Her eyes grow hard, and I know on this she’ll be a steel trap. “I won’t breathe a word.”
I continue to play and rewind the tape, taking in every detail I can manage, including the description of the masked men. Based on their size and bulk, there’s no question that they are men. One is extremely tall and lanky, while the other is built like a brick shithouse.
“Holy shit. I know who one of them is,” I say out loud.
He’s currently in this bar. Seems highly suspicious that he’s my primary suspect in Jenna’s death and he just so happens to be here talking to a man that Alyssa is accusing of vehicular homicide. Not that they’re connected. But still.
I rewind the tape and watch it again. The other has the same build as the second guy who was talking to Mayor Dunbar at the festival. But what could their motive be for killing Jenna? I make a quick phone call to Malone and relay all the information, instructing him to get eyes on Marcus Wells and a subpoena to access Jenna’s phone records, including her texts, videos, and access to her iCloud, because I know she had an iPhone. We had extensive conversations over the years about her opinion that Apple was superior.
I get Amanda to arrange for a ride for Shirley, unwilling to allow the woman to drive in the state she’s in. The unwarranted guilt that Jenna was taken from the Clementine’s parking lot will be something that haunts her for the rest of her life, and that kills me. She doesn’t deserve that.
Shirley sits silently beside me, waiting for her ride, while I jot down notes. A nudge tells me to check the tapes from the night ofBilly’s accident too. I pull up August seventeenth but can’t see Billy for most of the video, as the camera doesn’t reach as far as the pool tables. I’m about to skip forward, when Billy saunters out from where the pool tables are located to the bar.
The video continues to play until Billy pays his tab and leaves the building. Charlie Dunbar leaves a mere minute behind him. I skip to the front parking lot camera and rewind to see Billy talking in the parking lot with some dark-haired girl, long enough for Charlie to come staggering out. The girl says something to Charlie, who appears to completely ignore her. She shrugs her shoulders, gives Billy a hug, and heads to her car. Billy gets into his black Jeep and takes off. Charlie leaves moments after him, heading in the same direction. In his red truck.
Shit. Alyssa might be right.
Anger courses through me. This entire time Billy’s family has been made to believe that he caused his own accident, when it’s becoming more likely that he was an innocent victim of a drunk driver.
Before I know it, I’m on my feet and heading toward the bar. I grab Charlie’s arm, yanking him out of his chair.
Amanda gasps. “Stop, Nick. What are you doing?”
I lean in to Charlie. “I know what you did.”
He doesn’t even fight me when I pull him toward the back. This is not a conversation we’re gonna have in the middle of Clementine’s with a worked-up Amanda hovering around. When we’re out the back door and alone in the alley, I let go of Charlie.
“I want you to tell me what happened the night of August seventeenth, 2021.”
His shoulders hunch over and his chin dips. “How did you find out?”
He doesn’t even try to deny he did something.
“Video evidence is pretty damning. Not to mention I have a part of your truck with the paint transfer from Billy’s Jeep.”
He nods. Not quite a confession, but enough for me to know he did it.
“It was an accident. I never meant to hurt anybody.” The blubbering idiot starts crying right in front of me, a broken man who’s been living with this guilt for years.
“Did you have anything to do with Garrett Mann’s accident? Or Jackson Moore’s?”
Charlie’s head shakes. “No, I had nothing to do with any of that.”
Out of nowhere, a buzzing in my ear makes my head spin. I press my cheek against my shoulder, turning away from Charlie. I know better than to turn my back on a suspect, but I can’t help it. The pain in my ear is excruciating.
The buzzing dies down and I shake my head to rid myself of the last of the pesky noise. I lift my head, and my eyes connect with a woman’s in a car at the farthest spot from me in the parking lot. Her eyes bug out and her head snaps away. But I already saw her.
Lanie Anderson, in the passenger seat of Alyssa’s Volvo.
What the hell are those two up to now?
Completely forgetting about the crying Charlie, I make my way toward the car, determined to unearth what game they’re playing at.
A loud pop sounds, piercing my ears again, and before I have a chance to identify the source of the shot, Charlie falls forward. I draw my gun as more shots are fired, ricocheting off the dumpsters. I catch a glimpse of blond hair as someone moves around the corner, but I don’t see anything else.
“Get out of here,” I scream, running toward the car. They need to get far away from here.
By the time I reach the street, the gunfire has stopped and thegirls are safely out of the parking lot. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and dial the station.
