28. twenty-six
twenty-six
. . .
CREW
Waiting for the third shift lieutenant to come in and relieve me the next morning was pure torture, like watching the clock tick down on those final seconds before summer break back in high school. I hadn’t heard from Aspen since our texts the night before, and I’d have been worried if my brother hadn’t stayed with her overnight.
Then again, where Trey was concerned, maybe I should have been worried anyway.
No , I mentally scolded myself. She’s into you. And even if she wasn’t, she definitely isn’t the kind of woman that would hook up with your brother under your own roof.
The moment the lieutenant walked into the firehouse, I was off like a shot, racing down the halls and outside to my truck.
“Someone is in a hurry!” Tuck called after me.
“Yeah, I’m…exhausted!” I called back.
Tuck and the guys snickered behind me and my lame ass excuse.
“Or maybe you’re just pussy whipped!”
Turning toward them, I flipped Childers the bird before throwing myself behind the wheel of my truck. I peeled away, tires squealing, the guys cheering me on. I drove too fast through town, but I couldn’t find a fuck to give.
I was paused at the stoplight when my phone started ringing, and I answered via my truck’s Bluetooth.
“Morning, Sheriff.”
“You leave work yet?” Lane asked.
“Yep. On my way home.”
“Turn around and get your ass to the station.”
“Has there been a break?”
Lane hummed. “You could say that.”
Checking both directions to make sure nothing was coming, I whipped a U-turn in the middle of Cassia and sped back in the opposite direction. Thirty seconds had me parked in front of the station. I hustled inside, the desk clerk buzzing me in before I could utter a word.
“Hey, Cap,” one of Lane’s deputies said. “He’s in interview two.”
The smaller of the interview rooms, I noted, wondering what that could mean.
Unfortunately, I knew the layout of the police station about as well as anyone who worked there did, and it wasn’t thanks to a previous lifetime as an employee.
I’d spent numerous hours across those metal interview room tables from law enforcement, being scolded and questioned about one incident or another.
Spent a decent amount of time in the holding cells in the basement of the building too, drying out after a bender.
My knock preceded me into the room, but I didn’t bother to wait for an invitation. On one side of the table sat my brother in full uniform. Across from him sat a teenage boy, with floppy, dishwater blond hair and pale skin. Even sitting down, I could tell he was tall and lanky. It’d be a few years yet before he grew into his limbs.
“Captain,” Lane said, nodding in my direction .
Ahh, we were using official titles. Okay then.
“Sheriff,” I replied.
“This is Parker Abrams,” Lane said. “Parker, this is Captain Lawless with the Dusk Valley Fire Department.”
The kid may have been young, probably fifteen or sixteen by my guestimation, but he wasn’t dumb, and he easily put the pieces together.
“Lawless?” he asked. “Like…”
“The captain is my brother, yes,” Lane conceded. “But that’s not why he’s here. Our departments frequently work together on arson cases, and we understand you’ve got some information for us regarding last week’s dumpster fire.”
Parker leaned his elbows on the table and bent over them, steepling his fingers under his chin. “First, I want some assurances.”
With Parker’s advance, Lane reclined into his chair, and I pulled up one next to him, flipping it backward so I could rest my arms across the back.
“What kind of assurances?” my brother asked.
“That I won’t be charged for this.”
Lane snorted. “You know that’s not possible, Parker. You deserve some sort of consequences for your actions.”
“Then give me community service. Just…not juvie. My mom and sister won’t survive if I’m sent away. Not with… him ,” he spat.
There was true fear in the kid’s eyes, and I had to wonder what kind of life he’d been living if he was concerned about leaving his mom and sister with this man.
“Tell you what,” Lane said, matching Parker’s body language. “I’ll let you off with a warning if you tell us everything you know.”
“Done.”
I snorted, and Lane cut me with a glare. Beneath the tattoos and the gruffness, the man was a fucking softy. Always had been .
“Tell us what happened then,” I urged.
“I was walking home from school the other day. Normally I cut through the park down on Elm because sometimes I like to go there and chill before I gotta head to the house.” His expression remained impassive as he added, “My stepdad is a prick.”
Ahh, the infamous him .
Parker didn’t elaborate, but I could guess “prick” encompassed a whole lot of shit that would get the authorities involved in Parker’s life in a way he clearly didn’t want.
“I was sitting on the swings, minding my own business, when this person approached me. Dressed head to toe in bulky, black with one of those ski mask things covering their face.”
“What did they want? Could you tell if they were a man or a woman? Height? Weight? Age?”
Lane was practically vibrating, and his little notebook made its appearance. I settled on hand on his shoulder, silently urging him to chill the fuck out.
“Easy, Sheriff,” Parker said with a grin. “I’m getting there.”
“Then get there ,” Lane gritted out.
“Bro,” I hissed. “Get it together.”
Lane exhaled sharply through his nose and gestured for Parker to proceed.
“They asked me if I wanted to make five hundred bucks. And I don’t know about you guys, but five hundred bucks? That’s life changing money for someone like me. I’ve been working hard at saving up so I can get the fuck out of here after graduation, and that money would go a long way.”
“So you said yes.”
Parker raised a brow, eyes darting between us. “Wouldn’t you?”
I shrugged. “Fair enough.”
“I asked what I had to do, and they told me all they needed was for me to set fire to the dumpster behind Mozzy’s that night. They gave me two fifty then, and I’d get the rest when the job was done.”
Lane was bent over the table, scribbling, and didn’t look up when he asked, “Any identifying features?”
“Tall-ish?” Parker phrased it almost like a question. “Probably a few inches shorter than six feet. No idea if they were a man or woman, though. Their voice was all jacked up, like they were using some sort of device to distort it. Like Batman or some shit.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. This kid was really growing on me. His act of arson notwithstanding, he appeared to have a really good head on his shoulders.
“Why did you turn yourself in, Parker? You’ve lived here your entire life, so you have to know we didn’t find anything on the cameras or our door to door canvas.”
“I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’ve come to realize this has to be connected to the Prom Night Arsonist, right? Like…the person that paid me is likely the killer?”
A shiver wracked his body as he spoke, and I understood the feeling. Coming face to face with someone who had murdered twelve people and almost took a thirteenth out would make anyone’s skin crawl.
“Yes, Parker. We think the dumpster fire is connected,” I said.
“Do you have the money by chance?” Lane asked.
Parker leaned to the side and dug through the backpack resting at his feet, withdrawing the thin stack of bills and sliding them across the table to my brother. Without a word, Lane got up and left the room, returning shortly thereafter with an evidence bag, a pair of nitrile gloves covering his hands.
“We’ll send this up to Boise for fingerprinting and other diagnostics,” Lane said as he slid the bills into the bag.
“They were wearing gloves both times I met with them,” Parker said. “I doubt you’ll find anything.”
I had to agree with the kid, and I was sure Lane did too .
Only Lane had gone completely still, the only movement of his body his eyelids slowly opening and closing.
“You met with them twice?”
“Yeah,” Parker said, clearly confused by the question. That made two of us . “Once when they approached me in the park, and then after the fire when they gave me the rest of the money.”
Lane sealed the evidence bag and swept it off to the side, then peeled the gloves off and returned to his chair, pen poised over his notebook once again.
“Where’d you meet the second time?”
“In that little field on the backside of the school gym.”
For another ten or so minutes, Lane pressed Parker for more information, asking Parker to recount every minute detail he possibly could. I had to admit, I was impressed. The kid had incredible recall, and though the person who’d approached him didn’t give much in the way of identifying information, Parker handled each of Lane’s questions with poise. Finally, when there was nothing left to say or ask, Lane let Parker go with only the promised warning.
We followed him out and when Parker turned right toward the front of the building and the exit, Lane and I headed left toward his office.
The door slam behind us was heavy, and Lane’s carefully crafted facade began to crumble right before my eyes.
“This guy has evaded capture for forty years,” Lane said. “This kid is the first solid lead we have?—”
“And Aspen,” I cut in.
“—and the fucker made certain to completely mask his identity.”
Without warning, Lane’s fist shot out and slammed into the wall, punching a hole clear through it. Dust floated around him, and several pictures fell, shattering on the floor.
“Woah!” I shouted, grabbing his arm a second before he landed another. “What the fuck? ”
Lane pulled away from me and stalked behind his desk, resting his palms on the surface and bending over.
“I fucking hate this guy, Crew. Anytime we get close, he takes off running. It’s like he’s forty steps ahead, and no matter what I do, I can’t close that distance.”
I moved to his side and placed a hand on my brother’s shoulder. He was tense as a statue, and I didn’t envy him this job that made him feel like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Hell, I understood that feeling better than anyone.
“We’re going to catch him, Lane.”
Without looking up at me, he simply nodded and exhaled harshly.
For the sake of my own sanity, I had to believe that was true.
“You good?” I asked. “I’ll stay if you need me, but?—”
“Fuck,” Lane breathed. “You’ve gotta be exhausted. Go home. I’m fine.”
I eyed him. “You sure?”
“Promise,” he nodded. “Gonna be fun explaining to the city why I need to allocate funds to fix my office wall, though.”
I chuckled as I headed for the door. “Knowing you, I think they’ll understand.”