All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(67)

“Are you telling me you think I had something to do with this?” I asked.

Sheriff Hatcher considered this for a moment. “No, I don’t believe that’s what I’m telling you.” He twisted to look at us through the metal barrier, resting his arm on the back of his seat. “I think there’s a hell of a lot you two aren’t telling me, though, and I don’t like that. I think you’ve already poked Lawayne Karkkanew in the eye once, as a figure of speech, and I think you wouldn’t mind riling me up as a way of poking him in the eye again. And I think that if you think I believe you ended up in that cabin with Tony Galgano and Luke Witkowski by chance, you’re more of a fool than you seem. So here’s what I’ll tell you: if want to do right, you tell me the rest of it right now, because I can’t help you when you’re trying to lead me by the nose.” He finished this speech, which was by far the most I’d ever heard him say at one time, by wringing out his handkerchief and looking me in the eyes.

I shifted, dropping my gaze to the floorboards. He was right. There was more. But nothing I could tell him. Nothing that he would believe. Next to me, Becca sighed and put her hand on my back.

“There’s nothing else to tell,” Becca said. “He’s had a hard day. Can we please go now?”

“I suppose so. I’d like to know one thing, though, before you do.”

“What?”

“Where were you last night, Mr. Eliot?”

“Last night?”

Sheriff Hatcher didn’t answer, but his eyes had locked onto me.

“I was at a party. At Kaden’s house.”

“What time?”

“I don’t know. All night.”

“Now that’s funny, because I talked to my nephew and he said you were there, that’s all right, but he hadn’t seen you after about nine o’clock. I told him ask around, make sure, but he can’t find anybody who knows where you were.”

I didn’t answer.

“Want to know where I think you were?” the sheriff asked. “I think you were somewhere along that nice little strip of new buildings near the river. You know the place. They’ve got all those shops kids like, the new ones. An REI, an Urban Outfitters. There’s this coffee shop I know that the Miller boy likes. Sage and Sarsaparilla. You ever heard of the place?”

“I’ve been there before.”

“Last night? Around eleven o’clock?”

I didn’t answer.

“Where were you last night, boy?”

“Ask Emmett Bradley,” I said. “But if you’re going to do that, you’d better ask his dad first. Unless you want another lawsuit for harassment.”

Sheriff Hatcher’s face colored by degrees, red and then dark red and then darker, like mercury creeping up a thermometer until it trembled at the tip-top.

“That won’t work forever, boy.”

I kept my gaze locked on the footboards until, with another sigh, he let us out of the back of the cruiser. Dragging Becca after me, I hurried away from the sheriff’s office as fast as I could, and Sheriff Hatcher’s eyes followed me until he was out of sight.





As soon as the sheriff had disappeared behind us, Becca yanked on my arm. “What was that? Why did you lie to him?”

“Because I don’t want to get tied up in Lawayne’s murder. Or with Salerno’s, for that matter.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“I . . . Jesus, I know it’s stupid, but I touched Salerno. After he was dead. I didn’t know he was dead. I mean, he just fell down, and it was dark. I grabbed his clothes when I rolled him over. I might have touched his skin, I don’t know.”

“So?”

“So you heard him. He thinks I’m hiding something. He knows I hate Lawayne. All he needs is one thing—”

“Vie, don’t you think he would have said something—don’t you think we would have heard something—if the sheriff had found two dead bodies in downtown Vehpese? Especially if they were the richest man in the county and his personal bodyguard? It’s not that big of a town. The news would have been all over the place as soon as it happened.”

“What are you saying? That I’m making it up?”

“No, dummy. I’m saying that the sheriff might know something happened last night, but he doesn’t know what. He’s fishing. And he’s asking you because, after everything you’ve been up to this weekend, it makes sense for him to think you’re involved. Technically, I suppose he’s right, since you were involved, but he doesn’t know that. He’s just guessing.”

“God, this is just more and more of a mess.” I looked up and down the busy stretch of road that ran through the middle of Vehpese. My stomach gave a queasy grumble, and a headache had started behind my ears. If I followed this road, it would take me to the state highway and then out to the broken asphalt lot where Slippers stood on one end and, on the other, a row of apartments sagged like dirty laundry. If I went back to that apartment, what would I find? A DFS social worker waiting for me? Or would it just be Dad, coming down after days of being strung out and ready to knock my ass into left field because I looked at him the wrong way, or because I breathed too loud, or because I didn’t have any cash when he needed it?