Dead Spots (Scarlett Bernard #1)(67)

“Me, too. But you go first.”

Without further preamble I said, “I found the second null.”

“Really? Excellent!” He said excitedly. “Let’s go arrest him—or her.”

My jaw dropped. “Wait, for what?”

“Accessory to murder, of course.” He sounded pleased. “Finally, the real world can be useful here. The lab picked up tons of fingerprints and DNA at the park scene. A lot of it is probably because it’s a public space, but hopefully some of it is the null’s. We can use the evidence as leverage to get us to the actual killer.”

I drummed my fingers on the table. “I know that was the plan, but...then what?” I asked. “What happens to the null in all of this?”

Jesse stared at me, but I didn’t back down. “You’re serious? The null...He has to go to jail. He helped kill somebody, remember?”

“It’s not that simple, Cruz. The null, well, had good reasons.”

“Good reasons for killing four people?” he said, outraged.

I bit my lip. How much could I tell him about Corry? Could I trust him not to arrest her when he got the full story? “Jesse, look, I need you to do something for me. For me, you understand? You can’t arrest her. The second null.”

“Why the hell not?” he demanded.

“She...Please, Jesse. I’m asking you for your trust, just for a little while. I’ll explain it all if we get through the next day.” When I had Corry’s permission to do so.

He looked at me for a long moment. I kept my face even. I’d known Corry Tanger for all of forty minutes, but I’d go to hell and back to get her out of this.

“And if I don’t?” he said quietly.

“Then I won’t tell you who she is. And since we’ve already established that, legally, you have nothing on me, the case will stop where it is, and the deadline will pass, and we’ll both die.”

Jesse went very still. “I can’t believe you,” he said, studying me. “You’re really gonna draw a line in the sand, after everything we’ve been through?”

“Not if you don’t make me,” I said, my voice cracking a little. “Jesse, she’s...She’s like me.”

He held my gaze for a long moment, thoughts flickering across his face, and then he nodded grudgingly. “Well...okay. I don’t need to know right now. But she can’t just get away with murder. This conversation will be back for part two.”

I nodded, and the moment passed.

Jesse stared at me as if looking for some kind of reassurance that I could be trusted. Then he lowered his voice. “Listen, I found something, too—maybe. My supervisor’s had me going through the reports of all the police incidents that have ever taken place at the park. I thought it was just busywork, but I actually found this one case that I think is...significant.” He pulled a folded sheath of paper from his back pocket and slid it over to me.

The top page was a Xeroxed school photo of a young girl. The second page was an adolescent boy, maybe sixteen or so. Their names were handwritten under the photos.

“Jared and Emily Hess,” Jesse continued. “Ten years ago, twelve-year-old Emily disappeared from the park. The kids were climbing trees after the park had closed for the night, and Jared fell asleep on a high branch. When he woke up, he claimed that strangers had bitten his sister to death and that a third party had taken the body away. The police came with dogs, forensics, the whole nine yards. They found a little bit of Emily’s blood, but no other trace of the girl. Eventually, the cops started looking at Jared.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah. His story was crazy, and there were a few other things—kid got into fights at school, a couple pets in the neighborhood had disappeared, that kind of stuff. Nothing solid, but the officers on the case thought Jared was the best suspect. They really gave him the runaround—interrogation, juvie, where the other kids beat the shit out of him, by the way, psychiatric care, anything our guys could think of to try to get him to change his story. Kid never did, though, and eventually, the father sued the department for pushing too hard. They settled out of court.”

“Huh.” I looked at the photo of Jared. Where Emily’s school pose was sweet and simple, this shot had been taken at the police station, and it was obvious that Jared had been badly beaten just before the photo. His face was swollen and unrecognizable, a trickle of blood at his mouth. He must not have been the toughest kid at juvenile detention. There was something familiar about his defiant expression, but I couldn’t place it.

“Where is Jared now?”

“That’s the thing—nobody knows. All his financial and tax records go up until five years ago, and then they just stop. It’s like the guy vanished into thin air. And, Scarlett, that really doesn’t happen anymore.” He tapped the date at the top of the photocopied police report. “The thing is, there are dozens of reports like this in the La Brea Park file. Other incidents, even a couple of murders. But this one...This was ten years ago today.”

The blonde marched up and plopped my mug of chai tea in front of me on the table, letting it slosh a little. Okay, now she was starting to piss me off. I dug a five out of my pocket and handed it over. “Thanks so much,” I said sweetly. “You can keep the change for your tip.” Which amounted to about fifteen cents. I hoped she would put it toward a back brace.