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“Mom.”
Brooke sat on the end of his bed and rubbed her son’s back. “You should be asleep, baby.”
“I’m not a baby, Mom.” Matt rolled over and sat up, pushing his thick dark hair out of his eyes.
“You’ll always be my baby.” Which was one of the reasons she’d brought him the computer today. It felt good to be needed.
“Mom. Stop.”
“Got it.”
“Are you coming or going?”
“Passing through. I need a quick shower, maybe a little sleep, and a change of clothes before I head back to work.” She traced her hand over the star shapes on the coverlet. “Did the front office give you your computer and the lunch money?”
“Yeah. Thanks for bringing it. Where was Grandma?”
“With a patient.”
Matt was silent, but she knew the wheels were turning in his head. “Any word how the girl found in the Wyatt barn died?”
“Not yet.” Her heart wanted to ache for the man’s loss, but she knew grief would only cloud her thoughts and inhibit her from truly helping Turner.
“Are Tyler and the football players having bonfires out there?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t know, Mom. I just know they’re obsessed with the place now.”
“It’s a crime scene.”
“I know.” He took her hand in his, just like he had when he was little. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m not going out there.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She smiled and kissed her son on his forehead. “You need sleep.”
Matt yawned. “So do you.”
“I will.”
“Did you know the dead girl?” Matt asked.
Brooke was quiet as she smoothed her hand over the light-gray coverlet. “I remember her from school. I remember when she vanished. It was a scary time.”
The truth was she barely remembered those weeks. She had been consumed by morning sickness and preoccupied with hiding her pregnancy from her mother.
“You’ll solve the case,” Matt said. “You’re a badass cop.”
She squeezed his hand. “I hope so, for the sake of that girl.”
“I saw Hank Greene on television today.”
“What was he talking about?” Greene wasn’t the type to keep his mouth shut.
“He hinted that he’s going to challenge Sheriff Nevada during the next election and win his seat back.”
“Well, then he’s in for a real fight, isn’t he? Nevada is no pushover.”
Matt drew in a breath. “Whoever killed that girl could still be in town. You need to be careful, Mom.”
“I’ll be fine. You just make sure you stay away from those bonfires.”
“Jeez, Mom. I got it.”
Brooke brushed a strand of hair from her son’s eyes. If only she could make him understand that monsters were real and they could steal his life if given the chance.
Through most of the late evening, Nevada asked around a few of the bars, but it took him an hour before he tracked down Paul Decker at a trailer located in a mobile home park twenty miles west of town. When he pulled up, a light glowed from inside the small residence. Out of the car, he kept his jacket unbuttoned and his weapon accessible. Rock music pulsed out of the trailer, accompanied by the heavy scent of cigarette smoke.
The steady beat of a bass guitar riff stretched on as Nevada waited and listened. He pounded his fist against the trailer’s thin metal door before he stepped to the side. “Decker. Sheriff Nevada.”
The music stopped, and fleeting silence broke with the steady thud of footsteps approaching the door. Mustard-yellow curtains flickered, and the door opened to Paul Decker. He’d been the wide receiver on the Dream Team, but the lean frame that had earned him the name Lightning now carried an extra twenty pounds of weight, while hunched shoulders, a scraggly beard, and thinning black hair added a decade to his appearance.
Nevada rested his hand on the grip of his weapon. “Decker, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Would you step outside, please?”
Paul raised a cigarette to his lips. “What kind of questions?”
“Step outside. I won’t ask again.” He smiled, but Nevada knew his smiles tended to look more feral than friendly.
Smoke trailed around Paul’s head before he flicked the cigarette to the ground and stepped outside. “Sure.”
Nevada looked beyond Paul into the trailer. “Anyone else in the trailer?”
“No, it’s just me. What’s this about?”
After he’d dropped Macy off, Nevada had pulled Paul’s arrest record. Though he knew Paul’s DNA did not match the man he was hunting, the former football player might have information about the other members of the Dream Team, as well as about the bonfires Tobi might have attended.
“You were arrested for sexual assault ten years ago,” Nevada said.
Paul shook his head. “And I did my time, and now I’m out on parole. I’ve stayed out of trouble since I came back to Deep Run.”
Nevada had reviewed Paul’s case file and seen some of the pictures taken of the woman who’d filed the charges against him. Her left eye had been black and blue and swollen. And her right wrist had also been badly sprained. “You hurt her pretty bad.”
Paul sniffed as he kicked the dirt with the tip of his booted foot. “My jail time is old news. Why are you here?”
Of all the members of the Dream Team, Paul had shown the most promise and would have had a lot to lose if he were tangled up in the rapes or disappearances of 2004. “Do you remember Tobi Turner?”
“Tobi. Shit. She’s the one that went missing.”
“She’s not missing anymore. Her body was found about a week ago.”
“Really? I don’t watch the news.” He fished a fresh cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Smoke curled around his head.
“When’s the last time you saw Tobi?” Nevada asked.
“Dude, it was fifteen years ago. I barely remember yesterday.”
“What’s your last memory of her?”
“Some geeky kid who liked to hang around and watch football practice. She was cute in a sad kind of way.”
“Did she hang around with anyone? Talk to anyone?”
“She was a band girl. Not my style.”
“Did Tobi ever come to the bonfires?”
“I don’t remember.”
Nevada traced the underside of his college class ring with his thumb. “You had a reputation for being even faster with your head than with your feet on the football field.”
Pride winked in his pale-gray eyes. “When it came to football, I was the complete package.”
“I need you to reboot your brain and give me something about Tobi.”
“Man, I told you I don’t remember much.”
“Tell me about the days before she vanished. You two were seen talking at her locker.”
“Really? I don’t recall.” He took another deep drag on the cigarette.
“I want to be nice,” Nevada said. “But you’re on parole, and right now, I got no problem calling your probation officer and raining shit down on your dumb ass.”
“Shit. Why would you do that? I’ve been clean since I got out. Working hard, not missing a shift, and staying clear of the bars.”
“It’s not enough, Paul. I want details about Tobi. What did you two talk about that day?”
Paul’s hands trembled slightly as he raised the cigarette and drew in another lungful of air. “I was chatting her up. I saw her looking at me, and I thought I’d have a little fun. She wasn’t all that hot, but I was seventeen and would have screwed anything.”
“Did you?”
“Screw her? No. That virgin vault was locked up tight.”
“A seventeen-year-old would see that as a challenge.”
“I didn’t. I had plenty of girls then.”
