Friends Like These(28)

“I just want to know what you saw that night,” I say, dialing back my tone. “I’ve looked through the file— you never made a statement.”

“Oh, I made a statement,” he says.

“It’s not in the file, Mr. Hoff.”

“I made a statement,” he repeats, eyes flashing.

“Then why isn’t it there?” I ask.

Already he’s shaking his head. “No way,” he says. “I gave my statement back then. You can’t find it, that’s your problem. I didn’t have anything to do with those girls. And I didn’t see those two men in here.”

Hoff does seem awfully sure about the statement. I wonder if I overlooked it, going through Jane’s file so quickly. The Gaffneys’ interviews were there— they had nothing to do with anything, and didn’t know anything either— as well as the statements of their alibi witnesses.

“Now can I go?” Hoff asks. “Or are you going to arrest me for telling the truth?”

My jaw tightens as I gesture toward the door. “Be my guest.”

My hands are trembling slightly as I make my way back out to the car. I shouldn’t have asked Bob Hoff about Jane. Can’t believe I let myself get sucked in.

“What’s wrong?”

When I glance up, Dan’s leaning against my car.

“Nothing.”

“Right.” Dan looks wounded. It’s as irritating now as it was when we were dating.

I swat him away from the driver’s side door. “Excuse me.”

“Seldon’s been looking for you.” He steps aside. “I told him you were headed down to the ME’s office, reminded him there’s no signal there so he wouldn’t be able to reach you. Because I haven’t been able to reach you. I’ve called and texted like ten times.”

“I was conducting interviews.”

He folds his arms as he peers at me. “Well, anyway, I think you’re covered for a little bit with Seldon.”

“I don’t need your coverage, but thanks.”

Dan’s face has tightened. “Okay, so to be clear, you would have been okay if I’d told Seldon you were down here talking to Bob Hoff?”

“Bob Hoff?” I say with impressive nonchalance. “This is where Keith Lazard and Derrick Chism were before the accident. I’m here running down that lead.”

“Well, whatever you were doing here, it’s— ”

“That’s what I was doing. Checking to see if our driver or passenger were here before the accident, because supposedly they were. How did you find me, anyway?”

“Some woman in a pink tracksuit busted through the crime tape up at the accident scene,” he says. “She was going on and on about how she was sure this case was connected to your sister’s case. She mentioned Bob Hoff and Cumberland Farms, and what did I think about you working the case if the two were related? Wasn’t that a conflict of interest and whatever.”

“Great,” I say. “Maybe she’ll tell Seldon, because that would be perfect.”

“Nah, I think she’ll steer clear from now on,” Dan says. “I had a uniform put her in handcuffs and drive her home. Scare some sense into her. Susan Paretsky. Her kid died years ago. I think it messed with her head. Anyway, I think she’s sorted.” I try to ignore the way my chest feels warm. Dan looks across the street to a decrepit boarded-up building. “Hey, remember when that place was a comic book store? Eddie Freeman worked there. He was always drinking those Big Gulps of Mountain Dew.”

Like Jane, Eddie Freeman had been one of the cool kids.

“Were you close with Eddie Freeman?” I poke.

“No, not really,” Dan says, oblivious. “Oh, I do have something to show you. They found it at the scene.” He holds out his phone to show me a photo of something resting in the leaves, something red.

“A baseball hat,” I say, straining to make it out. “And?”

He flips forward a couple more photos until he finds one where I can see the words stitched on the front: ACE CONSTRUCTION.

“Where’d they find that?”

“Ten yards from the car,” he says, a little regretfully. “Looks like there could be a smudge of blood on it, too.”

“Shit.” Ace Construction is the exact opposite of the direction that Seldon is going to want this thing to head. I don’t love it either.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “But there is a house near there that Ace is working on. Plus, there was other stuff dumped out there, a bed-sheet and crap. And the hat was wet when we found it.”

“So who knows how long it was out there,” I say.

Dan nods. “The smudge could also be paint or something else, too. Still, I thought you should know.” He gestures at the Cumberland Farms. “You get anything here?”

“No,” I say. “Neither our passenger nor the driver were seen, according to the guy working the counter, who I’m pretty sure is high. No tapes.”

“Shit indeed,” Dan says, then a long pause. “Did you see Hoff?”

I nod. “His mom’s sick. That’s why he’s back.”

“Coincidence, huh?”

“No reason to think otherwise.” I feel less convinced, saying it out loud. “Claims he didn’t see our guys in there either.” Dan and I are quiet for a moment before I add, “And he doesn’t know anything about any dead girls.” It lands hard the way I say it, and Dan looks at me, concerned. I’m signaling that I need something from him, and he’ll want to give it to me. It’s like an involuntary tic, this need for Dan’s attention. “Hoff claims he gave an official statement, but I don’t think it was in the file. I need to look again.”