“So, look, the night before, Valencia and Marcus have friends over for a dinner party. They sit outside on the deck until two a.m. drinking.” He turns to me and lowers his voice. “My mom provided that intel. Their room is on that side of the house and she remembers looking at her phone at 2:03 a.m. when the noise woke her up. So the next day, Valencia apparently has a hangover and takes a nap. Marcus goes to town. The police checked his story, and there’s security camera footage of him at the grocery store and the ice cream place picking up dessert for later. He gets home around two in the afternoon, notices Nate and Easton aren’t home, but assumes they’re out playing somewhere. Meanwhile Easton is at a friend’s house from one until he comes home at four p.m. Marcus and Valencia say they were home the whole time, but they’re the only two people who can confirm that.”
Easton’s friend.“I read an article that says Easton was with his friend John. Is that JT?”
“Yeah. The two of them are inseparable. Wherever JT goes, Easton follows. We were all in school together until they graduated last year, and Easton was only mildly popular because he hangs with JT. That stoner can make friends with a cantaloupe.” Again he lowers his voice to a mutter. “Probably has.”
So Easton left Nate to hang out with JT. Then there’s a blank time between two and four when only the Beaumont parents were home.
“So you think the parents had something to do with it?”
“I don’tnotthink it. But it’s a theory. That’s why I want your help. You’re the closest to them. You can figure out what went on duringthat unaccounted-for time.” He points to the two-hour period on his timeline.
“Do you really think Valencia and Marcus are the type of people who would kill someone?”
Miles puffs out his cheeks and blows the air between his lips before answering. “I don’t want to cloud your investigation, but Marcus has a temper. Nate and I played peewee soccer together and Marcus yelled at him so hard for missing a goal that it made Nate cry and he quit playing.”
Heat creeps up my neck to my ears and the tendons in my throat tighten. Maybe I’m relating too closely to Nate, but I’ve been on the other end of parental rage, too. I never played soccer, but there were plenty of times when my dad screamed at me for saying something he didn’t like or being too antsy in church.
Marcus was supposed to be at work today, but he could have come home early, knocked off the camera, and used his key to go through the front door.
Especially if he got the notification that the alarm system was off.
Or it could have been Valencia.
“No.” I back away from the computer. “I’m not getting into this investigation for you. If they really did kill their kid and I start looking into it, who’s to say I’m not going to disappear next?”
“Then I’ll tell them the truth.” He stands to confront me with a steely gaze. “Maybe Valencia won’t believe me, but I can easily call David Grant and say, ‘Hey, I have a lead for you and would gladly trade it for you coming on my podcast.’”
My heart rate skyrockets. We’re back to the beginning of thisconversation. There really is no way out of this. I’m trapped with the Beaumonts; I’m trapped with Miles. But at least I know Miles won’t kill me when I tell him no. Also, he was faking before, so maybe he’s doing it again. And maybe it’s my turn to do some bluffing.
So I shake my head. “Go ahead. If you think they killed Nate, maybe it’s better I come clean and tell the police what really happened.”
His face softens as his shoulders slump. “Dude, I was bluffing again. I’m not going to rat you out and send you back to your asshole parents. Or jail. Can you think about it? Please? I won’t tell.”
I stare at him; the steely, self-assured gaze he was giving me moments ago is gone and he seems genuine. Then my eyes flit to the computer. I’m still not sure I trust him. He’s been investigating Nate’s disappearance for so long, why would he give up so easily?
Miles seems to read my mind and holds out his pinky. “I promise to keep your secret either way. I mean, as long as you’re not planning to rob them or do anything illegal.”
I arch an eyebrow and he nods, realizing his mistake.
“Okay, anythingelseillegal.”
Frankie was supposed to keep my secret, too. But what are my options?
I link my pinky with his. “Okay. Then yes, I’ll think about it.”
But I have no intention of thinking about it. In fact, now I need to figure out my escape plan so much sooner. Especially with the police watching the house. Another thought comes to me.
“Wait, was that cop out there this afternoon?” I ask. “When we first met?”
Miles shrugs. “I think so. I walked past him on the way home from school. Why?”
“I think someone broke into the house today.” So, yeah, guess I’m trusting him. “When we were talking. I went back inside, and the front door was open and the doorbell camera was knocked off the house.”
He becomes very interested again. “You think it was whoever killed Nate.”
“What doyouthink?” I genuinely want to know. Because if itwasthe person who killed Nate, why didn’t they try to kill me?
He nods and thinks for a second. “Yes. I get what you’re asking about the cops, but no, they wouldn’t break in. There’s no reason.”
