To Catch a Killer(38)

He shrugs. “I guessed at what girls your age like and I obviously guessed too low. But, in my experience, you’ll appreciate stuff like that again in about twenty years.”

I smile. It was sweet of him to bring me something. “It’s cute. Thanks. You picked kind of a sucky day to arrive, though. Rachel’s acting like I’m all Mallory Knox or something.”

Victor sits back in his chair and sticks his feet out. “It sounds like she thinks you’re okay but your boyfriend might be Mickey Knox.”

I grin. “Ha! A Tarantino fan. Me, too.”

“Actually, I’m an Oliver Stone man,” Victor says. “But you’re not old enough to know Natural Born Killers, are you?”

“Netflix plus insomnia. You’d be surprised. And for the record, he’s not my boyfriend.” I’m telling the truth, but wish I were lying.

Victor rests his elbows on the table. “But is he Mickey Knox? That’s the question.”

I get caught in his hard stare. Sitting up straight, I give him a direct look right back. “He’s not Mickey Knox. Not at all.”

Victor nods. “I hope you’re right, because from where I sit, this is about to turn into a major cluster.”

As if on cue, the door opens and Police Chief Culson sweeps in all official-like. He wears a cloud of concern around him like a superhero cape. After a taut hello to Sydney and Rachel and a nod to Principal Roberts, he heads straight to me.

“Erin, dear. Let’s have a look at you?” He rolls his hip onto the table, turning his back to everyone in the room, including Victor. He inspects my forehead. “Stitches?”

I touch the bandage. “No. Just a bump. I’m okay.”

“You can’t be too okay, you’re in a police station.”

“What I mean is, physically I’m fine, but I do think someone tried to, um, kill me.” I look to Victor, then to the chief. This is the first time I’ve actually put it into words, but that’s what it boils down to. Someone snuck up on us and tried to turn Journey’s van into a killing machine. It’s time to admit that I’m scared.

I expect them to mull over the question of who did this, but the chief pulls a small notebook and a stylish pen from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Do you know of any reason why that boy would want to harm you?”

“Journey? What? No. He saved me.” I stand up. “Where is he? I need to see him. Let us explain.”

The chief puts out his hands to calm me. “So, you believe it was just a bizarre accident? Mechanical failure, groundhogs or something like that?” he asks.

“Groundhogs?! It was sabotage.”

“So you saw someone else in the area?” he asks.

“No. But—” I glance around the room. Rachel, Sydney, and Principal Roberts are in the corner, arguing. Chief Culson is concerned, but skeptical. I turn my pleading gaze to Victor; he’s my last hope. “Please. I need to see Journey. Make them let me.”

The chief purses his lips. “PTSD is pretty common in situations like this, Erin. That stands for post-traumatic stress disorder. In other words, your fear and anxiety could be affecting your ability to accurately process what happened.”

“Dude, I think I know what PTSD is, my mom was murdered when I was a baby,” I snap. I sit back down and slouch even lower in my seat. Nobody’s listening to me.

“This must be a technique I’m not familiar with.” Victor kicks back in his chair and props his right ankle on his left knee. “Is it more efficient to tell the victim what happened rather than take her statement?”

The chief’s eyes darken, like storm clouds over the ocean, but his smile gets wider and appears to fill with even more teeth. After a brief, awkward moment, he twists his body to greet Victor, as if he’s just realized he’s sitting there.

“Ahh, yes,” Chief Culson says with a chuckle. “You Feds are such sticklers on technique.” He stands and thrusts his hand across the table. “Nice to see you back, Vic. I’m sure Rachel loves having the family together again.”

Victor gets to his feet and accepts Culson’s hand. “It’s good to be back and comforting to see that so little has changed.”

I watch in amazement as the two men try to polite each other to death. Victor’s comment sounds innocent enough, but I can’t miss the fact that Chief Culson’s face looks like he just smelled a fart.

The two men drop the handshake, but retain the polite veneer. Victor shoves his hands into his front pockets and rocks back on his heels. Chief Culson rolls his fancy pen around between his fingers. “Change is overrated. We small-town guys have learned the value of status quo. So, any official reason you’re—?”

“Vacation,” Victor answers before the question is even fully on the table. I’m not sure what the story is between them, but Victor seems to have lost a little of his laid-back hipster shine. And Chief Culson suddenly has twice as many teeth. If I had to guess, I’d say these two hate each other.

“Well, our girls couldn’t be in better hands,” Culson says. He lays his pen on the table in front of me. “Take my pen, hon. And use a couple of pages from your notebook there. Just write down everything that happened today. Make it as long or as short as you like. Anything and everything you think we need to know to get to the bottom of this, because I promise you, we will get to the bottom of this.” He glances at Victor.