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“Did you have someone in mind?” Kennedy asked dryly.
Boxner pointed at Jason like the embodiment of J’accuse. Everyone in the room turned to look at Jason. Even Kennedy looked startled.
“You’re kidding, right?” Jason said. He tried to keep his voice even, but he was so angry he wanted to leap across the room and throttle Boxner. What the hell? What was his problem? He couldn’t really… Did he really…?
Boxner was glaring right back at Jason like yeah, he did really. Boxner said, “He was a suspect when Honey Corrigan was killed.”
“What?”
“Boyd, what the hell are you talking about?” Gervase demanded.
“Are you out of your mind?” Jason cried. “I wasn’t a suspect. I was never a suspect. Are you crazy?”
Boxner said to Gervase, “You gave him a lie-detector test.”
“I did what?” Gervase continued to look amazed and alarmed. “I did?”
Everyone else in the room looked like they were watching an exceptionally good show at the Coliseum. That would be Lions versus Christians, not Springsteen in concert.
Everyone but Kennedy, and even he looked slightly less impassive than usual. He was frowning as he met Jason’s appalled gaze.
“It’s right there in Honey’s file,” Boxner said. “The files they asked for today.”
“Who the hell are you?” Gervase asked Jason. And then to Boxner, “Who the hell is he?”
“He’s Jason West.”
“I know he’s Jason West!”
“His family used to spend summers here. You have to remember them. They used to own the old Harley place out on Amber Road.”
“The Harley place?” Gervase threw Jason a quick, uneasy look. “He’s a Harley?”
“Right,” Boxner said. “One of them. A bunch of rich snobs laughing at the rest of us. And he was there, he was a witness—he claimed to be a witness—when Honey disappeared. And now here he is again when another girl is murdered.”
It was beyond ridiculous. Boxner was leaving out all the essential parts of the story like how Jason had an ironclad alibi and zero motive for Honey’s death, like how he had passed his polygraph, like how after Honey’s death Jason’s family had never returned to Kingsfield, like how he was only here in an official capacity to investigate a murder that had already occurred two days earlier—it was ludicrous, laughable, and yet he could actually see the surprise on people’s faces turning to shock and suspicion. This was how rumors got started.
How people’s careers and lives were destroyed.
“You crazy sonofabitch,” Jason said, and this time he did start after Boxner—on
ly to find Kennedy in his way.
“No,” Kennedy said. He spoke with utter finality, like he was delivering a decree, and as Jason stared into Kennedy’s stern blue eyes, he realized Kennedy was right. He was about to give Boxner exactly what he wanted.
Which was still bewildering because why would Boxner—did Boxner genuinely hate him this much? Could he seriously suspect Jason of murdering his best friend?
Boxner said, “I don’t believe in coincidences. He’s here for a reason. He’s—”
Kennedy said, “Okay, we’re going to take this behind closed doors. Now.”
“You’re not in charge here,” Boxner began, but Gervase cut him off.
“Now, Boyd. My office.”
Kennedy led the way. Jason followed, numbly listening to Gervase adjourning the rest of the briefing until the following morning.
Gervase’s office was on the ground floor. Impressively mounted on the wall behind the desk was the head of a seven-point buck. The rest of the wall space was covered with framed commendations. Short bookshelves held binders and law books. Several family photos sat on a reasonably tidy desk.
