Chapter 13
Noelle had been reading whatever she could find on Trevor Baylor, the man who’d partied with the high school kids Saturday night.
Most of it was high school sports articles.
Trevor had been a star basketball player for Eagle’s Nest High School.
But something had gone wrong after that and he’d developed a record of stupid shit: vandalism, underage drinking—which continued into DUI as he got older—reckless driving, and an assault case from a protest in Portland.
Evan drove as she read out loud on their way to an early morning pop-in at Baylor’s home.
He pulled into the pitted parking lot of a small run-down apartment building and parked next to an old Dodge pickup with a flat tire.
Noelle eyed the thick coat of dust on the windshield and hood.
The vehicle registered to Baylor was a Subaru, which she didn’t see in the lot.
Trevor Baylor’s home address wasn’t that far from the Deschutes County sheriff’s office, so they were still in Bend.
“There’s apartment four,” said Evan. “Can’t read half of the other door numbers.”
Noelle had noticed that too. The building was in desperate need of new paint, and someone had given up the pretense of trying to maintain the grounds. The beds were full of weeds. She pressed the doorbell for apartment four.
“I didn’t hear a bell,” said Evan.
“Me neither.” She rapped hard on the door with her knuckles and listened. “Someone’s moving inside.” The door had a peephole, and Noelle put on a pleasant expression, trying not to look like a cop. Evan stood out of view, knowing that seeing just Noelle would lower people’s defenses.
The door opened, and she recognized Trevor Baylor from his driver’s license photo. She had to look up, which was unusual for her. She had read he was six foot five, but it was still a surprise. His thick canvas coat and large boots told her he had just been about to leave.
He looked her over, a small smile starting on his face. “Can I help you?” Then Trevor scowled as he noticed Evan.
Noelle and Evan held out their identification and introduced themselves.
“Police? Why? What do you want?”
“Just to talk about something you might have seen,” Noelle said in a reassuring voice. “Can we come in?”
“I was just leaving.”
“Can you give us five minutes?” She gave her warmest smile.
Trevor blinked as if slightly blinded and stepped back. “Is this about those shoplifters?” He’d worked at a Bend grocery store since he graduated high school.
“It’s not,” said Noelle, moving into the dim apartment.
She spotted a light switch and flipped it on, lighting up a harsh single bulb in the living room ceiling.
A worn-out imitation leather couch covered with laundry faced a large TV, which sat on a rickety cabinet whose top sagged under the weight.
Noelle stepped closer to read the framed diploma hanging prominently on the wall and was surprised to see it was from high school.
Next to it was an eight-by-ten photo of Trevor shooting a basketball.
He was in the air, his feet far above the gym floor, concentration on his face, the ball just leaving his fingertips.
Next to that, thumbtacked onto the wall, was the jersey that Trevor wore in the photo.
Noelle pointed at the photo as she turned to Trevor. “Did you make that shot?”
“No,” he said with a sheepish grin. “But it’s an awesome picture.” He took off his heavy coat and set it on the back of the couch.
“It is,” she agreed.
He was extremely thin. She’d wondered about the low weight on his driver’s license, but now saw it wasn’t an error. On his sweatshirt was the high school’s mascot.
He’s twenty-five.
She wondered if the high school items represented unfulfilled dreams or if he was clinging to an identity once central in his life.
“What do you want to talk to me about?” asked Trevor. He quickly shoved aside the clothing on the couch and sat down, his knees akimbo, making her think of a giant grasshopper. She and Evan took seats in chairs that appeared to have once belonged to a dining room set.
“We’re talking to people who were out off Old Mill Highway on Saturday night,” said Evan.
Trevor tore his eyes away from Noelle to look at Evan. “What?” There was a small quiver in his voice.
“We’ve been told you were there,” said Noelle. Trevor was instantly nervous, triggering her Spidey-sense.
“Nah, wasn’t there. Somebody’s lying.”
Yeah. You.
“We know you were there, Trevor,” said Noelle in her best bored-cop voice. “You’re not in trouble. We just want to know if you saw anything unusual. Any fights or altercations.”
“Unusual? Like what? I didn’t see any fights. Everyone was in a good mood.”
Sweat beaded on his temples, and he wiped at his upper lip.
“Trevor, we’re not here because you might have bought alcohol for minors or maybe some other things that are illegal for anyone under twenty-one.”
“I didn’t see anyone fight,” he said quickly. “And I wasn’t in charge of bringing alcohol this time.”
This time.
It appeared Trevor didn’t know that a murdered man had been found nearby, which Noelle found odd, considering that the discovery had been in the news. And had ricocheted up the gossip chains.
Evan brought Trevor up to speed about the murdered man found near the location.
He jerked up straight on the couch, his anxiety skyrocketing. “I don’t know anything about that. I didn’t see nothing there on Saturday. Who was killed?”
“We don’t know yet,” said Noelle, watching him closely. “Are you aware of anyone who is missing? Or any rumors?”
“Nah, don’t know anyone who’s missing. Only rumors I hear about is work stuff.”
“Trevor, why do you hang out with kids who are still in high school?” Noelle asked. “Shouldn’t you be down at the local bar shooting pool with adults?”
There was no point to her question except curiosity.
Trevor straightened, instantly defensive. “I don’t. I mean, sure, sometimes I do. I just happen to have some friends that age. It’s no big deal. I go to bars too,” he said emphatically, his nervousness returning.
This wasn’t the man Noelle had expected to meet.
She’d thought he’d be some lazy jerk who was making money by buying alcohol and pot for kids.
Instead, he appeared to be someone who genuinely missed high school life.
Hanging with the younger crowd could be an effort to hold on to the past. His glory days.
She’d heard of people who peaked during high school. Trevor Baylor appeared to be one of them.
“Can you write down some names of people you saw Saturday night?” asked Noelle.
He jumped up, opened a drawer in the TV cabinet, and took out a pencil and notebook paper.
Are those old school supplies?
Noelle couldn’t remember the last time she’d bought notebook paper. College, probably.
She and Evan were quiet as he wrote for a bit, amusing Noelle by scrunching up his face and staring at the ceiling as he concentrated.
A few minutes later they were out the door, three more names in their hands.
“What did you think of him?” Noelle asked Evan.
“I think he needs to find something to focus on besides high school.”
“I thought so too.” The encounter had left her a bit depressed.
Hopefully he’ll find something else.