by Dan Padavona
The SUV fishtailed when she took the turn too fast. As she neared the alleyway, Aguilar’s cruiser motored into the thoroughfare and braked along the curb. The deputy lowered her window when Raven stopped beside her.
“He’s gone. Let’s hope Kane Grove PD catches him before he hits the highway.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
October 31st
12:55 p.m.
When the principal led Leland Trivett into the conference room, the boy caught sight of Thomas and Presley and froze like a deer caught in the headlights of an onrushing car.
“What’s this about? I didn’t do anything?”
The way the boy’s eyes darted around the room made Thomas question his innocence. Thomas rose from his chair and gestured at the open seat across from them. Leland glanced at the principal, then back to Thomas and Presley before sitting down. The boy’s body trembled, and his hands wrung together in his lap. On the wall, a clock ticked with grim finality. The principal exited the room and closed the door.
“Leland Trivett?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Sheriff Shepherd, and this is Detective Presley with the Kane Grove Police Department.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“We just want to ask you a few questions,” Presley said, smoothing out her voice.
“About what?”
“I understand you’re close friends with Derek Jordan.”
Leland’s eyes widened. He dropped his head again and scratched his neck.
“Yeah, we’ve been friends since grade school. Why are you asking about Derek?”
“We understand Derek was supposed to sleep at your house last night,” said Presley, tapping a nail against the table.
“I invited him, yeah. But he didn’t show.”
“What time did you invite Derek over?”
“A little after midnight, I guess.”
Thomas noted the time. Even if the tech team couldn’t read the SD card from Derek’s phone, the cell company would confirm the messages.
“You were up late for a school night. Weren’t your parents concerned?”
Leland shrugged.
“They crashed early. I played Call of Duty with my headphones on so I didn’t bother them.”
“Where was Derek when you invited him to spend the night?” asked Thomas. Leland studied the table. “It’s all right. You can tell us the truth.”
“He sneaks out a lot. Derek was with Valerie.”
Thomas glanced at Presley. This was the second time Valerie’s name had surfaced today.
“Valerie Leonard?”
“That’s her. How do you know Valerie’s name?”
“Is Valerie Derek’s girlfriend?” Leland squirmed in his chair. “There’s nothing illegal about teenagers dating, Leland. Answer the question.”
“I think so. They hung out a lot over the summer.”
“Was Derek with Valerie when he wrote you?” Presley asked, setting her arm on the empty chair to her left.
Leland thought for a moment and shook his head.
“No. He was on his way home, so I invited him to spend the night. Derek lives on the other end of Barton Falls. Our house is on the way.”
“So you understand Barton Falls is a dangerous place after dark.”
“It can be.”
“And you weren’t concerned when Derek didn’t show?”
Leland placed the heels of both palms over his eyes.
“I fell asleep.”
“So you’re not even sure if Derek made it to your house. Perhaps he knocked, and you didn’t hear him. Didn’t you say you were wearing headphones?”
“I stopped gaming after Derek messaged me back. My room is down the hall from the front door, so I would have heard him knock. Derek would have banged on the bedroom window if he couldn’t get in. Anyhow, Derek and Gardner have keys to the house.”
“Gardner?”
“Gardner Raimi. The three of us game together. I don’t want them banging on the door late at night and bothering my parents.”
“Your parents don’t mind them having keys?”
Leland shook his head.
“We’ve known each other since grade school. Derek and Gardner are like family.”
“What time did you wake up?”
Leland fidgeted in his chair.
“When my mom told me to get ready for school. It must have been six-thirty. I figured Derek blew me off and walked home.”
“Didn’t you worry when he didn’t show up for school?”
“Did something happen to Derek?”
Thomas tilted his chin at the boy.
“You have allergy problems this time of year, Leland? Leaf mold and such?”
“Not really, why?”
“Your eyes. They’re bloodshot and irritated.”
Leland lowered his head and swept a hand through his fair hair.
“Like I said, I stayed up past midnight.”
Thomas set a memo pad on the desk and clicked a pen.
“Something on your mind that kept you up late?”
Leland’s gaze traveled to the clock, then to the closed door.
“No. Just hanging out online with my friends.”
“How often do you smoke, Leland?”
The boy’s eyes shot to Thomas.
“What?”
“Pot. Come on, Leland. Derek’s parents told us the two of you get high together.”
“What the hell do they know? They don’t pay attention to Derek.”
“This isn’t a drug bust. I don’t care what you do in your spare time. Just tell me the truth. Who sells you the weed?”
Leland set his hands on the desk and stared at his fingernails. They were chewed to the quicks.
“I dunno. I don’t want to snitch over a little pot.”
“Leland,” Presley said, meeting the teenager’s eyes. “We’re concerned Derek got himself involved with the wrong people.”
“No way, not Derek. Sure, we party a couple times a week. But he’s not meeting with dealers. Derek isn’t like that. He just likes to unwind and forget about his home life.”
“So you do the buying?” asked Thomas.
Leland lifted a shoulder.
“Yeah.”
“From who?”
“I only know his first name. Troy. He sells out of Harmon.”
Presley eyed Thomas.
“Troy Dean runs the 315 Royals,” said Thomas. “Does that name ring a bell?”
“No. Should it?”
“If I show you a picture, do you think you’ll recognize Troy?”
“I’ll try.”
Thomas swiped through his camera and found a picture of Troy Dean. He stored the image after the sheriff’s department first suspected Dean of murder in April. Thomas passed the phone to Leland. The teenager bobbed his head.
“Yeah, that’s the guy. Who did you say he was?”
“Troy Dean runs the most powerful gang in Harmon.”
Leland’s mouth fell open.
“The guy’s a gangster? I didn’t…shit, am I in danger?”
“Where do you meet Troy Dean?”
The teenager sat back in his chair.
“Down by the train tracks. He’s always with two other guys. Big guys.”
“And you’re not afraid to buy drugs from them?”
Leland pressed his knuckles against his lips.
“I figured they were bad dudes. But they’ve always been cool to me.”
“Is it possible Derek purchased from Troy Dean last night?”
“No. Like I said, Derek never buys.”
“Maybe he took the railroad tracks on the way home and ran into Troy and his bodyguards.”
Leland’s face paled.
“You’re hiding something from me. What happened to Derek last night?”
Thomas glanced at Presley, who nodded.
“Derek is dead, Leland,” said Thomas. Panic flared in Leland’s eyes. “We found him beside the train tracks. Somebody
stabbed him.”
“Bullshit. You’re lying, man. I messaged Derek after midnight. He can’t be dead.”
“I’m sorry, Leland, but it’s true. We identified his body this morning. You say you were playing video games in your bedroom past midnight until you fell asleep. Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts between midnight and two?”
“I told you. My parents were asleep.”
“So nobody.”
Leland stared at Thomas, then at Presley.
“Hold on a second. I didn’t hurt Derek. He’s my best friend.”
“The two of you ever argue? Perhaps Derek got physical, and things got a little out of hand. It happens.”
“I was in my bedroom all freaking night. Do I need a lawyer?”
Presley stepped in, playing the role of good cop.
“Did Derek have any enemies, Leland? Who wanted to hurt your friend?”
Leland glared at Presley as though she’d lost her mind.
“Nobody. Derek is friends with everyone.”
“No problems at school or home.”
“No.” Leland reconsidered after a pause. “He didn’t get along with his stepfather.”
“How so?”
“Cole hit Derek last year because he stayed out past curfew. Derek didn’t take it well. He doesn’t consider Cole his father.”
“What did Derek do?”
“He punched him back. Broke the guy’s nose, so the doctor had to reset it. After that, Cole and Derek stopped talking…not that the relationship was good to begin with.”
“Would Cole harm Derek?”
Leland ruffled his hair and gazed at the closed door.
“Cole’s a creep, but he’s a wuss. He backed down after Derek stood his ground. No way he’d test him again.”
“You mentioned a girlfriend,” Thomas said, clicking his pen. “Valerie Leonard.”
“Valerie, yeah.”
“Does Valerie have a jealous former boyfriend?”
“She hasn’t dated anyone this year, except Derek.”
“What about Valerie’s parents? What do they think of Valerie dating?”
“I doubt she told them about Derek.”
“Why?”
“Because the father doesn’t think anyone is good enough for Valerie.”
Thomas scribbled a note. If the father discovered his daughter was dating a boy with a drug problem, how far would he go to break up the relationship?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
October 31st
1:15 p.m.
“Raven just confirmed Benson visited his old gymnasium in Kane Grove,” Chelsey said, staring at the farmhouse through the binoculars.
LeVar stretched his legs in the passenger seat, barely fitting in the Civic. They parked inside a copse a hundred yards from the farmhouse. A vacant garage stood between the trees and the house, and a weather-beaten shed leaned beside a meadow.
“He’s hitting all his old haunts,” LeVar said, bringing a second set of binoculars to his eyes. “Which means he may have visited the farmhouse on his way into town.”
Chelsey bit her nail. There was something off about the old house. Maybe it was the battleship-gray sky framing the roof, or the preternatural cold shoving the car around as Halloween night loomed. She sensed danger in the shadows and eyes watching them as she waited for the fugitive to return.
Focus on your breathing, she thought to herself. Chelsey’s therapist taught her to breathe when she felt her anxiety heighten, and right now it was rising to the top of the cup and boiling over. She closed her eyes and pictured Wolf Lake, Thomas and Jack beside her, a warm May breeze instead of Halloween’s wrath. The promise of summer ahead of them.
“You all right?”
She blinked her eyes open and found LeVar studying her.
“I am now.” She pushed her palms down her thighs, ironing out her jeans. “You probably think I’m too edgy to be in this line of work. I’m sure you faced more pressure in Harmon.”
He considered her words for a long time. She worried she’d said the wrong thing.
“Fear is healthy. It’ll keep you from getting killed.”
“Right.” The silence that followed thickened. There was something left unsaid between them—another apology for the way she prejudged him last April, though she’d already told him multiple times she was sorry. Chelsey brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Ready to find a way inside?”
“Let’s do this.”
During the short time Raven’s brother had worked for Wolf Lake Consulting, he’d grown on Chelsey. Technically, LeVar wouldn’t be eligible for a private investigator’s license in New York State until he turned twenty-five. Chelsey skirted the rule by naming him a student intern. The teenager worked hard and displayed a veteran’s instinct, though she wasn’t comfortable letting him carry a weapon. Not yet. She needed to observe LeVar a little longer, see how he responded under pressure. The last thing she needed was an ex-gang member shooting a violent offender in self-defense. The authorities wouldn’t give LeVar the benefit of the doubt.
Still, the teenager possessed a steadying presence that grounded Chelsey. Now and then, he came up with a joke that released the tension between them. He was so much like his sister. Headstrong, independent, fearless. But could she depend on him?
The meadow grew past their shins. Dead grass crunched underfoot as they crossed the property. Signaling Chelsey to wait, LeVar stopped and gazed inside the garage.
“See anything?”
“Tire tracks. No way to tell how old they are.”
Shielded from the elements, tire tracks would last a long time inside the dirt-floor garage. Chelsey approached the old home beside LeVar. A window on the top floor drew her eyes. For a second, she swore a shadow passed across the glass. But that was her mind playing tricks on her. Benson couldn’t drive from Kane Grove to the countryside that fast. So why were her instincts on high alert?
She stared up at the farmhouse. A rusty lawn chair lay on its side on the porch. Taped to the inside of the window, a foreclosure sign hung on the door. Chelsey climbed the steps with LeVar right behind her. The kid played it cool, but she caught him shooting paranoid glances back at the garage and the copse.
He lifted his chin.
“How do we get past the door?”
Chelsey fished a set of lock picks from her jacket.
“With these.”
“Is breaking in legal?”
“Nope.”
“Good deal.”
Chelsey slipped gloves over her hands and handed him a pair.
“Put these on. We don’t want to contaminate evidence if Benson left prints.”
Chelsey glanced around before she slipped the picks into the lock. The Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department had jurisdiction over the farmhouse and would probably look the other way. Still, she was breaking the law. Chelsey and LeVar weren’t deputies, and neither had just cause to enter the farmhouse.
The ancient lock was no match for Chelsey’s skill. A flick of the wrist, and the door opened. She expected stale air to roll out. It didn’t. She sniffed the air, drawing LeVar’s attention.
“Smell something?”
Chelsey placed a finger to her lips and removed her gun. Studying the empty living room, she listened to the heartbeat of the old house. Wood groaned inside the walls when the wind gusted. Her hair ruffled from an unexpected breeze. LeVar held Chelsey’s eyes, noticing it too.
Before she could protest, the teenager shifted in front of her and walked toward the kitchen, following the wind. The cold had made its way into the farmhouse, as though someone opened all the windows and invited the premature winter inside. He stopped at the kitchen threshold and pointed. Muddy shoe prints trailed across the floor. A door leading to the backyard stood open a crack, the jamb warped and splintered.
“He broke in,” Chelsey whispered. LeVar moved to the doorway and examined the damage. The ghost of a shoe print marred the outside of the door. After he closed the door, h
e turned and pointed at the dried mud. Most of the dirt Benson tracked into the house had fallen off his shoes in the kitchen. Now that Chelsey was searching for dirt, she spotted specks leading toward the stairs.
They moved in silence, the last day of October moaning at the windows. Chelsey knelt before a staircase and found more dirt.
“Upstairs,” she mouthed.
LeVar’s body tensed.
The first stair groaned when Chelsey stepped down. Moving to the side, she followed the wall with LeVar on her heels. She fixed her eyes on the upper landing, appreciating the risk. If Benson was inside the house, he must have heard them break in. When Chelsey and LeVar stepped into the open, the fugitive might aim both barrels of a shotgun at them.
An open door beckoned Chelsey on the landing. Chelsey stopped beside the bathroom. After a breath, she threw her body around the corner, aiming left, then straight ahead. She caught movement in her peripheral vision and swung to her right, prepared to squeeze off a shot if Benson attacked. Instead, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Exhaling, Chelsey composed herself. The shower curtain was missing, so it was easy to confirm nobody hid in the tub.
They checked the bedroom next. Chelsey’s eyes stopped on two chairs against the far wall. One lay broken. This was where Benson and Ramos held Raven and Ellie Fisher over the summer. A cold sickness settled in Chelsey’s gut. She refused to consider what Benson would do to Raven if he caught her today. LeVar’s back stiffened, the muscles in his arms twitching.
A closet door stood closed in the corner. Chelsey approached the entrance with the gun ready. She motioned for LeVar to open the door from the side while she aimed the weapon into the hidden space. Sensitive to any sounds betraying an intruder, Chelsey swallowed. Her heart raced as LeVar reached for the handle.
When he threw the door open, Chelsey swept the gun through the darkness. A blanket lay crumpled at her feet. Reaching up, she tested the pull string. With the power cut, the light didn’t respond. LeVar shone a flashlight into the closet. Something was tucked beneath the blanket. Chelsey kicked it with the toe of her sneaker. Soft. She whipped back the blanket to reveal a pillow with a brown stain across the center. A strand of gray hair lay across the pillow.