Chapter 29
Dread radiated off Drew like a black fog as Scott followed him into the building.
He’d been about the same age when he was a person of interest in a murder case, and Scott totally got the sagging shoulders and slumped gait as they approached Ben’s secretary.
He nudged Drew with his elbow. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, speaking only loud enough for the teen to hear.
“I doubt it,” he muttered.
The secretary looked up from her computer. “Y’all go on in—Ben’s waiting for you.”
“Thanks,” Tori said.
Ben met them at the door. “Right on time,” he said. “Come on in and have a seat.”
Drew held back, and he flinched as Scott put his hand on his shoulder. “Go ahead. I promise, it’s going to be okay.”
Scott probably shouldn’t have promised that, but he believed the boy was innocent. He followed them into the spacious room and glanced around. Ben had brought in several straight-back chairs, probably expecting most of the family to come.
It angered Scott that Zack wasn’t here, and he wondered how much beer the boy’s dad drank after they left him last night. Even if he had a hangover and no matter how busy he was at the factory, he should’ve been here to give his boy moral support.
“Have you talked to a lawyer?” Ben asked.
“Drew is doing the right thing and coming here to talk to you, so I hope we won’t need one.” Edward Mitchell leaned forward. “My grandson’s done nothing wrong. You know him, Ben. He and your son are best friends.”
The look on Ben’s face said he’d rather be doing anything other than questioning Drew. “I know, but I have a job to do. Jenny Tremont is dead, and I think Drew knows something.”
“Are you going to read him his rights?” Tori asked.
“Drew isn’t under arrest, and he’s free to leave anytime.”
“Then we’ll hold off on hiring an attorney, but we can ask for one at any time, right?” her dad asked.
The sheriff nodded and turned to the boy. “I do need to ask you some questions, though.”
“I didn’t kill Jenny.”
“Okay. Why don’t you tell me what you were doing near her house about the time she died?”
Drew licked his lips. “You got any water?”
“Sure.” The sheriff stood and walked to a small refrigerator in his office and returned with a bottle of water.
Drew uncapped it, taking his time. After he took a long draw, he recapped the bottle. “What’d you ask me?”
Ben pursed his lips as his gaze drew a bead on the teen.
Drew shifted in his chair. “I remember now . . . I-I don’t know .
. . I couldn’t sleep. I’ve had trouble sleeping ever since Mom died.
I drove around for a while, then I parked my truck and walked.
I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was. ”
“You didn’t know Jenny had been murdered when the car almost hit you?”
Drew ducked his head and mumbled something, making Scott wince. Wrong way to look believable.
Ben leaned forward, his hands resting on his desk. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
The boy raised his head. “I got scared when I heard the sirens and started running.”
“You weren’t curious about where they were going?”
Drew lifted his chin. “When you’re my age and out that late, sirens mean trouble, and I didn’t want any trouble.”
“Okay,” Ben said, drawing out the word. “Tell me about Jenny Tremont. I understand you hung out at her house sometimes.”
The boy chewed his bottom lip, then his shoulders lifted in a careless teen shrug. “She was my mom’s friend. Helped take care of her when she had cancer.”
“But that doesn’t tell me why you liked her.”
He swallowed hard. “’Cause she was a good person. She listened to me. And believe it or not, I liked her because she didn’t cut me any slack.”
His earnest gaze tugged at Scott’s heart. The boy needed a friend. No, he needed a father to step up to the plate. Couldn’t Zack see what he was doing to his kid?
Ben nodded, encouraging Drew to continue. When he didn’t, the sheriff said, “Do you know anyone who wanted her dead?”
“No!”
Ben leveled his gaze at Drew. “You sure?”
The too-quick answer had given him away. The boy knew something, maybe not the person, but something.
“I promise, if I knew who killed Jenny, I’d tell you . . . or kill them myself.”
“Don’t take the law into your own hands, son. Is there anything you can think of that might help us find this person?”
Drew shook his head. “I’ve told you all I can.”
Ben stared thoughtfully at his notes, then he looked up. “Jenny’s call records show she phoned you the night she died and talked twenty-two seconds. A few minutes later you called her back and that call lasted only six seconds.”
Ben stood and walked around his desk, then sat on the corner across from Drew. “What did you talk about?”
“She, uh, called me sometimes when she couldn’t sleep.”
“And that’s what was wrong that night?”
Drew stared unblinking at Ben. “She—she . . .” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember. Everything about that night is messed up in my head. I’ve told you all I can.”
Which meant there was something he couldn’t tell? Scott was pretty sure the sheriff had the same thought.
Ben didn’t respond right away, then he blew out a breath and stood. “All right, you can go. If you happen to remember something new, call me.” Everyone else stood. “Tori, can you stay behind?”
“Sure.” She glanced at her dad and nephew before turning to Scott. “Do you have time to run them to Erin’s house before your rehab session?”
Scott checked his watch. He had a good fifteen minutes. “You bet.”
“You sure?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t. Call me before you head out.”
“I will, but I don’t think anyone will try anything in the daylight.”
“You never know.” He turned and shook hands with Ben. “Talk to you later.”
Drew and his grandfather followed Scott to his pickup. “I’ll ride in the back seat,” Edward said.
But Drew was already crawling in the back on the driver side. Scott backed out of the parking space and pointed his truck toward Erin’s house.
“Nice wheels,” Edward said.
“Thanks.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. Drew had his head turned, his gaze glued to the window.
Scott and Edward made small talk on the short drive. He barely had the truck put in park when Drew hopped out. Scott rolled down his window. “Wait up a sec.”
The teenager stiffened, but he stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”
“If you ever need someone to talk to, call me.”
“Sure.” He started to turn around.
“You don’t have my number.”
The teen’s lip twitched, and Scott held out his hand. “Give me your phone, and I’ll put it in.”
For a second he didn’t think Drew would give it to him, but then he held it out. Scott punched his number into Drew’s contacts and added it to the boy’s favorites. Then he looked up. “Okay if I call my phone? That way I’ll have your number.”
“Sure.” His face said he didn’t feel he had much choice.
Once Scott’s phone rang, he added Drew’s number to his contacts. “Don’t forget, anytime you need someone to talk to, call me. I’m a good listener.”
For a second, Scott thought the teenager was going to say something, then he nodded.
“If I ever do, I’ll call you.”
Edward came around to the driver’s side as Drew walked toward Erin’s house.
“He admires you—thinks you’re cool with your tattoos,” Edward said. “Who knows, maybe he’ll reach out to you.”
“I’ll text him soon and see if he wants to hang out, maybe grab a bite to eat. Food always makes it easier to talk.”
“I hope he agrees—he needs someone to listen to him. I’ve tried, but he thinks I’m out of touch with what’s going on in his world. So, thanks for wanting to help,” he said and walked to his car.
Maybe if Scott told Drew more of his background, of what had happened to him when he was Drew’s age, he could gain his trust. Because it was going to take a lot of trust before the boy told Scott what he was hiding. He climbed out of his pickup.
“Drew,” Scott called before the teenager reached Erin’s front door. He turned around and waited for Scott to approach him.
“Yeah?”
“I wondered . . . after I finish with rehab, I’m planning on going fly fishing. You ever fly fish?”
Interest sparked in his eyes. “A little.”
“Maybe you’d like to give it a try again?”
Drew’s interest turned to suspicion. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“You hardly know me, so why would you ask me to do something with you?”
“I know you better than you think. We do go to church together, and I help out with the youth group.”
Drew crossed his arms. He wasn’t buying. Scott tried again. “I’ve watched you with the other kids—you and TJ are friends . . . and I know how you cared about Jenny. She was my friend too, you know. But, hey, if you don’t want to go, that’s fine.”
The teenager dropped his gaze. Indecision warred in his face. Scott was about to give up when Drew looked up. “Okay, I’ll go with you on the condition you don’t grill me.”
Scott held his hand up in the Scout’s salute. “I promise I won’t bring up Jenny’s name unless you do.”
“You were a Scout?”
What was it with everyone having trouble believing he could’ve been a Boy Scout? “Cub Scout. Does that count?”
Drew laughed, a sound Scott hadn’t heard from him lately. “I kind of find that hard to believe too.”
“Why?”
“Somebody said you were in a gang . . . that you made someone mad and they shot you.”
Ahh. He’d seen the looks from people, even at church, and he could understand to a point. He had tattoos, and he didn’t talk about his past. When people didn’t know the truth, they usually made up something that fit their suspicions.
“Is that what you believe?”
Drew considered his question, then shrugged. “Maybe. Did you get shot?”
He had to tread lightly here. He didn’t want to lie to the boy, but the truth could get Scott killed if word got out he was in Logan Point. “That part was true.”
“Who’d you make mad?”
“That’s the part I don’t want to talk about.” The timer on his watch dinged. “I have to get to rehab. You want me to swing back by here and pick you up? I have an extra fly rod, and I’ll be happy to show you how to use it.”
“As long as you stick to our agreement not to grill me.”
“Deal. I’ll be back in an hour.”