If I Should Die_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [55]
“Wednesday?”
“I gather you haven’t missed him for the last couple days?”
“He was on duty.”
“I spoke to his unit. They said he left sick Wednesday afternoon. You didn’t see him?”
“No. Are you sure? You said presumed dead. He could be okay?” Ricky was trying to sound brave, but his voice cracked at the end. Sean wished he could go out there and stand by him. Ricky needed someone in his corner, now more than ever.
“It took some time to assess the scene and bring the truck up. I’m looking into the cause of the accident. I don’t think anyone could have survived.”
Ricky wasn’t talking, or he spoke too quietly for Sean to hear. It was a minute later when the detective said, “Are you sure I can’t call someone for you? A teacher or friend maybe?”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone!” Ricky’s grief turned to anger.
“You’re over sixteen, I can’t force you into custody, but I can get you a temporary place to stay in Canton if you don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“I said no! I just need to know what happened to Jimmy.”
Silence again. Sean strained to hear. “I understand,” Dillard said quietly. “You didn’t know he’d left duty?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you spoke with him?”
“Tuesday night. When—” Ricky hesitated. Something in his tone made Sean suspect he was lying. “When can, I mean who—what happens now?”
“You don’t have to make any decisions. I would advise you to talk to someone—a minister maybe, or your uncle’s boss. Someone will help you make the decisions that need to be made, but you have time. Do you know if your uncle had a will?”
Ricky didn’t say anything but he must have shook his head, because Dillard said, “I can call Chief Homdus for you. I know him personally; I’m certain he’ll help. Go through your uncle’s papers.”
“I’ll call him,” Ricky’s voice was rough and Sean suspected he was trying hard not to cry. He closed his eyes for a moment. He knew how Ricky felt. He hadn’t wanted his brothers, or sister, or anyone else, to see him cry after his parents were killed. He hadn’t wanted to be around anyone, especially people offering their condolences. He’d sat through their funeral like a stone, and as soon as they were buried, he bolted. Duke didn’t find him for nearly a week. Sean hadn’t wanted to be found, but when he was fourteen, Duke was better at tracking him down than Sean was at hiding. Today, Sean would know how to disappear.
What happened to Ricky’s parents? Why was he living with his uncle? Had he just lost the last of his family?
“Are you okay to be alone? I asked the chief not to say anything until I spoke with you. I’m pretty certain if you don’t call him, he’ll be coming by later.”
A few minutes later, the front door shut. Sean exited the bathroom and when he didn’t see Ricky, he looked out the window. The teenager stood in the driveway talking to the detective. Sean didn’t like this—what was Ricky saying that he didn’t want Sean to hear? He almost walked out to confront him and turn him over to the detective as an arsonist. But Sean couldn’t quite bring himself to do that. He’d had Duke on his side when he was an angry, grieving teenager; Ricky had no one. Sean couldn’t send him to juvie. It could force the kid over the line permanently. And by the body language, the detective gave no indication that Ricky was telling him anything related to Sean or the fire. Still, something felt unsettled, and Sean continued watching.
Detective Dillard drove away a few minutes later, and Ricky stared after him. When he turned toward the house, Sean saw his face, red and wet with tears, the anger that he couldn’t control. Sean knew how that felt. He’d cried once in front of Duke and hated that his brother had seen him so raw. He turned his head, giving Ricky a moment of privacy.
He glanced around the small, tidy house. The furniture was clean but worn, the sofa so faded and threadbare that Sean could tell that the pattern was small flowers only by the edges. It wasn’t a pattern