by David Bell
“We need to know everything that’s happened,” Olsen said. “We can protect you. And your family.”
Jason sighed. “Okay.”
Olsen took out a notebook and listened while Jason recounted his run-in with Jesse Dean. He asked Jason what kind of car Jesse Dean was driving and which direction he drove off in. Jason told the detective everything he could remember. When he was finished, Olsen closed the notebook and slipped it back into his coat pocket.
“Would you like me to drive you home?” Olsen asked. “Can I do anything else for you before I go?”
“Find my sister,” Jason said. “Find out who killed Logan.”
“We’re working on it. The girl the two of you fought over back then? Who was she?”
“A friend of ours. Regan Maines. Now her name is Regan Kreider. She lives here in town. She’s the one who called and told me you all had identified Logan’s body this morning. She heard it on the news before I did. She wanted me to hear from a friendly voice, I guess.”
“She lives here in Ednaville?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re still in touch?”
“We’re friends,” Jason said, his voice sharp.
Olsen nodded, apparently noting the hint of defensiveness that had crept into Jason’s voice.
“Let me ask you something else,” Olsen said. “You fought with Mr. Shaw that night, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you say you fought over a girl. This Regan Kreider. So both of you wanted to date her? Is that it? You both had feelings for her?”
“We were all friends. Good friends. We became very close, the three of us, during our last couple of years of high school.”
“Were either of you actually dating her?” Olsen asked.
“No.” Then Jason hesitated. “Well, I know I wasn’t. I guess I can’t say for certain what anyone else was doing.”
“So Ms. Maines and Mr. Shaw might have been an item?” Olsen asked.
“I doubt it. I don’t know. I thought it was more likely she and I would have been. I thought we were closer back then. We seemed to have a real connection.”
But Jason had to admit—at least to himself—that Regan had been evasive and guarded whenever Logan’s name came up. If there was more to the story, she wasn’t sharing it with him.
“So what precipitated this fight?” Olsen asked.
Jason looked at the bright blue sky. There were no clouds. Somewhere in the distance a plane sailed past, far overhead. Jason couldn’t hear it. He just saw the faint silver streak against the sky, burnished by the sun.
“I told the police this back then. On that night, graduation night, we were all out at the Bluff. We’d been at one party. We were going to another later on. I was with Regan for a while, and then she and I split up. Apparently when we did, Logan found Regan and told her how he felt. She let him down. She said she was interested in me. He was drunk that night. He liked to drink, and when he drank, he could get mouthy. He came and found me and told me that I needed to stay away from Regan, that he wanted to be with her. We argued. We both said some things to each other.”
“What did he say?” Olsen asked. “You said he could get mouthy. What kinds of things did he say?”
“Does it matter?”
“We can talk about it another time if you need to collect your thoughts.” Olsen was saying the right things, but Jason could tell he didn’t mean it. He showed no inclination to stand up or back off. “It’s just that Mr. Shaw’s death is going to be classified as a homicide, and anything we can learn about what we presume to be his last moments alive will help.”
“You think you can solve it?”
“That’s the idea,” Olsen said. “So what happened that night?”
“I don’t like to think about it.”
“Because he was your friend? And you fought?”
“Yes. It was ugly.” But Jason told the detective the whole story of the words and blows they exchanged. Even to his own ears, Jason’s voice sounded distant and hollow. He didn’t like the tone, but he felt powerless to change it. “In the end, he said that the sky was the limit for what he could do in life because his father had money, and that I was probably just going to end up working a middle-class job in Ednaville.” Jason shrugged. “And here I am.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being middle-class in Ednaville,” Olsen said. “Was that all he said?”
“It was enough.”
“And what did you say to him?” Olsen asked.
Jason winced. He attacked Logan as hard as Logan attacked him. He fought dirty—verbally. “I told him that at least my parents stayed together. That his father and mother hated each other so much his mother left and didn’t give a shit about either one of them. We’d never talked about their divorce before. He always seemed a little ashamed of it, I guess. His mother left the house, and Jason was mostly raised by his dad. It was unusual. Most divorced kids stayed with their mothers.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“I don’t know. I figured it was because the old man had so much money. He wouldn’t lose if they fought about it in court.”
“No way to know. Courts tend to favor the mother, that’s true. Especially back then. So that set him off? The stuff about his parents?”
“I don’t even remember who threw the first punch. I just know that all of a sudden we were swinging at each other. I’d never been in a fight before, and there I was fighting with my best friend. Over a girl. It seemed almost . . . surreal, I guess. I didn’t feel any of the punches he landed. It must have been adrenaline. It was like I was outside of myself watching the fight happen.”
“You say he punched you more than once. Did you hit him back?”
“Sure. I don’t know how many times. At least a few.”
“Body blows? Head blows?”
“I don’t know. I was just swinging. I was mad.” Jason looked down at his hands again. He had never made them into fists that way again. Never swung at anyone, had never been forced to. And that was the only way he would do it. If he were forced to. “Are you going to tell me how he died?”
“How did the fight end?” Olsen asked.
“I hit him. One good shot to the side of the head.” A sadness crept over Jason just thinking of it. The feeling came back to him, a sense memory tingling in his hand. The rough thump of knuckle against skull. “I was crying. I know that. We both were. Like a couple of little kids. We were so worked up, so angry and distraught, we were both losing it. Logan was on the ground, and I was standing. He got up and walked away. He didn’t even look back. He just walked away from me.”
“And that was the last time you saw him?”
“Yes.”
“And he was walking and moving fine? No injuries?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“What did you do?”
“I went off walking by myself. I wanted to try to calm down. I’d been crying, so I sure as hell didn’t want to run into other kids from school. I didn’t want to be the guy who was found crying when he was eighteen years old because he got in a fight with his friend. I just walked around the park, back on one of the trails, trying to clear my head. I thought he and I would run into each other later and work it out. I knew we’d said some things, some awful things, but I didn’t think we’d have that between us. We’d been friends for too long.”
“But he was gone?” Olsen asked.
“Yes, he was gone. I didn’t see him the rest of the night. His dad called our house the next day. He asked me if I knew where Logan was. I told him I didn’t know. His dad never showed any emotion. He was stoic and distant. But I could tell by the tone in the old man’s voice that he was actually worried. It unnerved me when I heard that. I thought something might really be wrong, and the next thing I knew, the police were at my door asking me quest
ions. That’s how the whole thing started with me and the police. But what could I tell them? All I knew was that Logan was gone.”
Chapter Thirty-one
“What about Regan Kreider?” Olsen asked. “You must have talked to her about Logan back then?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what did she have to say about him? Did she see him after you did?”
“She did. He went back to her after our fight. He told her that he was done with the whole town and that he wanted to run away. He said he wanted Regan to go with him. See, that’s the thing about Logan. He was always talking about running away. He always said he wanted to go out west and start a new life where nobody knew him.”
“Why did he want to do that?”
“Doesn’t every kid want to do that?”
“Sure,” Olsen said. “Few actually do it.”
“I assumed Logan did. Regan said she wasn’t going anywhere except to college, which she did. After she told Logan that, he left. He seemed upset and angry, but he left.”
“Did she know the two of you had fought?”
“Yes. I think she tried to calm him down.”
“So she didn’t notice any injuries? Bloody nose? Swollen eye?”
“You’d have to ask her. I don’t think she ever mentioned it to me, but I’m not sure I ever asked. Don’t you have old reports about all of this?”
“Some. The detective who investigated originally died about ten years ago. There’s not much to go on.” He stretched his back a little. “You probably have to get back to work.”
Jason looked up at the building. The light hit the front, reflecting off the windows. He squinted. “I don’t even know if I’m going back in today. I’ve missed so much time lately.”
“You’ve had a lot going on,” Olsen said. “I’m sure they understand. If you’d like, I can contact your HR department and inform them of the events involving your sister and your niece.”
“No, thanks. It’s fine.”
“If you’ll indulge me a few minutes longer, then . . . What did you do after Logan was gone and after you were questioned by the police?”
“I didn’t want to stay here. The college I was going to—Ohio University—had a summer program, something where you could arrive early and take a couple of classes. I asked my parents, and I went off to that.” Jason shook his head. “I just didn’t like the idea of being around here and being forced to remember everything that happened with Logan. It felt like a page had been turned. He left, so I needed to leave too.”
“And the girl?”
“Regan? What about her?”
“What happened with the two of you?” Olsen asked.
“That moment was gone. It just dried up and blew away. The spell was broken.”
“And you didn’t worry about Mr. Shaw?” Olsen asked.
“He started writing to his dad. It all fit. And I figured he’d come back in six months or a year. I kept expecting him to show up in my dorm someday, a big grin on his face. Or I’d come home for Christmas, and he’d just be here full of stories about whatever bullshit he was doing out west. Working on a ranch or living in L.A. I still thought that day would come even once I moved back here.”
Olsen nodded. He seemed to be finished with Jason. “I’ll probably be talking to Ms. Kreider about this as well.”
“It’s Mrs. Kreider technically,” Jason said. “She’s divorced, but she kept her husband’s name. She has kids.”
“Got it.” Olsen stood up. He arched his back again as though it had grown stiff sitting on the bench. “If you think of anything else, let me know.”
“I will.”
“You’ll be around, won’t you?”
“Where would I go?” Jason asked. “I’m not leaving, I can’t leave, until I know what’s going on with Hayden. And now this.”
“We’ll be in touch, then.”
“What about Jesse Dean Pratt?” Jason asked. “He was with Hayden, and now Hayden is missing. If Hayden was here because of something to do with Logan, then doesn’t it stand to reason that Jesse Dean might know about all of it?”
“We’re looking for him,” Olsen said. “At this point, everything is on the table.” He pointed to Jason’s neck. “Would you like me to take a report about that? We could add it to the list for Mr. Pratt.”
“No, I don’t want you worrying about me. I told my coworkers I was mugged. It’s been getting me a lot of sympathy and questions I don’t want. I just want you to find out what’s really going on with everything else.”
“If you see him again—”
“I’ll call an expert. Don’t worry. I like being able to breathe.”
Chapter Thirty-two
After Olsen left, Jason remained at the picnic table. He stared down at his hands. They dangled loosely, his elbows resting on his knees. The hands felt numb, seemingly disconnected from the rest of his body.
Logan was dead. Not Hayden. No one knew where Hayden was. But they knew about Logan. Finally. He was dead. He had been dead for all those years.
What the hell had happened to Logan after he left Jason?
An awful realization crept over him, aided by some of Detective Olsen’s words: And he was walking and moving fine? No injuries?
How did Jason know what injuries Logan had? A healthy young guy ends up dead on the night of his high school graduation. What could have happened after he and Jason parted ways? Had Jason hit him hard enough to cause an injury that led to his death?
Olsen knew how Logan died. The detective said he knew the cause of death, but he didn’t share it with Jason. Bones can tell a story, he had said. It meant that whatever they thought killed Logan was obvious from an examination of his skeleton. Did that mean a beating? A crack in the skull or other bones?
That last punch came back to him again. Knuckle against skull. Bone against bone.
“Jesus,” Jason said. “Jesus Christ.”
He lowered his head into his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots until his scalp burned.
He spoke through gritted teeth. “Oh, Jesus. God. What did I do?”
He leaned forward, placing his head between his knees.
He stayed like that for a few minutes, his eyes closed. His teeth remained clenched so tight his jaws started to ache. He felt the pain around his ears and into the back of his skull.
For the second time he found himself a suspect in the disappearance of Logan Shaw. For the first time he wondered if he might very well be guilty.
* * *
At Farmers’ Bank and Credit, the assistant branch manager told Jason that Regan wasn’t in. He seemed reluctant to give Jason any additional information. Just getting him to admit that Regan wasn’t in the branch took some doing.
“Is she out for the day or is she off at a meeting or something?” Jason asked.
“I can’t say,” he said. “Is this business or personal? If it’s work related, maybe I can help you.”
Jason stood on the springy carpet while the hushed work of the bank went on around them. Phones lightly trilled and keyboards clacked. Jason swore he could hear the paper money rustling. He wanted to jump onto a desk and yell just to do something to break the intense calm.
The man was staring at Jason’s neck. He had pulled on a sweatshirt, hoping it would hide some of the marks, but the man still stared.
“I got mugged,” Jason said.
“Oh,” the man said, suitably horrified. “How awful.”
“I’ve tried calling Regan’s phone, and she isn’t answering,” Jason said. “That’s why I came by here. I thought maybe she was in a meeting.”
“If she were in a meeting, you wouldn’t be able to talk to her either,” the man said.
The man was clean-cut, his clothes sharply pressed and starched. His voice remained level as
he spoke.
Jason started to turn away, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t just walk out without learning more, without taking one more chance.
“Look,” Jason said, “she and I, we’re old friends. We received some bad news about another friend of ours today. Is that why she left? Did something seem to happen?”
The man studied Jason, his face still revealing nothing. Jason assumed his efforts at making a human connection had failed as well, but the cast of the man’s face shifted beneath the bright fluorescent lights. Something softened. He blinked a few times and lowered his voice.
“I don’t know why she left,” he said. “But she got a call from someone, and then she came and told me she had to go tend to a personal matter. Normally she tells me what these things are about. We’re a friendly group here. But she didn’t offer anything up this time. She just said she wouldn’t be back today. I figured maybe one of her kids was sick, but that’s the kind of thing she would have told me before. That’s pretty common for a working mother.”
“It is. And you don’t know who this call was from?”
“No,” the man said. “But . . .” He jerked his head and started toward an office. Jason followed. When they went inside, the man closed the door behind them. It was a small space, and the desk looked amazingly uncluttered. Only a computer and a neat stack of business cards sat on the smooth and dust-free surface. Jason wondered how anyone worked in such cleanliness.
“What is it?” Jason asked.
“I don’t want to start any weird rumors about Regan.” The man ran his hand through his short hair, and Jason saw that he didn’t wear a wedding ring. “But she’s been getting a lot of calls at work this week. Calls that seemed more personal than anything else.”
“And you don’t know who they’re from.”
The man shook his head. “I only say that because Regan is so professional, so focused when she’s here. Her kids, her babysitters, they almost never call and bother her. Her ex-husband, Tim, he comes by from time to time.”
“Still?”
“I’m sure he has to talk about the kids. When she’s in this building, it’s all about work. But this past week, she stepped out of more than one meeting to take another call. She seemed distracted, a little distant.”