Chapter 24
Bobby’s brow knitted. "No.”
We both gave him a look of disbelief.
"I swear. I didn’t like the guy, but I didn't shoot him. I'm not stupid. You go to jail for that shit.” Then he added, "Sorry."
"Where did you go when you snuck out?”
"I rode my bike over to this girl's house. Her parents are out of town.”
"You're 13!”
"What? She’s hot.”
"How long were you at her place?”
"I don't know. Maybe till midnight.”
I didn't want to ask, but I did. "What did you do?”
"We watched a movie.”
I'm not sure I believed him. "I need her name.”
"You’re not going to get her in trouble, are you? That's really going to screw things up for me.”
"Believe me, if she can’t verify your whereabouts, then this is going to get a whole lot worse for you.”
Bobby scoffed. "I'm a juvenile. You can't do shit to me.” This time, he didn't apologize for the language.
"What's her name?”
"Am I under arrest or something?”
"Not at this time.”
"So I don't need to say shit to you.”
"It would be a lot easier if you cooperated.”
"Can I go now? I'm missing out on a valuable education.” Bobby didn’t care about his education.
"What's the girl’s name?”
Bobby stared us down for a moment. "I want an attorney."
"You're not under arrest.”
"So, I’m free to go?”
"What do you think is going to happen when your dad finds out you took his gun to show your friend?”
"Your word against mine.”
I laughed. "How about I call him right now and tell him it's underneath your mattress?”
The muscles in Bobby's jaw flexed. He didn’t like that idea. "Okay. Lana Wexler.”
"You got a number for Lana?”
"Maybe.”
"If you haven't figured it out yet, I’m trying to help you.”
"You're trying to put me in jail.”
"I'm trying to verify your alibi," I said, growing frustrated.
Bobby frowned, then pulled his phone from his pocket and tabbed through his contact list. He told me the number, and I entered it into my phone.
"Are you happy? Can I go now?”
I nodded to the door, and he took off.
"We may have more questions for you,” I shouted after him.
JD muttered, "I typically like kids. But I'm not so sure about that one."
I chuckled. Bobby certainly was a handful.
We left the office and thanked Coach Martin on the way out.
Possession of a firearm by a minor in Florida was illegal unless it was under the supervision of an adult. Bobby's admission gave us probable cause to search the house for the gun.
We hurried back to the station, filled out an application for a warrant, and waited around. Judge Echols signed off on it, and before long, we were back at Ken Boyd's residence, knocking on the door.
His voice crackled through the speaker on the video doorbell. He wasn't too keen to talk to us. "I told you, I'm not talking to you without an attorney. What do you want?"
"We have a warrant," I said. "Now you can open the door, or we can break it down. It's going to be a lot cheaper if you let us in."
The speaker crackled as he disconnected. A few moments later, Ken approached the door. He opened it with an annoyed face. "What are you searching for?”
I handed him a warrant. "Your son admitted to possession of a firearm," I said as I stepped into the foyer. "Show me to his room.”
Ken did, and we followed him into the living room and down the hallway to the bedrooms. He motioned to the door, and JD and I entered.
Bobby kept his room tidy. I assumed that was at the direction of his father. Ken was the kind of guy who liked everything squared away.
It was a typical teenage boy's room with pictures of cars, girls, and bands on the wall. A small twin bed rested in the corner, and there was a desk, an aquarium, and a bookshelf with plenty of comic books and graphic novels.
I pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, searched under the mattress, and found the Ruger right away.
A look of disbelief washed over Ken's face as I bagged it. "What is he doing with that?”
"Hopefully, he didn't use it to commit murder," I said. "You should think about changing the combination to the safe.”
Ken swallowed hard and nodded. A thin mist of sweat coated his face. The possibility that his son may have committed murder filled him with dread. "What happens now?”
"We’ll take it to the lab and run ballistics. If it comes back clean, we’ll return the weapon to you. If it doesn't, your son will face charges."
Ken swallowed hard and gave a grim nod. "Where is Bobby now?"
"In class.”
"And you talked to him without my permission?”
"Not necessary under Florida law.”
We left, headed back to the station, and logged the pistol as evidence. JD and I filled out reports, then decided to grab lunch at Mirage.
Jack ordered the jerk chicken bowl with rice, beans, and pineapple salsa, and I went with the Cuban Press.
I called the admin office at the junior high and talked to Linda. With a few taps of the keys, she told me Lana was absent today. She said her mother had called the school to let them know she was sick.
Something told me Lana was playing hooky.
After I spoke to Linda, I called Lana‘s cell phone. It went to voicemail. “Lana, this is Deputy Wild with Coconut County. I need you to return my call as soon as possible.” I left my number and ended the call. I didn’t expect to hear back from her.
After lunch, JD and I drove by her house and knocked on the door.
There was no answer.
She could have been inside and just didn’t come to the door.
My phone buzzed with a call from Brenda as we walked back to the van. "You're not going to believe this."
"The way things are around here, I think I might believe just about anything.”