All the Little Lights(89)

I didn’t bother arguing that Leigh should have come straight to the police station instead of detouring to give me a ride. Leigh was in no mood for backtalk.

“John!” Leigh said, standing.

“I got here as quick as I could. Is he still in there?”

Leigh nodded, her bottom lip trembling.

“Has Kent made it?”

“Yes, he’s been in there for about half an hour. Elliott’s been in there twice as long. I’m not sure what’s happening. They won’t let me see him.”

“Did you call Kay?”

Leigh rubbed her forehead. “She’s on her way.”

John hugged her and then reached for me. I stood, letting him pull me in for a hug.

“It’s going to be okay, girls. We know Elliott had nothing to do with this.”

“Has she been found?” I asked.

John sighed and shook his head. He sat in the chair to my right, Leigh to my left, turning me into a Youngblood sandwich and offering some of the safety I felt when Elliott was close. John turned to his phone, typing arrest process into the search engine bar.

“John,” Leigh said, reaching over me to tap her husband’s knee.

She gestured to the right, and we turned to see Presley’s parents leaving one of the offices, the miniblinds swaying back and forth.

Mrs. Brubaker was dabbing the skin beneath her eyes with a wadded tissue, Presley’s dad guiding his wife with his arm around her shoulders. They stopped, seeing us sitting in the hallway. Mrs. Brubaker sniffed, staring at us in disbelief.

“Uh,” the officer said, holding up her arm to motion for the Brubakers to continue, “this way.”

After several seconds, the officer finally convinced the couple to proceed.

“It’s going to be okay, honey,” John said.

He was talking to his wife, but she hadn’t said anything, so I was surprised when she responded as if she had.

“Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay. Of all the kids in that school, it’s Elliott who was brought back to the police station?”

“Leigh . . . ,” John warned.

“We both know if he was my sister’s son instead of yours, he wouldn’t be here.”

John stared at the door across from him, his eyebrows pulling in a fraction of an inch. “Elliott’s a good boy.”

“Yes, he is, which is why he shouldn’t be here.”

“Catherine?” John asked, turning to me. “What happened at school?”

I took in a breath. I couldn’t tell them Elliott was taken into custody because of his behavior at the school. John and Leigh would want to know why he was being so protective of me. But a part of me wondered why Elliott wasn’t more surprised to hear about Presley. I knew he didn’t care for her, but as laid-back as Elliott was, even he should have been shocked to hear about Presley’s disappearance.

“Well . . . ,” I began. I didn’t want to lie. “The detective questioned him. They don’t know where he walked after he left my house. I think that’s why they’re suspicious.” I wanted to tell Leigh he’d spent the night, but I didn’t want to have to get into why. I considered letting her just assume he’d stayed there to do what most teenagers did, but I couldn’t say it.

Leigh fidgeted. “Last night? We were out. When we got home, I assumed he was in bed.”

“Leigh, don’t say that again,” John said. “The answer is, Elliott came straight home.”

“Dear God,” Leigh whispered. “This looks bad, doesn’t it? We haven’t been on a date in three years, and the first time we go, we needed to be our nephew’s alibi.”

Alibi? The word was familiar but foreign.

The double doors at the end of the hall opened, and Elliott walked out with a man in a gray suit. Elliott looked flushed, his eyes reflecting the stress and anger that had built up over the past three hours.

Leigh stood and threw her arms around Elliott. He stood there without emotion until his gaze fell on me.

“Are you all right?” Leigh asked, pulling away to look him over. “Did they hurt you? Kent? Is he okay?” she asked.

Kent straightened his tie. “He’s not officially a suspect yet, but he will be if they find a body. They certainly think he has something to do with her disappearance.” He looked to me. “Are you Catherine?”

“Leave her alone, Kent,” Elliott warned. He was shaking with anger.

“Let’s go outside,” Kent said.

Elliott helped me with my coat and then curved his arm around my shoulders, guiding me to the station parking lot. We walked until we reached Leigh’s sedan.

Kent zipped up his coat, looking around at the various cars in the lot. His breath was visible, puffing out and then disappearing into the night air.

“Tell us,” John said. “Are they charging him with something?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Elliott said, his cheeks beet-red.

“I know!” John growled. “Let me talk, damn it!”

“They haven’t found Presley,” Kent said. “It seems she disappeared without a trace. With no witnesses or a body, there are no charges to make.”

I leaned against the car, thinking about the way Kent said body. I imagined Presley lying lifeless in a ditch somewhere, her alabaster skin covered in dead grass and smudged with dirt.