Beneath Devil's Bridge(43)

Clay regards us. Outside, snow thumps off the school roof into the parking lot. He clears his throat. “Why?”

“Getting a picture of where everyone was at,” Luke says.

“I . . . was probably home. With my wife, Lacey. I’d have to check my calendar. Sometimes I go to the gym after school, or work late.”

“It was the night of the Russian rocket,” Luke prompts. “It went through the sky at nine twelve p.m. It was forecast to happen that night, and everyone seems to know exactly where they were when they saw it.” He pauses. “Things like that have a way of anchoring memories.”

“Right.” Clay hesitates. “Like I said, yes, I was home. Pretty sure I was home at that time.”

“Your wife, Lacey, will verify?”

“Yes.” He rubs his mouth.

My gut is tight. Adrenaline zings through my blood. Either Maddy is lying or Clay Pelley is lying. And right now, my money is on Maddy having told the truth. And it was clearly a struggle for her to do so, to have voiced the thing she witnessed in the dark woods. It would explain her weird reactions and mood at home.

“We have several witness statements that you were at the bonfire.” Luke is bending the truth to see what pops out. “And you spent time with Leena on a log.”

Clay’s face loses all expression. His eyes go utterly blank. Silence swells into the office.

“So? Which is it? You were at the bonfire, or at home?”

Pelley taps the edge of his desk. “Oh . . . Wait, yeah . . . I did briefly go up to the bonfire first, before heading home, just to do a quick check on what was up. You know, I’d heard about it—the students tell me things. And one of them told me it was going down, and—”

“Which student?”

“I . . . I can’t even recall.”

“Was it Leena?” Luke asks.

Clay sits lower in his chair. He looks like he’s coiling. As if he might suddenly expand and bolt. I shift position, readying myself, in case he actually does try.

“Okay,” says Luke. “Let me see if I got this right. You drove twenty minutes. Up into the mountains, along a dark logging road, in the cold, and all the way out to an area called ‘the grove,’ to quickly check on some students?”

“Yeah. I drove up there, in and out, went home. Kids seemed to be okay. No obvious trouble brewing.”

Sick bastard. I try to swallow the distaste filling my mouth, but it sticks in my throat. I want to nail this man to the wall.

“And why didn’t you mention this earlier?” I ask, my voice clipped. “When Leena went missing? When we were all looking for her, and I asked if anyone had any information about her movements that night?”

“Look.” He leans forward, his gaze fixing on me. “You know what it’s like, Rachel. The Ullr festival was outlawed, banned this year. By you guys—”

“It was a town council decision. The PD works for the town.”

“Well, the kids didn’t want authorities to know they were celebrating on their own, for obvious reasons. It would have gotten them shut down, and because I’d been told about it, it put me in an awkward position. I want to keep their trust. And yes, with something like this, a lot of booze, other drugs, it has a potential to get out of hand, dangerous—”

“It did get dangerous,” I say darkly. “For one child. Leena. She was sexually assaulted and murdered.” My gaze is locked on his.

He swallows.

A school buzzer sounds in the hallway. I hear kids’ voices as they exit classrooms, growing in volume. Feet running. Laughter. A few yells. Locker doors slamming.

Luke says, “So when Leena was reported missing, you still . . . what? Just forgot to mention you were there that night, that you saw her?”

“You didn’t need me to tell you that she was at the bonfire. Others saw her, and said so. I honestly figured at the time that Leena would show up. She played games like this for attention, and I didn’t think it was anything serious. Plus I didn’t want to lose the hard-won trust of my kids. If they trust me, it keeps the lines of communication open. It puts me in a position to help if a red flag does go up. Like when Amy Chan told me she’d witnessed Leena stumbling along Devil’s Bridge. Straightaway I took her to the principal’s office, and her mother was contacted, and Amy did the right thing. She went into the station with her mother to report it.”

Luke inhales slowly, deeply, and I can see he’s ready to blow. Very quietly he says, “So you spent time with Leena at the bonfire?”

“I chatted with her a bit, while sitting on a log.”

“What were you wearing that night?”

“A black jacket . . . a toque—black. Jeans. Work boots. Scarf. Also black. Gloves.”

Luke leans forward, getting into Clay’s personal space. “Mr. Pelley, did you have intimate relations with Leena Rai?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question.”

He goes white. Then two hot spots form along his cheekbones. “Hell no. Are you mad?”

“What if I told you that a student witnessed you getting intimate with Leena in the bushes, shortly before the Russian rocket went through the sky?” He pauses. “Sexual intercourse. With a student. A minor.”

He stares at us. His mouth opens. Words seem to have deserted him.