Along Comes a Wolfe

by Angie Counios

  “Did you see that?” I ask and realize Charlie isn’t even looking, his eyes focused on the map. I still don’t know what it’s for.

  For once, I’ve seen something Charlie hasn’t, and I point in the direction Dillon was looking.

  “No one I can see—oh, wait…” he pauses, holding his hand out toward me.

  “What?”

  “Your phone.”

  “You have your own.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t use it for this!”

  “For what?”

  “Just give me your damn phone.”

  I stare at him.

  “Please!”

  “Fine,” I say with disgust, but inside I’m laughing. I guess I can teach a stubborn dog new tricks.

  He takes it, tapping in my passcode without even asking. I’m guessing it took him only seconds being around me to figure it out. He opens the browser.

  “Why can’t you use your own?”

  “They always figure out it’s me.”

  “Quit with the pronoun game. Who?”

  “School officials.”

  I react, grabbing the phone to find he’s on an admin page for his school. A spreadsheet of teachers’ contact information lists names, addresses, and phone numbers. He steals it back and scrolls down the page.

  “Oh, snap.” He hands back the phone, pointing. “See down there? Second row, fifth from the end?”

  I scour the crowd and see a pretty, tall, blond woman, maybe in her late twenties, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “That’s Miss Turner.” He taps at my phone.

  I search the list and don’t see it.

  He points. “Mia Turner.”

  I look at him. “Miss Mia-ow Turner?”

  “Double snap!”

  That’s when Gekas walks into the stadium, flanked by cops, headed straight for Dillon.

  chapter 46

  As soon as Gekas hits the field, it’s chaos. Refs blow whistles, coaches run out, parents in the stands yell.

  Dillon sees it all happening but doesn’t seem to register that they’re here for him. He stands in position, waiting for the next play, and it isn’t until Gekas beelines past the quarterback that what’s going on finally dawns on him.

  He backpedals a little, but she yells, “Don’t do it, Dillon,” and he freezes on the spot.

  She’s talking quietly now, and the coach is shouting and the refs are trying to figure out why the hell this woman has interrupted the game.

  I look over at Charlie but he’s gone. I search the crowd and see him ducking into the nearest exit. I follow.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as I reach him.

  “As soon as Gekas showed up, Mia-ow took off.”

  “You think they’re in this together.”

  “Oh, they’re into something, all right.”

  We see her walking briskly down the ramp toward the parking lot and sprint to catch up. By the time we’re outside, she’s rushing to her car.

  “Miss Turner—”

  She doesn’t turn. “I don’t know anything—”

  “Miss—”

  “Please, just leave me alone.” She struggles to get her keys out of her purse, battling to get the door open.

  “Mia-ow.”

  She pauses and turns, finally looking at us. “Charlie?”

  He slows to a halt, hands raised. “I just want to talk.”

  “About what?” The sight of him has thrown her off and her keys slip out of her hand.

  “Dillon.”

  Her face drops and she begins to cry.

  chapter 47

  When Mia’s tears don’t stop, I suggest we sit in her car, at least until Charlie and I figure out exactly what’s going on.

  She unlocks the door and Charlie looks at me.

  “Shotgun,” he whispers, and moves quickly into the front seat on the passenger side.

  I shake my head at his lack of decorum and climb into the back. It’s packed full of papers, makeup, and dusty mixtape cds.

  Charlie ferrets out a tissue—I don’t know where he got it from—and hands it to her.

  She wipes away the tears and snot and groans as she looks at herself in the visor mirror. “God, I’ve had better days.”

  Charlie opens up his doughnut box. “Have the last one.”

  She looks at it, shaking her head.

  “Come on, Miss Turner. It’ll make you feel better.”

  “I think we’re a little past the ‘Miss’ part,” she says as she gives in to the temptation of the chocolate-covered treat.

  I lean forward, wedging myself between the seats. “Can you tell us what happened?”

  She takes a big bite of the doughnut and sprinkles shower onto her lap. She stares out the window, running the side of her pinkie along the corners of her mouth to catch any chocolate.

  “At the start, it was innocent. Nothing but him hanging around, asking questions. I didn’t think anything of it. He was a student and there are some lines you simply don’t cross. Then the guy I was dating cheated on me and it hurt.

  “One day, after school, I was feeling like crap and he hung around and I started talking about my ex and he listened. It felt good. He said nice things to me. He said I deserved better. That I was pretty.

  “And then it kept happening. He’d visit and we’d talk. It was always about things he’d done or things he wanted me to do and it was never about school or other girls. It was interesting and I knew what I was thinking and how I was starting to feel, but I kept saying to myself ‘as long as nothing happens, it’s all right.’ All I had to do was make sure we didn’t cross that line.”

  She’s chewing meditatively, and I already know what she’s going to say next.

  “But Dillon was persistent and kept gently pushing that line. He gave me his number ‘just to talk’ and I took it and left it for the longest time. Then I had one long, bad week, and I went home that Friday feeling miserable and I had a drink and saw his number and…”

  She holds the last few bites of doughnut hovering in front of her mouth and looks like she’s about to cry again. She shakes it off, though her face crumples like she’s maybe mentally berating herself. Finally she adds, “We never did anything.”

  “Mia, we read some of those texts—”

  “It never meant anything. It was all talk, all flirting, all…”

  Charlie finishes her thought. “Foreplay.”

  She looks at him, shocked by the accusation. She wants to get mad, play the teacher, but knows it’s useless—and all too true. “Now, he’s in trouble, and soon they’ll figure out it’s me. I’ll lose my job and—”

  “Wait, you think this is about you two?”

  She looks at Charlie, confused, then turns to me. “Isn’t it—?”

  Charlie shuts the lid on the empty doughnut box.

  “Oh, Mia, this is so much worse.”

  chapter 48

  The last of the parents pull out of the parking lot and only a few buses and cop cars remain. Mia isn’t handling the new facts very well.

  “But that’s impossible.”

  “I promise you, it is.”

  Mia protests. “No, he couldn’t have.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because—” She’s not making this very easy.

  “You said you two didn’t do anything.”

  “No, but—”

  The nature of their relationship dawns on me. “It didn’t stop you from hanging out together.”

  The pained expression returns to her face. “He showed up at my house one night. We visited. Then we did it again, watching movies. I’d sit on one side of the couch, he’d sit on the other.”

  Charlie laughs. “Like that’s a buffer.”

  Mia really hasn’t figured o
ut much about life even though she’s likely ten years older than me.

  Charlie pushes the questions forward. “Was he with you last night?”

  She nods.

  “What about last Wednesday?” I ask.

  She thinks back. “Yes. I think we watched the new Matthew McConaughey movie that night.”

  I lean back in the seat and ponder the mess Mia has made for herself. “You need to tell the cops.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I’m shocked by her naiveté but I persist, “Dillon is the main suspect in a murder case.”

  “But if I tell them, I might lose my job.”

  “And he might go to jail.”

  I can see the gears grinding in her head and I can’t believe she isn’t even considering helping him. “I like him. He’s so sweet. But I’ve wanted to be a teacher for so long—”

  Charlie interrupts, “You know what, Mia. Don’t.”

  I turn on him. “What?”

  “He’ll spend a few nights in jail, but there isn’t enough evidence to hold him.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  He ignores me, turning back to Mia. “Wait it out. Go home and think about it. Don’t rush your decision.”

  “Charlie—?”

  “I’m sure it’s going to work itself out.” He puts a hand on the door handle and I know he’s about to leave.

  I lean forward. “Mia, don’t listen—”

  Charlie’s already getting ready to go. “Thanks for your help. We’ll let you go.”

  “Charlie! Mia—”

  But he’s popped open the door and is gone.

  I want to convince Mia to talk to the cops but I also need to catch up to Charlie.

  “Go tell them the truth. Ask for Detective Gekas. She’ll be able to help you keep it anonymous. I’m sure of it.”

  Charlie’s gone and I can’t wait any longer.

  I open the door and look back at her. “Mia, please, do what’s right.”

  I get out of the car, feeling certain she’s not going to listen to me.

  Charlie’s standing by my car, his hand on the roof, waiting for me to let him in.

  “What the hell was that about?”

  “You said it yourself. Dillon’s a douche. Just let him spend a few nights in jail,” he says.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “What’s it matter to you?”

  “It’s wrong.”

  “So?”

  “We don’t let innocent people go to jail!”

  “Why not? It buys us some time to sort out this case without spending every second trying to stay ahead of Gekas.”

  “Are you for real?”

  Charlie’s hand slips from the car. “You know what? You go do what’s right. You go talk to Gekas and tell her everything. Tell her about everything we’ve been up to and see what she thinks. Maybe she’ll say, ‘Oh, thank you so much for all this wonderful information, Mr. Shepherd,’ right before she throws your ass in jail for tampering with evidence, obstructing justice, or maybe because you’ve made yourself seem like a pretty good suspect again. Yeah, that’s right, go on, have fun.”

  He walks away and I let him.

  I can’t believe Gekas would really think any of what Charlie’s said. She said I wasn’t a suspect. But I also know that she’ll likely be pissed about Charlie and me snooping around the investigation.

  Except, there’s no need to get him involved. Nobody really knows about the two us working together, so I could keep the focus on me. And I haven’t contaminated any crime scenes, so it gives me deniability. Can’t say the same for Charlie. Also, Gekas is headed for a dead-end with Dillon. Letting her know the truth will get her back on track, or at least searching for the right person.

  Still, Dillon’s an ass and he wouldn’t help me if he had a chance. I know that’s not the point, and I dismiss the thought as soon it pops in my head.

  When I see Gekas and the officers come out of the stadium with Dillon, his hands cuffed behind his back, I know what I’ve got to do.

  Charlie’s nowhere to be seen. He’s already disappeared somewhere across the railroad tracks that border the south end of the parking lot.

  chapter 49

  Gekas sits behind her desk, staring at me in disbelief.

  She didn’t want to listen to me outside the stadium. Dillon was already in custody and had been read his rights. She wasn’t going to release him because of hearsay from some kid. She told me to come down to her office at the station in an hour, but I ignored her and drove to the station immediately, determined to sit on the benches at the front until she would see me.

  When the officer behind the front desk called to let her know I was there, I could tell by his face that she wasn’t impressed. She let me sit there for almost two hours. My gut just couldn’t deal with letting an innocent person be stuck in jail if I knew there was something I could do about it—even a douche like Dillon.

  “I told you to come talk to me if you had something, but this isn’t what I had in mind.”

  I try to relax in the chair but the dying sun streams in brightly through the window behind her right into my eyes. “Dillon’s got an alibi.”

  She pulls a cup of coffee toward her and by the rings around the inner edge I can tell it hasn’t been washed in forever. She takes a sip, cringes, and pushes it away.

  “I know. He told me.”

  I didn’t think this through enough. Of course he did. He doesn’t care about Mia’s job when it means his life.

  “Except, I can’t seem to track down the person he was with.”

  I’m not sure how much to say. “She was at the stadium.”

  Gekas smiles. “Really, Anthony?” She leans forward, smiling.

  Shit, how much have I already screwed up?

  “And how do you know Miss Turner, since you don’t even go to her school?”

  “I…”

  Gekas doesn’t say anything, just leans back in her chair, and waits for me to put my foot in my mouth.

  “Sheri told me.”

  “Oh, she did.” Gekas smiles again. She knows I’m full of crap. “She told you about her ex-boyfriend’s relationship with his teacher.”

  “Yes.” When all else fails, just keep shovelling the bullshit.

  “Even when he was trying to get back with your girlfriend at the same time?”

  I know she’s digging at my emotions, hoping to crack my lie. “Yeah. That’s why she told me. I saw a text from him and was pissed. She told me not to worry, that he’s just playing everyone. She told me about her, and Mia—Miss Turner, and Maggie.”

  By now, all I can see is Gekas’ silhouette. The heat of the sunset bleeds into the room. Or at least I hope it’s the sun, because I know I’m starting to sweat.

  “Well, she seems to have told you everything. Why didn’t you tell me any of this when I came to your house this morning?”

  “Because I didn’t know it was relevant.” At least, I hope I didn’t. “You never told me the girl’s—Maggie’s—name.”

  I can’t remember anything about this morning, so I open my mouth and my brain pours out whatever it invents.

  Gekas looks at me, smiling, shaking her head. She rises and leaves the room, taking her cup with her.

  I’m not sure if we’re done, so I look out the door behind me and see her down the hall, in a break room, dumping her coffee and filling it fresh from the pot. She comes back in and sits down.

  “This is all really nice of you, Anthony, helping out a guy who hits on your girlfriend, dated your girlfriend, who you got into a fight with the other day at the school of your missing girlfriend.”

  Shit.

  “Oh yeah, I know. You and—,” she opens a folder on her desk, “Charles Wolfe had a little visit with some of
Sheri’s friends, including Dillon, with whom you had an altercation.”

  She closes the folder. “Nothing serious. A little pushing. A few threats. Nothing a person could go to jail for.” She smiles, holding for a moment, building up for her pitch. “My question is, what are you and Charles up to?”

  “Nothing.” Swing and a miss.

  “Anthony? You can do better than that.”

  “I was only asking what you asked the others, to figure out if I was a suspect.”

  “And you enlisted Charles to help you with this?”

  Ugh—strike two. I keep going, “Yeah, he knows the place, the people—”

  “Anthony, cut the crap.”

  Gekas is ahead of me and we both know it. The only question is how soon I admit it.

  I come clean. “I want to know what happened—who did this—who…” I look out the window above Gekas at the long shadows of the city’s skyline. “I want to know who killed Sheri.”

  “Do you know the kind of person Charles is?”

  I’ve got a pretty good idea, but I’m sure she’s going to tell me anyway.

  She turns in her chair and grabs a second folder. This one’s thicker than the other. A lot thicker. She slaps it down on the desk and opens it.

  “Seems like Charles is a busy boy. The times we’ve caught him, he’s been arrested for invasion of privacy, gambling, possession of prohibited weapons, public nuisance, public mischief, vandalism, disorderly conduct, theft, breaking and entering, trespassing, arson, criminal negligence, bodily harm, dangerous use of a motor vehicle, identity theft, and attempted escape. He was too young to get tried as an adult for half of those. He’s also suspected of corruption, misleading justice, possession and trafficking, false pretenses, forgery… Do you get the idea?”

  My head spins. I knew he was trouble—I knew it—but I don’t think I expected this much.

  Gekas wheels her chair close to her desk out of the bright sun.

  I can see her eyes and I know she cares.

  “Anthony, I’m going to find out what happened to Sheri. I promise. But you need to let me do my job. You and Charles need to quit doing what you’re doing so that there are no mistakes. We don’t know that Sheri and Maggie are connected. At the moment, these are two separate incidents and need to be treated as such. But when we find out what happened to Sheri and we find the person or persons responsible, they go to jail. You’ve got to do this for us, okay? For you, me… and Sheri.”