The Right Call (15 page)

Ethan’s vision blurred with tears. He needed to be strong for Vanessa. For his parents. For Uncle Richard and Aunt Becca. He needed to hide his emotion from Uncle Ralph and Aunt Gwen. Why waste his grief on them or be pulled into the feud that had split the family for a decade and a half? Any tears he allowed himself to shed needed to be done right here—in the dark of night.

Ethan looked up at the stars and wondered if Drew could see them from heaven. Where was heaven anyway?

Lord, I know he’s with You. That’s all that matters.

Suddenly the loss seemed overwhelming and the emptiness deep and raw. Ethan felt the knot in his throat tighten, as if it were being pulled in two opposite directions. He took in a breath, surprised when it turned to sobbing. He heard the woeful sound, but it seemed as if he were listening to someone else. Finally he went over to the bed and buried his face in the pillow—and wept.

Chapter 18

The
next morning, Brill sat at the conference table in her office, the case files spread out in front of her. Four corpses and no leads. She sighed. Not a promising beginning to the day. She heard a knock and looked over just as Trent came in, carrying a manila folder.

“Chief, we just got a break on this Vincent character who emailed Natalie Benchfield. The DNA on the Coke can found near her backpack is a match to a registered sex offender, Hans Bowerly—the same guy the state police, just a few minutes ago, tracked down through his email address. Lives in Stanton’s Ferry. He’s in custody and will be transported here around noon.”

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road. What do we know about him?”

“Caucasian male. Thirty-seven. Sentenced to ten years for possession of child porn and indecency with a child. Currently on parole with the standard prohibition against being with a minor unsupervised. We’ve got him on that much.”

“Great work, Trent. I want to be there when you question him. Be sure to let Sam Parker’s office know.”

“Speaking of Sheriff Parker”—Trent pursed his lips—“were you ever able to blow off his smug attitude?”

“Not entirely. I could understand him suggesting that Vanessa might’ve been the target. But he’s out of line for implying I would withhold anything about my past that might impact a murder investigation.”

“Don’t worry, Chief. Rousseaux, Marcum, and I know that.”

“I think that Vanessa was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Brill said, “and that the two roommates were involved in something—or knew something—that got them killed.”

Trent nodded. “We’re with you. Thing is, there’s nothing on their computers or phones that points anywhere. We searched the apartment high and low. There’s just nothing to link Davison and Langley to anything, shady or otherwise. They didn’t even hang out with the same friends.”

Brill sighed. “So we’ve got four dead kids and no leads on the shooter.”

“Other than he stole a red Ford F-150.”

“And no one saw him do it.”

“Right.”

“Okay, come get me when Hans Bowerly arrives. Let’s find out if he was with Natalie when she was shot—and if he saw anything.”

Stedman stood with Ethan at the Misty Meadows work site, waiting for the second cement truck to arrive.

“I’m really sorry about your cousin,” Stedman said.

“Thanks.” Ethan pushed his hands in the pockets of his cutoffs. “It’s hard to take. Drew was like a brother to me.”

“Do the cops have any suspects?”

“I don’t think so. You know Vanessa saw the whole thing?”

“Yeah, I heard that on the news. Did she see the guys in the red truck?”

“No, she had her back to the street. You said guys,
plural
. Where’d you hear that?”

“Just a figure of speech.” Stedman quickly reverted to his poker face. “I don’t think the media reported how many there were. No one’s ever come forward. No witnesses, right?”

“Not yet. The police are trying to find a connection between Drew and his roommate, though. It’s a little uncanny that the same shooter got to both of them.”

“You think they were into something illegal?”

Ethan shrugged. “I can’t imagine it. Drew was straight as an arrow.”

“What do you know about the roommate, Tal Davison?”
Other than Grant wanted him dead?

“Not much. He was a student at Stanton. His father’s the CEO of Davison Technologies. He’d only been Drew’s roommate a short time. I never met him.”

Stedman looked down at the ground and moved a stone with his sneaker. “His old man was responsible for a lot of layoffs. You think someone wanted to get back at him by going after his son?”

“Seems like a stretch. That doesn’t explain Drew or the other two victims.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Stedman raised his head and looked out at the mountains
. Shut up before he gets suspicious.

“Frankly, I don’t know what to think. I can’t imagine anyone wanting Drew dead. But what are the odds of this happening by chance?”

“It’s a pretty safe bet it didn’t.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think.” Ethan exhaled loudly. “Why don’t we talk about something else? Tell me a little more about what you’re up to these days.”

“Oh, same old—minus the girlfriend.”

“No women?”

Stedman flashed a sheepish grin. “Sure. The queen of hearts, spades, clubs, and diamonds.”

“Are you still into playing online poker like you were last summer?”

“Sure. But it’s a lot more fun with live players. I found some guys here who like to play.”
Why did I tell him that?

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I thought playing poker for money was illegal—unless you’re just betting nickels and dimes.”

“Cops have more important things to do than bust up card games where guys are betting for fun. It’s not like we’re playing for millions. Anyway, I’ve backed off. Last time I played, I had four jacks, ace high, and lost to a straight flush. I couldn’t believe I didn’t win with a hand like that.”

“No kidding. Did you bet it all?”

“Yeah, but not to worry”—Stedman flashed a phony grin—“I found a way to get it all back.”

“Still Mr. Lucky, eh?”

“Something like that.”

Brill leaned on the window sill in her office and let the warm sunshine melt over her. In the distance, beyond the towering trees that shaded the grounds around city hall, the Great Smoky Mountains looked as if they’d been painted on the horizon, the backdrop for a giant stage production.

“Chief, Hans Bowerly just arrived. We put him in the second interview room.”

Brill turned around and saw Trent standing in the doorway. “Is he cooperative?”

“He hasn’t lawyered up yet.” Trent smiled wryly. “I’d like to get him to talk before he wises up.”

“Let’s go.”

Brill followed Trent across the bustling detective bureau and down the hall to the second interview room.

Hans Bowerly, a husky guy with a full head of mousy brown hair, sat at the oblong table, cracking his knuckles. He wore jeans and a Key West T-shirt—and an apprehensive expression.

“I’m Police Chief Jessup, Hans.”

“I came here willingly,” he said, “but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“We just want to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Natalie Benchfield.”

“I already told your detective that I hardly knew the girl.”

Brill pulled out a chair and sat across the table from Hans and next to Trent.

She stared at her hands for thirty seconds—just long enough to make the suspect uncomfortable. Finally she said, “I’m here to listen. Captain Norris will ask you some questions.”

Trent folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s start with you defining what you mean by, ‘hardly knew the girl.’”

“I emailed her a few times,” Hans said. “I had no idea she was only thirteen. She told me she was eighteen.”

“Really?” Trent lifted his eyebrow. “Because we were able to access Natalie’s hard drive. I’ve got a printout of a recent online back-and-forth you had with her.”

“Hey, that’s private. You—”

“
After
Natalie told you she was
thirteen, you initiated a long and rather graphic discussion about her undergarments, et cetera. Would you like me to read it to you?”

“No.” Hans wiped the perspiration off his upper lip. “But I never asked her to meet me. I swear.”

“Did you call Natalie on her cell phone?”

“You won’t find
my
number on her phone records.” Hans smirked.

“Look, wise guy”—Trent leaned forward on his elbows and put his nose in front of Hans —“we know you used a prepaid cell. We’re going to nail you. I suggest you cooperate with us while we’re willing to listen, or you’re going back to jail.”

“So what if I
did
call her—which you can’t even prove. We never got together. It’s against the conditions of my parole. You think I want to go back to that pit?”

“Then tell me this.” Trent held his gaze. “How is it that your saliva DNA ended up on a Coke can next to her backpack at a vacant house on Fifth Street?”

Hans’s face turned sizzling pink. “I-I don’t know. I haven’t been to Sophie Trace in months.”

“Oh, you were here, all right,” Trent said, “and with Natalie Benchfield. So why don’t you stop with the innocent act? You’re in up to your ears.”

“I want a lawyer.”

“Fine.” Brill folded her hands on the table. “We can stop right here and get the court to appoint you a lawyer. But if you help us, we can do a lot more to keep you from going back to jail than your lawyer can.”

“What do you want?”

“Information.”

“What kind of information?”

“A description of the shooter.”

“You don’t think I was—”

“Oh, but we
do,”
Brill said. “We think you were sitting with Natalie on the front steps of that vacant house at the time she was shot—and that you dumped her body in the side yard and left her there to die. Your parole violation is enough to get you sent back to jail. And unless you help us, you’re not going to get out until you’re an old man.”

Hans’s chin quivered. “I didn’t know what to do. We were sitting on the steps,
just talking,
and this truck comes out of nowhere. I heard shots, and the next thing I knew, there was blood everywhere, and I realized Natalie had been shot.” Hans combed his hands through his hair. “I knew if I got caught with her, I’d go back to jail.”

“So you dumped her in the side yard and left her to die?” Trent said.

“No. She was crying and wanted to go home. I tried to keep pressure on her neck and stop the bleeding, but she got away and ran around to the side of the house. I chased her and she passed out cold.”

“Why didn’t you call 9-1-1?”

“She was choking, man.” Hans’s eyes glistened. “She wasn’t gonna make it, no matter what. She was dying.”

Trent threw his hands in the air. “You couldn’t be sure of that. Did you even try to help her?”

“I told you I tried to keep pressure on the wound and she pushed me away. After she passed out, it was hopeless.”

“So now you’re a doctor?”

“You weren’t there.” Hans looked at Trent defiantly. “I’m telling you, she was a goner. I had to either get out of there or go back to jail. What would
you
do?”

“I would’ve at least dialed 9-1-1 while I was hightailing it out of town.” Trent got up in Hans’s face and grabbed him by the collar. “That child lay on the ground decomposing for two days. Two days! She was barely recognizable to her parents, did you know that? And all because you couldn’t be bothered to dial three lousy numbers and get her some help.”

Hans started to tremble. “I didn’t want to leave her like that. I thought someone would find her.”

“You
thought?
All you thought about was not getting caught. You weren’t worried about whether Natalie was going to live or die. What kind of garbage leaves a helpless little girl to bleed to death?”

“Detective, back off.” Brill grabbed Trent’s arm and pretended to pull him off Hans. “Why don’t you take a break? You need to calm down.”

Trent let go of Hans’s collar and gave him a slight shove. “Whatever. I’m done with this loser anyhow.”

Trent pushed back his chair and left the room, muttering to himself.

Brill waited half a minute and then said, “Sorry. My detective captain is passionate about victims—especially children.”

“He didn’t have to treat me like dirt. I told you what happened. This is harassment. I’m not saying anything else without a lawyer present.”

“You don’t get it, Hans. A lawyer isn’t going to let you answer my questions. And unless you do, I’m not going to persuade the parole board that you shouldn’t go back to jail. It’s your choice. What’s it going to be?”

Hans seemed trapped in a long pause. Finally he said, “All right. Forget the lawyer. What else do you want to know?”

Brill slowly rose to her feet and started pacing. “What time did you and Natalie meet on Thursday night?”

“Around ten. But it’s not what you think,” he quickly added. “She called me from a pay phone and asked me to meet her at the vacant house. Said her parents kicked her out and her grandmother wasn’t home, and she was scared. Look, I know I was out of line in those emails, but it was just talk. I didn’t go there to do anything to her.”