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Pete looked up, taking off his glasses. He had a Black Clark Kent thing going on. Cute with the glasses, very sexy without them.
Kara had to stop thinking about men as sex symbols and bedmates. Especially in light of the fact that she was sort-of, somewhat, kinda involved with someone.
Marcy introduced Kara, then said, “Are the girls here?”
“They’re finishing up their summer classes—overachievers, both of them,” said Pete. “When I was a kid and summer came? My brothers and I were out on the boat from sunrise to sunset. Or hiking over on Orcas. The thought of going to summer school made my skin crawl.”
He looked at a clock on the wall. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. I texted them, told them you wanted to talk again. Whitney’s excited—she loves crime shows and is talking about being a cop, though at your suggestion, Marcy, I’m gently pushing her toward the Coast Guard. She loves being on the water, so it would be a good fit. Ashley, though—don’t get me wrong, both my girls were devastated by what happened Friday night. But Ashley is very empathic. She’s heartbroken.”
“I promise we’ll respect Whitney and Ashley’s sensitivities,” Marcy said.
“I appreciate that.”
Kara asked, “How well did you know Neil Devereaux?”
“Very well,” he said. “In fact, I’d call him a friend. He’s been coming in regularly, several times a week, since he retired here nearly three years ago. Bonded over football. You know, Damon was almost drafted by the Raiders before his accident. Me, my blood bleeds blue and green for my ’Hawks. Neil and I had that in common. We even caught a game together last season.”
The sound of two teenagers talking over each other came in through the back, and the group turned as the girls halted in the doorway.
The taller girl said, “Hey, Deputy Anderson. How are you?”
“Good. Whitney, this is Kara Quinn with the FBI,” Marcy said. “Whitney Dunlap, and her sister, Ashley.”
Pete said, “Let’s go to the back room. It’s bigger and we can sit down and talk.”
He led the way down the hall that was covered with photographs of what appeared to be locals posing with fish of all different sizes. He turned and motioned to a room filled with six empty rectangular tables, each that could fit six comfortably, or eight close friends.
The back room could be closed off for private parties, and Pete closed the accordion doors now to give them privacy from the late-lunch diners. The room also had access to an outside eating area.
They sat and Kara said, “Thank you both for agreeing to talk about this again. I know this isn’t easy, but it helps our investigation.”
Whitney, taller but younger than her sister, said, “You want to see if our story changes, or if we remember something else?”
“Yes, though it’s not about your story changing,” Kara said, mildly amused. “You’re not a suspect. But witnesses often remember something they didn’t think about during an initial interview. It’s why most cops will tell you, if you think of anything else, call. So while I know this is difficult, I need you to go back to Friday evening and tell us what you saw. But we’re going to start at the beginning because I’ve found that helps keep a recollection clearer. Your dad said you’re taking summer classes. When did you leave school on Friday?”
“Noon,” Whitney said. “I’m taking chemistry and Spanish 3, so I can take Spanish 4 next year with Ashley because we want to go on a mission trip after she graduates. Each class is an hour and fifty minutes.”
“They don’t care about that,” Ashley said quietly.
“I do,” Kara said. “I care about whatever you want to share. Sometimes, talking about things that are normal helps you remember other details. Where do you want to go on your mission trip?”
“La Paz,” Whitney said. “They have an orphanage there, and last year a group from our church went and they did a presentation about their experience. It was so amazing. Ashley wants to be a teacher, so working with kids is perfect.”
“And you want to...?” She left it open-ended because she wasn’t sure Pete was right that he was being “gentle” about being a cop versus Coast Guard.
“I don’t know yet. I really want to work for the sheriff’s department. I did an internship last semester, and it was justsototally fascinating. And Sheriff John is so nice. He talked to all of us in the program—like he really wanted to, you know? But then Officer Marcy, she talked about the Coast Guard, which sounds totally cool, too, so I really don’t know. But if I’m in the sheriff’s office I can go into search and rescue, which I would love and I’m the best swimmer, but Dad says go to college first—”
Pete reached out and rubbed the back of his daughter’s hand. “Baby, you’re rambling.”
“Sorry. I talk too much when I’m nervous.”
“You talk too much when you’re not nervous, too,” Ashley said, not quite under her breath.
“Whichever career path you decide, I’m sure you’ll be good at it,” Kara said.
Ashley was observant. Sometimes it was the quiet ones who saw more than anyone.
But Whitney was the people pleaser and, though younger than her sister, clearly more comfortable talking to strangers.
