“Sure, right,” I say entirely too loud and squeaky. “Let’s go.” I march on toward the warehouse. It now seems far less scary than this conversation.
Chapter Five
BAM
The body is still there, right where we left it. Josie’s feet slow as we approach, but she doesn’t stop. Her smile is gone, but you can hardly blame her. I don’t think she’s the type that uses humor to mask negative feelings. I think she just tries to be happy most of the time, which I really admire.
“This is a dumb question because it’s an empty warehouse, but did you notice any specific tracks coming in or out?”
“We weren’t paying attention, but I don’t think the photos showed anything like that.”
She turns in a slow circle, her gaze taking in the cracks, the multiple sneaker prints, the dirt. I don’t know what details are important to her, so I stand back.
“Did you turn him over?” she asks.
“No. I could tell how he died without doing that.” I pick up a stick and draw the collar away, revealing the neck so she can see for herself. “He was choked with someone’s hands.”
“How do you know the marks aren’t from a rope?” She comes to my side and leans forward, her face near my arm.
“The marks around his carotid are darker, which means more pressure was placed there. A rope would have more even markings.”
“Should I be concerned you know these things?”
“Just one of those things I picked up in bumping deterrent classes.”
“I missed that elective offering at school.” She rocks back on her heels. “Did you find anything in his pockets?”
“I never looked.” I crouch down and frisk the body, but there’s nothing but lint. “Nada. You want me to roll him over now?”
“Yeah. It messes with the crime scene, but we both know the police are never going to send someone here to look into this case. Besides, if one of us reported it, they’d probably assume we had done the crime.”
I lift one side of Cole’s body and then tilt him upward, carefully lowering him until we can inspect his back pockets, which are also empty.
“Think someone frisked him before?” I ask.
“Are your pockets empty?”
I’ve got a wallet hooked to my keychain, keys, phone, a bus card, and a ticket from the latest Superman movie. “No.”
“Mine neither. I have lip balm, a receipt from the drugstore where I bought the lip balm, a couple of mints, and twenty dollars.”
“High roller.” I whistle.
She smirks. “The point is everyone has something in their pockets, so the fact that Cole’s are empty means someone went through them, most likely the person who killed him. If it was a robbery, they would have taken his shoes.”
I notice that Cole’s Air Force Ones are still on his feet. “I bow to your superior observation.”
Cole’s sneaks are clean, almost brand-new, with only some grit on the sole but no black marks around the edges. If you were going to rob him, the shoes would be worth taking.
“Whoever killed him didn’t do it for money, then.”
“Right, but why would anyone kill Cole? He was well liked at school. Not good enough to make someone jealous for his spot on the team but not bad enough that he was the cause of any loss. He didn’t have any enemies that I could find.” She taps her chin.
“I know I asked before, but why are you looking into this case, specifically?” She’d said that Cole wasn’t a crush, and she’s not acting like he was one, but her interest in his death and the fact that she was doing research on him before has tickled my curiosity bone.
Regret and sympathy passes over her expressive face. “My friend Carrie was dating him. They’d broken up a few weeks ago because Cole was being weird. He was missing dates, making plans without her. They would go out, and he would be on his phone the whole time, not letting her see who he was texting. She thought he was cheating on her. She didn’t even notice he disappeared because she thought he was cutting classes to be with his new girl.”
“This is going to fuck her up,” I conclude.
