Friends Like These(73)

“Bartender remembers Stephanie and Jonathan,” I say. “From last night.”

“They sure do know how to lie, don’t they?”

“Yup,” I say. “Starting to look like what they’re covering up is the truth about what happened to Keith and Derrick. Weekender on weekender. Seldon will be happy.”

Me too, that’s the honest truth.

“Or . . .” Dan holds out a paper evidence bag. There’s something palm-sized and T-shaped at the bottom.

“What’s that?” I lean in closer.

“I was just taking it to the station when I saw your car. It’s a corkscrew,” he says. “Dogs followed that scent in circles. But eventually, this was at the end of it. Or rather it was over the side of the cliff at the end of it, on the ridge right below. My guess is that somebody tossed it there in the dark, didn’t realize it landed only seven feet below in plain sight, instead of forty feet down in the river.”

“A corkscrew?” I can see now that it’s covered in mud with maybe some blood near the handle.

“I checked with the ME— given the irregular shape and depth of the wounds, it might fit the bill. No track marks, either, by the way, and he confirmed that the facial injuries were indeed postmortem.”

The same as Jane. Dammit.

“There’s, um, engraving on it,” Dan says, holding up his flashlight and shining it into the bag.

I can see now the etching on the handle: LG.

“Luke Gaffney?” I ask. Fuck. “Seriously?”

Dan shrugs. “You’re looking at what I’m looking at.”

“Did you also double check Luke’s alibi from Jane’s case?”

“Just a minute ago, yeah,” Dan says. “Apparently the teacher who swore he was in detention got fired two years later for smoking pot with some students. Doesn’t mean he lied about the detention, necessarily, but . . .”

“It’s not outside the realm of possibility.”

Dan nods. “Did you know that Luke Gaffney tried to get Jane to go out with him? Somebody talked about it in the podcast. She said no, apparently. Could be he didn’t take it so well.”

I had not known that. Luke was barely fifteen when Jane and Bethany died, but probably big enough, strong enough, to have killed them. Maybe what Bob Hoff saw was Mike Gaffney coming to clean up after his son. Maybe, after all these years, Luke got angry enough to kill again.

“Fuck,” I say quietly.

“I already sent units to sit on Luke Gaffney’s house,” Dan says. “They’re pretty sure he’s in there.”

It isn’t Luke who answers the door. It’s a good-looking young blond guy.

He takes a step back when I flash my badge. “Luke here?”

“He’s on the phone, I think.” He gestures vaguely behind him.

“Can we come in and maybe you go get him?” I ask, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “We have a few questions.”

“Um,” the man says, stumbling back and looking over his shoulder like he’s hoping someone might appear to rescue him. “Okay, I guess.”

“And you are?” I ask, trying to keep him occupied. It would be better for him not to warn Luke that we’ve talked our way inside. But he’s already inching back out of the foyer.

“So, I’ll just go get— ”

Dan heads him off, smoothly leaning against the wall behind him in a way that is both casual and imposing. When he almost bumps into Dan, the guy looks a little panicked.

“It’s okay. We can just wait,” I say nonchalantly. “I’m sure Luke will be out when he’s done. Sorry, I missed your name.”

“Oh, me.” He squints. “I’m, um, Luke’s cousin. I’m just, uh, visiting.”

“From where?” Dan asks.

“What?”

“Where are you visiting from?” I press, taking a step closer. The guy is so nervous, no saying what might pop if we lean into him.

“Oh, the, um, Florida.”

“What the hell do you want?” Luke shouts, storming into the foyer. Before I can stop myself, I’ve imagined him over Jane, a rusted tent stake in his hand. “I already told you that I’m not answering any more of your questions. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

My hand twitches toward my gun. Breathe. I just need to breathe. I try to swallow down the rage clogging my throat. “You lied to me,” I manage.

“Lied to you?” Luke snorts. “Bullshit. Now, like I said, get the fuck out.”

“From what I hear, you got into it with Jonathan Cheung and his friend last night at the Falls. You told me you didn’t see them.”

“What are you talking about?” But already he’s dialed back his tone.

“Some kind of argument. Maybe you were pissed about the money you’re owed,” I say. “Or maybe you were pissed that Crystal was sleeping with Keith Lazard.”

Luke shakes his head. “Why would I give a shit what Crystal does?”

“You told me you were sleeping with her.”

“Nope.” He laughs. “I figured if I said that to you, it would get back to them. I wanted to fuck with them.”

“Crystal Finnegan is missing, Mr. Gaffney.” I work to keep my voice steady. It’s not easy. “I suggest you stop playing games.”