Faceless (18 page)

I was torn between the arguments that were going on in my own head. Was I justified in hitting her? Did I overstep my responsibilities as her mother? Was I as evil as she obviously was portraying me in her fourteen-year old mind? I didn’t know.

***

When we arrived at the station, Marty removed the cuffs from Dylan’s wrists and sat him in a chair in front of his metal desk.

The boy rubbed his hands trying to get circulation back; the cuffs had left indentations and red marks.

“Please, Mrs. Whitley, I swear to you, nothing happened,” he declared, in a voice hoarse with fatigue. “I really like Bethany, she’s been a good friend.” His eyes cast downward, but he continued to try and convince me of his innocence. “I didn’t hurt Jamie or Kim. I wouldn’t do that.”

I turned to get a good look at him. For some reason in this lighting, he looked much younger. Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was because he looked so vulnerable right now, but then the vision of the two girls burned faces flashed before my eyes and I could feel my blood pressure rising again. My anger was intensifying.

I grabbed a chair and pulled it over to face him, I leaned over so I was within a hair of his nose. I was in his personal space, and reveling in every second.

“Do you want to tell me, Dylan, why you took off? Why did you run away after you found you dead friend’s badly burned, faceless dead body lying in the woods? That doesn’t sound like a very caring friend.”

He shook his head. With his hands now free, he cupped one over each ear, as if warding off a headache.

“I was scared. Katie said that the police would think I did it, because we were fighting. She said that if I wasn’t there when the cops came, no one would know we had a fight and I wouldn’t even be on the radar. Katie said the girls would just say they hitchhiked up there and no one would have to know I was even there. I know, it was stupid.”

I sat back a little to give him some space.

“What were you fighting about, Dylan? What did you fight about before you killed her?” I accused him, my voice softer then before.

I took a different approach, hoping his fatigue would cross him up.

He lifted his head suddenly looking directly in my eyes. “No, no… I didn’t hurt her. I slowed up to stop the car and she jumped out of the car. She took off, and the next time I saw her, she was dead.”

He rubbed his eyes, and then with his right hand, he covered his face and began to sob quietly.

“What were you fighting about?” I asked again, this time leaving out the accusation.

“Can I have a glass of water?” he asked me, when he composed himself. I could tell he was having trouble swallowing.

Marty left to get the kid a drink. He came back a second later with a Coke and handed it to him.

“Thanks.”

“Go on, Dylan, now that your mouth is nice and moisturized, you should be able to talk.” I threw in some sarcasm, realizing I was sounding less like me and more like my missing partner, Joe. I knew if he were here, he would be just as outraged as I was about how this boy had dragged Bethany into this mess.

Dylan
looked up at me. Once again, his brilliant blue eyes caused me some discomfort. I felt a chill going down my spine. I wondered if my daughter experienced the same feeling.

He took a long gulp of his soda.

“She was being a real bitch.”

“Who’s ‘she,’ Dylan?” I pressed him.

“Jamie—she was being a real jerk.”

“How? What did she do that got you so angry?”

“Jamie was making fun of…”

“Hold it! Don’t say another word, Dylan.” A female voice with a hint of Australian accent came from behind me.

I turned around, and a business card was shoved into my hand. A very attractive young blonde with a dynamic smile stood before me. I looked at the card.

It read in bold, black letters: Alexis Marciano, Attorney at Law.

“Have you been read your Miranda rights, Dylan?” She immediately walked over and put her hand on Dylan’s shoulder.

Dylan
looked just as surprised as Marty and me. The boy looked at me, almost as if he was asking my permission, and then at the attorney.

“I think so,” he told the lady, not quite understanding what was happening, or where this woman had appeared from, seemingly out of the blue.

“Okay, Dylan, you are not to say another word, understood?” Ms. Marciano turned back to me.

“I am being retained to represent Mr. Silver. Is my client under arrest, detective?” She was wearing stilettos, which gave her the appearance of being taller than she actually was.

I looked at Marty and then back to Dylan.

“No,” I said, resigned to the situation. “He is just being questioned as a material witness.”

“I would appreciate it if you give me a few minutes with my client… alone.”

I kicked the desk out of frustration. Where the hell this lady had come from was beyond me. No one but Marty and me and my daughter knew that Dylan had been taken into custody.

“Yeah, sure.”

I called one of the uniformed officers who was milling around the coffee station.

“Derrick, can you please show…” I glanced down at the card in my hand to read off her name. “Ms. Marciano and her client to a room where they can have some privacy?” It came out in a huff, and I didn’t care.

When they walked away, I turned to Marty in utter disbelief.

“How the hell did she know the kid was here?”

He rolled his eyes just before he spoke.

“I guess it’s better that she showed up now. The D.A. would have had our heads if we obtained a confession and it was thrown out on a technicality.”

I knew he was right, and appreciated him using the word, we, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

A half hour later, the attorney, Ms. Australia walked back in, with Dylan following a few steps behind her.

“My client will be glad to speak to you now, Detective. Of course, I will be advising him the entire time.” Her face looked so familiar—I just couldn’t place it.

“Yeah, no problem,” I told her. I glanced toward a conference room behind us. I led the two of them into the room. We all took a seat at the long table. Marty was on the phone and hadn’t joined us yet.

I decided to play this game with a different attitude. I put a smile on my face and turned to my guests.

“Can I get you a refreshment, Ms. Marciano?” I turned to Dylan. “How about you Dylan, do you want another Coke?”

Then it hit me who our Ms. Marciano reminded me of. She was the spitting image of that Australian actress, Tom Cruise’s first wife.

They both turned in unison. I glanced over at Marty, who had just joined us, shutting the door behind him.

After we were all seated, I pulled out a small digital recorder. “Do you have any objections?”

Once again, both Dylan and Miss Nicole Kidman said “no” at the same time, as if it was rehearsed.

Chapter Twelve

Marty felt a sense of relief when the attorney showed up. He understood why Jean was so angry, but he was afraid her emotions would affect her professional approach in the interview process.

By the time they were all seated, he felt comfortable enough with her change in attitude that he decided not to intervene and insist that he take over the interrogation.

He remained cautious, though, and was ready to take control if it became necessary, but Marty had a feeling that the pretty attorney was quite qualified to protect her client.

Jean
waited until all the participants were settled in their chairs and a short period of eerie silence had passed before she began her questioning. He noted that she had placed a small digital recorder on the table and he knew then that she was going to play by the rulebook. She wasn’t going to jeopardize the investigation because of her own emotional investment in the case.

“Dylan, you were about to tell us about the argument you had with Jamie before your counsel arrived. Do you wish to continue now?”

He nodded his head.

“Do you just want me to tell you what happened?” He sounded as if he was asking permission.

“Yeah, go ahead, I’ll stop you if I need clarification, okay?” Jean told him. Marty noticed she was flexing her fingers under the table, as if she was just itching to wrap them around the boy’s neck.

“Where do you want me to start?” His eyes turned down, as if he was embarrassed.

“Start from when you picked the girls up, Dylan. Whose idea was it to ride up to the Forester place?”

He didn’t hesitate, and started to ramble. “It was Katie’s. She wanted to go hang out with Cameron. I told her she needed to stay away from the guy, but they’ve got this sick relationship going, and when Katie gets an idea in her head, she can be pretty stubborn. She just wouldn’t take no for an answer. She said we were going to party and hang out in the hot tub.”

“I tried to get out of it by telling her that I had some chores to do for my mom and I couldn’t go, but she wouldn’t let up because I was the only one with a ride. Then Jamie called, and Katie put the phone on three-way and she said she wanted to go. She wouldn’t let up. I finally gave in.” He shook his head, reflecting on the consequences of what had followed.

“Go on,” Jean prompted him to continue.

“I picked up Jamie first. She sneaked out of her house through the back door. She said her parents were in bed and kept saying how stupid they were. I think she had already smoked a joint, ’cause she was really giddy and acting really obnoxious.”

“I picked up Katie and Lisa next, and then Jamie said we should just blow off Tiffany, but no one else wanted to do that, so I drove up to Tiffany’s. She was waiting for us a few houses down from her house. The minute Tiffany got into the car, Jamie started on her.”

He stopped and looked up at Jean. “Jamie could be really mean, and when she was high, she could be brutal.”

“What do you mean, she started on Tiffany? How?” Marty prompted.

“She was making fun of her. Making fun of her freckles, and Tiffany’s got this nervous tic.” He pointed to his lip.

“I kept telling Jamie to shut up, but she kept getting worse. I told her if she didn’t shut up, I was taking her back home. She stopped for a while and then she started on Lisa. Telling Lisa she was fat. Tiffany’s a little tougher, and she just laughed it off, so I let it go, but Lisa started crying, so I got pissed and pulled over a little before we got to Cameron’s place. That’s when she opened the door and ran off. She told me I was a jerk and I needed to …” His eyes turned away in what Marty felt might be shame.

“She said if I wanted Tiffany and Lisa so bad, I could have them. I was pissed at her, but I knew I wasn’t about to let her go running around in the woods by herself, so Lisa and I went to look for her and Tiffany and Katie went to get Cameron.”

He paused, his eyes definitely showing signs of fatigue.

“Lisa and I looked for her for at least an hour, maybe more, and then we heard Tiffany screaming. We ran over about the same time Katie and Cameron showed up. Jamie was just lying there. I think she was already dead and her face…” He stopped talking, tears started to fall. He wiped them as if he was trying to wipe away the memory. “Smoke was still coming from her face.” The vivid memory was turning his complexion a pale shade of green.

“Was her shirt missing, Dylan?” Jean probed.

“Yes, she was lying there… her shirt was gone. We didn’t know what to do. It was Katie who told us to all go back to Cameron’s house. When I got there, I got sick—I started throwing up. I wanted to throw up when I saw her, but I didn’t. But as soon as we got back to Cameron’s, I started puking. I think Lisa did, too.”

Jean
shot a glance over at Marty. She wasn’t sure she was buying the kid’s story. She kept on with the interrogation.

“Did you have anything to drink, Dylan? Any alcohol?”

He nodded.

“Before or after you found Jamie lying there dead?”

“After, when we got back to Cameron’s place. He gave us some wine to calm us down.”

“Are you sure, Dylan? You weren’t drinking before you got to the woods? Maybe you were already intoxicated before Jamie was found? Maybe you were drunk and just don’t remember hurting her.” His attorney began to object, but Dylan cut her off.

“I swear to you, I didn’t hurt her.”

“When did you pick up Kimberly, before or after Katie?”

He looked at Jean, his face a total blank.

“Kim wasn’t there. She wasn’t with us.”

“Are you sure, Dylan? Maybe you just left out that part.”

“No. Kim wasn’t there.” He was getting upset as Jean began to push.

“Did you smoke anything? Pot?” she asked him.

He denied using any illegal substances.

“No, I don’t smoke dope, I really don’t even drink, but I was so freaked out.”

“Were you and Lisa together the whole time you went looking for Jamie, Dylan?” Jean persisted.

“I think so. The whole night has turned into a blur.” He turned his eyes up and towards the ceiling. “I only had one flashlight, so we must have been together the whole time.”

Jean
flashed back to that evening and remembered that the moon was full and how well it had lit up the night sky.

“Whose idea was it for you to go home and leave the girls there?”

“Katie. She was afraid that I would get into trouble. Katie thought that because we were arguing, that people would think I did it, so she told me just to go home. Lisa was begging them to let her go home with me, but Tiffany and Katie talked her out of it. I didn’t want to leave her, but they kept on insisting I go home.”

“But you didn’t go home, did you, Dylan?” Jean pushed back.

He shook his head. “No, I went to the shack. I was pretty shaken up. I called my mom and just let her know that she shouldn’t worry about me.”

“Did you have a fight with Kimberly, too, Dylan?” Jean leaned over, moving closer to him.

Dylan
turned to look at his attorney. The woman nodded for him to answer.

“No, I didn’t know what happened to Kim until Bethany told me.”

Marty couldn’t tell if anyone else in the room noticed it, but Jean’s blood pressure must have skyrocketed the minute he mentioned her daughters’ name. Her face became flushed, her knuckles white. Just the fact that boy spoke her daughter’s name out loud had enraged her.

He felt he knew what Jean was wondering, and was pretty sure she was probably was too angry to ask, so he intervened.

“Why did you call Bethany, Dylan? Why bring her into this?” Marty asked in a sympathetic tone. The young detective knew he had to play good cop to Jean’s angry one.

Dylan
turned towards Marty, his eyes focused on the detective.

“Bethany texted me when we were out looking for Jamie. I told her what went down, about Jamie taking off and all. She called me to talk and she was on the cell with me when Tiffany started screaming. She was on the phone with me when we found Jamie’s body.”

Marty turned to look at Jean; he couldn’t read her expression, he couldn’t read what she was thinking now. Here was this kid, telling them that her daughter had known about Jamie’s murder even before the police did. Bethany, her daughter, had been lying to her from the beginning. An APB was put out on this kid and her daughter had been aware of Dylan’s whereabouts the entire time. In essence, she was withholding vital information and interfering with an investigation, putting her mother in a very precarious position.

Marty turned back to Dylan, whose head now was bowed as if he had betrayed a trust.

“Dylan.” He waited until the kid looked up at him and he knew that the boy was paying close attention. “Who would want to hurt Jamie and Kimberly? Can you think of anyone that had something against them both?”

Dylan
just shook his head. “I don’t know, it was either you loved them or hated them. Both of them could be pretty brutal. They would say whatever they thought. They wouldn’t care if they hurt someone’s feelings or not.” The last few words he spoke seemed to be with great effort. It was as if talking was becoming a great effort for him. Marty couldn’t tell if it was just exhaustion, or the boy felt he was betraying the memory of his friends, one who was now dead and the other one fighting for her life.

“Are you trying to tell me they were bullies?” Marty asked him as he got up from his chair and walked to the opposite side of the room. He grabbed a pad and pen from the counter and threw it down on the table in front of Dylan.

Dylan
looked at the pad and then turned his focus back to Marty. The expression on the kid’s face was a mass of confusion.

“Did they bully you, Dylan?” Marty asked in an accusing tone, but Dylan just looked up at him as if he was crazy or totally off the wall.

“Can you give me examples of who they bullied and how?” The detective was reaching for a motive, yet he felt it was a reasonable conclusion. If Marty was right, the person who killed Jamie and was also responsible for Kimberly Weston’s injuries may have been a victim of bullying, and probably one of the students at the St. Mary’s High School or Father Murphy’s youth group.

He glanced over at Jean and had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t buying anything this kid was saying.

***

I was incensed. I knew my daughter, and there was no way I was taking in this crap that this kid was trying to throw at us. I didn’t believe one frickin’ word that was coming out of his mouth.