“What was Johnny like this morning? Did he seem depressed or upset about last night?”
“Agent O’Dell, Johnny is an athlete,” Skylar said before Mrs. Bosh had a chance to answer. “This is a kid who’s going to be a number-one recruiting choice.” He was giving her the same look he had when they left the Griffins’ house.
“He seemed really nervous and sort of jumpy.” Mrs. Bosh ignored Skylar and spoke to Maggie. Her eyes kept sweeping up and down the street. “He wasn’t himself.”
“Did he talk about what happened last night?”
“No. He wouldn’t talk about it. And my husband said we shouldn’t make him.” Then her attention got distracted and she tilted her head and walked to the edge of the sidewalk. “Do you hear that?” she asked.
They listened. Other than a train whistle in the distance, Maggie heard birds, a wind chime, nothing more. Then suddenly she did hear something. A soft whimpering.
Mrs. Bosh headed around the side of the house, hurrying through a flower bed instead of going around it. Maggie and Skylar followed. At the back of the house a dog laid on its belly, whining.
“Rex, what’s wrong?” But Mrs. Bosh didn’t go to the dog. Instead she stayed back, standing stock-still.
“Does he belong to you?” Maggie asked.
“The neighbor’s. He comes over and Johnny plays ball with him. They’ve been playing since Johnny was a boy.”
Maggie approached the dog carefully. He didn’t appear injured. He focused on something under the porch. Maybe a toy had gotten lodged or an animal was trapped underneath. But the dog’s whine sounded more urgent than playful.
“There’s a crawl space,” Mrs. Bosh said. “It goes all the way under the house but we put a board down there so animals couldn’t hide.”
Maggie pulled the penlight from her jeans pocket and kneeled down, coaxing the dog to move enough for her to take a look underneath the porch.
“Johnny used to crawl all the way under there when he was a little boy. He usually did it when he was in trouble and didn’t want to be found.”
That’s when Maggie noticed a small, torn piece of fabric snagged on a nail.
“What was your son wearing this morning, Mrs. Bosh?”
CHAPTER 25
NEBRASKA
Maggie needed to get to North Platte for the autopsies, so this next interview would have to be her last of the day. That was if Skylar didn’t strangle her before they got there.
“What the hell were you thinking?” The red-faced sheriff had blasted her as soon as they got back to the car.
“The girl’s high. Probably marijuana. That’s why she has the incense burning. Her eyes are bloodshot and dilated. Her coordination is off. I can’t believe you didn’t see that.”
“She’s been through an incredible experience. Of course she’s not herself.”
“Why didn’t you ask her about drugs? You told Dawson Hayes that you knew why they were out in the forest.”
“Amanda’s not a suspect.”
“Neither is Dawson.”
“He had a Taser. A Taser that had been fired.”
“But we don’t have a victim who’s been shot with a Taser.”
“Not that we know of.” Skylar wouldn’t relent.
“Look,” Maggie said, calming herself and her tone, “next time you decide someone’s a suspect, please inform me.”
“Next time you decide to insult the daughter of one of our community’s most respected business owners, please inform me.”
She shook her head and left it alone for the drive to the Boshes’. It was thirty-five minutes away. The kids lived in different towns but all attended the same high school; one high school for the entire county.
The Boshes’ two-story Colonial, which sat on a huge lot that backed to the city park, predicted what Maggie could expect from this interview. She didn’t need to ask whether Skylar believed this boy was a suspect. Before visiting the Griffins’ house the sheriff had already told her that Johnny B had recruiters from five major NCAA teams at the last football game. But he was going to make them all proud by staying in Nebraska and playing for the Huskers.
“Might even start as a freshman quarterback,” Skylar had gone on. “He’s something to watch. Got an arm on him and man, that boy can scramble. He can get himself out of every kind of mess.”
So Maggie would need to either steel herself for another kid-glove interview or make a decision to take over this investigation.
Mrs. Bosh was waiting outside the front door when they got out of the sheriff’s SUV. She was an attractive woman with a pinched, worried face. She wore slacks, a white silk blouse, and leather pumps. Perhaps she had taken off work early or she had dressed for her son’s interview.
Before they reached the front steps she called out, “He isn’t here.”