"His son."
Danny snorted. He took a long pull from the can and crushed it. "Your old man ran the Hale investigation into the ground and now you're here to, what, apologize?"
"We're following up on the original case. Your name came up in connection with witness statements that were never properly pursued."
"My name came up." Danny dropped the crushed can onto the pile beside his chair. "That's a nice way of saying you ignored my family for over ten years and now you need something."
The three friends had stopped talking. The heavyset man in the camo jacket glared at them. The other two were seated, one with a hunting knife on his belt, the other with his hands wrapped around a flask. None of them looked relaxed anymore.
"We're not here to argue about the past, Mr. Walsh. We're reviewing everyone connected to the original investigation. Youand your son were witnesses. We want to make sure nothing was missed."
"Nothing was missed?” Danny laughed. It was a hard, bitter sound. "Everything was missed, asshole. My kid told your people what he saw that night. They wrote it down and threw it in a drawer. I spent years trying to get somebody to listen. Nobody gave a damn. Then it turns out he was right. My name was dragged through the mud because of sloppy police work. And now you show up at my campsite and you want to talk?”
Noah let the silence sit. He could feel Callie beside him, steady, her weight balanced, her hand resting near her hip in a way that looked casual but wasn't.
"Your son reported seeing a vehicle at the Hale residence the night of the murders."
“Yeah, he did. He reported it. And your father's department told him he was confused."
"I know. That's why we're here."
“Well, you are over ten years too late."
"Maybe. But we're here now."
Danny stared at him. Something moved behind his eyes. He was deciding whether to cooperate or fight, and leaning toward fight because that was what he knew.
“Okay. Let’s hear it. What do you want to know?"
"We want to understand what your son saw that night. And we want to understand why his statement disappeared from the case file after day one."
“Am I talking to myself? I told you why. Because the cops didn't want to hear it. Because it didn't fit whatever theory they already had."
“A second person?” Noah asked.
“Ah, now you’re tracking.” He scoffed. The others laughed.
"There may have been more to it than that."
Danny went still. "More to it?”
"We're looking at the possibility that certain information from your son was deliberately set aside. Not overlooked. Set aside."
The words landed differently than Noah intended. He meant them as an opening. A way to show Danny they were taking his grievance seriously. But Danny heard something else. He heard accusation. Not of the police. Of him.
“Hold on, you think I had something to do with it?”
“No. That's not what I said."
“Look, you show up here. No call. No warning. Plain clothes. Asking about my son." Danny stood. The chair scraped against the packed dirt. "What exactly are you accusing me of?"
"Nobody's accusing you of anything."
"The hell you're not. I've been through this before. People come around asking questions, and the next thing you know they're pointing fingers at the family who tried to do the right thing."
"Mr. Walsh, sit down."
"Don't tell me to sit down." Danny's voice had risen. The campground had gone quiet. A woman at the next site pulled her child closer. The dog stopped barking. "You know what your father did? He buried my kid's statement. He buried it because it didn't fit, and when I pushed back, he sent deputies to my house. Twice. You want to talk about witness intimidation? Start with your own family."
