“It’s for your own good, Rachel.” Sherry took a sip of her tea, wiping down the sweating sides of the glass with her napkin.
“Tell me about your trip to Oxbow Mountain,” Mac urged, steering Rachel back to the subject.
“Oh, yeah. Well, we drove up there in Jay’s Toyota pickup. It’s got these big wheels that Mom says looks like a toy truck on steroids.”
Kevin sent the mother a knowing grin.
“I’m, like, smashed in the middle between him and Brandon.
They are these hunks, you know. Both of them play football. They take up the whole front seat by themselves. I wanted to climb in the back, but Jay wanted me next to him. When we got there, I was disappointed ’cause I didn’t know any of the kids. They had this bonfire going. That part was cool.”
“Was this on Oxbow Mountain, in the National Forest?”
“I guess. I don’t know for sure. There were about eight kids, only two other girls. They looked like real losers, if you know what I mean. They were hanging all over these guys, all drunk and stuff.
I mean, I’m not exactly being judgmental. I had a couple of brews too. But I wasn’t making a fool out of myself.”
“Right. Now let’s get to the part where you thought you saw Megan Tyson,” Mac said, trying to get her back on target again.
“Okay.” Rachel picked up her glass and took a drink. “I was sitting on the tailgate of the truck, you know, when this totally cool convertible comes up the road. I thought they must be crazy to bring a nice car like that up into the woods. I don’t think it had four-wheel drive or anything. Anyway, this guy gets out and he’s totally bombed. He can hardly stand up. Then his girlfriend gets out and she’s not in any better shape. I’m thinking these people need a designated driver or something.
They walk over and start talking to us like we’re long-lost friends or something.”
“What did they look like?”
She shrugged. “They were a lot older than us—maybe in their thirties.”
Mac tossed Kevin a smile when he frowned at her definition of older.
“The woman looked like Megan Tyson,” Rachel chewed on her bottom lip. “She had long blonde hair and had on a white jacket and a pink tank. Khaki pants, I think. Um, they were both white—Caucasian. The guy was short, probably weighed around one-fifty. He was my height. I’m five-six. The woman was small too. She was pretty and had her hair fixed like mine, kind of straight and long.”
“Did they say anything to you while they were there?” Mac asked.
“Not to me personally. The guy asked where the lookout was and if the road was in good shape. Jay told him it was. They stayed for maybe ten minutes and took off toward the lookout.”
“Are you sure this woman was Megan Tyson?” Mac opened his briefcase and pulled a photo of Megan out to show her.
She stared at the picture. “It’s her. I know.” She looked like she wanted to say more.
“Do you need to talk to us in private?”
Rachel glanced at her mother and sighed. “No. She can stay.”
“What makes you so certain the woman you saw was Megan Tyson?” Mac asked.
“I know it’s her and not just because I recognize her. Something else. After they left, I saw Brandon standing by the fire with her purse. He was bragging about how he snatched it while the guy and Megan were talking to us.”
“Oh, Rachel.” Rachel’s mother covered her mouth. Looking at Mac then Kevin, she said, “I didn’t know about this.”
Rachel gripped the sides of her chair. “I was in enough trouble already. Besides, I didn’t have anything to do with stealing her purse.”
“Go on with your story,” Mac said.
“Brandon took out a bunch of credit cards and some cash and threw the purse in the fire. It was one of those small bags that looks like a backpack.”
“Do you remember seeing any jewelry in it?”
She shook her head. “No. Just the cards and some cash.”
“Did you or the others use the cards?”
She hung her head. “Not me. I mean, I didn’t want anything to do with it. Jay stopped to get gas, and Brandon handed the attendant the card and said it was mine. They made me sign it. The attendant didn’t ask any questions. He just handed the card back. When we got into Troutdale, he tried the debit card at an ATM machine, but it wouldn’t work ’cause he didn’t have her PIN number. Jay told him it was stupid to try to use it. I said he should give the cards back to the woman and apologize, but he just laughed and threw them out the window. I would have called you guys earlier if I’d known she was dead, really. Jay was mad at Brandon about the whole thing.”
Mac tapped his pen on his notepad. “Did you have any questions, Kevin?”
“Yes.” Kevin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Are you sure Brandon didn’t keep any other items from the purse, maybe a set of keys?”
“I don’t think so. All I saw were the credit cards and some cash.” She frowned. “You don’t think Brandon killed her, do you?
I mean, he wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Do you think Brandon or Jay would use her keys to gain entry to her home—maybe to burglarize it?”
“Not Jay. I don’t think Brandon would either. I mean, he’s a friend of Jay’s. They had been drinking and . . . They’re not bad guys, just not too bright sometimes.”
“What’s the difference between stealing a purse and using a woman’s credit card, and burglarizing her home?”
“I . . .” Rachel sat motionless. “I don’t know.”
“Is Rachel going to be arrested as an accessory?” her mother asked. “If she is, we should get a lawyer.”
“It’s too soon to tell at this point,” Kevin answered. “If she’s been honest with us, possibly not. Rachel, can you tell us how to contact Brandon and Jay?”
“Brandon works down at the video store in town, by the grocery store off Tenth Street. I don’t know his home address.” She stood. “I can get you Jay’s address, though.”
“That would be very helpful.”
Coming back a few minutes later, she handed Mac a pink Postit. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call you sooner. I thought she would just get her cards canceled like people do when they lose a purse or a wallet. I didn’t want to be a snitch.”
Kevin gave her his business card. “The important thing is that you came forward. It takes a lot of grit. Thanks for all your help. I’m going to ask that you don’t try to contact Jay or Brandon, or anyone else for that matter while we are making inquiries. Understand?”
“You don’t have to worry about that, Detective Bledsoe.” Sherry put an arm around her daughter’s shoulder and pulled her close. “Rachel is grounded from everything except school. I don’t think she’ll be seeing those boys anytime soon.”
“I wouldn’t anyway.” Rachel tipped her head against her mother’s shoulder. “I sure hope Brandon didn’t do anything stupid.”
“So do we, Rachel,” Kevin replied as the two men walked out the front door.
“Let’s go, Mac,” Kevin said as soon as the door closed behind them. “She’ll be on the phone in about thirty seconds to her friends. We need to get down to that video store and take a statement from Brandon.”
Kevin’s comment surprised Mac. “You really think Rachel will warn those guys? She seemed so sincere.”
Kevin chuckled. “She’s sincere to a point, Mac. With her mother and us right there, what was she supposed to say? She’s good— leaning against her mother like that. She might not call Brandon, but you can bet she’s calling her boyfriend. He’ll warn his friend.”
Mac shook his head. “You read people better than I do; that’s for sure.”
“Don’t feel too bad. Remember, I’ve got a few years on you.
Besides, I’ve raised three kids.”
“You don’t think Rachel was involved in Megan’s death, do you?”
“I’d hate to think so, Mac. But at this point w
e can’t rule anyone out. Not even Rachel.”
Chapter Sixteen
Kevin had his ear pressed to his cell phone and was talking to Eric before Mac even had the car started.
“This thing’s starting to rock and roll. We’ve got a lead on the kid who stole the victim’s purse. We’re heading to his workplace now for an interview. Do we have anything on the victim’s residence? Right, we’ll head back to the apartment as soon as we can.”
Kevin signed off. “Eric said the lab is still at the residence, and they’ll be there for a while. Pick it up, Mac. Let’s get to this kid fast. Hang a left at the next intersection and it will take us right by the place.” He dialed the phone again. “Yeah, babe, it’s me. I’ll be home when you see the whites of my eyes. I will. Love you too.” He tipped the phone toward Mac. “Want to call your girlfriend, let her know you’ll be working late?”
“Naw, it’s okay. She’s probably still boating with her parents. Besides, I doubt she cares.”
“Don’t be too sure of that. Worry comes in all sort of packages and one of them is anger.”
“We’re coming up on the video store.” Mac nodded toward the red storefront.
“Pull into the parking lot. We’ll go into the store like customers.”
Mac pulled into a parking place. “I hope he hasn’t already split.”
“If so, we’ll see if the manager’s available. He should be able to provide us with the kid’s address.”
Kevin and Mac approached the front entrance. They stopped as a young man walked out the front door wearing a polo shirt and a nametag that read Brandon. He wore headphones and carried a backpack.
“Excuse me.” Mac stepped in front of him, barring his exit. “Do you work here?”
The kid stepped back, almost colliding with the door. “Yeah, what of it?”
“Are you Brandon King?”
“Who’s asking?” The kid looked scared. Good.
“State police.” Mac and Kevin displayed their badges. “We’d like to talk with you,” Mac said.
Brandon looked from one man to the other as though seeking a path of escape.
Mac was more than a head taller than the teenager and probably outweighed him by about thirty pounds. He leveled a steady and what he hoped was an intimidating gaze on the kid.
The boy’s shoulders sagged. “I’m Brandon. What’s this all about? I haven’t done anything wrong. Do I need a lawyer or something?”
Kevin stepped in front of Mac so that he was practically in Brandon’s face. “Listen, pal, we are engaged in the homicide investigation of Megan Tyson. If you killed her, yeah, you need a lawyer— big time. If you didn’t, and your only crime is ripping off her purse, then maybe you won’t. You need to tell us everything you know about Megan. This is your first and last chance to be honest before I tack you to the wall with criminal charges. Understand?”
Brandon’s Adam’s apple shifted up and down as he pressed himself against the door. He managed a faint, “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’re smarter than you look.” Kevin backed off a bit.
“Let’s go out to our car and talk.”
After their discussion, Mac wasn’t about to trust the guy not to run. He took hold of Brandon’s arm and led him to his car. Kevin opened the door and instructed Brandon to sit in the backseat. He followed the kid in, settling himself behind the driver’s seat. Mac stood outside the car at the ready in case the kid decided to bolt.
“I’m not kidding, Brandon,” Kevin said. “I don’t have time for any nonsense. You lie to me once, just once, and you’ll be spending the night in jail.”
“I got it.” Brandon leaned back, looking as though he wanted to fade into the upholstery.
“Okay. We already know you took a purse on the night of August eighth, when you and some friends were partying up on Oxbow Mountain, right?”
“Look, we were just having some fun,” Brandon protested.
“Help me out here, Mac. I told him not to lie to us, right? Didn’t I say that?”
“Yep. You sure did.” Mac leaned into the car. In a way he felt sorry for the kid. Kevin could be pretty fierce looking.
“Just one time I said,” Kevin warned the boy.
“All right. Yeah, I took her purse. So what?”
“That purse belonged to a woman who is now dead. Were you aware of that?”
The boy’s eyes widened. “No way, man. I didn’t do nothin’ but take the purse and use a credit card. You got the wrong guy, man.”
“No, we have the right guy. We have the jerk who stole her purse. Tell me what happened.”
“Um . . . this drunk couple came up to Oxbow Mountain where my friends and me were partying. I’d had a few drinks but nothing like those two. They were driving this sweet convertible with mag wheels. While they were yakking it up with the others, I was checking out the car. I took the purse. I mean, hey, she left it lying in plain sight on the front seat, man. Easy pickings.” He lifted his lips in a sneer. “Turned out it wasn’t worth taking. Nothing in it but a few bucks and some cards.”
“Any jewelry?”
“Just a cheap rhinestone necklace.” He tipped his head and gave them a lopsided grin. “Not my style.”
“That wasn’t a fake, mastermind.” Kevin’s jaw stiffened. “What did you do with it?”
“No joke? I thought it was too big to be real so I left it in the purse and chucked it in the fire. All I kept was a gas card and a debit card. That and a few bucks.”
“Anything else? Like maybe a set of keys?”
“Yeah, there were some keys. They went in the fire too.”
Mac shook his head. The kid was lying.
Kevin must not have believed him either. “Are you sure you didn’t pocket the keys and go back to her house later?”
“No way. I didn’t even know where she lived.”
“The truth, Brandon.”
“That is the truth. Why won’t you believe me?” he whined.
“Because, bonehead,” Kevin said, “when you steal someone’s purse, there’s usually some identification—like a driver’s license— that would tell you where she lived.”
“I swear to you guys, I didn’t even look at her ID. I just took the two pieces of plastic and a few bucks.”
“Now, why don’t I believe you?” Kevin muttered. “Have you ever been arrested before, Brandon?”
“Once or twice.”
“For what?”
“Theft, curfew violations, and um . . . once for possession. I had less than an ounce of marijuana on me. How bad is that?”
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen, man, I’m out there now.”
“You’re out there, all right. It means you get to go to prison instead of Juvenile Hall. It means I’m going to make you a personal project if I find out you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie, dude. Chill out. All I did was lift a purse. I didn’t kill the broad and I didn’t break into her place.”
Kevin grabbed the front of the kid’s shirt and pulled him to within two inches of his face. “That broad was a human being. Her name was Megan Tyson. She lived and breathed and had friends and feelings. And maybe, just maybe, she would still be alive today if some punk hadn’t stolen her purse for a tank of gas. You think about that, mister. You think about that for the rest of your life.”
Kevin sat back in his seat, the veins in his neck protruding. “Get his stats, Mac, and cut him loose. If he gives you half a reason, book him.” Kevin climbed out of the car. “I’m going for a walk. Be back in a few minutes.”
Stunned by Kevin’s anger, Mac wrote down Brandon’s name, date of birth, address, friends, and phone number, then told him they would be in contact.
“Are we done? Can I go now?”
“Almost,” Mac said. “We’ll want you to come in for a polygraph test in a day or two. Are you agreeable to that?”
“Sure. I guess.” Brandon glanced at Kevin’s receding back. “What’s with him?”
Brandon didn’t need to be told twice. He scooted out, leaving the car door open, and jogged to the back part of the parking lot where he climbed on a motorcycle. He spent half a second revving up the engine before laying a patch of rubber as he peeled out of the parking lot.
Mac rubbed his temples. What had gotten into Kevin? Mac hadn’t known him long, but the display of temper was far from professional, and if the kid ended up with a lawyer, Kevin could face charges of harassment. Mac closed the car door the kid had left open, then climbed into the driver’s side, starting up the car and turning on the air conditioner.
Kevin rounded the corner of the video store moments later, his hands in his pockets. Climbing into the car, he said, “Sorry about that, Mac.”
“For what, partner?” Mac replied as if nothing had happened.
“First of all, I apologize for losing my cool. Second, I’m sorry I walked away. Truth is I needed to cool down and have words with someone.”
“Who?” Mac glanced back at the store. “You mean the kid’s boss?”
Kevin smiled and fastened his seat belt. “God.”
“Oh.” Mac wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“I needed some perspective, and prayer gives me that. God helped me to remember who I am and why I’m here.”
“Okay.” Mac shoved the car into drive and backed out of the parking space, hoping this line of conversation would end.
“Do you ever pray, Mac?”
“Used to.” Mac didn’t have much use for prayer. For some reason, he heard himself blurting out a memory from the past.
“When I was a kid, and my mom was dying, I spent a lot of time praying. She died.”
“And you felt as though God hadn’t heard?”
“Something like that.”
“You blamed God for taking her away?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? God is supposed to be this allpowerful being who answers prayers. Well, why didn’t He answer mine?”
“He did.”
“How? By taking my mother and letting my father kill himself with alcohol?”
Secrets, Lies & Alibis Page 11