Five #3
Denton Wiley stepped out, his pale blond hair catching the sunlight. He had the same icy-blue eyes Trevor remembered from high school, the same hawkish nose and nervous energy, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his worn jeans. He managed a tentative smile as they approached.
“Helena,” Denton said, his eyes softening as his eyes met hers. “Hey. It’s been a while. How are you holding up?”
Helena hesitated, clearly caught off guard. She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it as if the words stuck in her throat. Finally, she forced a grim smile. “I’m fine. Considering.”
Denton’s gaze flicked to Trevor then back to Helena, as if searching for something in her expression. “I heard about your dad. I’m really sorry.”
Helena’s eyes flickered, a brief unguarded glimpse of the grief she carried before her walls snapped back into place. “Thank you.”
Trevor took the lead, stepping forward as Lark continued to sniff around the base of Denton’s Bronco. He showed his badge to let Denton know this was official police business. “We just had a few questions, if you don’t mind? About the night Alicia disappeared.”
Denton’s cheek pulsed and he hesitated, then gave a small nod, stepping back to hold the door open for them.
Inside, the office was a cramped, cluttered space, walls lined with framed construction certificates, yellowed business licenses and old family photos.
Denton gestured to a pair of metal chairs in front of a nicked wooden desk.
“Why would you want to know about that?”
“During my house fire, she was found under the crawl space. The case has been reopened.”
“Oh. Wow. I’m so sorry,” Denton said.
They settled in, and Trevor took a deep breath, letting the dusty, grease-laden air fill his lungs before meeting Denton’s eyes. “You said in your statement you came by Helena’s house that night.”
Denton’s fingers laced together, knuckles whitening.
“Yeah. I did. I had a crush on Helena, you know? I was just trying to work up the nerve to talk to her, maybe see if she wanted to hang out.” He managed a weak chuckle, his gaze sliding to Helena.
“I know it sounds stupid now, but I was just a dumb kid. Thought maybe if I threw a few pebbles at your window, it’d be romantic or something. ”
Helena’s eyes narrowed as she studied him. “But it was Alicia who came out.”
“Yeah.” Denton’s face darkened. “She came out and told me you weren’t interested.
Said throwing rocks to get your attention was so junior high.
” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “She was blunt. I was ticked off, sure. I asked her to please ask you to at least come talk to me. I didn’t know if she was telling the truth or not.
She refused, so I left. Mad. But I left, and I never hurt her. ”
Trevor caught the slight tremble in Denton’s voice, the flash of something behind his eyes—hurt, maybe, or embarrassment, but his story now lined up with what he said back then. “You’re sure you left right away?”
Denton blew out an exasperated breath. “Yeah. My parents already testified. My dad had just gotten back from a trip, had jet lag, and was up on the couch all night. He saw me come in. Mom did, too.”
Lark let out a low whine, nose still pressed to the air near Denton’s Bronco outside. Trevor glanced back through the open door, watching the dog circle the front bumper, her tail held low, alert.
“Your dog okay?” Denton asked, a glimmer of concern crossing his face.
“Yeah,” Trevor said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “She’s just picking up a scent. You been working on your car recently?”
Denton’s expression cleared, and he gave a quick nod. “Yeah, actually. My buddy, Robbie McMahon—you guys know Robbie—just stopped by earlier. He topped off the brake fluid. She was running low.” He pointed through the door at the open hood and empty bottles. “Maybe that’s what she’s smelling.”
Robbie also owned a mechanic shop in Lavender and had been behind Trevor but a grade ahead of Helena in school.
Trevor exchanged a glance with Helena, who gave a small nod. It made sense. Brake fluid had a sharp, distinctive smell that Lark would be trained to pick up. Still, it didn’t explain why the dog’s hackles were slightly raised, her body tense. He filed it away, deciding to come back to it later.
“Anything else you can tell us about that night? Did you see anyone lurking on the street or driving by?”
“I told the cops that I did see a dark-colored truck drive by as I turned onto the street, but didn’t think anything of it.
It was summer and people are always out late or working night shifts.
Didn’t see the driver or anything. Other than that, it was a normal summer night. I wish I could be of more help.”
“If you do think of anything, let us know.” Trevor handed him his business card with his number.
As they climbed back into Trevor’s truck, his phone buzzed with a text. He glanced down, the message from the lab tech clear on the screen.
Partial print found beneath the car of our last vic. Belongs to Robbie McMahon.