ball cap, and scratched his mostly bald head. He raised a questioning brow. “Mischief makers?”
“Most likely.”
“The lady must be hittin’ some raw nerves.” Earl walked over to the winch and started to unwind the cable.
“You hearing things you want to share?”
“Nothin’ that you prob’ly ain’t heard yourself. General talk ’bout folks bein’ unhappy that she comes in here and starts criticizing the way we raise our young’uns.” He paused and looked at Gabe. “That flat of hers wasn’t no accident.”
Gabe nodded, then looked at the passenger side of the truck and saw it was empty. “You come alone?”
“Bruce called in sick.”
“Here.” Gabe wasn’t about to let the old guy climb down that steep decline. He reluctantly took the cable hook and started down the ravine.
Questioning J.D. would have to wait.
WHEN GABE PULLED UP
at the high school to have his chat with J.D., Madison was getting out of a white Taurus with a green Enterprise Rent-a-Car sticker on the rear bumper.
He parked his department SUV in the emergency lane at the curb and walked toward her as she got out. It took only one glance to see she was furious, even through the purple bruise that covered most of the left side of her face.
She stalked toward him. “Why didn’t you tell me that Jordan tried to kill himself?” Before he could open his mouth, she cut him off. “I already know you knew before we talked last night.”
“I wasn’t going to deny it.” In their circumstances, he figured the occasional lie of omission was to be expected. But it stung that she thought he’d lie outright to her. He held her gaze, refusing to say more.
“You really do piss me off!” she said with a clenched fist. “You tried to trick me into incriminating my own son. You aren’t even looking at anyone but Ethan for any of this, are you?” She took a step closer and poked him in the chest with her index finger. “There’s a killer out there. He’s going after all of these boys . . .
including
my son, and you’re not looking for him!”
He raised his palms. “Slow down. First of all, what makes you believe Colin was murdered? It appears to have been an accident.” For all anyone but him knew, at least. “And as far as I can tell, the only person who sees a villain in Jordan’s suicide attempt is Kate.”
“Come on! Colin. Jordan. J.D.’s afraid to leave his house. And Ethan got a threatening phone call while I was in that ravine—that’s why he panicked and left the house last night.” Her mouth tightened. “And sometime last night, someone trashed Ethan’s locker—including putting photos of Colin and Jordan with red Xs across them in it.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Yes. The city police have already been here and gone. I’m taking Ethan home.”
“How do you know J.D.’s afraid to leave his house?” Even as he played devil’s advocate, his skin tingled with apprehension.
“The principal told me when she called about Ethan’s locker.” Her gaze was accusing when she added, “
She
obviously thinks there’s reason for concern.”
His fuse finally ignited. He took her roughly by the arm and marched her to the passenger side of his Jeep. “Get in. We need to talk.”
For a long moment, she stood there, defiance in her eyes.
“I’m breaking my own rules here,” he said curtly. “Get. In.” He yanked the door open.
There was no resignation in her face as she climbed in the car. She slammed the door shut before he could close it.
By the time he was in the driver’s seat, he’d regained some of his composure. He said, “Tell me about this threatening phone call Ethan received.”
After taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly, she said, “It was a little past nine o’clock. First there was silence, just an open line. Then some creepy music started to play. Ethan said it was from some horror movie that was out last summer on DVD.”
“Did anyone ever say anything?” Creepy music hardly qualified as a threatening phone call.
She shook her head. He noticed she was gentle about it and he wondered how much pain she was in. After the wild ride she’d had last night, she had to be sore. He felt like a heel for manhandling her toward his car.
“Nothing at all?” he prompted.
“No one on the phone said anything. But Ethan said the dialogue from the movie said, ‘Your mommy can’t save you now,’ or something like that. That’s why he freaked out. He thought someone had done something to hurt me.”
“Someone had. Someone had thrown a rock big enough to kill you through your windshield. You’re pissing people off with your articles.”
“You think that phone call was related to my hate mail and not anything going on with the boys?” She looked at him as if it hadn’t occurred to her as a possibility before now.
“Most likely. The implied threat was to Mommy, not to Ethan.”
“But it said Mommy couldn’t
save
him. I think it was a threat against Ethan. And with what happened to his locker—”
“Why did you lie to me?” he interrupted. He wanted to get this all out in the open now, before she started down the trail of Ethan being a victim.
The look on her face seemed to ask,
Which time?
For a woman who proclaimed to be all about frankness, she was turning out to be a contradiction of deceit. He clarified, “When I asked you if there was anything in Ethan’s past that could come out and bite him on the ass, you said no.”
She rolled her lips inward as if measuring her response before she said, “I didn’t exactly say no. I believe I deflected the question.”
Recalling her exact words,
You mean other than having been poor and homeless and from up north? Not the pillar of the community that Steve McPherson the child beater was?
he supposed she was technically right. He’d taken the leap and considered it a negative response.
