“I guess,” Amber said. “But not in the same way. Josh was just kind of in the background, but Damon was creepy—everybody thought so. Did you know he brought his backpack to the dance? They think he had the shotgun in there the whole time. Thank goodness no one hassled him. Can you imagine?”
“It would have been horrible,” Sadie said, remembering how the backpack detail had been a big deal in the papers. It was also the reason why the school board ruled that no bags bigger than a purse were allowed at school dances anymore.
“Damon didn’t hang out with any other kids?” Shawn asked.
“Nope.” Amber casually turned another page. “Unless you count the times he got beat up. I heard some guys stuck his head in the toilet just before he dropped out. Maybe that’s why he brought the gun to the dance.” She clucked her tongue and turned another page before laughing out loud again. “The Dog Squad,” she said, shaking her head at the drill team photo. “Seriously, they look like a bunch of cross-dressers.”
Sadie shook her head at the reality of Damon’s life back then. Kids just didn’t understand. The shooting at Columbine High School, only a few hours away from Garrison, had occurred only a couple years before Damon’s shooting. One would think a tragedy that close to home would have taught more of a lesson. But high school was high school, for better and, too often, for worse. It sounded like Damon’s experience was certainly worse than most.
“What did Josh do after high school?” Shawn asked.
Amber shrugged. “Dropped off the face of the earth pretty much. I remember him talking about going to art school back East, but the kid barely passed the geometry class we had together. I don’t see how he’d have the discipline for college. Not everyone is college material, ya know. Anyway, I didn’t keep up on him, and he didn’t come to the five-year reunion.”
But he was in town tonight, Sadie thought. Interesting.
Gayle suddenly appeared in the doorway, drawing everyone’s attention. Her green pumps were peeking out from under the lounge pants and her dress was thrown over her arm. “Sadie’s feet are too small,” she said when Amber made a face at the heels. “I can’t fit into any of her shoes.”
Difficult though it was, Sadie put her thoughts about Josh Hender on the back burner and moved to give her friend a hug good-bye. “She’s going to ask you to babysit in the morning,” Sadie whispered in Gayle’s ear while they embraced. Gayle groaned softly. “You can tell her we have plans if you need to.” Gayle nodded as Sadie pulled back. Sadie looked her friend over, not wanting to argue in front of Amber but wishing she could convince Gayle to stay. A good night’s sleep and a full breakfast would be far more beneficial than having her monster grandchildren nipping at her heels.
“I’ll be okay,” Gayle assured her, answering Sadie’s questions without tipping off Amber. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Or sooner if you need anything.” Like a rescue mission via helicopter, Sadie thought.
“I will,” Gayle said.
Within a minute, Amber’s car pulled away from the curb. Sadie shut the door and turned to face her son.
“Josh Hender was the photographer,” she said as quickly as she could.
“Damon’s best friend?” Shawn looked back at the yearbook in front of him. “Are you sure?”
Sadie came to stand behind him in order to see the picture again, but like the first time she’d seen it, a shiver raced up her spine. “I’d bet you an Evil Chicken dinner that’s him.”
Evil Chicken was exactly that—evil, and destined to clog arteries and send blood sugar levels through the roof. And yet the chicken and bacon dish was oh so delicious. Not to mention one of Shawn’s favorites.
Shawn looked back at the picture, almost convinced. “This was taken, like, ten years ago,” he commented.
“Nine,” Sadie clarified. “And did you miss the part where I bet you an Evil Chicken dinner? And I’ll make it tonight.”
Chapter 14
You’re sure you’re sure?” Shawn asked again as he stood up from the table.
“Yes,” Sadie said, putting her hands on her hips. “Why are you doubting me?”
“It’s just . . . not something you’d want to get wrong.” He turned toward the computer desk in the living room. “Let me Google him. Maybe we can find a more recent photo.”
“That’s fine,” Sadie said, humoring him. She had a better idea, however.
According to Amber, Josh didn’t live in Garrison anymore. But Josh had said he’d be getting his car later, which meant he’d have to stay in town until they opened the parking lot unless he wanted to try to convince a cop to let him pick up his car. Sadie didn’t think that was likely, since every police officer had his description.
Sadie moved to the counter and picked up the phone book. It was nothing like the four-inch-thick phone books compiled for larger cities. Instead, Garrison was combined with several other small towns into an inch-thick volume listing all the residences and businesses in Logan County.
“Hender,” she whispered while flipping the book open with one hand and turning pages with the other.
When she reached “H” she ran her finger down the column until she landed on “Hender, D.” It was the only Hender in the book and Sadie tried to suppress a smile of success. Mothers always knew where to find their children.
“Josh Hender comes up with 700 million links to Josh Henderson,” Shawn said from where he was hunched over the keyboard.
“Who’s Josh Henderson?” Sadie asked as she tapped the name in the phone book and considered her options. What would she say if Josh answered?
Shawn sucked in a large breath. “Blasphemy!” he said with dramatic flair. “Josh Henderson is a brilliant actor, of course. He’s featured in Ashley Tinsdale’s music video, didn’t you know?”
“Who’s Ashley Tinsdale?”
Shawn shook his head as though disappointed. “I’ll keep looking. The point is that the name Josh Hender is so close to Josh Henderson that it makes it hard to find the guy we’re looking for.” He leaned back in the office chair, and Sadie tried not to cringe as the chair creaked beneath his weight. He had far more faith in furniture than Sadie did. “Who are you calling?” he asked, nodding toward the phone book.
“Well, I’m thinking about calling Josh’s mother. At least that’s who I think this number is for. There’s only one Hender in the phone book.”
“You think he might be there?”
Sadie shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe. But even if he isn’t, I might be able to verify he was in town. It would be nice to have someone else confirm he was in Garrison tonight. It would make what I tell Pete more credible, right?”
“Why not,” Shawn said.
He wasn’t really asking her a question, but she answered it anyway. “Well, I’m pretty sure Pete doesn’t want me doing this kind of stuff.”
“Really?” Shawn said as though not getting the point she was trying to make. “Wouldn’t it help him?” His face lit up. “Facebook would be a better place to try to find this guy.” He spun back around to face the computer, leaving Sadie to make the decision herself. She hated being the one who had to make all these choices! Then again, she hated it when people made these types of choices for her, too.
The fact that she was vacillating, however, was proof that she knew the right thing to do was pass on what she’d learned to Pete—the real detective. After allowing herself a moment of internal venting about how unfair it was that she was sharing what she knew when Pete wouldn’t reciprocate, she gave in and picked up the phone. But instead of calling D. Hender like she wanted to, she called Pete. His cell was lucky number seven on the speed dial on her cell phone. She held her breath while it rang five times before going to voice mail. She hung up without leaving a message and texted him instead. She suspected that he wouldn’t take the time to call his voice mail, but a text message would take all of four seconds for him to read and respond to.
I know who the photographer is. Call me
.
After sending the text, she waited a full minute for his reply, tapping her foot and drinking French chocolate while she watched the seconds tick by on the big clock in the living room. After the first minute had passed, she waited thirty more seconds for good measure. While she waited, the certainty that she was right about Josh continued to build in her mind. Her annoyance at Pete for ignoring her text grew too.
Shouldn’t he take her information seriously? Didn’t it reflect poorly on the entire investigation if he let this slide? And then her thoughts pushed even further. Maybe Shawn was right and she’d be doing Pete a favor by verifying her information first. He had all those statements to collect and officers to manage, not to mention the medical examiner and the severe-looking man with the eyebrows. She thought of how Pete had blown off what she’d told him about Jane. If he were that busy, would it not be a good thing for Sadie to take this teeny little part of the investigation and figure it out for him? She was his girlfriend after all. Didn’t people who were committed to one another help each other out?
Why, just last week she’d returned home from the library meeting where they’d fine-tuned the details of tonight’s dinner and found Pete shoveling her driveway, his cheeks rosy and his fingers numb. It had been such a sweet thing for him to do. Calling Josh Hender’s parents would simply be paying him back, right?
Thoroughly convinced, and unable to stand the waiting any longer, Sadie moved to the wall phone, picked up the receiver, and dialed the number. She’d figure out the exact wording of how she would present all this to Pete later.
The phone rang twice.
“Hello?” the woman said, sounding a little breathless.
“Hi, is Josh there?” Sadie said in her official you-can-trust-me voice. The tone had worked wonders for her in the past.
“Um, he’s not here,” the woman said. She didn’t sound young, rather she sounded older and distressed. She sounded . . . like a mother whose son had been at an event that ended in murder.
Bingo!
Chapter 15
Do you know when he’ll be back?” Sadie asked.
“I have no idea,” the woman said, and Sadie heard tears in her voice.
The shooting had taken place more than two and a half hours ago, and surely the whole town had heard about it by now. Any mother with a child in that building would be worried sick. Especially a mother whose child hadn’t returned home.
“Was he at the library dinner?” Sadie asked, bracing herself for the answer, even though she knew she already knew it. Feigning ignorance was an important trick in her detective tool belt. One of her favorites if truth be known.
The woman was silent, but then Sadie heard a definite sob. “Yes,” the woman said. Sadie’s heart went out to her, but she didn’t interrupt. “He isn’t answering his cell phone and I . . . I don’t even know if he’s all right.”
“I was at the dinner,” Sadie said, hoping to soothe at least some of the woman’s fears, despite knowing that the woman’s distress was far from over. “And I think I saw him there. He was fine.” If Josh hadn’t gone to his parents’ house, then where was he?
The woman on the other end of the line sucked in a breath. “He was all right? Are you sure it was Josh?”
“I think so,” Sadie said, looking back at Josh’s photo in the senior yearbook. “Black hair, square jaw, wire-framed glasses, and blue eyes, right? He was wearing a tux—but the kind without a bow tie.”
“Yes,” the woman said as she exhaled loudly. “That’s him.”
“Did he take his camera with him?”
The woman sniffed. “Yes, he was supposed to take some new pictures for Thom’s website,” she said. “Thom paid for his flight and everything.”
Sadie chewed on that information for a moment and covered up the mouthpiece of the phone. “Shawn,” she whispered loudly. “Look up Thom Mortenson’s website.”
“Who are you again?” Mrs. Hender asked. Apparently her relief at knowing her son was okay had faded enough that she was wondering why Sadie was asking about her son in the first place.
Sadie considered hanging up right then—she had what she wanted to know—but her number had likely come up on Mrs. Hender’s caller ID. It would only worry Josh’s mother if the line went dead.
“My name is Sadie Hoffmiller,” Sadie said, wishing she had some kind of connection that would be helpful in gaining a relationship of trust with this woman. Alas, Sadie didn’t think their paths had ever crossed.
“What do you want with Josh?” she asked, suspicious now.
Sadie scrambled for an answer. “Uh, what with the evening ending so tragically—and the fact that he’d been such good friends with Damon, well, I . . . worried it would bring back some memories.”
Mrs. Hender was silent, which Sadie hadn’t expected. She thought Josh’s mother would agree with her concern. Instead she seemed deep in thought.
“Mrs. Hender?” she asked after a couple seconds.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, a sob in her voice. “I just don’t understand why he hasn’t called me.”
“You know kids,” Sadie offered. “They don’t have any idea how much we worry. I assure you he was fine when I saw him.” She felt like she needed to extend some type of excuse in hopes to offer relief. “Maybe he was giving his statement to the police. They were talking to everyone.” The lie didn’t sit well with her and she wished she hadn’t said it, even if it had been the nice thing to do.
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Mrs. Hender said, her voice sounding lighter.
Shawn finished on the computer and came back into the kitchen. He leaned against the wall by the phone and folded his arms across his chest, listening carefully to Sadie’s side of the conversation with his eyebrows knit together in concentration. He looked rather foreboding when he stood that way, even when he didn’t mean to.
“So, Josh and Thom have been pretty close over the years, huh?”
“Thom’s been good to him,” Mrs. Hender said, sounding more relaxed and open.
Sadie knew that sometimes people needed to talk about things when they were worked up, and she was happy to listen, especially now that Mrs. Hender’s suspicion seemed to have abated for the moment.
“His father left us when Josh was nine. Thom sort of filled that role in his life. After Damon died, well, Josh really worried about Thom and they became even closer.”
“I see,” Sadie said. “It’s wonderful they could remain friends.” She thought it was a little bizarre, too, but she didn’t want to say that out loud. Josh was a grown man, and yet he and Thom were still close. Sadie wouldn’t have expected that. “Do they see each other much?”
“No,” Mrs. Hender answered. “Josh lives in Virginia now.”
Sadie knew Thom lived in California, which was a long way from Virginia. “Right,” she said, trying to pick her way carefully through potential questions. “I heard Josh had gone to a good art school after high school.”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Hender said in her proud-mama voice—every mother had one. “He got a full scholarship with housing and everything to the School of Art Institute of Chicago.”
Scholarship? Sadie repeated in her mind.
Mrs. Hender continued. “Now he’s working for a magazine. He’s in charge of—”
A click sounded on the line. Sadie’s first reaction was that someone was listening in. An instant later, however, she realized it was simply the call waiting on Mrs. Hender’s phone. Paranoia was beginning to set in.
“Oh, it’s him,” Mrs. Hender said, her voice higher with relief. “I’ve got to go. Thank you for letting me know he was okay.”
“Wait!” But the line was dead before Sadie could get the words out. Shoot.
Sadie returned the phone to the cradle. “He called on the other line,” she said dismally.
“But you got what you needed to know,” Shawn asked. “Right?”
“I guess so,” Sadie said, but she was discouraged. “I mean, his
mother verified Josh was in town tonight, and that he’s friends with Thom Mortenson, but . . .” Despite all she’d learned, it wasn’t enough. She wanted more and looked past Shawn to the computer. “Did you find anything?”
“Facebook never fails,” Shawn said, motioning her to the computer where a black-and-white photo of Josh Hender stared back at them. His hair was a little shorter in this one, and he didn’t have glasses in the photo either.
“It’s totally him,” Sadie said.
Shawn nodded. “Yep. You were right.”
Sadie hit him playfully in the arm. “Told you so.”
Shawn rolled his eyes. “I also found Thom Mortenson’s website,” he said, clicking on another open tab. A moment later a website with a gray background and basic black type came on the screen. The title was simply “Thom Mortenson.” There were a couple of photos of Thom speaking back when he looked a whole lot younger and healthier, as well as a cover for Devilish Details.
“I’m assuming Josh’s mom didn’t give you a motive for why her son was snapping pictures of the dead guy?”
“She said Thom had asked Josh to come and take pictures for his website,” Sadie said, no more satisfied with the answer than Shawn was.
Shawn clicked on the “Events” tab and then frowned at the blinking words on the screen: “Website under construction. Come back soon!” He went back to the home page.
“I hope they hired a web designer to work on a new layout along with the new pics,” Shawn said. “There’s not much here.”
“Except that the pictures Josh ended up taking were pictures of a murdered agent.”
“Okay, so it doesn’t make him perfectly legit, but it explains him at least being there—he’s friends with Thom. It’s a start, right? So he called on the other line when you were talking to his mom?”
“Yeah,” Sadie said, turning away from the computer. “I wish she’d have put me on hold and then come back on the line. I mean, where is he? Why didn’t he call her sooner? What’s he been doing all this time?”
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