Chapter 59
Tuesday morning
Sabre was standing outside Department 5 reviewing a social study when Ethan Vale came down the hall and moving faster than usual.
“She wants to talk again,” he said in a rush. “She asked for you.”
“That’s not unusual.”
“No,” he agreed. “But she specifically asked if you could come now.”
That was different.
The bailiff stepped out of Department 5 and called another case into court.
“Are you free?” Vale asked.
Sabre checked her watch. “I can go. Bob will cover for me if needed on these last two cases. I’ll text him.”
“Thanks,” Vale said, “Bay seems scared.”
“She’s always scared.”
“Not like this.”
That tightened something in Sabre’s chest.
They headed out together toward juvenile hall. Neither spoke much on the walk over. By the time they were escorted into the interview room, Vale already had his legal pad open. Bay was sitting at the table waiting for them. Her eyes went immediately to Sabre.
“Before we get into anything else,” Vale commented, “I need you to understand where your case stands right now.”
Bay looked at him warily.
“Our current defense,” Vale continued, “is that Todd Maddox threatened your friend. You grabbed a knife because you believed you had to stop him. You stabbed him. Then you ran. That part makes sense. The problem is the medical examiner says the stab wounds may not have been what killed him.”
Confusion washed over Bay’s face again.
Vale continued. “The head injury changes things.”
“I didn’t hit him,” Bay said.
“I know,” Vale soothed. “But right now we don’t have an explanation for how that injury happened.”
Bay shook her head. “He was standing when I left.”
Vale seemed to carefully choose his next words. “One possibility is that someone came into the house after you ran.”
Bay’s eyes widened. “You think somebody else killed him?”
“I think it’s possible,” Vale said honestly. “And if that’s true, it helps us tremendously.”
Bay looked away.
“But without another suspect, the prosecution will argue that you’re minimizing your own actions. It’s a weak defense. At least right now.”
“A name won’t help,” Bay whispered.
“It could help a lot,” Vale countered.
“No.” The girl shook her head harder. “It would just put us at risk.”
Sabre noticed the use of the word us. “You mean you and her.”
“She wanted a normal life so bad,” Bay whispered. “She stopped being careful.”
“What does that mean?” Sabre asked quietly.
“She liked pretending sometimes.”
“Pretending what?”
“That she was normal.” Bay swallowed hard. “She wanted to be able to talk to people, ask questions, smile at cashiers, just dumb little things.”
“She talked to Todd?” Sabre prompted.
Bay nodded. “At first, it wasn’t much. Then he started paying attention.”
“Because he noticed something was wrong?” Vale suggested.
“He noticed her.”
Not the same thing. Sabre understood the distinction.
“The girl talked about you,” Bay said suddenly.
Sabre blinked. “What do you mean?”
“She remembered your name. She said you helped kids.”
Sabre didn’t know what to do with the sudden ache in her chest.
“We had a plan,” Bay continued quietly. “If one of us ever got caught… or got away…” Her eyes lifted toward Sabre. “We were supposed to find you.”
Sabre could barely breathe around that. “Bay,” she said softly, “is the girl Hannah?”
Bay didn’t budge. “No names, please.”