Chapter 43
43
“ H ey, man,” River says, tossing his bag onto a corner pub table at Down Home Pub. “I hacked into as much shit as I could, studied Earl’s bank statements, and even managed to get into his emails sent while he was in prison.”
The server comes to our table to take our drink orders.
Both of us opt for a water, wanting a clear mind to discuss every Earl detail. I need to know as much as I can before meeting with Essie tonight.
River waits until she returns with our waters before opening his bag and drawing out a folder. “First off, I want to comment that Earl had a Tumblr account where he reposted puppies, positivity quotes, and meditation tips. He also wrote in it like a diary.”
“Any posts made from the night of the accident?”
“Yeah, it was about how he was trying to give up drinking.”
“That didn’t happen.”
“The time stamp was after he left the bar, and there were so many grammatical errors in it that there’s no way a man typing that badly could drive.” Shaking his head, he pulls out a sheet of paper and dramatically slaps it onto the table as if starring in a damn CSI episode. “Look at this police report. I found it in an email in the police force’s inbox. It was never turned over to prosecutors or his defense attorney.”
I pick up the paper and read over the email thread between two officers. They interviewed a man who said they saw Earl’s truck at a gas station, but he wasn’t the man behind the wheel. He said there were multiple people, but he couldn’t make out their faces. Another officer added that they’d messed up by not taking fingerprints from the vehicle, but it was too late now.
“Not one witness who saw him after he left the bar,” I comment, reading over them again, wanting every detail to burrow itself in my brain so I don’t forget it.
“They only saw his truck .” He scrubs his palm over his forehead. “The gas station didn’t have cameras, and unfortunately, the clerk working that night is no longer alive. But he did tell police Earl never came in to buy gas or anything else. Why would his truck be at the gas station if he wasn’t buying anything?”
“Prosecutors could say it was to clean up after the crime.”
“The truck didn’t have damage on it then.”
“He was preparing for the crime, then,” I fire back.
“Whose side are you on here? First, you were on Earl’s, but now, you’re arguing against him.”
“I’m an attorney. It’s my job to look at every side and take in every angle that another attorney could argue.”
“If we circle back to the Tumblr posts,” River says in annoyance, “a week before the accident, he wrote that Blue Beech no longer felt like home to him. He was considering convincing his grandmother to sell the house and move. People here made him feel like an outsider. He’d started a custodian job at the local movie theater and wrote that people treated him terrible there. One post said that a teenager threw a slushy on him, and the friends took pictures to post on their socials.”
“Was the teen Ethan by chance?”
“No idea, but I knew Ethan. He wasn’t like that.”
“You were friends with him? ”
“He wasn’t like that,” River grits out. “He wasn’t even involved in the little prank that got Earl fired. In fact, he was pissed his friends had done it. If Earl killed Ethan, it was because he was collateral damage—because I know for damn sure that Ethan wasn’t one of those dickheads who fucked with Earl.”
I nod, grabbing a pen and jotting down everything River says.
“Now, onto his prison emails.”
“Jesus, man. How do you know how to hack into all this shit?”
“Insomnia,” he says, as if it’s an obvious answer. “And boredom. I was hacking into classified documents at twelve. My mom is still mad at my dad for teaching me this.”
He goes on to say that in every email, Earl maintains his innocence. In his emails to his grandmother, he begs for her to leave Blue Beech, fearing that whoever set him up will hurt her. He also became pen pals with a woman. She was who contacted the PEP.
He goes on with more details—some of them useful, some not.
And, as if saving the best for last, he pulls out a blurry black-and-white photo.
“There was a camera on one of the deserted roads,” he says. “The landowners liked to watch for wildlife.” He stabs his finger against one photo. “Here, you can see three people getting out of the truck. Just like what the witness from the gas station said. Either two other people were with Earl—and let’s be honest; Earl wasn’t as skinny as any of these people in the photo—or a group of people stole his truck. None of them match his grandmother either, if people try to argue she was involved.” His finger slides across the photo to the date in the corner. “Same night, same time, everything.”
I rest my elbow on the table and massage my temple. “If not him, then who the hell are these people?”
They all have different builds .
All three are wearing baseball caps, hiding their faces.
How do you put this together, especially after all these years?
I pause, fishing my phone from my pocket when it vibrates. “It’s your sister.”
River throws his hand out toward it. “Answer it, dummy.”
I flip him off before hitting the Accept button. “Hello?”
“Adrian,” Essie says, frantic on the other line, “I need you to come to my office now .”