Friends Like These(33)

DETECTIVE JULIA SCUTT


SUNDAY, 6:50 A.M.

“Jesus,” Cartright snaps, charging at me the second I step inside. He must have been waiting in the foyer, staring at the door. He checks his watch dramatically. “You said you’d be right back. That was like two hours ago.”

I’d taken longer than I said, but not that long.

“Having a hard time babysitting, huh?” I glare at him. “I’ll be sure to let Seldon know.”

“You think it’s so easy, you do it. They’ve been squawking about heading back to the city for the past forty-five minutes. I was about to let them go because of the fucking headache they’re giving me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say. “They can’t leave.”

“Tell them that,” Cartright says.

“I plan to,” I say, breezing past him. “When the uniforms get here, you can go.”

It’s dead quiet out in the living room. The lights are all still on, unnecessary now with the daylight. Jonathan and Stephanie have fallen asleep, leaning against opposite ends of the couch. Maeve is awake, sitting upright between them. She crosses her arms tight when she sees me, her eyes going glassy.

“Is there news?” she asks.

“Can you wake them?” I ask. “I have some more questions.”

Maeve elbows first Jonathan, then Stephanie.

“Oh, did you find . . . whoever is missing?” Stephanie asks sleepily, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.

“We haven’t found the driver yet, and the passenger is still unidentified,” I say. “But we do have reason to believe now that it wasn’t an accident.”

“What do you mean?” Jonathan asks.

“I can’t get into specifics because— ”

“What— we’re suspects?” Stephanie asks. “Because that would be absurd.”

I smile, surely not pleasantly. “That wasn’t what I was going to say. I was going to say that because this is an ongoing investigation, we need to keep certain details confidential. That way we don’t unintentionally taint future interviews. But I will say, I don’t believe you have all been completely forthcoming.”

“Based on what?” Jonathan asks.

“A feeling,” I say. “That and the fact that Keith and Derrick were never in the Cumberland Farms. I checked with the clerk.”

“What does that prove? We told you we didn’t know what happened after they left here,” Stephanie says. “Only what they said they were doing. And, just to clarify, we are free to leave anytime. This isn’t a custodial interrogation, right?”

A lawyer, definitely. “You are free to go, yes,” I say. “I mean, I’d assume you’d want to stay and help find out what happened to your friends.”

“Of course we do,” Jonathan says.

“Well, maybe we just need to start at the beginning. Like with the tire tracks I just noticed— on the lawn, going around the side of the house.” I point to where I saw them on my way in. “Any idea where those came from?”

Maeve is already shaking her head. “No.” She looks over at Stephanie and Jonathan. “Do you guys?”

Stephanie and Jonathan shake their heads too. “No,” Jonathan says, but it’s not especially decisive. “I didn’t even see them.”

“Well, they’re out there.” I nod my head again in that direction. “Deep tracks all the way around the side of the house.”

Jonathan frowns. “Maybe something having to do with the renovation?”

“Can you at least tell us what you think happened to Derrick and Keith?” Stephanie asks. “You must have some theories by now.”

“Honestly, the most likely scenario under the circumstances is that there was some kind of conflict between the two of them. Any idea what that might have been about?”

“What about Finch?” Maeve offers quietly, looking at the others again.

“The client who left early?” I ask.

“There were issues between Keith and Finch,” Stephanie says. “It’s possible Derrick got in the middle. He and Finch grew up together, and he introduced Finch to Keith initially. The three of them have a complicated relationship.”

“But Finch left,” Jonathan points out.

“Supposedly,” Maeve says. “But we don’t know that for sure, do we?”

“Finch does like to cause problems,” Stephanie says.

“Conflict. For the fun of it,” Jonathan adds.

“Not sure anyone intended fun here,” I say. “What we’ve confirmed is that the passenger didn’t die in the accident. He was stabbed.”

“Oh my God,” Stephanie says, her eyes flooding with tears as she covers her mouth with a hand. “That’s just . . .” When she blinks, an actual tear makes it out onto her cheek. She brushes it quickly away.

I feel a pang of regret for being so matter-of-fact. Murder is utterly and uniquely traumatizing.

“What about those pictures you were going to bring us?” Jonathan asks. “To try to identify them?”

I regret even mentioning that as a possibility. Because that is not happening either until I rule them out as suspects. And, yes, it will be helpful to make the ID, but not if that means damaging the investigation. “I will do that as soon as I have an opportunity.”