Playing Dead_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [128]
“I just don’t understand what’s going on here.” Mitch stared once again at the empty shelves. “The police chief’s daughter drugged Claire . . . why? Because she was being mean to her boyfriend?” Mitch frowned. “Did Frank Lowe put her up to it?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
One of the sheriff’s deputies stepped into the room. “I found a witness, Agent Bianchi.”
Finally.
Fifteen minutes later, Mitch was sitting at the police chief’s desk in the small Isleton police station, walking distance from the police chief’s house. He had Grant with him, and sitting across from him was a ten-year-old kid. It was two o’clock in the morning and Mitch felt every one of his thirty-eight years. The kid looked both wide awake and excited.
His name was Josh Frazier and he lived across the street from the Lanes.
“Where are your parents, Josh?” Mitch asked.
“My mom works late on Fridays and Saturdays. She’s a waitress in Lodi.”
The deputy who had found the kid watching the police activity with binoculars from his bedroom, concurred. “Nita Frazier. She’s on her way.”
“And she always leaves you alone at night?”
Josh glared at him. “Are you going to get my mom in trouble?”
“No, I—”
“Because I’m not going to help you if you’re going to get my mom in trouble. I told her when I turned ten—five months ago—that I was old enough to stay by myself. Why pay Mrs. Fatzoid five dollars an hour to watch television? My mom only makes eight twenty-five an hour, plus tips.”
“Mrs. Fatzoid?” Mitch questioned.
“Gretchen Flannigan,” the deputy said. “She lives two blocks over.”
Mitch shook his head. “Josh, I’m not going to get your mom in trouble.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay.” He crossed his arms, still suspicious.
“Deputy Pierson says that you have information about who hurt Ms. Lane tonight.”
“Lora’s dead, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Mitch said. “Was she a friend of yours?”
Josh shrugged. “She was weird, but nice. My mom said she wasn’t right in the head, and to be nice to her. So I was. But my mom also said that Lora was smarter than people thought she was.”
“What did you see tonight?”
“The Mercedes.”
“Mercedes?”
“Yeah, an S550. My dad was a mechanic. He knew everything about cars. I only know a little.”
“Where’s your dad now?”
“He died a long time ago. When I was eight.”
Mitch assessed the kid. Ten? Yeah, he looked ten. He acted much older.
“Okay, Josh, tell me everything you saw or heard from the time your mom left for work, which was”—he checked his notes—“five thirty.”
“Mom left. Um, she said no one could come over, but Andy down the street came by for an hour to play my new Wii game, Lego Indiana Jones. Did you see the movie? It was hot.”
The movie. “I saw the first three.” When they were released.
“Cool.”
“When did Andy leave?”
“Six thirty. He had to be home for dinner. And then I played some more; later I heard voices outside so I looked. It was the gang of five.”
“Gang?”
“Yeah. The vets. Two from World War Two, one from Korea, two from Vietnam. My mom and I make them cookies on the weekends, and they go to the Rabbit Hole almost every night. They never leave that early. They were talking loudly, and I didn’t really hear anything accept that Tip was arrested for something. Then Lora walked by and crossed at the corner—it would be faster if she just cut through the street, but she always crosses at the crosswalk—and went home. I almost went over—Lora is real nice to me—but then the Mercedes drove up and the two men got out.”
“Can you describe them?”
“Not really.” He shrugged. “It was dark.”
“Would you recognize them again if you saw them?”
“No. But I’d recognize the car. There’re not a lot of S550s out there, and this one was custom.”
“How could you tell?”
“The spoiler on the tail, for one. And there was a valance on the front, but I didn’t get as good a look at it. The S550 doesn’t come standard with spoilers.”
“You have a good eye, Josh. Your dad would be proud.”
He squirmed. “Thanks.”
“Anything else? Do you know how long they were inside?” Mitch knew