What We Found (12 page)

Gina bit her lip and looked from Nascha to me. “It probably doesn’t matter. Unless you’re thinking of getting involved with him.”

I waited for her to explain, but she didn’t. I wanted to shake her. I couldn’t claim I was planning to get involved with Kyle, but if I didn’t learn the big secret, my own imagination would take over. Had he lost his hand not in heroically fighting for his country, but in something that had resulted in a dishonorable discharge? Had he joined the military because of some trouble in town? Was there something nasty in his past, something to do with Bethany? I had enough trouble making conversation without those kinds of questions rushing through my head. “You’d better tell me.”

Nascha gave me a quick look. Did she think I
was
planning to get involved with Kyle? I felt my face heat but kept my gaze on Gina.

She glanced around again and finally leaned close and lowered her voice. “It’s just he has a drug problem. I feel sorry for him, and you can hardly blame him after everything he’s been through. But you don’t want to get involved with someone like that.” She grimaced. “Trust me, it’s not worth it. You can’t save them.”

Kyle, a drug addict? It seemed unlikely, after his attitude toward Bethany’s problem. But then addiction did tend to run in families, didn’t it? A genetic predisposition of some kind. Maybe his comments about Bethany getting clean had been some kind of cover-up, or he’d been wishing she’d been able to do something he couldn’t. I tried to shift the puzzle pieces into some order that might fit, but I was missing too many pieces.

“What did he say to you?” Nascha asked.

“What?” I shook myself out of my ponderings. “Oh! Thomas Bain found me first.”

This time Gina and Nascha both gasped. “What did he want?” Nascha asked while Gina looked around wildly as if he might be lurking behind her.

“He … he thanked me.”

They both stared. I could hardly believe it either, especially when I remembered how scared I’d been, but if I thought back to what he actually said, that was the truth. “For finding Bethany’s body. He said he cared about her and didn’t have anything to do with her death.”

Nascha grimaced. “He’d hardly tell you otherwise.”

“No.” But when I really thought about it, he hadn’t done anything wrong or threatening. If anything, Kyle was the one who’d looked dangerous. I couldn’t blame him under the circumstances, and my instinct was to trust Kyle and avoid Thomas Bain.

But could I trust my instincts? How much were they influenced by expectations? Between the fear of men instilled by Mom, and my own shyness, I hadn’t spent a lot of time with men, even as friends. My instincts hadn’t been tested much. Jay hadn’t set off the alarm bells as quickly as he should have. Maybe I couldn’t rely on my instincts at all.

A headache throbbed behind my eyes. I fished in my shoulder bag for sunglasses. Nascha and Gina were talking about the murder, but I’d had enough. “I’m going to get that coffee now. I could use the caffeine.”

Nascha touched my arm lightly. “Try to stay out of trouble. No wonder you looked so odd when you walked up.”

I suspected that had more to do with my confused feelings about Kyle than with Thomas Bain, but I let it go. I joined a long line of people waiting for coffee. I inhaled the scent of it, dark and earthy but soothing in its familiarity. The world hadn’t changed that much. Whatever else happened, people still waited for their morning coffee fix. It wasn’t much to hold onto, but even a cup of coffee was better than nothing.

I tried to sort through everything that had happened in the last few days. It felt more like weeks or months. There were too many pieces all jumbled together. Thomas Bain, Kyle, drug addiction, Jay and his father—wait, Jay smoked pot. Was that a connection to Bethany?

The line shuffled forward. I frowned at the back of the man in front of me and tried to tune out the chatter nearby. I didn’t associate marijuana with violence. Usually it was meth that turned people crazy. But if Jay smoked pot, maybe he did other drugs, too. Anyway, it was a possible link.

And a link to Kyle? I hoped not. I liked him. Maybe some of that was pity, or respect because he’d been injured in service of his country, or flattery because he remembered me from high school. For whatever reason, I wanted to think the best of him.

Someone cleared their throat behind me and I realized the line had moved forward again. I closed the gap. Maybe I should follow Ricky’s lead and make some lists or charts or something, like a real investigator. Possible suspects, pros and cons for each, links between people and so forth. I might not solve the case, but at least I could sort through some of the jumble in my head.

I finally got my coffee and wandered away from the booth. I checked on Ricky again—still settled under the tree, now chatting with another boy his age. I hoped they were talking about normal boy things like video games and how much they hated their teacher—or even about girls—and that Ricky wasn’t letting the whole world know that he was tracking a murderer.

The band had picked up the pace in a toe-tapping folk tune. Eslinda was with the sound technician. I walked past some food booths and wrinkled my nose at the smell of hamburgers and dill pickles. It was only ten AM. I looked around for Nascha and Gina, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to join them again yet.

And then I saw Jay. He was standing with a slim, dark-haired girl who was shaking her head. Another of his amorous attempts? Surely he wouldn’t try to get her off into the woods. Even he couldn’t think that would sound romantic anymore.

I edged closer, staying out of Jay’s line of vision. The girl was pretty, but young. Maybe still in high school even. She was looking up at Jay intently as he bent over her. Should I warn her somehow? Jay hated me so much already that I could hardly make it worse. But what could I do? Just walk up and tell her Jay was a jerk?

I didn’t think I could get up the nerve for that. Possibilities floated through my mind, things I’d seen on TV or in movies. Playing the part of an offended girlfriend. Accusing him of giving me some sexually transmitted disease.

I giggled at the thought, but I didn’t think I could manage that either. Besides, it would look like evidence that I really was jealous and stalking Jay.

I edged closer, pretending to watch the band, my back to Jay. If I could hear what they were saying, I might know if the girl was in trouble. And if she wasn’t in immediate trouble, maybe I could speak to her privately before she did something stupid, like I had.

They were talking softly. A family crowded past me and I got out of their way, using that as an excuse to back closer. I could still only hear murmurs. I kept my gaze on the bandstand and backed up a little more, casually, I hoped.

Suddenly I could hear Jay quite well. “And here she is now—we were just talking about you.”

I glanced over my shoulder to find him looking at me. I turned slowly as the girl moved up beside him, her eyes narrowed and lips tight.

Jay gestured to me. “That’s Audra.”

The girl took a step forward. “So you’re the one who’s trying to ruin my father.”

They hadn’t shown her picture on TV, but this had to be Thomas Bain’s daughter. She didn’t look much like her father. She had long dark hair and thin, arched eyebrows over heavily made-up eyes. She was slim, petite even, but a low-cut black tank top showed off impressive cleavage. She said, “You got no business dragging my dad into this.”

She stepped closer, hands on hips. I had at least half a foot on her, but I felt the urge to back away from that ferocious glare. “I never said—”

“He didn’t hurt nobody! That bitch got herself in trouble and now my dad is paying for it. She took his money, made him miserable, broke his heart. Now this.” For a moment her jaw trembled. She whispered, “I’m glad she’s dead.”

She turned and stormed off as I stood there with my mouth open. Jay swaggered the last two steps toward me, smirking. “Are we having fun yet?”

I started shaking and clenched my fists at my sides, struggling for control. I’d never been the focus of so much anger. Casual cruelty, yes, the humiliations that go along with being a weaker member of the schoolyard pack, and the thousand pricks and stings my mother administered on a daily basis. But most people barely noticed me. Now I had Jay, his father, and this girl I’d never met spewing poison on me.

I’d never said anything about Thomas Bain. How could I, when I’d never heard of him before the news reports? But Jay must have told Lia Bain that I’d accused her father. He was circling around me, leaning too close, trying to intimidate me.

He draped an arm across my shoulders and opened his mouth. Before he could speak, I shook him off and whipped around to face him. “How dare you! I’ve done nothing wrong and you keep trying to get me in trouble.”

His eyes widened and his head jerked back.

I let my anger boil over and carry my voice with it. It felt good. “I don’t know what you had to do with the murder. I was assuming you’re just acting like an ass because you didn’t want to get caught with the pot.” I stomped closer and poked my finger at his chest. “But if you had anything to do with killing Bethany Moore, I’m going to find out about it, and I’ll see you in jail!”

He stared at me with his mouth half open. My chest tightened and my throat closed up. I stalked off through the crowd before he could go on the offensive again, or I ruined my rant with tears. I wove among the food stalls, dodging people, trying to get away.

I finally found myself alone behind the little storage building. I sank to the ground, leaning against the building with my knees drawn up. I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my forehead on my knees, letting my hat fall to the ground. Tears slipped past my closed eyelids.

How had everything gotten so complicated? It should have been straightforward. You found evidence of a crime, you reported it, the police took over. Done. So how had I become embroiled in such a mess?

And what did it mean for Bethany? It didn’t sound as if she was that great in life. I had a feeling I wouldn’t have liked her at all. But that didn’t mean she deserved to die. And it didn’t mean she deserved to have people talk about her death as if it was an inconvenience, important only as it affected them.

I lifted my head and wiped at my eyes. Bethany Moore deserved justice, no matter what she had done. Was I the only one who saw that?

I dug in my shoulder bag for a tissue and blotted my face. I was being foolish. Of course I wasn’t the only one. The police were working on the case. I hadn’t seen or heard anything from them since my last interview, but surely they were doing whatever police do when they investigate a murder.

I remembered Ricky saying something about the police failing to solve a lot of cases. You did hear about a lot of unsolved murders. They didn’t have enough clues, or they couldn’t find proof, and then the police got too busy with something else.

I didn’t think I could stand it, never knowing what had really happened to Bethany Moore.

I tipped my head back against the building. Movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention and I flinched. Who had come after me now?

I tensed to spring up, but then saw it was Ricky and let myself fall back. He stopped a few feet away. “I saw you run past. Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Make sure no one else is around, close enough to listen, okay?”

He circled the building and came back. “Okay! Good thinking. Do you have a new plan?”

I dug out a brush and started pulling it through my hair. “No, nothing specific. But you’re right. I’m in this too deep to let it go. If we can, we need to help solve the murder of Bethany Moore. Let’s start by figuring out what we know.”

I made sure Eslinda had my cell phone number and then took Ricky to my office. With the door closed, we’d have some privacy. I had mixed feelings about encouraging Ricky’s involvement, but I couldn’t face doing this alone. Besides, maybe he really had learned something from all those detective novels.

We made a list of the people who might be involved or who had acted strange lately. Thomas Bain topped the list, of course. But there was also Lia Bain, who had provided his alibi. If he was guilty, she must be involved as well.

Jay was next on the list. I still had a hard time imagining why a murderer would bring me to the body and then get angry about reporting it, but I couldn’t fathom how his mind worked in any area. I had to hope he wasn’t the killer, because if he was I’d been stupid to warn him I was coming after him. The one time I can’t keep my mouth shut, I have to go threatening someone who could be dangerous.

Lewis Preppard and Rodrigo made the list because of their association with Jay and their threatening behaviors.

Finally, I added Kyle Moore. I didn’t like doing it, but he obviously had a strong connection to Bethany and that, plus the rumors of drug addiction and “mental trouble,” had to make him a suspect. I couldn’t believe he would intentionally kill his own sister, but if he’d supplied her with drugs he might have felt guilty enough about her death that he wouldn’t report it. That might cause the haunted look in his eyes.

But if he’d only supplied drugs, the death would’ve been an accidental overdose. The police had never released a cause of death, but they were calling it murder. Why? Maybe they weren’t sure, so they had to investigate it as a murder.

Bethany’s image rose up in my mind, her skin greenish-tinged and something missing where her jaw should be. There was a clue there, but I shoved the vision away. I dragged in a breath, smelling the faint lavender scent of my shampoo and green chile on Ricky’s breath, and tried to focus on the black names on white paper.

“Put down serial killer,” Ricky said.

“Right.” I wrote it down. Even if we didn’t have a specific suspect, it was worth remembering the possibility. “I heard some other rumors, too.” I thought back to the lunchroom and wrote down drug dealer and pimp. I bet Encyclopedia Brown, the kid detective, didn’t have cases like this.

I wasn’t too surprised that Ricky didn’t have to ask me to explain drug dealers or pimps. But I realized he probably got all his information about relationships between men and women from Mom, school, and TV. No doubt he knew the mechanics of sex, but what kind of warped attitudes would he have with Mom drumming “men are evil” into him on one side, and punk classmates bragging about their conquests on the other? I might have to give him “the talk” one day soon. Wouldn’t that be fun.