Two Can Keep a Secret(50)
“What’s going on? I heard some of it, but—”
Movement over his shoulder catches my eye, and I put a hand on his arm. “Hang on. I have a lot to tell you, but … there’s somebody I want to talk to first.” I wipe my eyes and glance at my phone. We’re already late for work, but oh well.
An older woman is manning the shooting gallery where Brooke used to work, yawning as she makes change and pulls levers. Vance Puckett stands with a toy gun mounted on his shoulder, methodically knocking over targets. Malcolm told us at lunch that he was interrogated again last night by Officer McNulty, who said the police interviewed Vance about his conversation with Brooke downtown. According to Vance, Brooke just asked him what time it was. Malcolm was frustrated, but Mia threw up her hands in resignation. “Of course. Why should he help out? There’s nothing in it for him, and he doesn’t care about anybody in this town.”
Maybe she’s right. Or maybe he’s just broken in his own way.
Vance fishes in his pockets for change to play another round. I sidle past a trio of preteens and plunk two dollars on the counter. “My treat this time,” I say.
He turns and squints, tapping his forefinger to his chin. It takes a few seconds for him to recognize me. “Shooter girl. You got lucky that last game.”
“Maybe,” I say. “I have six bucks on me. Should we play best two out of three?” He nods, and I gesture toward the targets. “Champions first.”
Vance gets off to a shaky start, only hitting eight out of twelve targets. It kills my competitive spirit to miss five when it’s my turn, but all this will be pointless if he stalks off in a huff again when we’re done.
“You lost your touch.” Vance smirks when I lower my gun. Ezra, who’s watching us with his hands on his hips, looks like he’s physically biting his tongue.
“I was just warming up,” I lie.
I keep it close in the next couple of rounds, losing by one each time. Vance is pumped up by the end, preening and chuckling, going so far as to slap me on the back when I miss my final shot. “Nice try, kid. You almost pulled one out.”
“I guess I did get lucky last time,” I say with a theatrical sigh. I don’t have Sadie’s talent, which is obvious from Ezra’s grimace as we move to one side so the people waiting behind us can play. But I’m hoping it’s good enough for a drunk guy. “My mother told me it probably wouldn’t happen again.”
Vance adjusts his cap over oily hair. “Your mother?”
“Sadie Corcoran,” I say. “You’re Vance, right? She said you guys went to homecoming together and that I should introduce myself. I’m Ellery.”
It’s weird holding out my hand after what Sadie just told me. But he takes it, looking genuinely flummoxed.
“She said that? Wouldn’t have thought she even remembers me.”
She talks about you all the time, I almost say, but decide to keep things believable. “She does. It’s not easy for her to talk about Echo Ridge after what happened to her sister, but— She’s always spoken well of you.”
It’s close enough to true, I guess. And I’m feeling pretty charitable toward him myself, since he’s the only person in Echo Ridge who has an alibi for both Sarah’s and Brooke’s disappearances. Suddenly, Vance Puckett is the most trustworthy man in town.
He spits on the ground, close to my sneakers. Somehow, I manage not to flinch. “Damn shame what happened.”
“I know. She’s never gotten over it. And now my friend is missing. …” I turn toward the new woman behind the counter. “I guess you knew Brooke, huh? Since you play here all the time.”
“Nice kid,” he says gruffly. He shuffles his feet, looking antsy and ready to move on. Ezra taps his watch and raises his brows at me. Get to the point.
“The worst thing is, I know something was bothering her before she disappeared. We were supposed to get together on Sunday so she could tell me what was going on, but we never got the chance. And it’s killing me.” Tears spring into my eyes, still close to the surface from my conversation with Sadie, and spill down my cheeks. I’m playing a part, but Sadie always said the best acting happens when you’re emotionally connected to the scene. I’m torn up enough about what happened to Brooke to pull it off. “I just— I wish I knew what she needed.”
Vance rubs his jaw. Rocks back on his heels, twists to look at the crowd over his shoulder. “I don’t like getting involved,” he mumbles. “Not with people in this town, and especially not with the police.”
“Me either,” I say quickly. “We’re total outsiders here. Brooke was—is—one of my only friends.” I fish around in my bag for a Kleenex and blow my nose.
“She asked me a strange question last week.” Vance speaks quietly, in a rush, and my heart leaps into my throat. “Wanted to know how to pick a lock.” A shifty expression crosses his face. “Not sure why she’d think I’d know. I told her to Google it, or watch a YouTube video or something. Or just use a couple of paper clips.”
“Paper clips?” I ask.
Vance swats at a hovering bug. “Those work sometimes. So I’m told. Anyway …” He meets my gaze, and I see a glimmer of something like kindness in his bloodshot eyes. “That’s a thing that was on her mind. So now you know.”