Off the Deep End (50)
“You think something similar like that happened to Isaac?” Mark looked skeptical. I couldn’t blame him. It sounded far-fetched to me too.
Detective Hawkins shook his head. “Not exactly. I’m using it to illustrate how things can grow in that online world and eventually bleed over into the real world. We already know that kids were sending him some pretty awful messages, and you said yourself that he’d always been one of the kids they teased. Maybe there was more going on than we knew. That’s why we’re going to take a look at Isaac’s online activity.”
“But I thought it was going to be weeks before you got the recovered information back on his phone?” I asked.
“I’m not talking about his phone. We’ll be taking a deep dive into where he was hanging out online. What he was doing, who he was talking to. Those kinds of things.” He shifted in his seat and sat up straighter. “Since I’ve got you here, either of you have an idea about any of that?”
I turned my attention to Mark. This was definitely his area of expertise and not mine. He was as into video games as Isaac. The two of them used to play together even though they had opposite tastes in games.
“Isaac isn’t a big social media guy, so you’re not going to find any of that stuff. Don’t bother looking at any of the sports games either. He doesn’t even have a profile. He didn’t like any of them no matter how hard I tried to get him hooked.” His eyes briefly misted at the memory. It was the biggest joke between them. Mark was obsessed with all things Madden, but Isaac wouldn’t have anything to do with it in the same way that Mark couldn’t stand Isaac’s first-person shooter games. “He played all the first-person shooter games. He played Call of Duty and Valorant a lot, but his favorite game was Dracho.”
“Is that another first-person shooter? I’ve never had too much time for them myself, so I don’t know anything about them.”
“No, it’s more like a role-playing game where you build your own worlds. Kind of like an older kids’ version of Minecraft. Lots of adults play it too,” Mark explained.
“Got it.” He appeared satisfied. “A few of my officers and myself are going to head out to the school in about an hour and start interviewing students. I just wanted to meet with the two of you first to give you a heads-up. I didn’t want you to get wind that our officers were sniffing around at the school again and wonder what was going on. Also, I can’t stress how important it is that you keep this information to yourself about the laundry detergent. We don’t want that piece getting out in the public.”
“Sure.” We nodded in agreement.
He put his hands on the table again like he was getting ready to stand when he suddenly asked, “Oh yeah, I do have another question for you, though. Didn’t you say that Katie has eczema?” He directed his question at me.
I eyed him like he’d lost his mind. There was no reason for him to ask me if Katie had eczema because he already knew she did. We talked about it all the time because his mom had it too. Katie’s was related to specific foods and other sensitivities, but any form of stress was almost always sure to result in an angry outburst on her skin. This was the most stressful thing she’d ever had to endure in her short life, and most of her body was covered in scaly, itchy patches. Sometimes she scratched so hard she drew blood. He had noticed almost right away, and on the second day of the investigation, he’d shown up at the house with his family’s homemade lotion recipe of aloe, lavender, and oatmeal mixed with another secret ingredient he refused to disclose.
“I did,” I said slowly.
“That’s what I thought,” he said like he wasn’t sure he remembered things correctly, but there was no way he’d forgotten about her eczema. He’d asked her about it two days ago. “I also thought I remembered you saying that you used special laundry detergent because of her skin sensitivities. Am I remembering that correctly?”
“You are,” Mark replied, answering for me before I had a chance to respond.
“Would you mind if we got a sample of the detergent?” Detective Hawkins asked, keeping his attention on me even though Mark was the one to answer the question.
“Why would you do that?” I asked.
“We just want to be able to rule things out and narrow the focus of our search,” he said like it wasn’t a big deal.
Mark gave me a look like I was totally missing something.
And then it dawned on me.
“You can’t think—”
Mark pinched my thigh to stop me and jumped in before I could finish my sentence. “Definitely. Not a problem,” he said quickly. “We’ll get you a sample. We can run home now, and I’ll bring it back to you.” He jumped up from his chair and pulled me up with him. I gripped his hand to steady myself.
Detective Hawkins smiled. “I wish it worked that way. That sure would make my life a lot easier, but the department has specific procedures and policies that have to be followed for all evidence collection. I was thinking I’d just have one of my officers who’s at the house collect it since they’re already there. I just need you to sign off on the paperwork that gives us permission to do that.” He handed me a form from the stack of papers sitting in front of him.
I took the paper from him and tried to read what it said, but I couldn’t think straight, and my hands were shaking. So were my knees. I was still reeling from the news. I tried to focus and read what it said, but the letters and numbers swerved in front of my eyes. It was probably just standard legal jargon anyway. I grabbed a pen from the cupholder in the center of the table. Mark put his hand on top of mine on the table and stopped me from writing anything.